So just a couple days into this benefit for Rhett and Parker, and we have some volunteers to make this even bigger! If you want to read about the details of the benefit and see my original four drawings, CLICK HERE.

First, the stunning, most fabulously wonderful Ursula of The Daily Drool has offered to add a gorgeous set of two of her lovely photograph prints, each in 5×7’s matted to an 8×10 size to the prize package: A monarch caterpillar and a lovely monarch butterfly…

Next, the incredibly generous and talented Karen of Beyond Understanding has offered an autographed copy of her new novel, One Sister’s Song…

And then there was Jacqui…

“Mommy, I wanta do artist drawings to help doze boys who’s very sick too.”

“Ok, why don’t you draw them each a picture and we’ll see if we can mail them to Rhett and Parker.”

“Nooooooooooooooooo!!!”

“No?”

“No! I needta do drawings in picher frames jess like you so you can put dem on da ‘pewter to help dem jess like yooooooooouuuuuu!”

“But, Jacqui…”

“It’s portent Mom!”

“But we don’t have any more picture frames…”

She handed me the phone with a grin, “Oh, dat’s easy… call Daddy an tell ‘im we need some more!”

I dialed while she giggled with glee and hopped up and down.

“OK,” the budding young artist declared while clapping her hands together like an authoritative production manager, “Now I need some paper.”

I handed her some paper off the computer printer. She scowled. “What?” I asked.

“Dat’s not gonna work! I need reely reel artist paper to be an artist, Mom!”

I cringed as she eyed my sketch pad. Then I sighed. What better use could there possibly be for a sheet of quality artist paper? None. I started to tear off a sheet as she shook her head and held up four fingers. Apparently she had a series in mind.

“I’m gonna do four pichers… jess like you!”

I handed over my sketch pad and she nearly burst with glee as she ran from the room to start her project. The rest of the day was spent making her drawings ‘just so’. The end result was this priceless set which I honestly am going to have a very hard time parting with…

They are all 5×7’s and the first one is a kitty, the second is either a tiny unicorn and a flower or a regular sized unicorn and a giant flower — I’m not sure which (”If you don’t know I’m not gonna tell you, Mom!”), the third is a fish, and the fourth (my favorite) is a bunny. All lovingly hand-drawn by Jacqui.

She asked me tonight as I tucked her in, “Mom? Are doze boys very sick like me, wen I was in da hoz-pittle and couldn’t breave so very well?”

“Yes, Sweetie. Parker has a trach just like you did and Rhett has had a hard time breathing too.”

“Do you think my pichers will help pay da doctors so dey will be all bedder very soon?”

“Yes, Sweetie. I’m sure of it.” And she pulled the covers up with a giggle.

“I’m so very glad, Mommy.”

Me too. I’m so very glad for all of you who are stepping up to help these lovely families. Thank you!

Drawing Details:

At the end of the month, I will host a giveaway drawing with a winner randomly selected from the names of everyone who donates $5.00 to the Hands Helping Children Paypal account I have created to benefit these families. For every $5.00 you donate you will get one chance in the giveaway drawing to win the print set (and Ursula’s photograph set, Karen’s autographed novel, and Jacqui’s print set) — just send me an email or leave me a comment to let me know you’ve donated and how many entries you qualify for in the drawing. At the end of the month, the contents of the Paypal account will be split equally between Rhett and Parker’s families to help provide them with some much needed financial relief. To donate, click the button below, or send a Paypal payment to handshelpingchildren(at)gmail(dot)com.

Click button:

or CLICK HERE to donate.

benefit fundraiser fund raiser giveaway give away drawing nursery prints helping others

Imagine a child. A beautiful Child. A child with sparkling eyes and a smile that lights up a room. A child loved by a young mother, a young father — as precious to them as the air they breathe. Can you see this child?

Imagine the color blue. Softly at first. So faint you’re not even really quite sure you see it. But it’s there. Sensed before it’s seen. Creeping, seeping into cherished features… lips, fingers, toes.

Now imagine the color white. Stark white. Chillingly sterile. Antiseptic whiteness enveloping this child — pulling them back from a horrific shade of blue in a tangle of wires, tubes, and beeping alarms.

