Tricia Brock Talks About New Album, Parenting, and Miscarriages



Former Superchick vocalist Tricia Brock has been very busy since the band retired from the road. When she hasn’t been writing and recording for her new solo album, Radiate, she’s been busy adjusting to her new life as a mother.’s Roger Gelwicks recently addressed the musical side of Tricia’s solo career, while John DiBiase talked to the young mother about raising little Ava.

We’ve included part of the JFH interview below as well as exclusive questions regarding her experiences with a miscarriage before having little Ava.

This interview took place on: 7/29/13. 

  • JFH (Roger Gelwicks): Songs like “Good to Be a Girl” and “Mirror Mirror” remind me of past Superchick songs like “One Girl Revolution” and “Barlow Girls.” What prompted going back to these sorts of themes for Radiate?

I think the 15 year old, tall and way too skinny, zits-on-my-face Tricia is still in there. I just feel the way we view ourselves shapes us so much and it affects us way beyond our teen years. We are being shaped and changed throughout our entire lives, so I think we can always use these reminders. I now have a little girl, Ava, and I think some of these songs like “Daughter of the King” came out because of how I see her, want to love her and show her how to really love herself. They are songs I would want her to hear when she’s 12 and when things are getting tough to be a girl.

  • JFH (Roger): Which song from this new record do you connect with the most personally?

I would say my song called “What I Know.” It’s a song about the places in life where maybe things aren’t turning out the way we want. We might not have the answers we’re seeking, but we know His ways are higher. That He is good. He never lets us go. So we choose to hold to what we know and not just what we feel or see in circumstances around us. Some days, we don’t even have the words to pray to ask for His help. The words of this song feel so real and raw. I know that every person who hears it will say, “Yep, I’ve had those days.” Laying there worrying about our tomorrows because the weight of our unanswered questions are so heavy, sleep just escapes us. It is a beautiful song about real, honest faith moments when we choose to believe what we know and not what we feel. I’m leaning on that truth more and more as a woman and a wife and a mom.


  • JFH (John DiBiase): How has parenthood affected the way you make music/ write songs?

Well, most of our session writings have included Ava playing in the room, so it affects us quite a bit!! Parenthood changes you so much. The minute it happens and then gradually for the rest of our lives, I think. So, I guess it’s changing me all the time and the way I see the world, the way I love, the way I forgive and understand discipline and so many things, so of course my writing is affected. I think I have some songs on this record that might not have been written if I hadn’t become a mom… and a mom of a girl – phew! Where are the manuals to take home when you have babies?! =)


  • JFH (John): Do you have any advice for young parents?

Breathe. Sleep every chance you get. Leave the dishes for later. Let people help — especially family. They want to help and sometimes new moms have a hard time letting go. (Raising my hand.)


  • JFH (John): I know you and your husband suffered a miscarriage before the birth of your beautiful little baby girl. What do you feel God may have taught you through that experience? (My wife and I had a miscarriage before our son Will was born on October 1st, 2010 – so we can relate…)

Yes, it was our first pregnancy and that made it so scary. When we went in to hear the baby’s heartbeat at eight weeks, they saw that the baby wasn’t growing at the right rate and something was wrong. That was still a couple weeks before we knew we lost the baby, and then even a couple more weeks until I had to have surgery because I never miscarried.

It was so hard for me emotionally accepting it. Then, dealing with fears about the next baby and wondering if I could go through that again.

I think I learned to accept some things without all the answers. And God definitely provided healing for me through worship. We were traveling that year leading worship and those songs on my record The Road became a lot of healing for me. Especially the song “The Altar.” I look back now, and since having Ava…God makes sense of things. He brings us through things for a reason and He walks through it with us. Somehow when you look back you can see His hand and His purposes, and it can make sense without having every one of our ‘Why’ questions answered.


  • JFH (John): A lot of people don’t talk about miscarriages. What would you like to say to anyone struggling with a loss like that?

I noticed that and I felt like it was something I was supposed to share. Communicating can be really healing for me, but I know it is very personal and some couples need it to be their thing to deal with and not share.

I think that men need to understand as hard as it can be for you, that your wife needs a lot of love and support. Women – [you need to] know that it isn’t your fault, and going down that road is so hard on you. I had days out of nowhere that it would hit me again and it was sometimes hard for my husband to understand, thinking we had moved on, but I needed his patience and love more than ever.

It’s one of the hard things we can never understand about life and about God. So, Nick and I chose to think that there was a reason that baby isn’t with us and is in Heaven. We choose to trust that there are reasons we don’t always understand and try to leave it there.


