We had an active night last night in Lilyan’s room here in ICU, and no sleep. For pretty much every minute of the night, there were three or four people hustling around her bed and watching over her. The team here has been great. Trying to balance all of her precarious needs right now is quite a challenge. She’s stable overall, but it’s been kind of a battle to keep her there. She would start to stir and come out of the sedation a bit and then reach for her breathing tube, so they would increase her sedation and her blood pressure would drop and her ventilator pressures would increase. So they would give her paralysis meds, and then her heart rate would go up. Over and over again. Then they would increase pain meds because they worried that the increased heart rate might be due, at least in part, to pain, and then her blood pressure would drop again. They were so attentive all night, so that even if she barely moved at all, they were right on top of it. They were determined not to let her get scared or uncomfortable.  But, as is typical in a situation like this, everything they would do just affected something else.

The night just kind of blended right into the morning as doctors began making rounds again. Several times we were reminded that she is “far from being out of the woods,” and that “that breathing tube isn’t coming out anytime soon,” (but no one explained their definition of soon). But she just keeps taking little baby steps forward, and sometimes she takes steps back. There have been no predictions, yet, about how long she will be on the ventilator or how long she will be in ICU. They do believe that it’s mostly a matter of time before her body will begin to balance itself out and these things will begin to reverse, but they aren’t sure how long this will take and just keep trying to make sure everything stays as stable as possible while we all wait for that.

Lilyan has been slightly more responsive today, and that’s more the level of sedation they like to maintain, rather than completely knocked out. But her increased alertness also makes some things more difficult. She keeps drifting off and then coming back toward consciousness and reaching up to see what’s on her face/in her mouth. If we can’t keep her hands down (because she could accidentally pull the breathing tube out), they will have to put arm restraints on her. But Scott and I have been watching her closely, and she responds very well to our voices and touch, and her music. She is staying mostly peaceful and responding to our questions. Early this morning, she was even able to make us understand that she wanted Maggie and Murphy and her family photo, and that she needed her music turned up louder. She is being so sweet and so strong.

They have described her lungs as “a smidge better,” and the most current concerns are her blood pressure, which continues to stay very low, and the fact that her body is barely putting out any urine. Her body is holding almost all fluids in the tissues (which is also causing her blood pressure to drop), instead of making the fluid available to be used as it should be, and then eliminated. This is also causing the swelling to worsen, especially in her arms and legs. She is very, very puffy all over.

They want to try some Lasix, but her numbers just aren’t stable enough for that. They are going to try switching up some of her meds, and add a small amount of blood pressure medication and see if they can get her numbers to increase with the hope of being able to try a small dose of Lasix later tonight. That would be a great thing to pray for. They are becoming pretty concerned about the lack of output, and so are we.

As we are moving into evening, she also seems to be becoming more agitated in her drugged mental fog, and that also causes anxiety that messes with her numbers and makes keeping her hands away from the breathing tube harder. We are hoping that switching her sedation med will help with this.

The really great piece of news is that she seems to be having virtually no pain. This is most certainly due to the fact that she has no feeling from about the waist down. Sometimes being paralyzed carries benefits, and this is definitely one of those times.

Some have asked about the kids at home. They all seem to be doing very well, and even Kathryn is sleeping much better these days. We can’t thank all of you enough for the love and the prayers and the continuous flow of encouragement via texts and comments on our blog or Facebook. Thank you!

We’ll continue to update as things move forward.

Finally. Fourteen hours after they took Lilyan into the OR (at about 9:15am), she arrived in ICU (at about 11:15pm). The last few hours have been emotional and filled with adrenaline.

At about 8:30pm, Scott and I were wondering why we still hadn’t heard from her spine surgeon, because we had been told about two and a half hours earlier that he would be coming out to talk to us “in about two hours.” We both said to each other that we were just wondering if anything had happened; if she might be in any trouble. And we prayed for her.

