With so many surgeries this month we have been trying to spend a lot of time at home and not exposed to any potential sicknesses as we prepped for surgeries. The next open dates for surgery with Malachi’s hip surgeon is 7 months out, and Levi’s team in Cincinnati is typically at least 4 months out. One sickness could have knocked us out of our spots and started the countdown over again.


As we inched closer to Malachi’s Vanderbilt trip, Levi started with the big emotions. Levi came out of his bedroom the night before Malachi left for surgery asking “Mom, when you cut up those onions at dinner did you accidentally leave some in my bedroom?”
Me: “No buddy, why are you asking?”
Levi: “My eyes keep on crying on their own and I don’t know why.”

Malachi and I headed to Nashville late on Monday evening as we had to check in around 5am on Tuesday for his big hip surgery. He was excited to spend the night in a hotel with just mom, and we made it an adventure.

The original surgery plan was to go in and do one hip this round and come back to do the other hip in a few months. After they took him back to the operating room (OR) I headed to the surgery waiting area and settled in, expecting it to last around 4 hours. After an hour they paged me to come to the desk and I felt my stomach drop, as this is not a normal thing.
I checked in at the desk and they said “The surgeon needs to speak with you- we aren’t sure what it is about but can you please meet him in room 1.” My mind was trying to work through the potential reasons for him to leave the OR with Malachi and come speak with me, and I am sure you can imagine some of the darker paths that mental game took me down.
He came in and told me that Malachi was doing great, and he would like to do BOTH hips this round instead of just the one. He had studied our previous Vanderbilt stay and tried to figure out where they went wrong on his inflammation and pain post-op and he felt like he had formulated a plan that would help prevent a repeat of that same response. They increased his Vitamin C, Vitamin K, and increased steroids in the OR to prepare his body for the trauma it was about to go through.
Side note here- I am convinced that this orthopedic surgeon is one of the best in the world. He actually designed the surgery Malachi had done, driven by the desire to create better options for medically complex kids. The amount of effort he has put into Malachi’s feet, legs, and hips over the last several years is phenomenal and he treats Malachi with such dignity and respect. We all look forward to his appointments and surgeries as there is such a trust built there.
Malachi’s surgery ended up taking about 7 hours, in which they removed the heads of both of his femur bones and then attached/stitched the remaining bone into the hip joint permanently. They will never have the ability to dislocate again using this method. It will take about a month for his scar tissue to form, and he has a foam wedge to keep between his legs to help with the positioning and healing posture.

By removing the top of each bone he lost some length in his legs which naturally loosened up his leg tightness. But to help additionally with some specific tightness in his knees, he also did a quad muscle release to allow his knees to bend at 90 degrees. The other route would have been removing his kneecaps, and we were grateful he didn’t have to have that one as it just sounds cringey haha. Malachi’s legs currently feel like spaghetti noodles, with hyper mobility in all the joints. We expect this to stiffen up slightly but it is definitely taking some getting used to. In fact, he has a new “party trick” as the doctor called it, where his lower legs rotate all the way around- which ABSOLUTELY freaked me out (as well as the nursing staff). But that is a crazy story for another day.

Malachi went to the ICU after surgery and was bright eyed and feeling great. Then the meds started to wear off and his pain played the up and down game over the next several days. He is still in pain, but we are staying on top of it! He has done an EXCELLENT job communicating with his nurses and doctors using his switch and I have loved seeing his providers faces when they realize how cognitive he is.
It has also felt like a family reunion of sorts, as we were here for so long the last round. The amount of people that we recognize, and recognize us, is so fun for him. We also got to see several of the providers that he developed special bonds with, and he has enjoyed that very much.


Our stay was delightfully uneventful compared to the last stay at Vandy and we were able to come home on Saturday night.

Surgery days are so wild. It is hard to explain the many rules I make up for myself in my head….things I would have never imagined people think about, but now can’t imagine any other way. For example, fluid intake. On surgery days I try to drink a lot of water early on in the day and stop halfway through his surgery. That way I have enough time to get it all out of my system before I go back to PACU and can stay by his side at all times without needing to find a restroom. Sometimes we are in PACU for hours, and then the transfer to ICU can take some time. This round I did not have the luxury of having a bathroom or shower in our room, so I became very dehydrated, not wanting to leave his room to go down the hall to the shared toilet area. And going days without a shower, not wanting to leave the ICU to use the shared shower room.
I’ll stop rambling now…
The surgeon’s first words after surgery were “Malachi REALLY needed to have this surgery done.” He explained that the arthritis was visibility bad on both femurs, the right more than the left. I was confused as Malachi kept telling us that his left hurt worse than his right. The surgeon explained that the left femur bone was resting on his sciatic nerve and was definitely causing him significant pain. I am so thankful he was able to do them both and relieve him from all of the pain!
We have officially checked all the looming summer surgeries off the list and are looking forward to a carefree July. We will have an incredible amount of appointments over the next few weeks, including some return visits to Vandy, but no admissions or procedures are on the close horizon.
Total side-note here, but the amount of people that think this is an actual real snake on the wheelchair continues to amaze me. We actually had two audible screamers on surgery day when they saw it haha!

