36 Hours Away

We're a little less than 36 hours away from Willow's surgery. She's still coughing occasion- ally, but we remain hopeful that everything will proceed as planned on Wednesday. We'll feel a lot better after Victoria visits with the anesthesiologist tomorrow as she will examine Willow and determine whether she's healthy enough to go on. If he says "go", then the final hurdle would be Wednesday morning when the surgeon makes the final call. Provided Willow can "jump" over those two hurdles, then she's pretty much "off-to-the-races" at 7:30 a.m.

I'm posting (below) some "do's and don'ts" from another fellow and experienced cleft palate adoption mom and blogger about what to expect following Willow's repair. While every child responds differently, I thought these were well stated so that we can manage our expectations accordingly:

Do:

• Right after surgery expect a lot of mucus with blood coming from the nose and mouth; think of wearing a dark colored older shirt to be able to hold your child for hours in.
• Expect your child's face, feet and hands to be swollen for a few days.
• Expect your child's body weight to feel as if it has tripled during surgery when they are in recovery.
• Expect night terror behavior when they are still waking up.
• Expect a cranky child for days, even with pain medications.
• Plan ahead to have every possible food to put in the blender and/or soft foods (for example, puddings, yogurts, jello, soups), and plan for your child to turn their nose up at most of them.
• Expect TONS of drooling; get ready with extra bibs.
• Expect to feel as if you were physically the one in surgery; full time care of a child after surgery is exhausting.
• Expect your child to have the most foul smelling breath you've ever smelled in your life!
• Expect your child to act like they haven't napped in days.
• Remember your sweet child is still there; they've just undergone a surgery that's going to have them not feeling themselves for a little while but you'll both be happy after it's all said and done.

Don't:

• Expect your child to be themselves quickly; they are dealing with a lot of pain. The overwhelming concept of a liquid diet, wearing "no- no's" (i.e., arm-restraints to keep their hands out of their mouths) and not knowing quite how to deal with any of it, plus pain medications, can affect your child's personality.
• Be afraid to ask for pain medications that you feel your child needs.
• Forget to keep yourself fed, even when your child cries wanting real food with you (if you aren't able to eat out of their sight); you have to keep yourself fed to be able to keep your energy up.
• Forget to stock up on groceries for the house before surgery so you don't have to leave the house with your little one; the less exposure to outside cold air and/or possible flu/cold germs immediately after surgery the better. Pneumonia is easy to get after the body has undergone surgery.
• Worry about bringing pj's from home for the hospital; frequent changes might be needed due to all the drainage and drooling. Don't worry about the extra laundry for yourself to do later on.
• Expect your child to let you put them down or them to want to sleep outside your arms; get comfortable in the rocking chair and rock that baby for hours. You don't want to let go of them any more than they want you to let go anyway.

We're optimistic, and so appreciating your support and prayers,

Tom (& Victoria)

All Systems Are "GO"

Well, I just returned from the pediatrician and had the joy of calling Victoria in San Diego to share the remarkable news that Willow's surgery is still "on" for this Wednesday. In spite of her morning cough and occasional runny nose (or as Dr. Maria, the girls' pediatrician, says, "I don't see any huge globulars of snot." - remember, we refer to them as "slobbies"), everyone's feeling like we should go for it. Other reasons to just march ahead are that her surgeon, Dr. Cedars, is now booked all the way through the Christmas Holiday (and according to him this surgery ideally should have occurred a year ago), and the fact that we're heading into the cold and flu season (I'm not sure we ever got out of that in our household). These circumstances greatly diminish Willow's chances of finding that perfect window to proceed after Wednesday. Needless to state, Victoria was shocked and excited both at the same time, as was I. Of course Willow has no idea what's in store for her.

So, now more than ever, we really need your prayers. Specifically, that Willow's health would continue to improve this week, that the surgery would actually happen (the surgeon could "call" it if he determines she's not well enough on Wednesday), that her recovery would be swift and as painless as possible, and that our family would have extra measures of patience because I'm sure we're all going to be real tired (Victoria plans to stay at the hospital for a few days while Willow heals).