About an hour later, we learned that at the time we were wondering and praying, she had, indeed, been in trouble.

Around 9:30pm her spine surgeon and the anesthesiologist responsible for all of the neuro-monitoring (a necessary part of making sure they don’t cause further nerve damage in Lilyan’s body during such a delicate surgery) came to talk to us. They told us that she had lost lots and lots of blood, and that around 8:30, her blood pressure had suddenly plummeted and her heart wasn’t “doing its job” and her lungs were struggling and she had gone into respiratory failure. They had to stop the surgery, give her epinephrine to get her heart going again, meds to get her blood pressure back up, and also pump in tons of blood products to try to get her blood volume back up. They had managed to get her stable enough to come talk to us while the plastic surgeon was starting the tough job of closing her up and finishing up the surgery, but they made it clear that she was still seeping blood throughout her body and that she was not “out of the woods” yet.

We were finally able to be with her in ICU a little after midnight, and she is still not out of the woods. It will be at least a couple of days before she is safe. They also stressed that this wasn’t a big surprise — any of it. That these are exactly the things they told us to be prepared for and that they always know are possible with this surgery. They were as ready as possible for this kind of emergency. But the anesthesiologist said to us several times, “It was close. It was really, really close.”

We learned later that she, again, lost a lot of blood as they were frantically trying to get her closed, and that she was very up and down during that period. A team was  fighting hard to keep her alive so that the plastic surgeon could get her closed and out of the OR. One of the big risks over the next couple of days now is that because of all of the blood products they have to give her (platelets and not sure what else), the blood can tend to seep into her lungs so they will have to watch that constantly.

Apparently, keeping her properly intubated is also a challenge because of how badly her body is curved. The tubing tends to kink, so they are keeping her neck in an uncomfortable position to try to prevent this. The swelling is very, very bad, and it’s hard to see her like this, but she is being cared for so gently and lovingly here.

The good piece of news (besides the fact that our baby survived the surgery) is that her spine surgeon said the hardware they put in her back looks great on x-ray. We were very happy to hear this. Also, they did let us see her back, and it looks absolutely beautiful. Her plastic surgeon did an amazing job closing things up, especially under the very urgent circumstances.

She will be heavily sedated, in ICU, and on a ventilator for at least the next couple of days as they try to get (and keep) everything stabilized.They may also have to periodically paralyze her whole body during the night if she continues to have airway issues, but she is so deeply sedated, that we are hoping she will not be traumatized by this at all.

These are some of the things we had really hoped wouldn’t happen, but we knew they could. And now they have. We have worked very hard over the past couple of years to keep Lilyan as healthy as possible by using Juice Plus products and keeping her body moving and exercised. And her blood work proves that she came into this surgery in superb shape nutritionally. Plus, we already know that she is a fighter.

Please continue praying for our girl now as we move through these next scary days. We are praying that her body can rest and do the job of healing itself as the excellent ICU staff watches over her and God holds her.

We have been told that she is nowhere hear out of the woods yet, and we expect to have some tough days ahead now, but she is peaceful and deeply asleep for now and blissfully unaware of all that’s going on around her. She had us put her playlist together specifically in case something like this happened and asked us, before surgery, to please play it for her if she ended up being sedated. So we are doing that now and it will likely play for her all night.

(Also, please ignore any typos. We are very tired)

Lilyan was taken into the OR at about 9:15 am this morning. We were told not to expect them to be done until at least 9:00 pm, and very possibly later. She was calm, but alert and watchful and fighting tears a bit, but she did so well with all of the pre-op pieces.

It took them about two hours just to get her positioned and everything set up, and the surgery actually didn’t start until about 11:00 am.

In addition to the scary risks we were already prepared for, we learned this morning that there is also risk of skin breakdown over her ribs and even scarring from skin breakdown on her face, all because of the need to keep her in the same face-down position for the full plus or minus 12 hours of surgery. Please keep praying for our baby.