Imagine the young mother weeping as she stands in this tight room of white, far from home, stroking the treasured child’s tiny head, unable to cradle the child in her arms as she longs to. Imagine the young father, holding her close, trying to be strong for all three of them. Imagine the anguish in their hearts as a hurried surgeon tells them the child needs surgery. A risky one. One in a long line of surgeries the child has already had to endure. One of many the child has yet to face.

Imagine long, restless, fitful nights. Nights the young mother spends holding the child’s hand. Praying for every breath, every heartbeat. Imagine the young father’s threadbare soul as he worries. Worries about his child’s pale little face, his exhausted wife, and the bills. The bills that haunt his family’s every waking thought.

Imagine…

Now imagine it’s you. Your child. Your husband. Your wife. Your family.

What would you do?

What would you wish for?

What would it mean to you if someone you had never met held out a hand to help you, your child, your family?

I can tell you from personal experience, exactly what it means. It means everything. Jacqui is here — a joyous, sparkling part of our lives because people cared. Some of the most thoughtful gestures came from people we didn’t even know. People we had never met. And I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for them. I know how important the little gestures are. Jacqui didn’t get where she is today from one person doing something huge. She got where she is through a whole community of caring — many, many, people doing countless little things, that when added all together changed her life, and ours.

Which is why my heart just breaks for Pam and her adorable little Rhett at Rhett’s Journey, and for Tammy and her precious little Parker, at Praying for Parker. They are amazing moms, with heroic families. And although my family lives on a relatively tight budget stretched thin with our own medical issues, I cannot just sit by and do nothing but watch as these other two families struggle. Since I don’t have an excess of income that I can draw from, I spent a lot of time trying to think of what I could do to help these two wonderful families. About a month ago, I realized I could certainly gift them with a little bit of my time and creativity. So here is what I came up with: A set of hand-drawn pen and ink stipple prints that I have been working on during spare moments here and there in my evenings…

Each print is matted in a 5×7 wooden frame under glass. The drawings are all done by hand, and if you are not familiar with stipple drawings, they are composed entirely of tiny dots. The set is composed of a series of four hobby-horse variations: A zebra, an elephant, a giraffe and a lion. Each of them have button wheels threaded with red ribbon. The frames have both an easel back and a wall hook. I have sold similar sets on consignment for $75.00, but I rarely have time to invest in drawing these days.

At the end of the month, I will host a giveaway drawing with a winner randomly selected from the names of everyone who donates $5.00 to the Hands Helping Children Paypal account I have created to benefit these families. For every $5.00 you donate you will get one chance in the giveaway drawing to win the print set — just send me an email or leave me a comment to let me know you’ve donated and how many entries you qualify for in the drawing. At the end of the month, the contents of the Paypal account will be split equally between Rhett and Parker’s families to help provide them with some much needed financial relief. To donate, click the button below, or send a Paypal payment to handshelpingchildren(at)gmail(dot)com.

Click button:

or CLICK HERE to donate.

I have no idea how much this will bring in for them, but I figured it would likely be more than anything I could afford to do for them on my own. So I’m just going to say a little prayer here, and hope that this turns out well. They are both amazing and inspiring families and I hope each of you head over to read each of their stories.

If you want to help beyond participating in the giveaway drawing, I would love any help I could get in spreading the word on this fund-raiser. If you can link to this post, or stick a button in your sidebar… I’ll just be so grateful.

<p align="center"><a href='http://inthelifeofachild.com/index.php/imagine/' title='Imagine Benefit For Rhett And Parker'><img src='http://i267.photobucket.com/albums/ii305/childslife/General/Buttonweb.jpg' alt='Imagine Benefit' /></a></p> <p>

Or maybe you would like to participate in some other fund-raisers for these lovely families:

Open a new account with Revolutionary Money Exchange from the link at Praying For Parker and Parker’s Medical Fund will receive $10.00 for each new account opened through his link. Plus you will be sent $25 from RME!

The Original Crackerjack Site is designing a lovely book for Parker’s upcoming surgery on May 16th: For a one dollar donation you can have your photo and website added to this book along with a drawing made especially in honor of your donation by the author’s lovely 2-year-old daughter Izabel. This fund-raiser just goes through this Wednesday, May 14th — so hurry!

The lovely Amy, of Bunny Rose Cottage is currently
donating the proceeds from her Etsy shop to Parker’s Medical Fund — go check it out!