Hopeful & Grateful in Christ,

Tom (& Victoria)

PS:  In case you've forgotten from one of our previous posts, I've posted the surgery technique at the bottom of this blog page so you can get a sense for what's going to transpire this week.

The Number "2"

Willow just recently turned two years old on September 7th. Her birthday was celebrated with all seven of us Kruggel's with private fanfare. She opened a few presents (mostly from her Grandma and Grandpa), or actually we should say that Poppy opened a few presents for Willow (Poppy can't resist tearing into a wrapped package). We sang a song and ate some yummies. I'm quite certain Willow had little clue as to what the hullabaloo was all about, but she seemed to enjoy herself nonetheless.

The number 2 is also significant because October 1st will mark Willow's second attempted date to have her cleft palate restored. Victoria and I have been sweating it out because (Wouldn't you know it?) she's come down with another cold or virus or something. I'm taking her into the pediatrician tomorrow morning to have her checked out one last time to determine if she's healthy enough to undergo surgery on Wednesday. I hate to be a naysayer, but it doesn't look promising. I brought her to bed with me last night at about 4:00 a.m. or so (Victoria's in San Diego for three days for her half brother's - originally from Alaska - wedding). Willow was hacking and wheezing, and I even became a little concerned when as I held her in my arms while laying on my back in the dark of the night I could feel her chest irregularly struggle for air for about ten minutes or so. So pathetic and sad. Anyway, we pray that God will do a miracle and turn this little girl around in time for Wednesday. If not, we trust that His timing is always perfect. Wedging this surgery right into the middle of one of her few and far in between healthy moments is like threading a needle. I'm afraid most surgeons at Children's Hospital are not quite as nimble and flexible as Willow's health conditions dictate.

Thank you for praying, hoping and trusting together with us.

Warmly in Christ,

Tom (& Victoria)

 

Where's Waldo? I Mean, Willow?

One of my favorite children's books of all time is "Where's Waldo?" Let's face it, it's even challenging for adults to find that red and white stripe shirted young man with his color coordinated beanie hat among the throng, much less a toddler. And then when you do find him? Why it's sheer delight because you've uncovered that needle in a haystack. In our home we have a real, live "Where's Waldo?" But we've renamed it, "Where's Willow?" We cannot tell you how many times this little coffee-bean of a girl has elusively escaped our grasp, only to cause us to gasp until we've found our needle in the haystack.  Two recent incidents come to mind: (1) While settling Annie into her new "digs" at Cal POLY about two weeks ago, we needed to remove her remaining belongings from our car and put them into the house. The home has a cute little picket fence around the front yard, creating what we like to refer to as "Willow Containment". Believe me, we're always on the lookout for Willow Containment, and this man-made structure seemed like an iron fortress. Well, not for Willow because between the time I took one last item out of the car and put it in Annie's room and my return to the vehicle (literally no less than 10 seconds), I gasped when upon after stepping out onto the front porch I saw Willow walking down the neighborhood street with her happy-go-lucky bounce as if she owned the place. The neighbor next door was pulling his car into his driveway at about the same time and I'm sure considered me to be the irresponsible parent from Mars. Of course I ran as fast as I could toward her and swooped Willow into my arms, thanking God all the while. Saved by grace, literally, once again. (2) The second harrowing experience came just a few minutes later when while unpacking Annie's things in her room, feeling that Willow was safe and secure because all of the doors to the outside were closed and even the doors to all of the other rooms as well, we decided after about four or five minutes of silence from either Willow or Poppy that we better go check to see if Willow was getting into mischief. (A frequent and common question to one another in our household, even asked by Poppy is, "Is Willow getting into mischief?") Actually, Victoria thought I had my eye on Willow and I thought she did. Well, wouldn't you know it? After Victoria yelled out to everyone in the house, "Where's Willow?", she saw her walking down the hallway soaking wet, from head to toe, dripping water from her hair and dress. We couldn't imagine what she had been in to so, after hearing the faint sound of running water, I ran down the hall and into the master bedroom/bathroom only to find the shower running full blast with the curtain wide open and all of the soap articles strewn about from top to bottom. Water was all over the place. We still don't know how she managed to do it, but somehow she got into that shower, turned the water on and decided to cleanse herself, with clothing on and all. We try not to think about the "What ifs?" Again, literally saved by grace, and all in the span of about 10 minutes. I'd say that's about enough mischief for a day. 

