Chickens, Farm Dreams and More

So much has been happening with our chickens and dreams of farm life. Please visit my new blog site on Word Press to read up on our exciting adventures. See the link below!

http://www.catiecordero.wordpress.com

Moving to Word Press

Dear Readers,

Catie's Corner is moving to a new page on Word Press. Due to the change, those of you that have subscribed will need to re-subscribe on my new page. I am sorry for this inconvenience.

Please visit: www.catiecordero.com or www.catiecordero.wordpress.com.

Thank you for reading!

There's more to come.

Catie

Band-Aid the Broken

God amazes me.

I have a vivid mind and oftentimes that is how He speaks to me, through colorful images.

As many of you know, I lost my daughter Shiloh in December, and my heart broke. I felt like it was split wide open, aching and bleeding. Four months later, my sister lost her first baby. I felt my heart’s wound widen and the pain grow deeper.

In that pain I journaled:

   Surviving a Broken Heart
   The news comes so unexpectedly
   At first all is well, then ends in tragedy
   To lose a life so small it seems
   Unfair with all the sorrow it brings
   How can a heart survive the blow
   That grief drives in so deep, so low
   It filters through the body and more
   The spirit, the soul, they all feel sore
   Lord mend the wound that bleeds inside
   Send peace and grace into my mind
   I can’t walk this journey alone
   I need your help to make me strong

A few nights ago, I lie in bed thanking God for helping and healing me through the heartbreak of the last five months, and He showed me an incredible picture.

I saw my heart with a jagged wound down the middle, but pulling the wound closed was a big pink “Hello Kitty” Band-Aid. I could tell the wound wasn’t bleeding anymore and that it was sealing shut with the help of the Band-Aid.

A memory flashed through my mind of me as a child repeatedly falling off my bike and scraping my knees. I’d come into the house crying. My knees would hurt so bad. They’d be torn up and bleeding. Dad or Mom would rub my back and tell me it’s going to be okay. They’d wash away the blood, put on triple-antibiotic ointment, apply a Band-Aid, and place a kiss on the boo-boo and say, “All Better.”

This is what Father God did for me.

I came to Him with my torn heart. He looked at the wound and said, “It’s going to be okay.” He wiped away my tears and rubbed my back. Then He washed the wound clean with His love. He applied a potent triple antibiotic salve of peace and covered the wound with a Band-Aid. Placing a kiss on the boo-boo, He says, “It will heal.”

Thank you Lord.

Thank you that you Band-Aid the broken hearts.

I put my trust in you.

My heart is safe in Your hands.

Thanks Daddy, I’m feeling much better.

Farm-girl Freedom

There’s a song by Alan Jackson that says, “She's gone country, look at them boots. She's gone country, back to her roots. She's gone country, a new kind of suit. She's gone country, here she comes.”

You know what? I like that.

There’s a lot of freedom in going country.

I love throwing on my rubber boots and trekking out to the coop in the morning to let out the girls. My hair isn’t done. My pajama pants are still on. And my face hasn’t seen a slick of paint. It’s a beautiful thing…maybe not for my neighbors, but for me…it’s refreshing.

My mother lived on a farm until age five, and my father grew up on a full-fledged hobby farm.

I believe that country blood filtered into my veins:

Age Nine –

We moved to the farming city of Hamilton. While our house was being built, we rented a small house on a pig farm.

Five months later, we moved into our home across from a cow farm. On the lot next to us was a field of tall weeds. I decided to make a fort using my dad’s clippers. I cut out a spot and put down a blanket. It was fanciful fun until I noticed that I had company. Hanging inches from my head was a large yellow and black spider and a white and brown-striped one was crawling up my leg.

Sister Carmen styling in her jeans.

Me, trying to be a pig whisperer

Age Ten –

My dad taught me how to shoot a 22 rifle. He also taught me that when the safety is off, I had to keep it pointed at the ground and not at my sister. (What can I say? I was hyper.)

Dad also taught me how to fish and bait my own hook.

Aunt Sandy's horse obstacle day

Age Eleven –

My Aunt Sandy, who has a horse farm, taught me how to ride.

Age Fourteen –

I mucked out my first horse stable at a friend’s house.

Age Seventeen –

I got bucked off a horse named Hershey. (But I rode that sucker for a good three minutes before he jolted me into the cornfield!)

Age Twenty-Six –

I rode with my 21-month daughter on a horse named Midnight.

Age Twenty-Seven –

Cordero Family Farm began with two hens and six chicks. 

Tiffany and Lily

The Little Girls

Mouse Madness

This morning, I awoke to the sound of cats making a ruckus in the hall. After plucking Isabella from her crib, we go into the hall to investigate. 

I notice that there’s a furry object tucked between the crevice of the wood laminate floor and the wall. (We have to finish the baseboards). At first glance, it appears to be a caterpillar.

As I get closer, I notice a tail.

Henry keeps pawing the little thing, and it begins to move. 

Sure enough. We’ve got a small gray mouse in the house.

I grab a Q-tip to try and push the thing out, but Henry’s going bananas and the mouse is wedging in further. So I did what had to be done.

 I took the mouse by the tail and yanked him out.

Bella is so excited and asks if she can pet the mouse. I say no as I hunt for a box. 

All the while, the mouse is dangling between my fingers and Henry is jumping at my ankles. 

Once the mouse is in the box, my mind ponders what I should do with it?

And that is when the thought dawns on me…maybe the girls would enjoy a snack…

P.S. The mouse was resilient. And lived to see the neighbor's backyard. 