I let Malachi make his list for his hospital stay and he had lots of opinions. He wanted a particular essential oil diffused in his room, his aurora borealis nightlight projector, his Chick-fil-a blanket, and fun new socks. He also devoured some new audiobooks- signing “more” after each chapter.
Now that we are back home, I have taken a big, deep breath. Coming home is always exciting but also brings with it 100% of the caregiver responsibilities. When we are inpatient the nurses bear the brunt of the responsibility for pulling meds and making sure we stay on schedule. Right now Malachi is receiving 30 different medication doses each day and has other specific medical needs and routines that I have to keep track of, all while actively monitoring his heart rate and oxygen and addressing those changes when they come. The “tired” just changes to a different version of “tired” when we come home. But I am slowly returning to normal(ish).
While I sat in the surgery waiting area I started to re-read a book that the Lord had put on my heart called “The Red Sea Rules: The Same God Who Led You In Will Lead You Out”. In it there are a few quotes that really made my mind work.
“Worry is putting question marks where God has put periods.” -John R. Rice
Bishop Fulton J. Sheen called worry “a form of atheism, for it betrays a lack of faith and trust in God.”
As I read this chapter I stopped to evaluate my level of worry for this season of surgeries for the boys. I can list a lot of emotions that I struggle with, but over the last decade worry seems to get bumped further and further down on the list. We have watched God meet us in the lion’s den, wrap us up in His arms in the fiery furnace, and part the Red Sea for us to walk across.
But as worry has moved down the list, I have felt a spirit of apathy (spiritual indifference) replace it. Sometimes I look at the list of hard things we continue to get called towards and the zeal I once had for the opportunity for faith growth has faded. I still believe that God is good and my faith in Him has not wavered….but oh how I am weary of walking my children towards danger. And the isolation of this calling has felt exceptionally heavy lately.
While we were in the hospital this week I received a voicemail from another special needs mother whose son had been through a very similar surgery with the same surgeon. She shared that she had added us to her church’s prayer list and they had spent time that evening lifting our family up in prayer during Bible study. For some reason that voicemail really got the tears flowing. To hear that these strangers spent time in prayer over our family really touched me. They had watched their friend walk through the same journey we are now on, and they knew how heavy the load was. There was such a tone of sincere empathy rather than sympathy and it felt like a big hug from the Lord.
This week a memory on social media popped back up with something I had written several years ago. As I read it again, I was so surprised by how timely the message was, as my heart needed the faith reminders. So I thought tonight would be a good night to share that one again in case any of you needed to hear it as well.
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In my life I have been called by Christ out of the boat many times. I have locked eyes with Him and boldly and faithfully stepped out of the boat to walk towards His embrace. In my early years I welcomed these moments, seeing them as an honor as I knew they strengthened my reliance on God.
But things changed dramatically when my precious children were added into the equation. Now I find myself getting sick to my stomach each time Christ looks at me from the middle of a raging sea and says “Come”. Each surgery decision, each new procedure, each new diagnosis is a raging sea moment that I don’t have the opportunity to ignore. It is a storm we must enter.
I cling tightly to my sweet boys as I step with shaky legs into the tumultuous waves and try desperately to remind myself that He is faithful. That He is the calm in the storm, and I need only to rely on His power to keep me on top of the water. I still get distracted by the waves as I watch them jump up and strike my children time and time again. And like Peter many times I get overwhelmed by the storms and start to sink, shouting for God to rescue us.
Staying in the boat and holding my children safely in my arms seems like such a safer option…but my faith in that situation is placed in the boat itself…not in my God. And there is healing in the storm.
We each have a choice. We can choose a weak faith that stays in the comfortable parts of life, never being challenged and pruned, but never experiencing true growth. Or we can choose to leave the comfortable moments and search for faith challenging ones knowing that the fruit that we can produce after a pruning can be magnificent.
Faith was never meant to be easy. Sometimes as parents we are called to charge head on into the messy parts of life as uncomfortable as those parts may be. And while these moments may challenge our already weak faith in inexplicable ways, it is in these raging sea moments that our children see our faith come to life. I want my kids to see me as a willing water walker. I hope I can cast away my spirit of fear and trade it for a boldness like Peter’s.
This week is a walking on water week. As much as I desire to stay safely tucked in the boat I see the beauty and power of being called into the storm, as that calling leads me closer into the embrace of Christ.
I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against he rock of ages. – Charles Spurgeon
Thank you for the support and encouragement many of you continue to send our way. The prayers were felt and this particular stay I felt surrounded by the peace of God, knowing we were exactly where we were supposed to be.
Sincerely thankful and blessed,
Leah






































































