The clever and creative Michelle, of Down Blogger, is coordinating a virtual craft fair benefit for Parker’s Medical Fund. If you’re the crafty sort — stop by! Michelle is currently seeking talent for this thoughtful effort.

Jessica from Raising Joey is generously donating 50% of her online sales from her bookstore from now through June 10th to Parker and Rhett’s families.

Michelle at Big Blueberry Eyes, is donating the proceeds from her Discovery Toy sales from April 15th through this Thursday, May 15th to Parker’s Medical Fund — better hurry on this one too!

So join in! So many ways to get involved — so many opportunities to show that you care. And you’ll be part of something special. Two priceless little lives and two beautiful families who will never forget that people like you cared enough to try and make a difference.

benefit fundraiser fund raiser giveaway give away drawing nursery prints helping others

For our first edition here, let’s just get acquainted. In whatever format you choose, write a post sharing who you are, the basics of your child’s story and one thing that really stood out to you from your child’s first major hospital or medical experience and why. (For carnival rules and information click here.)

Jacqui’s Story

So much was riding on that one day — all of our dreams, years of heartbroken prayers, hopes still fragile from years of infertility and repetitive miscarriage. It was all coming down to this one sunny day in September, and we wondered as we drove to the hospital that morning how it would end. We cried through the entire thirty minute drive to the hospital, not knowing if we were going to be saying hello or goodbye. Would we hear her cry? Would she need to have a trach? Would she breathe at all? Would we get to hold her? What if…? But I couldn’t bear to finish the thought of my worst fear.

Months earlier we had learned the devastating news on an early ultrasound. Our baby had a large mass on the right side of her face and neck. Opinions were mixed on the actual diagnosis. Originally we were told that we would likely miscarry, that she probably had Turner’s Syndrome. That she might have Down’s Syndrome, Trisomy 18, or a host of other complications that we lost much sleep over. Later we were told that the mass was a teratoma and that she would likely die at birth or during a surgery to attempt to secure an airway. We were pressed to consider ‘termination’ or at the very least, an amnio. We adamantly refused both. We began fighting to find a perinatologist who cared whether she survived and found one a three hour drive away. A complex birth plan and monitoring system was put into place to give her the best odds possible for her survival. A modified EXIT procedure would be performed in an attempt to make sure she had a secure airway throughout the birth.

In the OR suite, I lost count of the number of medical personnel in the room at somewhere over twenty. There was the perinatologist’s team, a surgical team, an ENT surgeon and his team, a respiratory therapy team, a NICU team… and probably others. I felt conflicting emotions of resentment over the number of people in the room (mostly because this birth was so different than we had hoped) and overwhelming gratitude that so many people were there to help try and keep our baby safe. And I started to quietly cry when they told me they were starting the delivery, wishing I could keep her safe just a little longer, hoping — praying that she wasn’t about to die.

I remember hearing a funny little squeak, and wondering what it was. I looked up from my white knuckles to Ken’s awestruck face that suddenly burst into a mile-wide grin. That sound had been our baby’s first beautiful cry. Her second attempt was loud and long. They held her up for a moment for me to get my first glimpse of her. I laughed as tears rained down my cheeks and Ken joyously whooped, “Do you hear her, honey? She made it! She’s OK!”

Then the room was a bustle of serious, purposeful activity. I watched from an aching distance while they intubated her as a precaution, and started an IV. Ken whispered reassuringly in her newborn ears as she tightly gripped his finger. They wheeled her over for a moment and I got to stare into her bottomless ocean-blue eyes and whisper, “I love you, Jacqui…” before they whisked her off to the NICU.

Much of the rest of our hospital stay was a blur. Back and forth trips to the NICU, several floors away from my room. Waiting for what seemed like forever as she endured a CT scan and an MRI before we learned that her mass was a lymphatic malformation, and something that we would not be able to medically address until she was at least six months old. The moment of elation when they took her off of the ventilator and she breathed on her own. Struggling through the paradox of being told we couldn’t remove her from the NICU until she could eat on her own while the nurses stuffed her with tube feedings under medical orders. Worrying over her very scary breathing pattern.

