BALENTINE MEMOIRS

Teddy is 18-months old, and his vocabulary is growing daily.  Most of the things he says aren’t distinguishable by anyone but Amy and me.  Nevertheless, he’s turning into decent little communicator.  I especially enjoy the needless communication - like Teddy’s play-by-play of his ordinary daily activities.  Rarely does Teddy stand up from sitting or laying on the ground without proclaiming loudly, “upf!”  Going up stairs, getting into his high chair, or being picked up by a taller person all receive the same explanation of, “UPF!”  To keep it consistent, Teddy makes sure to announce, “down!” with the same enthusiasm when doing the opposite sort of activity.  Perhaps the best of all narratives is when Teddy lets you know he bumped his head on something.  He could be walking by a piece of furniture and bump his head lightly when seconds later he proclaims, “BONK!” A few of the newer words are “choo choo, please, hat, pee pee, shoes, tree, grandpa (pa pa), plane and pizza pie (whic

Simon is constantly teaching us lessons.  What recent lesson sticks out the most? Adam's answer: Trying to nail this down to one lesson is really hard.  I have my eyes opened to new realities every day.   Simon’s life is such a precious gift and I'm overjoyed to be his dad.  But his unknown future causes suffering and pain.  What comes to mind right now is the lesson to embrace the emotion of the moment. Most men have a natural desire to fight, fix or run in the face of an impending threat or preeminent pain.  I can’t fix or fight Simon’s diagnosis, so what I’m left with is a decision between facing/embracing the pain, or completely avoiding it.  I’ve certainly responded both ways over the course of the last couple of months since we’ve been on this journey.  I know what the right course of action is though, because the Spirit pulls me that way.  The right thing to do is be present, face it, and work through the emotion and sorrow as it comes.  This means I sometimes

Simon is constantly teaching us lessons.  What recent lesson sticks out the most? Amy's response: Anyone who knows me knows that I love a well-executed plan.  I love planning.  I enjoy list-making.  I get a sense of accomplishment when I cross out something on my to do list. Sometimes I write tasks down on my to-do list that I’ve already completed just to cross them out! I chose a profession (event planning) that was all about planning!   I have even mapped out my life in my head of how exactly it was going to go – and I can assure you, losing a child before, at or soon after birth was not part of my plan.  Simon, Simon’s life, and God are all teaching and confirming to me that our plans are not our own.    Not knowing what is to come can make me feel pretty anxious at times.   Some days I can release this anxiety to God through prayer or worship through song, but other days I hold tight to the uncertainty of the future and feel completely despaired.   God knows my weakness

The greater the hope, the greater the fear.   Things of this world aren’t always capable of being faithful.  Worldly things never fail to disappoint when our expectations are too high.  These things (or people) that we entrust with our hope almost always end up wounding our hearts to some (sometimes minor) degree. Even well-intentioned words spoken by a loved one can wound if they are delivered at the wrong time.  Putting hope in something that can't deliver makes us  anxious  and cynical.  Knowing  that an outcome may bring us pain makes us fearful. We have intense longings and pure-hearted hope for Simon.  We want him to breathe breaths on this earth.  How simple, yet how intense is this hope that Amy and I share for our boy.  Out of this simple and honest desire sprouts fear.  The fear is fertilized by the unknown.  If Simon lives - if we are able to bring him home - we will be faced with decisions that are more meaningful and impactful than anything we’ve previously stumbl

There are secret places in life that only God should be aware of.    These secret places reside in our hearts, prayers, marriages, minds and also in the womb.   I have always felt like 3D ultrasound was a little too intrusive.   The womb is a secret place for God to mold and shape us. ( Psalm 139:16 ).  Knowing that our time with Simon is precious, I knew I would want to take a look inside this secret place – mainly to see him living and moving about, but also to see his anomalies a little bit better too.  Alexandra’s House connected us with a great sonographer, Jeanette, who owns a private practice offering 3D imaging.  Jeanette graciously gifts her time for free to families like ours.   I was met with mixed emotions before, during and after our ultrasound.   I so badly wanted Jeanette to look and say there must have been a mistake of some kind.   But she was unable to say this.   The appointment was thorough, and it answered some of our questions about Simon. We were able to see