So I nursed the Little Cherub to sleep while watching Lie to Me with my honey. After it ended I carefully carried this wee one up to bed and laid her down; at that moment I smelled the sour diaper and KNEW I couldn't just let her keep sleeping in it. So, I did what any good mommy would do and I took the risk and changed the diaper, silently hoping she'd go back to sleep. It didn't happen.
Feeling refreshed as if she'd just taken a lovely 'evening' nap, she was up and ready to go! This, my friends, is why I'm typing this at 1:40am.
This Little Cherub of mine has grown up leaps and bounds in the past 2 weeks. She's not the same babe she was. In fact, you could even call her a little girl! Next week this tiny angel of mine will turn 1 year old! It's both sad and thrilling to watch her grow up.
For the past month or so we've been letting her 'hop' up the stairs to bed at night. Last week she started 'stepping' up the stairs, one tall step at a time! She wants to do it just like we do! (so cute!)
A week ago, Sunday, she pulled herself up to standing, all by herself! She's been hanging onto the couch and walking around for a while now, but this was big news!
The next day I was over at my mom's house and my brother in law waved to her...and she waved back!!! First time ever! I'm such a proud mommy!
All week long this little one has been coming up with tons of new noises and sounds. She keeps us laughing! She's also been repeating back words to us! She's so smart!
This little one, though a joy, has also been a bit of a pain as of late. Very moody. It turns out she was teething again. That makes nine teeth now. This one is a molar! (No wonder she was so grumpy!)
And, after all of these sweets accomplishments, the cherry on top is that she finally took her first unassisted steps yesterday! We are so proud of her!
Being a mother is truly amazing! There's never a dull day in this line of work; every day is a miracle! <3
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Freedom of Speech?
I've discovered recently that freedom of speech only applies to liberals. Good to know, huh? The rest of us will be lynched for having an opinion. Beware.
Mourn With Those That Mourn
I find it interesting that although hurt, strife, loneliness and such are all a part of life, we all behave as if it's unnatural. If someone mentions any such issues happening in their life we all feel awkward and turn our heads the other direction, whispering under our breath, "That person's got problems". How unnatural! The real problem here is that we turn away rather than listening, helping and just being there for one another. Does pretending it's not there really help the situation? What happened to empathy? Mourning with those that mourn? Comforting those that stand in need of comfort? What a screwed up world we live in if we think of those Christ-like behaviors as "old fashioned". (And, for the record, trying to fix the problem is not the same as having empathy....Robbie).
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Over Protective?
I recently got into a tiff with one of my sisters. She'd been moody for a while and decided to unload on me. She thought I was out of line for getting upset when her son and husband decided to, repeatedly, kick a football towards my 10 month old baby, who was 'walking' around the yard with the assistance of one of their daughters. Once the ball came flying past, skimming my baby, I grabbed her and took her inside. Once inside that sister of mine commented how irritated she is with me being so overprotective.
Although she was out of line here, I realized there are times when, perhaps, ALL of you have thought of me as over-protective. Compared to most of you I probably am, but with good reason.
I would never consider judging any of you on how you parent; it's not my place. It's also not my place to tell you and everyone else how I disagree with the way you parent. Chances are, like me, you're doing your best and you have your child's best interests at heart. I can't ever understand why you do some things the way you do, and vice versa. (Even if you THINK you understand, you don't).
I know that saying this doesn't help you 'stand in my shoes', so I thought I'd help you, and especially my sister, understand, just a little, why I am so protective of my little miracle, Annibelle.
After 28 hours of excruciating labor, neglect and SEVERE complications, I saw my purple baby plop onto the table. The doctor we'd paid to catch her didn't even do that. That doctor didn't check to see if I was dialated before she had me push; and I wasn't. This created most of the problems that almost cost me and my baby our lives.
Annibelle had to be resuscitated, and thankfully was revived. I, however, was still in shock and had no desire to hold, or even see my baby. The nurses finally had Peter put her in my arms and I instantly fell in love with her.
I knew I'd be selfish with my first baby. A mother has that right. When Annibelle was just 21 hours old I was informed that, after some tests, they'd discovered my baby had heart disease. I was alone in the room and was told this by phone call. All I could think was that my baby could die, would need open-heart surgery, and may not live a full or long life. I was devastated and heart broken. This moment changed everything for me. I refused to let anyone, other than Peter, hold our delicate baby. I promised her I would keep her safe, and alive.
