Ella is blessed beyond belief to have awesome people in her life that love her unconditionally.  People that accept her for who she is and celebrate her milestones and accomplishments right along with us, hands clapping, shouting, “Yes, Ella!  You can do it!”  Of course the list begins with family, then branches off into friends and other special people in our lives.  The list is long…and I take comfort in the fact that these precious ones are and always will help to shape Ella’s life.  Each in their own special way.  Our “forever” support system.  What an amazing, wonderful, powerful thing to have surrounding you.  Our cups runneth over continually. 

One of these extraordinary people is Ella’s Aunt Becky (Aunt B, for short!).  Becky is my only sister, younger than me by 3 years, and my best friend & ally by far and wide.  She is REAL.  She is FUN.  You tell her stuff and she just “gets it.”  She laughs and loves with everything she has inside of her and her servant’s heart shines through in all she does.  She is an excellent example of a wife, mother and friend just trying to follow God’s plan for her life – through all of the trials and triumphs.  What you see is what you get with Becky.  She is open, honest and has one of the best cackle laughs that you will ever hear in your life.  All of these things are undeniable after spending five minutes with Becky.  However, Ella is especially fortunate to benefit from her Aunt B for reasons that are not as obvious to people.  Becky’s quiet strength comes from a much deeper place in her soul.  A place where her faith was challenged, her resolve questioned, her autonomy broken, and her patience was put to the test.    

In December of 1997, Becky’s junior year in high school, she was sledding with some friends at a nearby Quarry when the sled she was on veered off course and hit a tree at the bottom of the hill.  Becky’s friends found her slumped over near the tree, moaning and in such severe pain she was almost numb.  No one had a cell phone.  Walking to the nearest phone would take over 15 minutes.  Her friends acted quickly and efficiently log-rolled her back onto the sled, careful not to move her too much in the process.  They slid her in the back of the mini-van and drove to one of their houses where they called the Paramedics.  She was strapped to the wooden EMT board and wore a neck brace in the ambulance, where she did not have feeling in her limbs and was having difficulty talking.  We stayed the entire night by her bedside, and she gripped our hands and squeezed as the pain came in waves.  The next morning, the Doctor gathered us around and explained that Becky had suffered a burst fracture of her #2 lumbar vertebrae.  The impact of her hitting the tree had sent bits and pieces of her bone flying and they were extremely close to her spinal chord.  He took a deep breath and paused before telling us that Becky had been less than one half inch from being paralyzed from the chest down for the rest of her life.  Because of how carefully her friends had moved her, they had truly saved her from paralysis.  A surgery would be much too risky, so the only option she had was to be placed in a full body cast for three months, possibly more.  They hoped she would make a full recovery and eventually walk again – but there were so many questions.  He looked down at her and said “You’ve got to be the luckiest girl alive” to which she responded, “It’s not luck – I’m just blessed.”    

My mom and I were asked to be in the casting room as they lifted Becky’s frail body with a system of ropes and pulleys to apply the cast.  She screamed and cried out to us, and we were helpless to ease her suffering.  It was and continues to be one of the most painful moments I have witnessed in my life.  Two weeks later and five days before Christmas, an ambulance brought Becky home where we had transformed the dining room into her new room for the next several months.  We taped each and every card or letter she received to the walls so she was surrounded by the love of her family and friends.  She was placed on the hospital bed we rented and smiled…so glad to finally be home again.  

   For three months, my mom took time off of work to become Becky’s “nurse” and my dad and I helped as much as we could.  She had to lie totally flat the entire time.  We could not even prop her head up at all…she just rolled from side to side when we bathed her or needed to change her sheets.  Did I mention that it was THREE months?  That’s 90 days.  2160 hours.  129,600 minutes.  Lying flat on your back.  Wrapped in a full body cast and dependant on others for everything from scratching your "hard to reach" itches to going to the bathroom.  Your freedom?  Gone.  Yet Becky continued to be Becky and on many occasions even lifted my spirits after I had a bad day at school or work.  I would come into the house, all irritated about something that did not go my way and Becky would smile at me and with total concern, ask me if I had had a tough day.