  • JFH (John): Care to share a funny parents story about parenting Ava? :)

This story is the first of many that popped into my head! So, Ava was just a few months old when my sister [Melissa] got married. My sister owns a flower shop called Rosebuds East in Nashville and she had one of the most beautiful DIY weddings I’ve ever seen!

The wedding was in their beautiful backyard, which they designed. She made all the bouquets and made Ava a little headband (Ava doesn’t have much hair yet, so we use accessories to keep her looking like a girl). So, I saw Ava’s headband and put it on her before we did family pictures…and it wasn’t until later in the day that Melissa told me that I had put the garter on Ava’s head, not her headband. We laughed so hard, but the funniest part is, it looked so cute that we had her wear it all night and Melissa didn’t even throw it out. Oh, babies change everything!!


Tricia Brock’s new solo album Radiate is available August 13, 2013 wherever music is sold!

Life After A Miscarriage

My name is Rebekah Chamberlin and I’m currently 22 weeks pregnant with a healthy little baby.  This will be my and my husband’s first child, Lord willing.  While we’re elated and really starting to get excited, we still remember to thank God every day for our little miracle. I would love for my first blog to be bubbly and happy and filled with all the wonderful things that pregnancy brings!  Eventually I will get to that one, but I first wanted to share with you a little bit of background and explain why it’s so important for me to begin my day by thanking God for what He’s given me.

Truth be told, this is not my first pregnancy. It’s a shame that in this day and age, many couples still feel they have to suffer in silence through the pain of infertility or losing a child in the womb.  At the ripe old age of 24, you don’t really stop to give your fertility much thought. My husband and I were excited to start our family together, and in April of 2010, we set out to do just that. An agonizing 5 months later, I came running into our room to wake up my husband crying joyfully that we were going to be parents.  The first thing I did was run to my iPod and started playing the lullaby album Blink by Plumb (one of my personal favorites!).  Even though I almost immediately started getting very bad “morning” sickness (um… right, people, try all-day sickness!), nothing could dampen my spirits!  I was going to be pregnant through the fall and winter and give birth in June.  How perfectly God had worked everything out for me, and just the way I wanted!

For my first doctor appointment, I had to wait to go in until I was over eight weeks pregnant.  My husband was so excited to hear the heartbeat and see the baby on the sonogram that he took time off work that day to come with me.  We were beaming as we got called in to the exam room and met with the doctor.  As they put the probe on my stomach, we could see the little tiny baby; it was a wonderful!  After a short while, though, the doctor started frowning a bit and really moving the probe back and forth. I started to get a bit nervous. But I knew that God gave me this baby, so everything was going to turn out fine.

After the doctor had to do another more detailed type of sonogram, he turned to us and said, “There’s no heartbeat, I’m really sorry.”   For being a medical professional, I sure acted very naïve, “So what does that mean, doctor?”  I didn’t understand at first.  I was so sure something was going to happen; they would decide to take another look and there would be a heartbeat. or maybe I’d wait a few weeks and come back again to see if it had started.  The rest of what was said is a bit of a blur after that.  I remember the doctor saying that there should be a heartbeat by now and something must have gone wrong. My options were to wait and see if I eventually had a natural miscarriage or they could do minor surgery to take care of everything.  He advised us to go home and think about everything and call after the weekend.  I had tears slowly dripping down my face as we left the office.  We got in the car and my husband just held me in silence.  We started driving home and I asked him if we could go to visit friends of ours instead.  He called them and briefly explained the situation and they lovingly and graciously accepted us into their home.  Having gone through a similar situation themselves, it was an immense blessing to be able to talk with them.  They cried with us and were able to comfort us like few people could have.

We went home and I started doing a lot of research and we decided to have the surgery. I called the doctors office the next day and they were so kind on the phone and said they would squeeze me in on Monday.  It was a long, painful weekend as we had to share with our families and close friends that we had lost the baby.  A few people offered comforting remarks, but some of them were unintentionally more painful then helpful.  I was convicted by people’s responses. How many times had I been unknowingly insensitive or just “didn’t know what to say so I said nothing?”

We made it through the weekend, and on the day of our second wedding anniversary, spent the day at the hospital. God was good to us; everything went as expected, my body healed well and all the staff had been so nice to us. It was a long week after that, trying to keep it together at work and then crying for hours at night.  I knew that God was in control and that He loved me and had a purpose in the situation, but I still cried out to Him with violent sobs asking Him why He took my little baby.