I learned that she would need open-heart surgery within her first year. I learned that if her heart pumped too fast she could die. This meant I couldn't let her cry. Anyone with a baby knows that's a difficult, if not impossible, task. If she cried her heart could stop, and she would die... and it would be my fault. I attended to her better than any mother has ever attended to their baby. I learned her noises that meant she needed something so she would never have to let me know through her tears.
We learned that RSV season was just weeks away, and with her weak heart working SO hard to function she could get sick much easier than other babies, and much worse too! Catching RSV, or any major childhood illness could land our baby in the hospital, or perhaps even the grave. Clean hands and good heath/habits are absolutely necessary around her. I stayed inside 99% of the time during that first RSV season. It was difficult for me. I longed to get out and see people and move around. The sacrifice was necessary for her life, and will be again this year, as her heart still struggles to heal and function properly. (You can only imagine the stress this put on me when I discovered we'd have 15 people at our home for Christmas!)
Because of her heart problems she couldn't keep herself warm on her own. If I layed her down by herself for 15 minutes, her skin would feel ice cold to the touch, so I kept her near me and Peter all the time, even at night. (Especially at night!) It's true, I was controlled by fear. I confess I should have asked for a blessing much sooner than I did, for once I did, it brought me great peace. Before that I was pretty sure I would die from high blood pressure! ...the weight on my shoulders was more than I could possibly describe to you. I even got my first gray hair!
I had high hopes each time we went to see her cardiologist, and each time those hopes were dashed to pieces. At 4 months old we were informed that she would not make it to the intended 10-months-old; she needed surgery asap. Her surgery was scheduled for exactly one month from that day; March 17th. (It was later that week both Annibelle and I received a blessing of healing and comfort. I then knew that she would survive this part of the trial).
The weeks leading up to the surgery were stressful. I prayed constantly for my baby; that she wouldn't be afraid, that the doctor would be guided by the Spirit, and that I would be comforted too.
The night before the surgery was one of the hardest in my life. I couldn't feed her; doctor's orders. She was hungry and wanted her mommy. I had to hand her to Peter and have him take her downstairs so both Annibelle and I wouldn't be so upset. I cried and prayed, "Please comfort my baby and don't let her be afraid or hungry". I prayed all that night and morning. I prayed and cried the entire dark drive to the hospital. My mom met us there.
It was so hard, and painful for me to hold that tiny babe in my arms. She was tired and hungry and all I could do was hold her and cry and pray. I stripped my baby of all but her diaper and put on the tiny baby gown they had given me. I was grateful for the laugh when we discovered that Annibelle was too fat to wear the socks and the ankle band they gave for her. When at last I had to hand her to the nurse, she didn't cry; not a peep! ...but I did. Oh, I sobbed. Like a baby. For about 5 minutes. Then, I said another little prayer, stood up and followed mom and Peter out of the pre-op area and into the waiting area on the 3rd floor. I have to tell you that, at this point, I was suddenly overcome with peace, and a lightness of heart. I could literally FEEL the prayers being prayed in our behalf, and I KNEW the surgery would go well. I could have skipped I felt so free! ...free of all the weight and worry that had been holding me under water the past 5 months.
Nurses came out about every 30-60 minutes to update us on the progress of the surgery. They told me she didn't cry once! She wasn't afraid! (A prayer answered!) It took 3 1/2 hours just to get all of her lines in. It took 3 hours after that to operate on her heart. Every hour or two I had to go to the 5th floor heart-center to pump. I was grateful for the chance to leave the waiting area.
7 long hours later we were lead to the PICU where our tiny 5-month old daughter lay with over 20 tubes attached to her, in a medically-paralyzed state. She was retaining water and looked puffy. She was naked, but for a diaper and a blanket laid over her. I still felt peace. I stayed there beside her most of the time, talking to her, touching her hand, checking her temperature, cleaning out her mouth and changing her diaper, instead of letting the nurses do it. We worried a bit as her temperature kept rising. I would only leave her side if my mom was there beside her. I refused to leave her alone. I didn't want her to be afraid.