Hanging on, jumping between uncontrollable laughter and breathtaking terror,

Tom (& Victoria)

My Soul Thirsts for God

"Dare say a moment passes without sin against Thee.
In spite of unsurpassed love; continuing to flee.
How can this be, when bondage was set free?
Bewilderment and confusion haunt with heavy degree."

This morning I awoke with heaviness of heart,
Wanting all the while to extinguish the part,
That's always striving to destroy the rampart,
Around a soul that's tormented by countless false starts.

Unworthy is he who refuses His gift.
Unworthy is the one who chastens His sift.
But worthy is he who accepts His price,
For nothing can ye do will ever suffice,
To repay the sacrifice,
Of the perfect and Holy Christ.

- T. M. K.

I don't know why, but my soul is despairing today. In times like these I have nowhere to turn but to the One who possesses the words of eternal life.

"As the deer pants for the water brooks, So my soul pants for Thee, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, While they say to me all day long, "Where is your God?" These things I remember, and I pour out my soul within me. For I used to go along with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God, With the voice of joy and thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival. Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him For the help of His presence. O my God, my soul is in despair within me; Therefore I remember Thee from the land of the Jordan, And the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the sound of Thy waterfalls; All Thy breakers and Thy waves have rolled over me. The LORD will command His lovingkindness in the daytime; And His song will be with me in the night, A prayer to the God of my life. I will say to God my rock, "Why hast Thou forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?" As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries revile me, While they say to me all day long, "Where is your God?" Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him, The help of my countenance, and my God."

- Psalm 42

Victoria beautifully "played the lute and harp" for me this morning by reminding me of these precious words from Beethoven's melody in the hymn "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee":

"Joyful, joyful we adore thee God of Glory Lord of love.
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away.
Giver of immortal gladness fill us with the light of day."

Fighting the good fight,

Tom

The Leaven of Seven

A rare occasion occurred for us Kruggel's last week when we were all able to spend time together as a full, complete family (of seven). Between school, travels, sickness, work, and just normal (if there is such a thing these days) life activities, we gathered for about a week of just being together. Austin was gone almost all summer, as was Annie, and with the two little girls being relatively new to our family in the scheme of our chronology, it's rather amazing that it almost feels like we've always been a family of seven when we do "rally the troops". The girls love their older siblings, and the older ones just adore the girls. No doubt it's awkward and challenging at times having children straddle the two ends of the age continuum; a set in college and high school, and another set not even old enough to go school at all. It's challenging for Mom and Dad for obvious reasons, but it's also challenging for the older kids because their typical life experiences don't necessarily jive with those of a preschooler and a toddler. In the end, I believe we're all convinced way down deep that this is best for everyone because it forces us to think and behave outside of ourselves. Last Sunday, by way of example, all seven of us were enjoying a nice luncheon in a courtyard (where this picture was taken), together with some other collegial friends from CalPOLY San Luis Obispo, and right in the middle of a relaxing conversation Poppy accidentally tipped over a jumbo-sized cup filled to the brim with Pepsi. Some of us, especially Willow, were splashed with sugary syrup that interrupted our perfect outing. I guess that could have happened regardless of whether we had the little girls with us or not, but I'd say the odds were significantly higher with them there. So, what do you do? You say to yourself, "Oh well, no big deal. It's just soda-pop. We'll have sticky feet, pretend it didn't happen and just pick up where we left off." At the end of the day, we just wouldn't have it any other way. There's leaven in seven.

Content, with patience and stamina growing ever stronger,

Tom (& Victoria)

Glad Tents

This afternoon while in the midst of some pretty intense budget meetings with a bunch of folks from Hines, I decided to look down at my Blackberry to see what recent e-mails were sent my way. When I read this one from Victoria (below and directed to our older children), my mind turned to calm, my spirit lifted, and my heart smiled with joy. Perfect timing from my bride and my Lord.

Tom

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Glad songs of salvation are in the tents of the righteous." Psalm 118:15

I just wanted to share this little verse with you guys. I pictured the tents "of the righteous" (Israel of the Old Testament) and glad songs being heard from within them at night... Now we (who were made righteous through Christ) can sing glad songs of salvation from within our tents, our homes, our hearts.