After some at home X-rays were taken in March, the Dr. felt she was ready to get up and try to stand.  We slowly helped her to her feet for the first time in over three months and she stood up.  We cried and cheered and slapped each other high fives.  It was one of the best moments of my life.  Becky wore a walking cast for a long time after that, followed by a brace which she wore without hesitation under her dress at the Prom that spring.  She persevered through an extremely tough time, and not too long after Prom was pronounced as having made a “full recovery.”  The things we learned from each other as a family during that time are unmatched, yet Becky herself taught us the most important lesson of all.  If you are going to be in the same position for three months, it might as well be on your back because then the only way you can look is UP. 

Aunt B - you are our hero.  We love you so much

 “How a person masters his fate is more important than what his fate is.”     Wilhelm von Humboldt

Pet Peeves.  I will, with slight embarassment, mention the two that top my list.  One:  People who continue to sit in their cars in front of the ATM machine after their transaction is complete.  I know their transaction is complete because I have witnessed them take their cash, receipt and card.  I know what they are doing.  They are getting their little billfolds in order.  I totally understand this.  Really I do...I like to be organized too.  But c'mon people.  You totally see me behind you, boring a hole into the back of your head with that "You have got to be kidding me" look on my face.  Just pull up and pull off to the side, and organize your little billfolds there so I can have my turn with the ATM machine.  Seriously, the second that box spits out your cash, you need to be moving out of the way.  Unless of course, no one is behind you.  This is the ONLY time it is OK to continue sitting there while organizing your stuff.  But...If I am behind you and you look down or hesitate for one second too long after getting your money, I will lay my entire body on the horn and even gesture out my window for you to "move along."  I won't really do that, of course, because I am chicken.  But I will want to.  Really bad.  Two:  People who continue to run their windshield wipers when it has obviously stopped raining.  For those who are wondering, this only bothers me when I am IN THE SAME CAR with them.  I know that some people are just oblivious and don't even realize that they are still running.  Not an excuse.  The screeching sound they make on the semi-wet, semi-dry windshield is worse than nails on a chalkboard and makes me want to pull my hair out strand by strand.  Don't make me reach out and break your windshield wiper thingy right off the steering wheel.  Seriously...don't tempt me.  I'll do it.  Not really.  But I'll want to.

I jokingly write about Pet peeves because since Ella was born I seem to have a new one quickly rising to the top of my list.  It is people who say "I'm sorry" immediately upon hearing that Ella was born blind.  Listen, I know that this is an easy default response and that most people just simply don't know what else to say to me.  I can't change the fact that it really bothers me...but I have learned better ways to deal with it.  Now I say, "Jeez, you know, you really have nothing to be sorry about!  She is happy and healthy and I don't feel sorry about a thing.  Neither should you!"   

I bring this up because today I took Ella to a wonderful music class that I think we are going to enroll her in.  As I was driving her to the studio this morning, I was thinking about the onslaught of "I'm sorry's" I would most certainly get from this group of strangers we would be meeting for the first time.  I was feeling frustrated already and we were not even halfway there.  Then...like magic...a farmiliar song came on the radio.  This is a song that our MAPS group moms had been recently talking about and that everyone seems to agree is like the "theme song" for our kids.  It is called "Wonder" by Natalie Merchant.  There is a line that says "know this child will be gifted with love, with patience and with faith...she'll make her way."  I felt such a wave of comfort wash over me as I realized that worrying about what people might say about Ella is so ridiculous.  She is totally "one of the wonders of God's own creation" and I am currently working hard to remove this pet peeve off my list.  It will take some time.  But you know what?  We loved the music class.  It was fun and Ella laughed & clapped (not until the last 5 minutes!)  And you know what else?  I did not get one single "I'm sorry."  I worried for nothing.  I'm working on that too.  It will take some time as well, I am sure.  In the meantime, just move along at the ATM OK?  Turn the stinking wipers off when it stops raining.  Don't make me crazy...

Ever since I was little, I have loved hearing people’s stories.  Everyone has one that makes them unique, and I think it is one of the coolest things in the world.  Here is the story of my daughter Ella – as told through my eyes.  – Jill

I took a picture of the little home pregnancy test.  I had started buying the high tech ones that actually say “pregnant” or “not pregnant.”  And Pregnant was staring me right in the face.  Truth is, I had stared at Pregnant three times before in the past two years.  And each of those times had ended abruptly with no explanation and the mind numbing loss from yet another miscarriage. 