We spent 5 anxious days in the PICU. 5 days praying she would wake up, recover and be healed. 5 days of not getting to nurse or hold our little one. 5 days trying to comfort her and help her understand what was happening, and that it was temporary.
On day 6 we finally got to take her up to the 5th floor heart center. At this point she got a new bed and only had 2 lines. I could finally lay beside my baby and nurse her, (though she'd forgotten how and tried to nip me with her teeth the first couple days). At this point she didn't have any pain meds, nothing to dull the frightening reality. She was too young to understand what was happening; too young to find comfort in my words. I requested a bouncer, put her in it and put on a Baby Einstein video; Annibelle was SO relieved to see something familiar that she actually laughed out loud! She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I cried again.
The 3 days/4 nights in the heart center felt like WEEKS! Once up there, Peter went home. I was alone with the baby in that tiny hospital room with nothing to do, no one to talk to. Each day the nurses would come in and tell me, "Today might be the day!" Each day I'd get the news that we were staying another day. Another day. Another day. (The nurses up there aren't nearly as nice as the ones in the PICU either!)
The nurses started making me squirt the medicines down Annibelle's throat instead of giving them through the I.V. It would make her cry, and would make me feel like a bad mommy because I couldn't explain to my baby why I had to do this. After all she'd been through, she was scared. She would start sobbing in fear any time a nurse or doctor came in the room, (which was quite often). I hadn't felt the warm peace in many days. I felt like we were prisoners there. I would have paid anything to take my baby home!
Every morning in the heart center a nurse would wake us up around 5:30am and have me carry my sleepy babe through the cold hallways to the first floor for an x-ray of her heart. On day 7 a bunch of nurses came into the room early in the morning saying they wanted to take out her main line so that it wouldn't get infected, (which would me a month or more in the hospital!) I was all for it until I realized they wanted to put in another line to replace it... while she was fully awake and feeling the pain! I asked them to bring in their BEST 'vein finding nurse'. They did. They checked her hands, wrists, arms, legs, feet... there were NO veins to be found! The brought in a 'snake light' so they could see the veins through her skin and none could be seen! The only vein they could use was at the top of her forehead. (I couldn't help but wonder HOW they planned on keeping her from pulling out a needle/line that would be hanging down in front of her face, but I didn't ask). They had me wake my sleeping babe and pin her to the bed while they shoved a needle in her head. Annibelle was screaming in fear and pain, and I was sobbing, my tears dripping onto her face. (I felt embarrassed to be crying, though I know even mommies have tears). After a few painful attempts, and what felt like an eternity they gave up. They left in the previous line... and they hoped, and I prayed, that it wouldn't get infected.
Early the next morning a moody nurse loudly and rudely startled me and my baby awake and told us we'd be going home today! I didn't care much that she was being a jerk because she'd just given me the best news! A group of about 10 med school docs and nurses gathered around the bed, turned on the blinding emergency lights and took out the remaining line from near my baby's collar bone.
Once they left the room I called Peter and told him the great news and begged him to get to us as quickly as possible. I wanted out before anyone changed their mind! I quickly showered and packed up all of our stuff. Peter arrived in good time and we loaded up the little red wagon, the stroller and our arms with all of our stuff, as we had no desire to return to that room, even if it meant getting our stuff to take home! Once home I felt like I'd awakened from a nightmare. I could only guess that our baby felt the same way.
Each time I change her diaper now I see proof on her perfect little chest, of the nightmare we lived through just 6 months ago. I can't escape the memory; the scar is always there staring at me, reminding me that we're not in the clear yet. She still needs our prayers. Another open-heart surgery might still be lurking around the corner, and the mere thought of that turns me into a puddle of tears. I don't want us to go through that again! Our little miracle is still so afraid of strangers; afraid that they will hurt her. They say babies forget, but mine doesn't. She has a LONG memory, and so do I. At the sight of a blood-pressure cuff she turns to me with fear in her eyes and cries! You can imagine how this breaks my heart. She is uncertain and afraid of the world and people around her now. It's my goal to make her feel safe. And keep her safe.