We have been given a private waiting room because her surgery is so long, so we are resting comfortably during the wait, and we just got our first full report.

Neurosurgery has completed their part and Lilyan’s neurosurgeon just spent some time talking to us. Her spinal cord was stretched tighter than expected due to the kyphosis (“humpback”) in her lower back, so his part took at least twice as long as expected. But all went well and he felt really good about things in the end.

He has now handed Lilyan over to her orthopedic surgeon so he can start his part, which, from what we understand, is the longest piece. He will be removing all of the bones in the large kyphosis and also inserting rods the full length of her back. They will have to fill in the empty space left after the bones are removed from the kyphotic part of her spine by anchoring the new end of the spine to the sacrum. We are hoping that there are enough sacral bones in Lilyan’s body to do this, however, because one of her primary diagnoses is Sacral Agenesis (missing sacrum), she only has a small portion of the sacrum, so we don’t, yet, know if there is enough bone there to do the trick. That’s next on the agenda.

We asked a few questions about how her blood pressure is looking (good so far) and how extensive her wound will be. Her neurosurgeon told us that she is definitely opened all the way up, and that’s why the third surgeon, her plastic surgeon, is waiting for her turn, which will be a complicated closing as the third and final piece sometime tonight.

Whenever Lilyan gets through this and wakes up, this new sweet little baby hippo is waiting for her.

Thanks so much for all of the notes and prayers all through the day. We’ll post again later in the evening as we know more.

Lilyan’s surgery is upon us now. Again. Hopefully, for real this time. (Details about the surgery can be found in this long post from almost a year ago; scroll about half-way down to get to the part about Lilyan.)

The tension in the air is palpable, and the butterflies in everyone’s stomachs are active.

We are scheduled to arrive at the hospital Wednesday morning (3/20) by 7am, and surgery is supposed to begin at 9am.

Thanks to my friend Carmen I think meals for the kids here at home during our week in the hospital are all provided for now.

Robyn and I have pulled together daily activities and crafts to keep everyone’s minds busy during our days apart, and this Friday, March 22, they will all be attending a benefit concert for The Shepherd’s Crook. Scott, Lilyan, and I are all very sad to have to miss this concert, but the excitement of attending is helping all of our other kids through this scary time. And we are inexpressibly grateful to Jason for coming to Cincinnati to do this concert for TSC, and for all of those who were part of helping to plan it. Please check it out and get your tickets while they are still available. You won’t be sorry. His songs and his stories have touched us so much over the past few months. Jason is a man who is honest about the pain of this life, who has asked hard questions, and who has written about those struggles. His music speaks beautifully to the hurting and questioning places in all of us.

Even though we head to the hospital on Wednesday, I had planned to try and stick to our our normal school schedule today and tomorrow to keep everybody busy and distracted, as well as keeping everyone on track with their school work as we approach the end of another school year. Unfortunately, that didn’t go quite as I had hoped today.

Just as Lilyan was finishing up her math worksheet this morning, she put down her pencil and said she wanted to tell me something. I could tell that she was pretty serious, so I stopped school and said, “Sure, Babe. What’s up?”

She said, “I wanted to tell you about a dream . . .” and then she started sobbing so hard, and tears started falling so fast, that I couldn’t understand her. She couldn’t talk at all. After several tries, she was finally able to tell me that as she woke up this morning she was dreaming that Greg (her brother-in-law who will be helping get all of our kids to the concert Friday night) came into her room and she was telling him that she didn’t want to miss the concert. At this point, the tears began flowing freely again and the sobs choked her speech. That was the whole dream, but there was so much emotion behind this.

I recognized right away that this dream represented so many feelings about this surgery. So we just stopped school for the day and talked.