But on that chilly November morning, I felt much different.  Less guarded.  More excited.  I had a peace right away that I would see this pregnancy through to the end.  I would finally hold that sweet baby in my arms we had waited so long to have…and fought so hard to keep.  Jeremiah 29:11 had been my inspiration.  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord.  “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  I nearly knocked my husband out of bed as I bounced around waving the test in the air and thinking…FINALLY!

Considered “high risk”, I had nearly 20 ultrasounds during my pregnancy, including a Level 2 and a 3D ultrasound.  I would leave every appointment with another fuzzy black and white photo of a little peanut dancing around, body parts labeled…chin, arms, legs, face, eyes.  Everything always looked normal.  I continued to glow as summer arrived – loving every little thing that I was able to get away with and simply blame “being pregnant.” 

On June 23, 2006, at 34 weeks, little Miss Ella decided it was time to make her grand entrance.  Surprise, Surprise!!  The nursery furniture had not even been delivered yet.  Every shower gift was still in its box.  I had nothing organized!  Wait!!!  I still had six weeks!!!!!

As I was just finishing that thought, Ella was placed in my arms in the delivery room and we stared down at our daughter…drunk with love and affection for this little person we had just met.  She kept her little eyelids closed tight.  No big deal, right?  Not every baby opens their eyes in those first few minutes.  Right?  In a flash, she was taken from me and placed in the NICU where I later visited and wondered why she had not yet opened her eye lids.  I gave every excuse.  She is so early…she is still so tired from the delivery…she is sooooooo sleepy.  The nurse left and I was alone with her for a moment.  I touched her face, her eyelids.  I felt nothing behind them.  No.  Oh, no.  How could this be?  I thought for sure with all I had been through, I would have to be a top candidate for a perfect baby, right?  How could this ever be the plans the Lord has for me?  I simply prayed that I was wrong. 

The next morning when the Doctor confirmed by MRI that Ella was indeed born without both eyes, I felt even the sturdy concrete of the hospital hallway was not going to be enough to hold me as I slumped slowly down the wall.  My body shook with tears of sadness and confusion.  We were also told that she could possibly have brain damage, hearing problems and heart issues.  “Plans to prosper me and not to harm me?????”  I did not think I could take this news.  My brain would simply not process it.  I wept freely at the death of so many dreams I had for our first child. 

We would be transferred in two days to the Children’s Hospital at the University of Michigan where some of the worlds best Ophthalmologists, Cardiologists and Neurologists would access our little girl.  I felt as if I might not even last for two days. 

Back in my hospital room, our friend Lucy Ann was waiting.  She had traveled a great distance to see us and our new baby.  I felt like I could not face anyone.  But, the instant I saw her, I suddenly realized very clearly that I had only two choices.  Spend the rest of my life in denial, hiding from people, or embrace the life that the Lord has in store for my family.  I know that God sent Lucy Ann that day to help me come to this realization.  As she hugged me tightly, I prayed for the strength to face the dark cavern of unknown that lie ahead. 

The specialists at Michigan ran tests to quickly rule out brain damage and deafness.  We were told that the two small holes in her heart would most likely close with muscle growth and that her condition was “isolated” to her blindness.  They simply wanted to keep her in the NICU at Michigan until she could eat on her own and gain some weight.  She was healthy!  We had researched her condition, bilateral anophthalmia.  We spent hours learning to spell & pronounce it correctly.  We made an appointment to see the Ocularist at the Kellogg Eye Center.  We were pressing ahead!  In mere days we had gone from terrified and unsure to knowledgeable and confident. 

This much I know is true.  God not only held us, He cradled us in the palm of His hand the whole way.  “Plans to give us hope and a future.”  We found comfort in Him even though we were still wondering why He chose us.  I recalled the truth of a passage from the book “Let’s Roll!” by Lisa Beamer.   It reads:  “The plans God has for us don’t just include “good” things, but the whole array of human events.  The “prospering” He talks about in the book of Jeremiah is often the outcome of a “bad” event.  Many people look for miracles.  Things that in their human minds “fix” a difficult situation.  Many miracles, however, are not a change to the normal cause of human events; they are found in God’s ability and desire to sustain and nuture people through even the most difficult situations.” 