When someone in the family wants to hold her, I have them ask her for her permission. I won't let her be 'taken' by someone because they selfishly want to hold a baby. It's about her, not you. If you have a cough or cold you won't be allowed near her. This tiny cough in you could mean death to her delicate body. Her doctors like to remind us of that, so we like to remind all of you. Obviously, we don't do this because of YOU, but because of HER. AND, for those of you with grown children, might I ask you to close your eyes and remember the time you had just ONE, tiny baby to love and care for. Remember how you didn't want to share him/her with anyone else? Remember how you were so concerned for his/her health? A mommy has a right to be selfish with her own baby. So, when I decline you generous offers to babysit our little one, please take no offense. It's about us, not you. The day will come when we have our hands full with 2 or more kids, and we will be much more willing to take you up on your offer. For now, we are perfectly happy to tow around out little one with us, as having her near us lets us know what she is/isn't being exposed to and keeps her at peace and feeling safe. (AND because she's SO stinkin' cute and makes us laugh!)
Each day we still wonder what the future holds for our little miracle, and we pray that if it be the Lord's will, her heart will heal enough that she will not need another open-heart surgery. (At least not until she's MUCH older!) We ask you all to, please, remember our little Annibelle in your prayers each day, as she is still in a very dangerous situation with her heart. We know she is hefty, but she is very delicate on the inside. <3
To close, might I suggest that the next time you, or anyone you know thinks I'm being over-protective, read this blog; imagine this is your baby. Your experience, and retract your critical thought. And, maybe, say a prayer of gratitude that your kid(s) are healthy and well, and that this nightmare we live is just a story to you.
Although she was out of line here, I realized there are times when, perhaps, ALL of you have thought of me as over-protective. Compared to most of you I probably am, but with good reason.
I would never consider judging any of you on how you parent; it's not my place. It's also not my place to tell you and everyone else how I disagree with the way you parent. Chances are, like me, you're doing your best and you have your child's best interests at heart. I can't ever understand why you do some things the way you do, and vice versa. (Even if you THINK you understand, you don't).
I know that saying this doesn't help you 'stand in my shoes', so I thought I'd help you, and especially my sister, understand, just a little, why I am so protective of my little miracle, Annibelle.
After 28 hours of excruciating labor, neglect and SEVERE complications, I saw my purple baby plop onto the table. The doctor we'd paid to catch her didn't even do that. That doctor didn't check to see if I was dialated before she had me push; and I wasn't. This created most of the problems that almost cost me and my baby our lives.
Annibelle had to be resuscitated, and thankfully was revived. I, however, was still in shock and had no desire to hold, or even see my baby. The nurses finally had Peter put her in my arms and I instantly fell in love with her.
I knew I'd be selfish with my first baby. A mother has that right. When Annibelle was just 21 hours old I was informed that, after some tests, they'd discovered my baby had heart disease. I was alone in the room and was told this by phone call. All I could think was that my baby could die, would need open-heart surgery, and may not live a full or long life. I was devastated and heart broken. This moment changed everything for me. I refused to let anyone, other than Peter, hold our delicate baby. I promised her I would keep her safe, and alive.
I learned that she would need open-heart surgery within her first year. I learned that if her heart pumped too fast she could die. This meant I couldn't let her cry. Anyone with a baby knows that's a difficult, if not impossible, task. If she cried her heart could stop, and she would die... and it would be my fault. I attended to her better than any mother has ever attended to their baby. I learned her noises that meant she needed something so she would never have to let me know through her tears.
We learned that RSV season was just weeks away, and with her weak heart working SO hard to function she could get sick much easier than other babies, and much worse too! Catching RSV, or any major childhood illness could land our baby in the hospital, or perhaps even the grave. Clean hands and good heath/habits are absolutely necessary around her. I stayed inside 99% of the time during that first RSV season. It was difficult for me. I longed to get out and see people and move around. The sacrifice was necessary for her life, and will be again this year, as her heart still struggles to heal and function properly. (You can only imagine the stress this put on me when I discovered we'd have 15 people at our home for Christmas!)
Because of her heart problems she couldn't keep herself warm on her own. If I layed her down by herself for 15 minutes, her skin would feel ice cold to the touch, so I kept her near me and Peter all the time, even at night. (Especially at night!) It's true, I was controlled by fear. I confess I should have asked for a blessing much sooner than I did, for once I did, it brought me great peace. Before that I was pretty sure I would die from high blood pressure! ...the weight on my shoulders was more than I could possibly describe to you. I even got my first gray hair!