Lilyan has always had so much trouble identifying her own feelings, and even more trouble expressing those feelings to anyone. Her days have, hisorically, been filled with so much fear and anxiety. We have seen lots and lots of progress since she came home to us, especially over the past year, but this is still a challenge for her. She surprised me so much by doing such a great job with this today. She asked questions and told me scary memories of her time in the hospital in China that she’d never shared before. We talked about the parts of this upcoming surgery that make her feel most afraid. It was a good talk, and she is so much more ready for this than she was a year ago — even more than she was in October. God’s timing is always perfect.

Roslyn, who had been finishing her own math sheet while listening, was clearly very upset for Lilyan. So when she finished her math, she spent time talking to Lilyan about her own surgeries and hospital experiences to help her kind of know what to expect with the special vascular access team when they do her IV, and how dizzy her head will feel when they take her into the OR after they give her her Versed, and again when she is waking up in recovery, etc. It was one of their sweetest sister moments, ever. She also told Lilyan that she could borrow her weighted blanked if she wanted and even some of her animals because her (Roslyn’s) animals might help Lilyan feel better because she can’t be with the other kids for those days.

Roslyn trying to calm Lilyan’s fears by sharing her own personal experiences. Sometimes not knowing what to expect is the scariest part.

Some lingering tears as she listens to Roslyn talk. Sweet, sweet girl.

We also talked about breathing tubes and pain medications and things that she might like to have in place in case she is scared and drugged during her immediate post-op period and her time in the ICU. She said she would like Daddy to have music ready on his computer and a speaker to play that music for her. I asked what music she wanted us to have ready, and she immediately said, “Michael Bublé, Jason Gray, and Laura Story.” In that order. Again, knowing what she wants, and making those wants and needs known, are all new things for her, and it’s so great that she is so much stronger in these areas before we have to do this. But now it really is time to get this behind us. We’ve all been waiting with it hanging over us for so long.

It was so encouraging for me to see how well Lilyan handled this conversation, but it was also very sad to see how much she is carrying inside of her little heart. It makes me dread the days ahead. Thanks so much for all of the prayers. We really don’t know what to expect over the next week, but we know that our good and loving Author will hold us close as He writes this next chapter of our story. We want to lean into Him as we move through whatever is ahead now.

We will do our best to post updates here and let everyone know how things go.

I can’t believe how much time has passed since our last update and since we got word that Lilyan’s surgery had been emergently postponed. It has been a long and frustrating few weeks as we’ve tried to get a new OR time scheduled for the three surgeons involved. I’ll spare you all those details.

In the midst of the frustration and normal life, though, some beautiful things happened.

One of the biggest highlights of the year was Raiza’s adoption. We still marvel at the miracles that brought this about and made this dream a reality. It still seems almost too amazing to actually be true.

With our daughter (officially!!)

Our dear Judge Randy Rogers who has been such a key part of all of our adoptions.

Jhannel wasn’t sure what all of the excitement was about

Raiza Jane Rosenow, signing with her new signature for the first time

Our three Bolivian-born children

After this we moved into the holiday season, and although there was plenty of stress (it would, after all, be impossible to do holidays for this many people without any stress), several of the kids came to us at random times to say that this was the least-stressed and most-relaxed holiday season they could remember having in quite awhile. Considering all of the major medical problems the family has had over the past three years or so, this makes sense. We did have an unusually low number of appointments and/or emergencies, and a lot of happy memories were made.

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, our oldest son, Allan, and his wife and two little sons got to come home, and that was such a happy time for everyone. We got our first-ever photo of the two of us with all twenty-three of our children. Also one that included spouses and one with all twelve grands. We had hoped to get one of everybody all together, but by the time we got these three, the grandkids had had enough.

