The Tale of the Scale

As we were getting ready to package and weigh some of our first orders for postage costs, Nathan and I had the same idea: Maeve’s infant scale!

I’ll explain. When Maeve was just a couple weeks old, she was given that delightful “Failure to Thrive” (FTT) diagnosis. Both nursing and bottle feeding were proving to be a significant challenge for her. (I remember a doctor or nurse saying that she lacked the primal instinct to suck… ouch. What do you do with that?!) Desperately wanting to avoid repeated visits to the pediatrician for weight checks, we bought a scale to do our measurements at home and report back to the doctor. I remember the swells of anxiety as I put her on it twice a day. I remember crying bitterly when the number on the little screen was not at all what we wanted. I remember tracking her growth curve (or lack thereof) fraction of an ounce by fraction of an ounce. It became a representation to me of some of the darkest days of my life. But by the grace of God, by the time we stored the scale away, Maeve was well on that growth chart after all. 

Last night when we whipped the bad boy out of the closet to weigh your packages, ounce by ounce, this little picture ended up on the table. Was it stuck to the bottom? Did one of the girls put it there? Anyway, there’s Maeve at an unknown date (I didn’t take a lot of pictures of her during that time), somewhere a lot closer to those failure to thrive days.  

Who would have thought we would be using the scale that once represented DESPAIR to send out HOPE in the form of shirts and sweats? God. He’s tricky like that.  

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to HIM be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭3:20-21‬ ‭

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