I had high hopes each time we went to see her cardiologist, and each time those hopes were dashed to pieces. At 4 months old we were informed that she would not make it to the intended 10-months-old; she needed surgery asap. Her surgery was scheduled for exactly one month from that day; March 17th. (It was later that week both Annibelle and I received a blessing of healing and comfort. I then knew that she would survive this part of the trial).
The weeks leading up to the surgery were stressful. I prayed constantly for my baby; that she wouldn't be afraid, that the doctor would be guided by the Spirit, and that I would be comforted too.
The night before the surgery was one of the hardest in my life. I couldn't feed her; doctor's orders. She was hungry and wanted her mommy. I had to hand her to Peter and have him take her downstairs so both Annibelle and I wouldn't be so upset. I cried and prayed, "Please comfort my baby and don't let her be afraid or hungry". I prayed all that night and morning. I prayed and cried the entire dark drive to the hospital. My mom met us there.
It was so hard, and painful for me to hold that tiny babe in my arms. She was tired and hungry and all I could do was hold her and cry and pray. I stripped my baby of all but her diaper and put on the tiny baby gown they had given me. I was grateful for the laugh when we discovered that Annibelle was too fat to wear the socks and the ankle band they gave for her. When at last I had to hand her to the nurse, she didn't cry; not a peep! ...but I did. Oh, I sobbed. Like a baby. For about 5 minutes. Then, I said another little prayer, stood up and followed mom and Peter out of the pre-op area and into the waiting area on the 3rd floor. I have to tell you that, at this point, I was suddenly overcome with peace, and a lightness of heart. I could literally FEEL the prayers being prayed in our behalf, and I KNEW the surgery would go well. I could have skipped I felt so free! ...free of all the weight and worry that had been holding me under water the past 5 months.
Nurses came out about every 30-60 minutes to update us on the progress of the surgery. They told me she didn't cry once! She wasn't afraid! (A prayer answered!) It took 3 1/2 hours just to get all of her lines in. It took 3 hours after that to operate on her heart. Every hour or two I had to go to the 5th floor heart-center to pump. I was grateful for the chance to leave the waiting area.
7 long hours later we were lead to the PICU where our tiny 5-month old daughter lay with over 20 tubes attached to her, in a medically-paralyzed state. She was retaining water and looked puffy. She was naked, but for a diaper and a blanket laid over her. I still felt peace. I stayed there beside her most of the time, talking to her, touching her hand, checking her temperature, cleaning out her mouth and changing her diaper, instead of letting the nurses do it. We worried a bit as her temperature kept rising. I would only leave her side if my mom was there beside her. I refused to leave her alone. I didn't want her to be afraid.
We spent 5 anxious days in the PICU. 5 days praying she would wake up, recover and be healed. 5 days of not getting to nurse or hold our little one. 5 days trying to comfort her and help her understand what was happening, and that it was temporary.
On day 6 we finally got to take her up to the 5th floor heart center. At this point she got a new bed and only had 2 lines. I could finally lay beside my baby and nurse her, (though she'd forgotten how and tried to nip me with her teeth the first couple days). At this point she didn't have any pain meds, nothing to dull the frightening reality. She was too young to understand what was happening; too young to find comfort in my words. I requested a bouncer, put her in it and put on a Baby Einstein video; Annibelle was SO relieved to see something familiar that she actually laughed out loud! She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I cried again.
The 3 days/4 nights in the heart center felt like WEEKS! Once up there, Peter went home. I was alone with the baby in that tiny hospital room with nothing to do, no one to talk to. Each day the nurses would come in and tell me, "Today might be the day!" Each day I'd get the news that we were staying another day. Another day. Another day. (The nurses up there aren't nearly as nice as the ones in the PICU either!)
The nurses started making me squirt the medicines down Annibelle's throat instead of giving them through the I.V. It would make her cry, and would make me feel like a bad mommy because I couldn't explain to my baby why I had to do this. After all she'd been through, she was scared. She would start sobbing in fear any time a nurse or doctor came in the room, (which was quite often). I hadn't felt the warm peace in many days. I felt like we were prisoners there. I would have paid anything to take my baby home!
