Shingles- and why I'm thankful

I (Rob) found out this week that I have shingles.  It's almost exam week at seminary, term papers are due next week, I'm scheduled to speak at a Chinese church in Miami next week...great timing, body.

Shingles started with what I thought was a strained muscle in my back.  Then some tingling in my skin around that area and spreading to my armpit and chest.  Before we learned it was shingles, my thoughts for possible problems were:
*fast moving cancer (not unlikely, given my family history)
*heart disease (I always assume this is inevitable as I get older)
*kidney failure (because WebMD suggested it)
*spider bite (since moving to Florida, I've woken up TWICE in the middle of the night because a large roach crawled across me.  I killed both roaches.  If roaches are crawling on me at night, why not spiders?  And we have some BIG spiders in Florida.)

But then, very suddenly, the rash and bumps appeared, and I was able to rule out all of those except "spider bite," which then got ruled out by the doctor saying "you have a textbook case of shingles," which, for those of you that don't know about shingles, it's basically short for "What chicken pox does when it's been dormant in your body for decades and gets bored."

So compared to my fears, shingles isn't so bad, and I'm thankful for that.

Also, when researching shingles, I've realized that the only people who really write their personal medical experiences online are people who have horrible experiences.  Nobody writes "yeah, I had such-and-such illness and it was not as bad as I feared."  No, nobody with those experiences is motivated to write about it.  The stories you see online are: "I was in constant pain for 4 months." "I wanted to stab myself and cut off my skin."  "It was more painful than my broken tailbone."  And everyone who hears you have shingles shares the horror stories they've heard or experienced.   So I've been ready for the worst pain of my life.  Thankfully, that hasn't happened...yet.

But it is painful.  Very painful.  And itchy...burningly itchy.  And this will probably last several weeks.  I woke up today and the pain had risen to a new level.  It's hard to concentrate long enough to study, write papers, or work.  And the kids don't understand why I can't hold them or roughhouse with them, which makes things much harder for April, too.

So to sum up, I'm thankful that I don't have any of the things I feared at first, and I'm thankful that my case isn't as bad as it could be.  But I don't like having shingles.  And if anyone wants their kids to get chicken pox, send them over, I think I'm entering my contagious phase soon.

(Also, for the seriously twisted, I have pictures of the rash available upon request.)

The Birth Story

Warning, this entry might not be for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. We posted it here for the many of our friends and family who have been asking for the story.

April's version of the birth:

Tuesday, April 12th

1:30 pm – afternoon appointment with the midwife – They used a fetal monitor on me and it turns out that I've been having small contractions for months! So that wasn't the baby just stretching into my rib cage??? I had no idea. The midwife said “oh, you were so uncomfortable all the time, how would you know?” I liked this, because it appealed to my self-pity tendencies. Anyhow, I was about 1 cm dilated and 50% effaced.

around 10:30 pm – Rob and I were trying to go to sleep, but Cosi had a bad dream and we let her climb into our bed. She was super excited and started happy kicking. This marks the first time all four of us attempted to sleep in a queen-sized bed. Fail. Need king-sized bed.

around 11 pm – Cosi was still in our bed. Now, with my newfound knowledge of contractions, I realized that I was having contractions and decided to time them. They were 7-8 minutes apart and strong enough to keep me awake. They were not yet strong enough to keep Rob awake, but that would soon change. I thought this would be a good time to check email, check facebook, and pack my bag (in that order). Rob asked me to wake him up about 10 minutes before we need to leave for the hospital, so he can get stuff together. I laughed (it was between contractions) at his trust in my ability to be able to predict such a moment and told him to get his stuff together then.

Wednesday, April 13th

1:45-2:55 am - Cosi has been moved back to her bed. I was having contractions every 5 minutes for one hour, and then they started coming every 3-4 minutes. We called our friend/neighbor to come over and watch Cosi.

3:20 am – Rob and I left our apartment and walked ¼ mile to the front of our neighborhood to get a taxi. We had to stop twice for contractions. There weren't any taxis on our street. We started walking toward a bigger street. We just missed a taxi. Some man (who was out in the middle of the night) took it before the pregnant woman in labor could get it – awesome.

3:40 am – We were in a taxi and on our way to the hospital. I did my best not to look like a woman who might have her water break or bleed in the driver's car, lest he turn us away.

3:50 am – We realized contractions were back to being 6 minutes apart, started to feel worried that we may have left too soon and might be turned away at the hospital.

4 am - After a quick trip without any traffic, we arrived at the hospital. They monitored my contractions (5-6 minutes apart) and told me the baby was coming!

7:45 am – My midwife arrived at the hospital and checked on me. She decided to break my water and start me on Pitocin to speed up labor. It worked and the pain increased significantly.

8 am – I was trying to tough it out and wait a bit longer to get an epidural.

8:30 am – I was begging for an epidural, but the doctor who administered epidurals wasn't at work yet.

8:45 am – Rob was a little embarrassed by this point, but knew better than to say anything. I was telling the nurse (not very politely) to get the doctor on the phone and find out how many more minutes until she arrived.

