squirrl dens {and healing}

we did a lot of this over the weekend:

these boys are so fun and full of life.

they turn our couches into something new everyday. yesterday it was a diving board. this morning it was a squirrel den. by this afternoon, we made a restaurant that served puppy chow. i love their imagination and ability to look at the same old stuff and see something new. what a beautiful outlook on life.

it was crazy cold this weekend. cold and raining.
oh and sunday was the craft show.

we didn't sell anything. nada. zilch.

it was 40 degrees and raining. uhg.

on the bright side, i now have enough wreathes, bags and coasters for our entire neighborhood, their friend's friends and their niece's 2nd cousin twice removed.

the high point of the day was a hot pulled pork sandwich. with coleslaw on top. that sandwich could make any discouraged craft show looser feel better. i'd like one right now, as a matter of fact.

so tonight, i'm dusting off my etsy shop and selling the surplus.


on a non-bummer note, clint scored a dream-worthy item for the kids on craigslist over the weekend. the $25 price tag on this pocket sized vehicle made all our dreams come true. we've put some serious miles on this baby already.

this 4 wheel vehicle is more emery's style...i think she would stay in there all day long if we let her :)

i haven't been blogging much. for fear of sounding redundant or scaring off any would-be partakers in the adoption surgery arena, i keep waiting for the great part to happen. the normal. the regular.
we aren't there yet.
it's been one week since surgery, but it feels like a year.
my dear sweet emery seems to be struggling more as each day passes.
i know God's plan for her doesn't end here.
i haven't lost hope.

one sweet reader (lindy - thanks dear) wrote a comment over the weekend that really resonated me, comparing what emery is struggling with to the process of grieving a loss. when i read her words, it instantly clicked. that's exactly what it feels like. the desperation and the deep pain in her screams is unlike anything i've ever experienced. i've never heard a child scream like this. never. it's intense and bone chilling.
the long hours of holding a baby that cannot be consoled, it's more challenging than i can describe. i often hold her and cry.
for the past 4 nights since we have been home, she has screamed and cried and thrashed for at least 5 hours each night. as if with each passing night, the terror is getting worse and not better.
we walk
we rock
we sing
we turn lights on
we turn lights off
we try food
we try medicine
we try sleeping next to her
we try her sleeping next to us
we try everything imaginable
and the screaming doesn't cease until she has completely exhausted herself

i know it will get better. i know we are in the hard part. but i hit a low point last night. after holding her for several hours, it was oh around 4am and i hadn't slept more than an hour all night. i slumped into bed and sobbed to clint, "i just can't do it anymore. i'm done. this is horrible. why is she STILL crying!!!"  
i want a reason. some significance to this pain she is going through. i want someone to tell me what i should be doing to help her. some secret method to make it stop. but there is no such thing.
God is working on her healing. it's not for me to know how it will come about.

and i love her. more than ever, i love her. if anything, i've learned she trusts me enough to show me this side of her life. the side that isn't scared to feel. she is ever our warrior. she's not wounded, she's healing. there's a difference.


so many people have left such encouraging comments and sweet emails. i'm working my way back through them, reading each one again and writing back to such incredible friends who have spoken life into me. i can't even describe what a blessing it has been to hear advice and love from so many.


i hesitate to publish. the self conscious part of me wants to just post photos and smiles and gloss over all of this. but i want to be able to look back and praise God for the way He brought emery through such a difficult time.