I guess it all boils down to experiencing JOY at having been declared righteous in the sight of our Creator; that is where the glad songs come from.

From a glad tent,

Love,

Mom

Endings & Beginnings

This weekend we transported our sweet little Annie-girl to CalPOLY San Luis Obispo with her big brother Austin. It was a momentous affair, filled with the thrill of moving all of her things (and there's a lot of things) into her new house and room where she'll reside with four other women. It was also filled with the sorrow of letting go of yet another season of life with another one of our children and allowing them to test fly their newly formed wings. There's a part of you that feels they're never really ready (that's just being a parent), and there's the other part of you that feels that if you don't let them go then their wings will be clipped for life. Although the time is right, it still hurts. We'll miss our girl immensely. I could feel that I was on the cusp of tears during the last half hour before we pulled out of her driveway, but I forced myself to maintain composure. (Unlike our farewell to Austin five years ago when the entire family blubbered their way home all the way up Highway 101. That was quite a pathetic sight.) Besides, I knew it wouldn't help matters much anyway. The most tender moment during the weekend was when Poppy, without guile or prompting, leaned over to Annie and said with her high-pitched but soft voice, "Don't worry Annie, Austin will take good care of you." Knowing that Austin's there does give us a strong sense of comfort, not only because he will in deed take good care of her, but also because she'll find great solace in her big brother. We're glad they're together this year. Another poignant moment came when last night, after our four hour drive back home, Barret said to Victoria and me, "Gosh, it's going to be weird around here without Annie. I already feel kind of sad about it." Victoria and I quickly reminded him that he's not alone; there's two little ankle biters ready to reek plenty of havoc and interruption into his few and far between moments of solitude.

Time to move on, pray, pray, and then pray some more.

Somberly in Christ,

Tom (& Victoria)

Austin's Arrival

Last Wednesday evening I decided to surprise Austin upon his return from an eleven week trek hinder and far throughout Western Europe by unexpectedly showing up at the San Francisco International Airport to greet him. He originally planned to finish his journey with yet one last leg of solo transit to our train station in Lafayette via BART - Bay Area Rapid Transit. He thought it would be apropos to do so since he'd extensively traveled using only a public means of transportation, or walking. As the hour approached for him to land I could feel my stomach start to get butterflies with the anticipation of his arrival. I scoped out the entire greeting area next to the baggage claim and decided to hide behind a column and watch him from a clandestine spot. Not long after his scheduled arrival time, I could see him approach the luggage carousel wearing some raggedy old and thread bear shorts, that same green t-shirt he probably wore all summer, a stylish "Army" style hat, and sporting a not-too-grungy reddish beard. While waiting for his backpack to clear the luggage chute, I walked up behind him and said in some broken, lousy American tone, "Bon jour!" He looked over his shoulder, cracked a big grin, gave me a nice bear hug, and said, "Dad, you'd never make it in Europe with those silly language skills." We laughed, stared at each other and just relished the moment.

That was the beginning of a great week together, all seven of us. We rarely have those collective moments as a complete family, so we all cherished every second of them. Over the last week we ate, hiked across the Golden Gate Bridge, talked, shared stories, canoed, fished, played with the girls (who were extraordinarily entertaining), went to a Giants baseball game, and just generally caught up. He had some fascinating tales to tell about his experiences in Europe, as one might imagine after having lived out of a backpack for almost three months.

He just left to go back to Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo for his last year of gradutate school. We'll see him again in just a few days when we head down with Annie (and the rest of our family) to drop her off for her first year of school away from home,... Boo Hoo! (She'll be a Junior studying Graphic Design.)

"Austin, if you're reading this, know that we love you so much, miss you already so much, and can't wait to see you again so much in the next day or two."