Of course, I won’t have an answer until I get to Heaven, but for now, God has been working powerfully in my heart and drawing me into His loving arms and teaching me to let go of those things that I hold dear in this life and cling to Him.  He is the source of my joy and contentment, no matter the situation.  He’s teaching me to truly, genuinely love the unlovely and those struggling with deep hurts.  He allowed the situation to draw my husband and I much closer together then I thought possible.  The pain is still there and it may always be, but God is slowly healing my heart and shaping it into what He would have it be.

This is why I begin every day thanking God for what He’s given us, every day with this new life is truly a precious miracle to me.

Princess Genius needs a new laboratory

Adventure is out there...

The problem with having a young genius and future Ivy leaguer and Nobel Prize recipient on your hands is that, for now, your house is the laboratory.

Adventure is out there...

My youngest daughter, Princess Genius, who turned three-years-old last week, is as bright a child as you are likely to meet, and for a few more years, at least, our home will be the subject of many more tests, experiments, trial runs and undertakings of every kind.

Our family friend Paul uttered a surprisingly accurate prophesy about Princess Genius just after she turned a year old.

“She seems quietly curious about everything.”

“Quiet” and “curious.”

These two words, if said separately to describe your child, would be just fine. There is nothing wrong with “quiet.” The world needs quiet people as much as it needs loud folks.

Her sister, Princess Supergirl, is perhaps the loudest curious child you will ever meet. Her personal philosophy about getting needed information on a subject is to bludgeon the nearest adult into submission with a broadside of questions that makes me think that she has a future as a trial lawyer who specializes in the cross examination. (“Dad, you claim that we should not eat ice cream before bedtime, yet I distinctly heard you and Mom talk about eating a bowl of cookies and cream and watching a movie after Princess Genius and I go to bed. Is that the truth or isn’t it? Is that ice cream on your breath? I think the jury, made up of my stuffed animals, would like to hear about this!”)

Neither is “curious” a bad word. I was so curious about the world that my wonderful mother, who was no doubt tired of answering questions, simply handed me the “A” encyclopedia and sent me off to read the entire set. This has made me a killer Trivial Pursuit player, though my cannon of knowledge stops at the year 1970. (What ever happened to that President Richard Nixon guy?)

Quiet and content about life? Fine. Loud and curious? Also fine.

No, it’s the combination of quiet and curious that is such a deadly gumbo. Add in a pinch of self-motivation and a touch of sense of humor and you have the quietly orchestrated home experiments like the Caldwell household has been subject to recently.

It is a common thought when it comes to children that, if they are “playing quietly” somewhere, then everything is fine. For some reason I still battle this faulty logic when it comes to Princess Genius.

A few weeks ago, I was working diligently at my computer in our upstairs office while Princess Genius was entertaining herself with her dolls and other toys in her room.

Then I heard her dash to her sister’s room and back again several times, and then to the bathroom for just a second and then back into her room. She repeated this pattern in a quiet and no doubt determined way while I blissfully typed away.

Now, for a writer, any peaceful moment in a house with children is worth a bag of gold, and, since Princess Genius was being quiet and seemed to be occupied, I continued to work away. I should have known better, but sometimes you make that quiet wager with yourself that everything is fine and just as it should be.

And then a bit later, after an extended period of quiet, I heard the multiple flushes of the toilet and then listened to Princess Genius run into her room, slam her door and run into her closet. (Where she is known to hide when an experiment goes awry.)

As I sat at my keyboard, the clouds in my brain finally parted and I put the two actions together.

Multiple toilet flushes plus running and hiding in your closet equals something bad!

Indeed, it was bad.

From what I can deduce from the carnage at hand, she was attempting to flush the entire contents of the upstairs of our house in a bold experiment of “what goes down and what does not.” (The official results are that small toys and paper towels will go down while bigger objects like dad’s electric razor and a tube of toothpaste will simple twirl around and around the bowl in a hypnotic fashion.)

I have also learned (the hard way, naturally) that we should get her a drink when she requests one, lest she should attempt to tussle with a gallon of milk at 5 a.m. … (don’t ask).

So, happy birthday, Princess Genius; may you someday grow up to be the girl who finds a cure for cancer or a true green energy alternative.

In the meantime, would you like to go outside?