The two of us with all 23 of our kids

All of our kids and spouses (so far)

With our twelve grandchildren

Then Christmas. It was such a special year this year as we celebrated Christmas with Raiza for the first time since December of  2000, and for the first time, ever, with our granddaughter, Jhannel. It was also our first time really to celebrate with our newest Godwin granddaughter, Evie. She was home just before Christmas last year, but seizures resulting from her traumatic brain injury made it impossible for her to be a part of our celebration in any way. Her new incredible neurologist, and the amazing differences that a loving family makes, both combined to change this little girl into a different child over the past twelve months. And while she still has many struggles, and while we all hope to see even more progress for her down the road, she was able to be a part of the family celebration in some ways this year, and we praise God for the miracles that made this possible.

Once again, God miraculously, through the generous hearts of others, made it possible for us to provide Christmas for this huge brood. We can never fully express our gratitude for those who have allowed God to use them in this way.

Jhannel’s first real Christmas – lighting advent candles with Granddaddy

Leaving cookies for Santa Claus

Filling all of those stockings on Christmas Eve

Christmas dinner, 2018

And all through these weeks and months and special events, we’ve been waiting and waiting for a new surgery date for Lilyan. Since we didn’t know how soon this might happen, we have mostly maintained our family quarantine, which has been challenging for such a long period.

As I’ve said before, being away from church for so much of the past three years has been hard in many ways. We miss our church family, we miss gathering with them to worship and fellowship together, and we continue to look forward to the day when this current season in our life is past and we can, once again, attend regularly. But we don’t know how long this season will last. We trust God to walk alongside us until that day.

We still gather as a family on Sunday mornings in our family room, and as hard as this season is, and even though we would never have chosen this if God had asked for our input, it is so clear that God is doing some necessary and beautiful refining in some of our children’s hearts. We have seen, multiple times, that some of these works in their hearts wouldn’t have happened if not for these private and intimate family worship times — that this refining has actually happened because of  special family gatherings and periods of teaching and sharing.

Then finally, this week we got the answer we’ve been waiting for. Lilyan’s so-big surgery will now take place (Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise) on March 20. So we will all start again with the process of preparing for the unknowns waiting for us on the other side of this risky and necessary operation for our girl. We are thankful for the relatively calm holiday season we had, and will always cherish the memories that were made over the past few weeks.

We, once again, ask for prayers for our hearts, the children’s hearts, and for Lilyan’s heart as we move through the next few weeks and then through this surgery and very long recovery. We are hearing much in the news about how terrible the flu is this year, so we will be continuing in as much of a quarantine state as possible. So just know, all of you who are part of our church family, that we miss you and look forward to being back with you when God makes that possible again.

I’ll close with one of my favorite Christmas stories from this year. Lilyan, just like all of her sisters, loves playing dress-up and getting all fancy for tea parties. We wanted to get the younger ones new dress-up dresses this year, but finding anything that worked for Lilyan’s deformed trunk began to look impossible. I spent four hours one day in early December searching the Internet and praying for something that would work. And then I found an amazing gal on Etsy. She offered to custom-make a most amazing princess dress for our Lilyan-girl and then wouldn’t allow us to pay for anything but the shipping! It turns out that she and her husband had already been considering adoption someday when their young biological children are older. And then even more incredible, this gal offered to help parents of other children with Lilyan’s disabilities by making dresses for their children, too. She and I are currently working on trying to make these connections between her and these parents. Divinely appointed connections are a regular part of life for followers of this amazing Father of ours. I so love watching Him work and cross paths and make beautiful things happen.

Lilyan was thrilled with her new dress when she opened it up for Christmas. I’ll end this post with a couple of pictures of our little Princess Lilyan.

Look what just arrived! Boxes full of Through the Branches: Tales From the Life of an Unusual Family. This is not, yet, the promised follow-up to our first book, but rather a smaller companion to that book.

This book, and our first book, Swaying in the Treetops, are both now available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. (E-books will be available there in the next few weeks.)

Swaying in the Treetops retails for $33.99 and Through the Branches for $17.49 (prices set by the publisher).

But we are offering, as a pre-Christmas sale, signed copies for $25 and $12, respectively, including shipping and handling.

Click here for details and ordering information.