Her breathing. That is the one thing that stood out to me more than anything during that first hospital experience. It was so labored sounding. She snored and often stopped breathing all together, resuming only after she was jostled. I was afraid to leave her in the NICU, but they did have her hooked up to a cardiac monitor. I asked the attending physician about it and he told me there was no cause for worry. That newborns often sounded like that. She was just “junky” from the birth and it would clear up in a few days. A dark cloud of doubt gathered in my heart as I cautiously sat back to watch and wait.

When it was time to go home, her breathing hadn’t improved. She scared me. I was afraid I would fall asleep and she would stop breathing and never wake up. I asked the attending to send her home with an apnea monitor. He refused. Flat out emphatically refused. Even when I tried to press the matter. Said she was fine and that she didn’t need one. I asked if the lymphatic malformation could swell up like lymph nodes do if she caught a cold. He shook his head no. Told me I was worrying too much, but something in his eyes as he said it unsettled me. He left and I tried to pinpoint what it was about the conversation that bothered me. The substance of it flitted just out of reach from my sleep-deprived brain. In my arms, Jacqui sputtered and stopped breathing for the hundredth time. I jostled her and she inhaled raggedly. “What if…,” my heart whispered, “What if he’s sending her home with you to die?” I went cold. Numb with fear. Then I flashed white hot with determination. Not if I could help it.

After we got home, we took shifts sitting up with Jacqui keeping her breathing until our appointment with her pediatrician the next day. As we walked into the office the next morning I whispered to Ken, “We come home with an apnea monitor, or not at all.” We got our apnea monitor.

One week later, that apnea monitor saved her life. Jacqui caught her first cold virus. In the middle of the night, her lymphatic malformation began rapidly swelling and shutting off her airway, just as I had feared it might. Her heart rate monitor alerted us and we got her to the local ER just in time to intubate her before her airway was completely shut off by the swelling.

Jacqui spent the next nine weeks in the NICU. Six weeks on a ventilator. She had a tracheostomy. A G-tube placement. MRI’s, CT scans, IV and PICC line placements, CT guided injection therapy of her lymphatic malformation. A host of heroic and horrific experiences that no newborn should ever have to endure. That no parent should ever have to watch.

And it was just beginning.

Jacqui is five now. She’s been under anesthesia for various surgeries and procedures twenty-five times now. Twenty-five, and I know in my heart there will be more. And it never gets easier. And I worry. I worry whether we have made the right choices for her, whether tomorrow will bring some new hardship for her to endure.

But mostly I’m grateful. Grateful that for some reason that I still fail to comprehend, God chose us. For some reason, He believed we were the right parents for this amazing little girl. It humbles me. Inspires me to live up to that sacred trust we have been given. Because of her, our life is filled with a joy all the more precious for the sorrow we have known through her. And in those moments where I long to completely give up, I remember that she was a gift. A gift that I was entrusted with. She is counting on me and I refuse to fail her.

What About You? Tell Me Your Child’s Story…

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Just a little reminder… It all starts next Thursday, so get those posts ready and see you here on the 24th!

parenting children motherhood Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival Finding Courage Through Sharing NICU medically fragile blog carnival

The Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival is officially ready for launch!

Finding Courage Through Sharing will be now be a monthly blog carnival hosted at In The Life Of A Child on the last Thursday of each month. Mark your calendars because you’ve waited long enough! The very first edition will be this month on Thursday, April 24th.

Now I bet you have some questions… yep… I thought so. I see that hand!

So, what is this all about?

Oh, I’m so glad you asked! Through blogging, I’ve become aware of a large community of parents struggling through extreme medical challenges with their children. The purpose of this carnival is to give these parents a voice, a place to connect, to grieve a loss or a setback, to share a concern, a frustration, or to share those rare and wonderful triumphs… and to begin trying to heal. It is meant for any parent who has been through any form of medical challenge with their child, and also for those who are still in the midst of facing those challenges.

So, where do you fit in?

Me? I’m one of those parents. I’ve been there. I get it. I’ve seen my child code in the NICU, and again in an MRI suite. I’ve done that emergency trach change all by myself as my child turned blue before my eyes. I know what it feels like to not be able to hold your baby because of all those wires and tubes blocking any chance of a cuddle. I’ve fought with those insurance companies while I was ready to drop from exhaustion so my child could have a shot at life. I know what it feels like to get up every ten minutes throughout the night to alarming feeding pumps and apnea monitors. I know how intimidating those laundry piles look when your child suffers from insanely relentless reflux. Just take a peek at Jacqui’s Story and you’ll know why I have a heart for this sort of thing.