The Learning Process

I’m new to blogging. So an advance “I’m Sorry” if I ramble on, or don’t make sense in a sentence or two. I have to write for my work-living, but blogging is just different. But the good part? I am mom to an amazing 6 yr old, so getting the opp from the awesome John D. to write about her and about just being a mom…I’ll take it! :)

I don’t have this mom thing all figured out, and if anyone says they do, even if they are parents to a dozen kids with lots more kid experience than me, I think they are lying. The one thing I DO know is that children constantly make us learn. Not only do they learn about life stuff in the womb, they have no idea (until they too become parents) how much they teach us.

I seriously learn constantly from my daughter every day. I learn patience (she’s sooo stubborn!). I learn love (could my heart have this much love for this little person? Yes!). I learn responsibility (I’ve got to set an example of doing good as little eyes are watching my every move…and I’ve got to fess up when I’ve wronged…she’s got to see me make my mistakes too and know no parent is perfect).

I learn fear (I’m so afraid for her safety all the time, and want to be a constant shield, but I know I can’t be that all the time—we’ve only had one broken arm and minor cuts – whew). So then I learn more patience. And I learn to pray more for her. For her to be safe, protected, to be loved by her peers but to be herself and grow into a strong woman. I just learn every single day and I had NO clue that was part of parenting till she came along.

Parenting, albeit the hardest thing my husband and I have ever taken on, is the best, hardest, coolest, most amazing gift. I’m glad I  have this tough job. And I look forward to the day when my daughter can experience for herself (20+ years at least, please!) :)  And not only will we continue to learn from our children, but let’s be open to learning from other parents. We’re all in this together….we might as well as enjoy the roller coaster as a team than fly solo!

Cheers to parenthood!

Stacie V.

A Christmas not soon forgotten…

I should have known this Christmas was going to be a trying one about a week before Christmas Day. My wife, Kelli, woke up sick on Tuesday morning and called in to work. After things did not get better, she went to the doctor. Merry Christmas, you have the flu! Wednesday night my daughter, Avery, woke up in the middle of the night sick with a fever.

For the next few days I tried to avoid my family, as my wife insisted, and keep myself from getting sick as well. As Friday rolled around everyone seemed to be improving. We went to my father-in-law’s house for Christmas Eve and had a good time. Christmas morning Avery woke up feeling pretty crummy. I was excited to see my 3 year old dig into everything that “Santa” had brought her. No such luck. She opened all of her presents and looked bored or disapointed throughout most of the time. She started feeling better and later in the morning we went to my parents for Christmas Day, where Kelli spent half the time in bed.

On the way back home (before making the evening trip to my mother-in-law’s house) Avery starting coughing really bad and could not stop. She started telling us she couldn’t breathe. Thankfully, we had her nebulizer with us and the car has an electric outlet. Unfortunately, the nebulizer was too much for the outlet and it would run no longer than about 10 seconds at time before having to be shut off and turned back on a couple of times. During this process we are trying to keep Avery awake as she told us, “I can’t keep her eyes open.” About that time I looked back and saw her eyes starting to roll back into her head; she really couldn’t breathe. It takes a lot to freak my out, I am definitely the calm parent, but his most assuredly got my juices flowing. A couple of run red lights and speed infractions later, we arrived at the emergency room.

On the 10 minute ride the hospital Avery managed to cough up a HUGE ball of mucus. Yes, my wife had a handful of snot. Merry Christmas again! She seemed to be breathing better and coming around but we took her in for observation anyway. They checked her out and said all was fine, but recommended using the nebulizer more often. So, we finally made it home and Avery crashed pretty hard for about an hour and a half. Everyone, though tired, seemed to be doing pretty good, so we decide to make the short trip to Nana’s house. We all have a good time and start the trip home when… You guessed it, the coughing starts back up. The same scenario from earlier in the day flares up and we start heading back to the hospital, rather reluctantly on my part. We got her to cough another big ball of stuff out and got in touch with her pediatrician. He didn’t think there was an reason to go back to the hospital either and told us how to clear things up. The rest of the night went smoothly. On Tuesday she went to the doctor for her follow up where he said he believed that she had bronchitis, coupled with some other type infection which caused the increased production of mucus, coupled with an asthma attack. Ah, the joys of parenthood. And then on Sunday, we received even more great news. My grandmother was admitted in the hospital with congestive heart failure. She is doing better and will hopefully be back home this weekend.

All in all, we managed to have a pretty good Christmas despite all of the craziness. Though there were a couple of trips to the hospital involved, God blessed us. He took care of everyone and reminded us what Christmas is truly about. It’s the day we remember what God did by sending his only son, Jesus, to this earth in a plan to die for our sins. Though Santa Claus if fun for the kids, I’m personally glad that my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, is the one that is real.