I will admit that at the time, I desperately wanted a “fix.”  I wanted my little girl to be perfect.  What I didn’t realize then was that she WAS perfect.  IS perfect.  Perfectly the way God created her.  I love my daughter so much at times I feel as if my heart might burst right out of my chest.  I am so incredibly proud at her accomplishments in her short 14 months of life.  She laughs out loud all the time.  She leans in to give you kisses on your lips.  She puts her little hands over her prosthetic eyes to play peek-a-boo.  (really…how the heck does she know to do this???!!)  Talk about amazing us at every turn!! 

But don’t get me wrong…there have been many, many times I have ached with pangs of grief at what she will never visually experience.   A beautiful sunset over the vast ocean.  The raw beauty of a snow capped mountain range.  Her Daddy’s handsome face.  Not one of us can know why God chooses to give people certain abilities…and chooses not to give those to others.  We received a card when Ella was born that contained this quote from Alan Redpath.  I am not sure if the person who sent it will ever know how much peace it has given us.  “There is no circumstance, no trouble, no testing that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and Christ right through to me.  If it has come that far, it has come with great purpose, which I may not understand at that moment.  But, I refuse to become panicky, as I lift up my eyes to Him and accept it as coming from the throne of God for some great purpose of blessing, to my own heart.” 

Ella has blessed our hearts so much more than we could have hoped or imagined.  She teaches us about things that we sighted people take for granted.  She is our perfect first child…the one we had prayed for, fought for, dreamed about and loved for so long before she was even born.   

I am so proud of my little girl.  She sat through an entire Mud Hens game last night in 90+ degree heat and humidity so intense even G.Pa's hair would have curled.  It was brutal.  But Grandma and Papa were there...and that makes for a very happy Ella.  It didn't hurt that Grandma was rubbing the ice pack from my bottle bag up and down Ella's back to cool her off!

But...that is not why I am proud of her.  Here's why:  She actually enjoyed the atmosphere of the ballpark.  I will be honest and say that before Ella was born, I dreamed of taking our kids to the ballpark in the summer.  Sitting them on my lap and teaching them the difference between a knuckle ball and a slider.  Watching them marvel as a home run is lifted out of the playing field.  It was a nice dream.  And with a Daddy who works for a minor league baseball team, with 72 home games a year...a pretty realistic dream for us.

However, after Ella was born last summer, I recall one afternoon soon after we returned home from the hospital.  It was the first time I realized that she would never see the difference between a knuckle ball and a slider.  Never witness a home run sail over the fence in center field.  I ached at the death of my dream. 

How could she ever fully enjoy a Mud Hens game? 

How boring being at a ballpark when you cannot see anything.  My heart broke a little that day...and I was sad.

Little did I know that Ella was just waiting to teach me a few things about enjoying a Mud Hens game.  She sat on Grandma's lap last night, bopping up and down to music that I did not even realize was booming out of a speaker right above us.  I was too busy people watching, hoping no one saw how badly I was sweating from the heat.  I was not even enjoying the game.  Yet, there sat Ella.   Totally in the moment.  Clapping her hands and laughing along with all of the fun sounds.  FULLY ENJOYING HERSELF.  

Ella will never see one single strikeout. 

Never witness a player stealing a base. 

Yet she hears the crack of the bat...feels the excitement of the crowd after a big out...smells the hot dogs and the popcorn.  I choked back tears as I realized that my dream was still very alive.  Just in a different way.  Ella's way.  She will live a full, abundant life.  It might not be the life in my dream.  But it will be so much more wonderful than I ever imagined. 

I have finally taken the time to do something so many people have urged me to do even before Ella was born.  Start a site and update it regularly so friends and family far and wide can enjoy hearing about (and seeing!) Ella's progress.  So, here it is people!!  Welcome to our world :)  We hope you enjoy the site.  Special thanks to my friend and Ava's mom, Megan, for sharing this site with me (yes...a long time ago!).  As I always said in high school..."Procrastination is the secret key to a successful life."  Mark my words! 

Jill, proud mother of Ella