How is this going to work?

On the 15th of every month, I will post a topic for the month so you can start working on your post if you choose to participate. Then on the last Thursday of the month come back here and you will find a post entitled ‘Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival ~ April 2008′, or whatever the current date is. The first part of the post will contain my post contribution and at the end of the post you will see a little “Mr. Linky” box that looks like this:

In the first blank in the box, enter your name or your screen name. In the second blank box, enter the URL (Uniform Resource Locater, or web address) of your post. This is different from the web address of your blog. To find the web address of your post, simply click on the title of your post in your blog then look up at the top of your screen in that first really long white box up there. The URL of your post should start with “http://”. Copy that whole line and paste it into that second blank in the box at my place. Then click enter. Your link will now show up in my post. Note that it will say “delete link” next to your name, but don’t worry… you are the only one who can see the “delete link” next to your name. Since you are the author of the link, it gives you the option to delete what you just posted if you choose to. Finally, scroll down and leave a comment with anything you have to say (hopefully nice) about my post and you can leave a brief note about your post there as well, if you like. Some people like to leave a link to their post in the comment too, and you are welcome to do so. Then go start clicking on some of the other great posts that start showing up and share a few tears, hugs or a good laugh. Make some new friends, or get to know some old friends better. Find the courage to get up in the morning and start the day over again… that is what this is all about.

Are there any rules?

Oh, don’t be silly… of course there are rules. I’m a mom… rules are what I do. Don’t worry… they won’t be too hard.

1. Please keep in mind when you are writing posts for this carnival, that In The Life Of A Child is “family friendly” blog and I work very hard to keep it that way. I reserve the right to remove links to posts which include offensive or inappropriate language, or those containing rude, or objectionable content. I will always make an effort to contact the author of such a post, refer them to the participation rules, notify them that their link has been removed, and offer them the opportunity to reformat their post for re-submission.

2. Please mention the Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival in your post, and publish a link back to my master list here at In The Life Of A Child. Please make sure you link specifically to the URL for my blog carnival post for that month and not just to my home page.

3. You are most welcome, and I encourage you to publish the button code provided below in your entry post and/or your sidebar, but it is not a requirement. It just helps spread the word so that more parents will be interested in joining in. (And you’ll have my undying gratitude!)

Get The Code For The Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival Button:

(Just copy the code below and paste into your post or sidebar template)

<br /> <a href='http://inthelifeofachild.com/index.php/home-of/' title='Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival'><img src='http://inthelifeofachild.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/cmcblogcarnivalimage.jpg' alt='CMCblogcarnival' /></a><br />

(Note: You won’t be able to see this code if your are viewing this post in a reader. It will just show up as a second button… you’ll have to actually come over to my place for the code ~ sorry!)

If you need more detailed help on how to add images to your post, click here.

4. Please only leave a link if you have written a post specifically for this carnival. Empty links, spam links or links that are off topic will be deleted.

5. Please link specifically to your Finding Courage Through Sharing post, not to the front page of your blog. This is called a permalink and you can click here for an explanation of how to set one up and why this is important.

6. I prefer to keep things simple, with In The Life Of A Child as the only home page for Finding Courage Through Sharing and have registered it through Mr. Linky as a private meme. Please do not attempt to host a copy of Finding Courage Through Sharing at your own site using your own “Mr. Linky” account.

What is the topic for April?

After April, I will be posting the topic for the month on the 15th of each month, but this month you get to see it early. For our first edition here, let’s just get acquainted. In whatever format you choose, write a post sharing who you are, the basics of your child’s story and one thing that really stood out to you from your child’s first major hospital or medical experience and why. I’ll put up a reminder post this month one week before the 24th so you don’t forget. Click on the “Subscribe” button in the upper left corner of my blog and you’ll make sure you never miss an update. Sound like a plan? Ok then… start writing, spread the word, and we’ll see you back here on the 24th!

And coming to you on the second Thursday of every month, beginning May 8th… The Picky Eaters Club!

parenting children motherhood Finding Courage Through Sharing Blog Carnival Finding Courage Through Sharing NICU medically fragile blog carnival