My lesson

What I pictured in buying the Playmobil Nativity scene was a nice way to perpetuate the true meaning of Christmas.  “Why dearest mommy, I see the baby Jesus and I am filled with the glory of his birth,” Ethan would say after opening the box.  We would sit down together and talk about who the figures were and what lead them to be together on that very special day.  I would gaze upon my own angels as they shared the beauty of the birth of our savior.  Magical.

What I got was much different.  “Stop tearing off Joseph’s head.”  “Do not put that Shepard down your pants.”  “That is not a girl with a tea kettle, it is the Wise-man with Frankincense .”  These were the phrases that erupted from my mouth.  Arwen was stealing Mary, Ethan was hording the manger, I’m pretty sure the dog was chewing on one of the Wise-man’s staffs.  “Put down Jesus! Step away from Jesus! You do not deserve to have Jesus,” I finally muttered.  Oh there was gazing alright.  Gazing in horror. Opening that box was about as magical as as a town plundering.

Chaos did eventually calm, as it always does.  And, after a bit of lecture and a sprinkling of discipline our nativity has now reached a level of peace.  Everyone has remained clothed with heads for some days now.

The crazy thing is, what started as an attempt to teach… actually taught more than intended.

Seeing them made me think… I am guilty of often fumbling with my FAITH.  Ignoring the proper care that IT deserves.  Often I do not deserve Jesus either.  But, after a bit of self lecture and a sprinkling of disciplined bible study I manage to reach a level of peace too.

We all have lessons to learn.  Some may be to not put the angel’s halo in your mouth… mine was to respect my faith.

Boys and Baseball

As I write this, my little Harvey is sitting in the living room behind me watching The Wiggles. I personally cannot stand that show, but I love that he loves it. Two of his teddy bears are watching with him: one with a University of Kentucky (my wife’s Alma Mater) sweatshirt, the other with a St. Louis Cardinals shirt and hat.

I want to share about the Cardinals, my favorite sports team in the world, and how it relates to my precious little guy.

A few years back, I learned some really important life lessons, one of which was to know and understand my identity. First and foremost, to be stronger in my identity as one who believes in the God of second chances. But there are other facets of our lives that are inextricably linked to our identities. Though maybe futile, they are vital to our souls.

For me, one of those is the St. Louis Cardinals. I know that at least back to my Great Grandpa Clore, the majority of my family (maternal and paternal sides) have been fans of the Cardinals. My Dad and his Grandpa used to sit and listen to Cardinals baseball games on KMOX-FM in the early 1960s. My maternal Grandpa and his Son went to the 1967 World Series, of which the Cardinals beat the Red Sox. My Dad and Uncle were at game 7 of the 1982 World Series when the Cardinals beat the Milwaukee Brewers. I was at game 3 of the 2006 World Series, which the Cards ultimately won over the Detroit Tigers.

All of this to say, it runs deep. When a counselor asked me what my identity was a few years back, I had a hard time answering. Beyond being a Christian, male, Nashville resident, music industry guy, I wasn’t really sure what to say. I briefly touched on being a big Cards fan and he actually stopped on that and wanted me to consider why.

I realized that it was because it represented my family. It represented where I was from but no longer lived (I’m from the Midwest – Southern Illinois, specifically). It represented something with a long-standing and positive history – something with a strong foundation.

The Cardinals represented me. This baseball team, of all things, truly was and is part of my identity.

When Sarah and I learned we were having a boy, I really wanted to name him Harvey, after my Great Grandpa Harve Clore.

My son is named after the man who introduced my Dad to the Cardinals.

Harvey went to his first ball game at ten weeks old. Recently, he went to his second and third. Although the greatest time wasn’t had by all this last time (he was fifteen months and the temperature was near 100 degrees), I am very proud to say he has been to at least one game for the first two baseball seasons of his young life. And it’s my goal to take him to at least one every year.

Harvey’s nursery is decorated with nearly all Cardinals items.

Some may call all of this brainwashing. I can honestly tell you I’m trying to be the best dad I can be.


The following picture is (from left) my Dad, Harvey and me on August 15, 2010 in St. Louis.