8:50 am – I got my epidural. The midwife had to hold me down in a fetal position while I was puking, but I got it. (I learned that big babies push into your stomach and make you puke during contractions) Anyhow, it was a special walking epidural that isn't as strong as the epidurals in the US. Just like the name implies, I was able to walk around. (This blog post is getting too long and is in danger of never being finished. The true summary begins and I'm not going to concentrate on correct verb tense usage.)

9 am-ish – The contractions still hurt, but became bearable.

11:45 am – I'm 10 cm and it's go time. The epidural has worn off and I'm not allowed to have more pain medication b/c “I need the pain to be able to push the baby out.” What the ??? At this point, I fully realize I am not in an American hospital. What happened = lots of screaming (worse than the movies, ask Rob, I'm not exaggerating), 3 doctors sticking their hands in me to turn his head, rapid Chinese conversations between doctors, me screaming at them “what are you saying?,” tearing, hematomas, and eventually the delivery of the most beautiful newborn I have EVER seen!

*One of the doctors who had a “hand” in my delivery was the head of the department. She showed up 30 minutes late to a luncheon (that she was speaking at), in order to help deliver Trey.

Robert Paul Edenfield III (Trey) was born at 12:43 pm on April 13th.

1 - 2pm- One of the doctors stitches me up, no anesthetics. They give me the rest of the epidural, to no effect. Agony. The doctor tells me, "I guess this spot is too low for the epidural to reach," yet makes no effort to do anything to help my pain except to repeatedly tell me "just a few more minutes." Rob gives me a washcloth to bite.

5pm – 7pm – surgery on me to repair my body from delivery. Me - “What's that? You want to give me general anesthesia and I won't feel pain for a few hours? Yes, please. In fact, maybe you could wake me up next week...”

7:00 pm – wake up while Rob is talking to the doctors, say lots of things that I don't remember...

My thoughts on pain medication: “Demerol is better than Percocet, but Percocet is still pretty darn good.”

My thoughts on blood loss: “Makes me feel dizzy.”

My thoughts on the East Asian nurses: "Not gentle."

My thoughts on not being able to sit up for a week: “My hips hurt.”

My thoughts about my husband: “What an incredible servant to Cosi, Trey & me” and “God gave me the best husband in the world” and “That man has truly seen me at my worst, truly.”

*And, just in case you were wondering, I pooped A LOT during labor. However, the doctor informed me that my “poop a lot during labor and avoid it for a week” strategy wasn't a good one. Apparently, when you eat, new poop builds up and you have to get it out within a few days or it becomes harder to get out...who knew?

Rob's version of the birth:

holy crap holy crap holy crap

why isn't the epidural helping?

wow, that's a lot of puke

she's going to puke again, I know the signs. Maybe I should tell the nurse.

At some point, isn't she bound by birth-etiquette to turn to me with an angry look and say “This is all YOUR fault”?

Wow, I didn't know she could scream like that.

Whoa, I didn't know any person could scream like that.

Yikes...that didn't even sound human.

I think they told me to stand here and hold her head forward just to keep me busy.

Hmmm...I probably shouldn't tell April what I think the doctors are saying. In fact, I think they have a secret code to make scary words indecipherable.

If it were me going through this experience, I would look for Eve in heaven and give her a big punch in the gut.

That's the top of his head- this is a special moment. Such a tiny head- the size of a tennis ball. He's not so big after all. O wait, the head keeps going...and going...holy crap he's HUGE! Was he just chilling in there with his arms around her lungs or something?

Now they're telling me to get my camera. I knew it- the “stand there and hold her head forward” position wasn't essential- they were just humoring me

Need...more...hands...Must get pictures and video.

Definitely a boy

holy crap holy crap holy crap

I'm trying not to be cyncial, but...

My suitcase was all packed except for the pairs of jeans still drying on top of the heater in the guest bedroom that has been my home for most of the past 5 weeks. I was backing up my hard drive, adding videos to my ipod, and planning my snacks for the night.

Today, the court decision became effective; today, Cosi became my daughter. Today, I was supposed to get on an overnight train, arrive there in the morning, pick up the documents from the courthouse, and then hold my little girl for the first time as her legal father.

And then our facilitator, Helen, called- she was in the hospital with kidney stones. At first, we discussed the possibility that I would still go out there alone, meet Pasha, pick up the document, and do what I could until Helen arrived, maybe a day behind me. But then Helen realized that I could do nothing. I am totally helpless- I can neither read nor fill out the forms I would need to use, and we don't know anyone there with enough English to help me out. Traveling all over Trans-Carpathia without a translator and with an adoption on the line just doesn't seem wise.

And then the kidney stones got worse- Helen has a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning. In a transparent effort to keep my hopes up, she says, "Maybe I will be lucky, I don't know. maybe we can go tomorrow." I can tell she is in a lot of pain and that she is also stressed because she knows how this will affect our timing (flights, etc.). I try to be as gracious and reassuring as possible, for her sake. And for my own sake, lest I become completely self-focused.