Every morning in the heart center a nurse would wake us up around 5:30am and have me carry my sleepy babe through the cold hallways to the first floor for an x-ray of her heart. On day 7 a bunch of nurses came into the room early in the morning saying they wanted to take out her main line so that it wouldn't get infected, (which would me a month or more in the hospital!) I was all for it until I realized they wanted to put in another line to replace it... while she was fully awake and feeling the pain! I asked them to bring in their BEST 'vein finding nurse'. They did. They checked her hands, wrists, arms, legs, feet... there were NO veins to be found! The brought in a 'snake light' so they could see the veins through her skin and none could be seen! The only vein they could use was at the top of her forehead. (I couldn't help but wonder HOW they planned on keeping her from pulling out a needle/line that would be hanging down in front of her face, but I didn't ask). They had me wake my sleeping babe and pin her to the bed while they shoved a needle in her head. Annibelle was screaming in fear and pain, and I was sobbing, my tears dripping onto her face. (I felt embarrassed to be crying, though I know even mommies have tears). After a few painful attempts, and what felt like an eternity they gave up. They left in the previous line... and they hoped, and I prayed, that it wouldn't get infected.
Early the next morning a moody nurse loudly and rudely startled me and my baby awake and told us we'd be going home today! I didn't care much that she was being a jerk because she'd just given me the best news! A group of about 10 med school docs and nurses gathered around the bed, turned on the blinding emergency lights and took out the remaining line from near my baby's collar bone.
Once they left the room I called Peter and told him the great news and begged him to get to us as quickly as possible. I wanted out before anyone changed their mind! I quickly showered and packed up all of our stuff. Peter arrived in good time and we loaded up the little red wagon, the stroller and our arms with all of our stuff, as we had no desire to return to that room, even if it meant getting our stuff to take home! Once home I felt like I'd awakened from a nightmare. I could only guess that our baby felt the same way.
Each time I change her diaper now I see proof on her perfect little chest, of the nightmare we lived through just 6 months ago. I can't escape the memory; the scar is always there staring at me, reminding me that we're not in the clear yet. She still needs our prayers. Another open-heart surgery might still be lurking around the corner, and the mere thought of that turns me into a puddle of tears. I don't want us to go through that again! Our little miracle is still so afraid of strangers; afraid that they will hurt her. They say babies forget, but mine doesn't. She has a LONG memory, and so do I. At the sight of a blood-pressure cuff she turns to me with fear in her eyes and cries! You can imagine how this breaks my heart. She is uncertain and afraid of the world and people around her now. It's my goal to make her feel safe. And keep her safe.
When someone in the family wants to hold her, I have them ask her for her permission. I won't let her be 'taken' by someone because they selfishly want to hold a baby. It's about her, not you. If you have a cough or cold you won't be allowed near her. This tiny cough in you could mean death to her delicate body. Her doctors like to remind us of that, so we like to remind all of you. Obviously, we don't do this because of YOU, but because of HER. AND, for those of you with grown children, might I ask you to close your eyes and remember the time you had just ONE, tiny baby to love and care for. Remember how you didn't want to share him/her with anyone else? Remember how you were so concerned for his/her health? A mommy has a right to be selfish with her own baby. So, when I decline you generous offers to babysit our little one, please take no offense. It's about us, not you. The day will come when we have our hands full with 2 or more kids, and we will be much more willing to take you up on your offer. For now, we are perfectly happy to tow around out little one with us, as having her near us lets us know what she is/isn't being exposed to and keeps her at peace and feeling safe. (AND because she's SO stinkin' cute and makes us laugh!)
Each day we still wonder what the future holds for our little miracle, and we pray that if it be the Lord's will, her heart will heal enough that she will not need another open-heart surgery. (At least not until she's MUCH older!) We ask you all to, please, remember our little Annibelle in your prayers each day, as she is still in a very dangerous situation with her heart. We know she is hefty, but she is very delicate on the inside. <3
To close, might I suggest that the next time you, or anyone you know thinks I'm being over-protective, read this blog; imagine this is your baby. Your experience, and retract your critical thought. And, maybe, say a prayer of gratitude that your kid(s) are healthy and well, and that this nightmare we live is just a story to you.