The Doppelgänger Experiment

So, how exactly do you explain death to a 3-year old?  If you have an answer, please let me know.  Recently, I could not come up with an answer myself, so I chose to bypass the issue.  Let me explain…

My daughter has, or had, a pet hamster named Eleanor (a reference to the Beatles’ song, “Eleanor Rigby”).  My wife and I aren’t quite sure what happened, but the poor little thing was discovered dead on Wednesday night of last week.  My daughter was asking to give Eleanor a treat before bed when my wife found the hamster’s lifeless body lying in the cage.  Yes, this is very sad… I loved that hamster.  My wife told her that Eleanor was “sleeping” and she could give her a treat tomorrow.  My daughter begrudgingly agreed and went to bed.  Shortly after, I received a phone call, while still at work, of the grim news.

My wife and I talked it over and came to a decision that because we didn’t want to break our daughter’s heart, who also loved the hamster, we would replace her with a look alike.  When I arrived home from work that evening, I cleaned out the cage and sadly put Eleanor to rest.  I woke up the next morning and immediately went to the pet store to purchase another Chinese Dwarf Hamster.  The only problem was that Eleanor was older than the hamsters available at the pet store; this means I was going to be buying a hamster noticeably smaller than the late Eleanor.  I figured it was still worth a shot and selected the larger of the two.  I came home and welcomed the new Eleanor (dubbed Eleanor II to my wife and I) her new and larger home.  Eleanor II is more timid than the original Eleanor, but she eventually made herself at home.

Now for the test.  Before bed that night, my daughter was admiring her pet, when all of a sudden my wife thought we were made.  My daughter exclaimed, “HEY!…  I think we should give Eleanor a treat.”  My wife breathed a sigh of relief, as she later explained, gave Eleanor a treat, and put my daughter to bed.  I asked my daughter the next day what she thought of Eleanor, to which she informed me, “Eleanor is the best hamster in the world!”  Though I feel a little bad, thankfully, the terrible situation seems to have come to a good ending.

So what do you think?  Did we do the right thing, or should we have taken the chance of crushing her young heart?  Who knows, I am just glad “Eleanor” is doing fine.

Let there be wheat!

Well, this is my first post here.  I will start by saying that being a parent is a tough thing.  It’s rewarding, but there’s a new challenge every day.  My daughter, Avery, is 3 years old; a few weeks ago, it seemed she had gotten sick and no matter how many medicine or nebulizer treatments she took, it did not get better.  Finally, her doctor decided to send her to get some blood work done to check for allergies.  The results were unexpected to say the least.

My wife and I were told that she was allergic to milk, wheat, egg whites, and peanuts.  As shocking as the news was, the most difficult thing was trying to explain it to our daughter.  How do you tell a 3 year old that wants a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of milk everyday for lunch, that she can’t have any part of the meal?  I’ll just say it was a difficult process.  On top of constantly having to tell her she cannot have something because it would make her sick, EVERYTHING has one of the products in it.  If you finally find something without those things, plan on paying an extra $5 or so.  Ouch.

We decided to see an allergist who could hopefully narrow things down, and maybe open up some more foods for her again.  In the mean time, our 3 year old would inform us that, “The doctor said I can’t have that,” to everything she decided she didn’t want to eat.  She’s too smart for her own good sometimes.  Needless to say, it was a rough two weeks waiting for the appointment with the allergist.

Finally, the day comes.  After talking to the nurse and doctor, the nurse enters the room holding three trays.  First, she has my daughter take off her shirt, and begins to draw small lines all over her back.  Forty-two of them to be exact; any clue where this is heading?  In the trays were forty-two separate poisoned needles.  Well, not “poisoned,” but each had a different substance to check for allergic reactions.  There was everything for common food allergies, to weeds and pollen, to animals.  Each line on her back got a separate needle prick.  Thankfully, she took it like a trooper with no complaints or crying.

The results of the test were a little confusing to me.  The doctor said NONE of the spots where showing a reaction, except for the histamine which is used to be sure there are no medicines in your system that may influence the test.  He then informed us that children sometimes produce anti-bodies that could be showing up on the original test.

To cut this thing down to the point, we were told that she could have wheat and eggs, but to stay away from milk and nuts.  We are now working on a “trial and error” basis over two week intervals to see if we can further narrow down the problem.  After we told her she could have bread again, you would have thought we gave her a pony.  For lunch she had a hamburger, minus the meat, then she had some cereal for a snack, and a few vegetables with crescent rolls that were her dinner.

Bottom line is, though it was a tough situation, God answers prayers.  Even if it isn’t quite the full answer you want.  It’s awesome to be able to give the kid a piece of bread again if she wants it.  Parenting is full of new and difficult situations, and at 3 years old, I’m sure ours are just starting.  Look to God and don’t let the bad news get you down.  Wouldn’t trade that little girl for anything…