We will wait and see how tomorrow goes. At some point tomorrow, I need to bring up the possibility of her sending someone else with us. if this drags on for a few days, timing becomes a really big problem.

So another night in Kiev, another night spent wondering if my daughter remembers me and if she wonders where I am. Another night asking God why it has been such a long road with so many unexpected turns and roadblocks. Sometimes I feel this experience chipping away at my ability to trust God. I know he's in control, and I know he's trustworthy, but...

But I'm always afraid to finish that sentence.

Anyway, pray for Helen- a woman you don't know who is probably suffering incredibly right now, more so than the mental and emotional stress I'm sorting through. And at least I have some Oreo's to help me out.

A long, long road with a good, good end...A very personal update from April

April wrote (but never published) this post a few days before we got the good news that we would be able to travel to Ukraine in mid-December to adopt our daughter. Here it is- a glimpse into where we were at a few weeks ago:

Well, we were hoping this update would be joyfully announcing a travel date to pick up our daughter in Ukraine. However, our hopes don't equal reality. Ukraine has delayed our process yet again. The biggest problem has been that we're the first people in history to live in China and adopt from Ukraine. Ukraine officials are baffled at why two Americans would ever choose to leave “the heaven on earth of America” to move to China and they aren't inclined to grant our request.

Right now, we are getting new forms filled out and mailing them to Ukraine. Our hope is that they will soon grant us a travel date. Our prayer is that they will grant us a travel date and that the travel date might be as early as December (which would be a true miracle) or even that it would be in January (also a miracle).

How are we doing with all this? Well, I stayed home and cried all day on Tuesday. I cried so much that Rob had to leave work, cancel plans, come home and comfort me. I'm even crying right now, as I write this. Rob is deeply sad, as well. But, he tries to stay strong for me. I think he waits to cry when I'm not crying, but that chance rarely comes.

Right now, we are waiting to hear if our daughter (that we have been praying for and thinking about for two years) is dead to us. It's as if there is a child in my womb and the doctors have told me to wait 3-4 weeks to find out if the child is alive. I walk around, carrying the child in my heart, but I'm not sure whether to prepare myself for disappointment or to hope for the best. I know I should “trust God,” but I'm not always sure what that looks like or how to do that. Sometimes when I try to trust God, it looks more like complacency or detachment.

A friend recently instructed me that all things that happen in life are “God's best for us.” He said that my trials are all God's best for me, even if I don't see that. I disagree. I think that life before the fall was God's best for us. I think that God is still sovereign and that he allows bad things to happen. I even think that he is able to use those bad things and bring good out of them. But, I do not believe that they are God's best for us. I do not believe that prolonged illnesses, death, sudden accidents, war, starvation, AIDS, child trafficking, forced prostitution, slavery, miscarriages, broken families....are God's best for us. I think we are blessed to see glimpses of the best in this life, but I hope that the best is still to come. I think we will experience God's best for us only after the complete fulfillment of all things. Until then, I think we are left to trust in God's sovereignty and ultimate plan.

I recently heard a line in a song by Waterdeep, a line that is sticking with me: “It's a long, long road, with a good, good end.” Maybe it's because I'm melancholy, but I find a lot of comfort in acknowledging the long road and hoping for the good end. I know we all have our own long roads. We really appreciate it when people share prayer requests with us, so please feel free to respond to this. When others share struggles with us, it often helps me to take the focus off of my own situation and remember that there are so many ills to be made right in this world (of course, it usually takes me about 1-2 days of self-pity to get to this point).

So a lot has changed since April wrote these words. We’re not at the end of the long, long road yet, but a lot of encouraging things have moved us closer to the good, good end. Please continue to pray that the process will go smoothly as we travel there in 10 days. And thank God for moving paperwork quickly and for securing a travel date that doesn’t conflict with baby #2.

Ugh.

Ugh. The adoption is getting messy. Ukraine is asking for some new paperwork and they want it all right away. Plus they want all our old paperwork updated...right away. Most of it will be OK, just a little stressful and pricey to get again (e.g. our THIRD blood tests in 18 months). However, there are one or two things that might not happen. Our Virgina background checks won't be done in time.

And there are one or two things for which they'd like an "official" letter from East Asian government. Like, they want proof our daughter would be given a visa. Anyone who has lived or traveled here knows you can't just walk into a government office and say "Here's a form I made up in which you promise to do something. Will you sign it and give it an official stamp?" Um...yeah.

So we're trying to figure out if there's any way around some of these things.
The really hard thing is that if we can't work something out (and get our background checks on time), the adoption will be at BEST delayed a year or so. More likely, it will fall through.

So after already being in this process a year longer than expected, we're really discouraged right now. It's hard to get motivated to walk into another East Asian office and face another inevitable blank stare. Why is it that getting a child can come down to a piece of paper?! We're trying to still believe in God's sovereignty and goodness in the midst of this. For those of you that have been praying for this...thank you. And if anyone has some secret contact in the Ukrainian court system who owes you a big favor...can I get a phone number?