Please make sure you provide the name(s) of the recipient(s) with correct spelling on that online form, and if you’d like a personalized signing, please share something about the recipient(s) and/or their story. Otherwise, we will be happy to just sign with a generic little note.

This is from the publisher’s Diagnostic Review if you’d like to know more about our newest book:

“[In Through the Branches, written] as a companion to their first book, Swaying in the Treetops, the authors share a collection of vignettes that offer an inspiring and entertaining look into the daily life of their large family. With both biological and adopted children, the authors use their real-life stories to encourage other parents and families to embrace the wonder of family relationships. The book is written eloquently and fluently, clearly expressing the story of a unique family and the daily happenings in their life. The writing is easy to understand, detailed, and beautifully written, showing the wonders of life in their family. The authors have portrayed valuable personal experiences, with humility and authenticity, that show true vulnerability that can greatly impact the reader. Many books about family life try to make everything seem perfect, but this book shows the reality of family life, with its challenges and victories, and reveals the beauty of genuine storytelling in family relationships.”

We are so excited to share these stories from inside our family’s home. All proceeds go to The Shepherd’s Crook Orphan Ministry.

Would you please help us spread this news by sharing this blog post?

Wow. We got a call from Children’s Hospital this afternoon, only about fifteen hours before this huge surgery. They’ve had to cancel. We don’t know much, yet. Only that there has been an emergency involving Lilyan’s primary surgeon. We do know that he has felt much urgency about getting this done, and that he would never cancel unless it was absolutely necessary.

Tomorrow morning we will call his nurse and get more information and try to figure out what the new plan is. Lilyan has had quite a bit of back pain this past week, so we are worried about having to put this off at all. And we know that coordinating schedules for three surgeons is a big deal, so we don’t know how quickly this could be rescheduled. And we don’t even know if this emergency is something that will prevent her surgeon from operating for a long time or not. We just don’t know anything, yet. So we wait.

It’s been a weird day, even before this phone call. Over the past week, God so graciously allowed us to put Lilyan’s surgery in a box and leave it there so that we could mostly just focus on being with the kids and doing fun things and watching their hearts for any struggles with anxiety over what’s coming. We were amazed at how little this coming event affected our time together or intruded into our thoughts. But when we woke this morning, knowing that surgery was only 24 hours away, it was suddenly all we could see and feel for the moment.

We had already planned to fill this day with making caramel apples, watching the Bengals, and carving our pumpkin for this year, but we felt somehow kind of numb and disconnected from ourselves and like we could hear every second ticking away on the clock as we moved through these activities with the kids. We knew, though, that we were glad that it was finally almost time to get this done. And then the phone call.

We gathered the kids and explained to them what had happened, prayed together, and are continuing with our plans for the day, but we’re also having a little trouble processing everything we are feeling now.

We will post more as soon as we know more. Thank you for hanging with us in this strange place of limbo. We know that, even though it feels like limbo to us and maybe even kind of out of control, God is still firmly in control and that everything is proceeding according to His plan.

I’ll close with a few pictures of our day together today.

Lilyan’s a little emotional over all of this, too. She said she feels both “happy and sad.”

Well, God does write amazing stories.

I have some exciting news to share, but first, thank you all who prayed for Scott’s and my getaway. It really almost didn’t happen. We were 2 1/2 hours later leaving than we had planned (due mostly to continuing issues that needed to be talked through with a few of the kids), and then about thirty minutes down the road, I broke a tooth. That nearly did me in, and we almost gave up and went home. But it never started to hurt, so we just kept going. In the end, it was such a wonderful trip; it was, possibly, the best trip we’ve ever had together in our forty-one years of marriage. We are so very thankful that God blessed us with this time away, and we do feel much more ready to face Lilyan’s surgery on Monday.

Now . . .

Scott and I did our first adoption in 1998. From that point forward, the longest we ever went between adoptions was two years and four months. Until now. It has now been three years and two months since Nolan came home to us in August 2015. We felt pretty sure he would be our last adoption.