Tom (& Victoria)

These I Ask of Thee

Just two days ago while I was sitting in the warmth of a perfect day in my parent's Las Vegas backyard, I was contemplating two things the Lord had recently drawn into my pathway of thought. The first was a profound prayer that was written and prayed by Sir Francis Drake before he set sail to the west coast of South America, ironically asking God to distress him and his crew to combat complacency and mediocrity. Victoria shared this prayer with me after she heard it quoted by a pastor on Sunday morning. (You can find it on the internet by clicking on the link below, if interested).

http://maggiesfarm.anotherdotcom.com/archives/1733-An-annual-re-post-Sir-Francis-Drakes-Prayer-1577..html)

The second was some proverbial wisdom found in Proverbs 30:7-9, my reading of which was prompted by Sir Francis Drake's prayer:

Two things I asked of Thee,
Do not refuse me before I die:
Keep deception and lies far from me,
Give me neither poverty nor riches;
Feed me with the food that is my portion,
Lest I be full and deny Thee and say, "Who is the LORD?"
Or lest I be in want and steal,
And profane the name of my God.

So I quickly penned (below) my reactions in poem asking that God would never permit me one moment of wasted life by always forcing me into positions of love and sacrifice. May the Lord be ever gracious unto me.

These I Ask of Thee

(Proverbs 30:7-9)

These I ask of Thee,
Do not refuse me,
Either this day,
And do not delay,
Before I die,
Beg Thee hear my cry.

Let me breathe,
That life here and now,
Comes by Thy grace,
And not by my brow.
That each passing moment,
Is filled with the thought,
"O' by Thy sweet mercy,
I was ransomed and bought".

Let me work,
With honor and care,
To bring but my best,
Leave nothing to spare.
So Christ may be served,
And not just my master,
That He might be pleased,
To save from disaster.

Let me father,
My children as gifts,
Not holding on,
But letting them sift.
As gold through a fire,
And sand through a glass,
With perfect love,
Only Yours to surpass.

Let me shepherd,
Your flock that You love,
Just as Your Son,
With peace like a dove.
To protect and adorn,
From evil that abounds,
And teach from Your mouth,
Your melodious sounds.

Let me husband,
That she may be honored,
Just as Christ's bride,
With sacrifice to garner.
To lay down my life,
Willingly to share,
Not thinking of self,
But only her to care.

Let me live,
To prosper long life,
That I give away,
Less suffering and strife.
What I do not own,
Nor possess for myself,
But given to me,
For Thysake and Thyself.

Let me love,
That others might know,
The cost to Thyself,
For cleansing as snow.
That nothing compares,
To Jesus my King,
When outstretched to die,
His life to me bring.

These I ask of Thee,
Do not refuse me,
Either this day,
And do not delay,
Before I die,
Beg Thee hear my cry.

- TMK

Gramma & Grampa

Eight one-way flights, three days and three nights, and ten hours of driving later without even hardly a peep of complaining from Poppy, we've all (excepting Austin) just returned from (as Poppy would say) "an amazing" trip with my Mom and Dad.  (They live in Las Vegas.) We ate, we talked, we slept, we toured, we tried to contain Willow, we ate, we tried to contain Willow, we..., well, you get the picture. This was my parents first introduction to the seventh, and by far most active member of our family, and they were just as enthralled with her as we have been ever since we adopted her. Normally all of the Kruggel boys (cousins, sons, uncles, brothers, friends) get together this time of year anyway over the Labor Day weekend for opening day of dove hunting season down in Yuma, Arizona as the birds head south for the winter. Since my Dad's been recovering from a few recent bouts with illness, he didn't feel quite up to it this year. Without him there, it just wouldn't be the same. So we all imposed upon him and went to his house (and my Mom's, of course) instead. We were also incentived because they graciously decided to give us their gorgeous and mint condition used car for Annie's use when she heads down to Cal Poly in a week or so. She really needed a car because the old Toyota Camry is starting to show it's wear and tear after now being handed down through at least four Kruggel's, starting with my grandfather. We're so grateful as the Lord has provided for us in a great time of need while we were in a quandary about Annie's transportation situation. "Thanks so much, Mom & Dad, and thank you Lord."

Victoria and I just got off the phone with Austin. He's in Paris, getting ready to catch a plane back to the United States. He leaves in three hours. We're all giddy with excitement to gather him into our arms and complete our family for a week long reunion before the two eldest head back off to school next week.

Warm, filled, and content with it all,

Tom (and Victoria)