Shiloh

When the test read positive, Jonathan and I did a victory jig in the bathroom. We were ecstatic to have another baby. We did some quick calculation and figured I was five weeks.

My plan was coming together beautifully. I wanted my children two and half years a part. Bella would soon have a playmate. Peter Rabbit would be the nursery theme. The baby name book was off the shelf and names were cycling through my mind.

My first pregnancy with Isabella went wonderful. I never had a moment of doubt that the second would be any different. I had no fear. No women in my immediate bloodline have ever lost a baby. I never could have anticipated it happening to me.

As the weeks of my pregnancy progressed, I felt more sick and fatigued than I had with my first pregnancy. I summed it up to each child is different, and lovingly bore the sickness because my mind wasn’t focused on the present day. I was already anticipating July 9^th: the arrival of our child. 

At ten weeks, I went in for my routine appointment. Everything seemed fine, until they did a scan for the baby's heartbeat. My doctor rolled the gel scanner over my belly, back and forth, but we heard nothing. Her eyebrows scrunched a bit and she said, “Well it’s still early, so the baby might be small. Let’s do an ultrasound to be sure everything is okay.”

Jonathan gave me this necklace as a symbol of our baby in Heaven.

At the Zeeland Hospital, I laid on the bed watching the screen, hoping that we’d find a heartbeat. The ultrasound technician was taking plenty of pictures and measuring things that looked strange to me, but what did I know, I wasn’t certified in reading images. So I asked her, “Do you see the heartbeat?” She paused before looking at me. Her smile was nice, almost sympathetic. She replied, “I’m not sure, maybe.” It was then that I knew something was definitely wrong.

That night, my doctor called me from her cell phone. Her first words were, “I don’t like to call with bad news, but….” My heart stopped at that moment. She explained to me that the images appeared to be a rare Molar Pregnancy. The tissues inside the uterus were abnormal, the placenta didn’t look right, the fetus wasn’t forming properly, and a cyst was also present. Ultimately, the baby was no longer living, and we needed to schedule an extraction surgery. I hung up the phone and wept in Jonathan’s arms.

I had to wait five days before they could get me into surgery because the hospital was booked. So for five days, I not only felt physically ill, but utterly devastated. As Friday approached, I battled with anxiety over the surgery. Jonathan suggested that I look up scriptures on peace. During my search, I came across Isaiah 26:3-4, “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal.” I read that verse and thought, Okay. I will trust in you Lord. You will be my Rock through this.

On December 16th, I entered surgery. Molar pregnancies are tricky because if the abnormal tissues are left inside the body, they can become cancerous. It is important that everything be fully removed or the tissues may continue to grow and enter other parts of the body, namely the lungs.

I was put under anesthesia and the doctor worked on extracting the tissues. I started to hemorrhage. The anesthesiologist hooked me up for a blood transfusion but once the placenta and fetal tissues were out, the bleeding reduced significantly. Praise the Lord, I was able to avoid transfusion. After my uterus was scraped twice and the last tissues were suctioned, I was wheeled into recovery. 

An hour later, I awoke feeling shaky and weak. I remember looking around the room. It was all white. White walls. White curtains. A nurse stood beside me looking at a monitor. I stared at the wall and thought, It’s done. I’m empty. Before the surgery, I knew that my baby wasn’t living, but now, my baby was truly gone. Tears filled my eyes and washed down my cheeks. The nurse rubbed my arm and told me it was okay to cry.

Recovery has been a very very hard process. The physical pain after surgery was horrible. A week passed and I wasn't getting better. I went in for my one-week follow-up and found I had a clinical infection. After ten days of antibiotics, my physical body felt almost completely healed. But feeling physically whole is very different from feeling emotionally whole.

Losing a child is devastating. I've never felt such a deep loss ever before. I have wept and still weep many tears. It’s hard to describe the great depths of emptiness and grief. I loved that baby from the moment I knew she was inside my tummy. I wanted that child even before she was conceived. And I miss my baby more than words can say.

We have named our second child Shiloh, which means “His gift.” We never were able to hold Shiloh or rub her smooth face or see her color of eyes, hair, or skin. But Shiloh is still my gift from God. I have lost the time with my child here on earth, but I have not lost my child.

I miss my Shiloh. I will miss Shiloh until we are reunited in Heaven. But oh, that time is coming. I look forward to the time when I enter the pearly gates and Shiloh will run across the streets of gold and into my arms. What a wonderful gift!

Right now, I know my baby is whole and healthy in Heaven’s magnificent nursery. Each night Shiloh hears the most beautiful lullabies sung from the voices of angels. And my precious child will never know pain, sorrow, or fear for she is already in the presence of Jesus.

I prayed the other day, “Jesus, could you go to the nursery and hold Shiloh in your arms, tell her that Mommy loves her and that I miss her. Kiss her for me. And tell her that Mommy will be there soon and very soon.”

I know the Lord did just that.

The Many Poses of Bella

It never ceases to amaze me just how many expressions and poses my two-year-old produces. Isabella has such a sense of humor. I’ve been lucky enough to capture a few of those moments on camera. And so without further ado let me introduce the:

Many Poses of Bella Collection…

The Diva

The Richard Simmons

The Rocker

The Pout

The Pout Magnified

The Jackie Chan

The Debutante

The Slowly Dying of Boredom

The Daddy Melter

The Misjudged the Ratio of Space

The Sublimely Happy