We were wrong.

We are adopting again, but this isn’t like any other adoption we’ve ever done. If you’ve read our first book, Swaying in the Treetops, then you may remember that our adoption journey started with a little girl named Raiza Sangueza in 1997. She was not eligible for adoption, but came to our family from Bolivia as a medical-foster situation at the age of seven, and her entrance into our lives changed us forever and proved to be the conduit for our first actual adoption of Nathan. It all started with her.

She lived with us for about a year on that first visit and became very much our daughter in our hearts. This story is a very long one, and maybe we will have a chance to tell it fully someday. But over the next few years, Raiza came to us two more times, staying as long as two years at a time. The last time we saw her, she was twelve years old, and it broke our hearts, and her heart, that we could never adopt her. When she returned to Bolivia that last time, we all lost contact with each other for a decade.

Again, it’s a very long story, but God eventually answered a million prayers and brought us back together. You may also remember that she and her daughter, Jhannel, arrived here in America a few months ago and have been living with us since that time. She is twenty-nine now, and never stopped calling us, or thinking of us as, Mom and Dad. I will never forget that hug when she got off the plane — our first hug for each other since October 2001. It’s such a miracle that she is here and back in our lives.

We are slowly learning about the really tough things she went through during that decade we were cut off from each other. But that is her story to tell someday when she is ready. We will say that she is going to be a very bright light for God’s kingdom someday, and will have so much help to offer others when the time comes. Her story of healing is a beautiful one, and it’s such an honor that God is allowing us to walk by her side for this incredible part of her journey.

We learned just a couple of months ago that, in the state of Ohio, it is possible to adopt an adult as long as there was a parent-child relationship between the adopters and the adoptee while the adoptee was still a minor. And as long as adoption is what both parties want.

There was. And we do. It is what we have all always wanted since God first brought us together.

So on November 19, our family will, one last time, gather in the Butler County courthouse as Judge Randy Rogers finalizes one more Rosenow adoption. On that day, Raiza Sanqueza will officially become what she has already unofficially been now for twenty-one years — Raiza Jane Rosenow.

We want to invite anyone who would like to attend. If you think you might like to be a part of our huge celebration over this miracle, please jot us a note to let us know. We will give you the rest of the details at that time. We would so love to fill the courthouse that day with people who have been a part of Raiza’s story in any way through the years and/or anyone who would like to join us during this very, very special time for our family as we officially adopt our 23rd child (who was actually really our first non-biological child). We are still shaking our heads in surprise at God’s revelation now of His plans all those years ago.

She will also be changing Jhannel’s name to Jhannel Amalia Rosenow, our precious and so-loved granddaughter.

Here is a beautiful picture of Raiza Jane and her daughter Jhannel Amalia. Just a quick story about the name. We used to, jokingly, call her Raiza Jane when she was a child, and when it came time to choose her new middle name for her adoption paperwork, she asked if she could have this one. The very cool thing about this is that the name “Jane” means, “gracious gift of God” — which is also the same meaning of “Jhannel.” This daughter and granddaughter are truly very gracious gifts from our God. We are awed.

I just wanted to send out a fairly quick update to my last post because I promised to send a link for meal sign-ups in case anyone wanted to help provide meals for our kids at home while we are in the hospital with Lilyan. You should be able to go to this Meal Train link and sign up. There are some dates still left open, and all important info (number of people eating, time for meal delivery, food allergies, etc.) is there. We will also try to post photos and updates there as we go through the surgery and post-op period.

Also, a number of you have been praying about Scott’s and my getaway and have even written to ask if it’s going to happen. Man! It’s like all the powers of Hell have been trying to prevent this trip.

One of the things we felt was critical to helping make this happen was a day off for all of our big kids. So on Thursday, Scott and I sent the twelve oldest out for a time of rest and fun. Then he and I decided to see if we could manage a little trip to Sharon Woods for a quick hike with the nine who were left here (including granddaughter Jhannel). It was hard, especially with the limitations caused by my Achilles tendon inflammation, but we had such a great time with them, and I just iced a lot after we got home. I’ll post a few pictures at the end of this post.

The older ones had a great time and returned that evening refreshed and ready to jump back in. So we began making plans, in earnest, to move forward with the trip.

Then yesterday morning, everything began falling apart.

• Roslyn has been having stomach pain for about a week. Short version of the story is that, as the week passed, we (along with a couple of her doctors) were able to determine that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong urologically, and that it appeared to be a problem with her colon and the incontinence issues she struggles with. Her colorectal doctor got involved, and we were able to help ease her pain, but it still hasn’t gone away completely. They are all stumped and are checking urine again to make sure we aren’t missing something. We were concerned about leaving her with things still unresolved.
• Then there’s our dog, Saxon. He is such an awesome dog for our kids, but he has been unhealthy and on heavy medications for years (vet’s best guess is that he is allergic to, well . . . pretty much everything). He was doing so great this past summer that we tried slowly weaning him off all of his meds. He was better than we had seen him in years  — no allergy issues, no lethargy caused by the meds.  He was playful and frisky and so happy. We were down to only one pill a day and planning to cut that one today. But yesterday, he erupted in a terrible systemic allergic reaction. As I type this, Scott is off to the vet with him to get a steroid injection.
• Ethan, whose seizures have been stable for months, had a mild seizure Thursday evening, after some hints of possible seizure activity during the past week. We reached out to his neurologist yesterday, and he has increased Ethan’s meds a bit, but we were concerned about leaving him with things still kind of uncertain.
• One of our middle kids, and one of our younger kids, has been going through some behavioral regression. Parenting these kids from hard pasts is no joke, and it takes so much time and energy, and sometimes there’s no way to predict what might set them back. We thought we had gotten through this with both of them, but yesterday some really ugly stuff came out, and we are, once again, dealing with some deception and manipulation and pretty significant selfishness. We understand where this comes from, but it has to be dealt with, of course.

Anyway, we decided yesterday afternoon that we just couldn’t leave them, and were working hard to get a handle on our deep disappointment about this. Then some of the older kids urged us not to give up and cancel the trip, in spite of everything that was happening. They kept trying to assure us that they are well-trained and prepared to handle these things for just a few days.

Scott and I spent some more time talking and organizing a list of ways for them to handle the unresolved issues if anything came up, putting together a clear plan for the two whose hearts are in not such good places at the moment, and devising back-up plans that would involve reaching out to our oldest daughter and son-in-law if needed (even though they are dealing with many life struggles of their own right now).

Robyn helped me put a structured schedule in place that includes crafts and organized games and other activities, as this is a critical piece to keeping things flowing smoothly — unless unexpected problems come up (then they go to the back-up plan.)

Bottom line — barring any catastrophic events today or tomorrow morning, we are planning to pack up and try leaving at about noon tomorrow. This is mostly because it has become clear to us that it’s really important to our kids that we try to do this. They really want to give this to us.

If you think to pray that we can leave this all behind and just focus on each other and resting up for this surgery together, we would love that. Also, that the kids here will work together and that health issues will remain stable until we return, and even that they will have fun while we are gone. And especially for our children’s hearts as we stay the course in our attempts to help them all find healing from their histories.

That’s it for now. Thank you to all of you who pray for, and help care for, our family so faithfully, year after year.

Here are a few photos of our time with our younger kids on Thursday:

Granddaughter Jhannel helping Lilyan get her jacket on

Here we go

We sure missed the big kids as we fought to get all those wheelchairs over the rocky path, but Ethan and Shannen and Nolan were great helpers

Jhannel, stopping to check out some wildflowers

Roslyn and Jhannel

Our little hiking crew