baby

wait and see

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This day has been looming over me for the past month. Every time I would begin writing, I would stop. Writer’s block. My mind would drift to this date. Today was Everett’s cardiology appointment. They hadn’t looked at his heart in six months. That’s the longest stretch we have ever gone.

Needless to say, I was feeling a bit anxious. In fact, yesterday, I landed a midday migraine that I can most likely attribute to my anxiety for this appointment and, earlier this week, I randomly burst into tears on the phone with my mom dreading this day.

To ease all of my relatives reading this, the appointment, overall, went well. But, we did hit a snag. Everett’s heart is not perfect. It never will be. After the surgery, there were still a couple problems with his heart that we have been watching. One of those things has worsened over the last six months, but, because he is not having any symptoms, we wait. Things very likely could resolve on its own, or, it could become worse. It’s just a waiting game.

When I spoke to my parents about the appointment, they both told me this was something to celebrate. This baffled me. Sure, we didn’t receive news that another surgery was imminent, but we also didn’t receive the all clear. I didn’t really understand how I could rejoice. But, tonight, it hit me. Everett’s entire life will be a “wait and see” game. And, that’s a harsh reality for a Momma.

We have to celebrate the good news as it comes and not drown in the bad. Today our heart warrior is thriving and strong. There’s no sense in living in fear. He certainly doesn’t. Everett takes this world by storm. He is more daring than I knew a child to be. He meets every obstacle with a grin. Nothing stands in his way.

My child is strong. He is a fighter. And, I have a lot to learn from him.

creative baby proofing

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When Austin was a baby, we kind of slacked in the baby proofing department. Sure, we covered the outlets, and we used a baby gate as needed. And, of course, all cleaners and hazardous materials were placed safely from his reach. But, that was the extent of it.

He opened and closed cabinets at his whim, pots and pans all a strew. I cringe looking back at the death trap of a coffee table we had. And, it took me entirely too long to part ways with the various fragile decor around the house.

But, during the peak age of baby proofing, our house was on the market… for a year. I can tell you right now that hundreds of latches on every single door in your home don’t make for promising showings. So, we made do without.

Here we are with Everett in the throes of curiosity and mischievousness. He is mobile and fast, and I feel like I’m a first time parent again. A new house and new obstacles.

I think it’s safe to say we need to look at some more traditional methods.

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We need new baby gates. Ones for stairs and one for wide openings. We need latches for cabinets and potties, and more outlet covers. Forget plugging anything in to visible outlets. Everett will find them and try to eat them. Really, I could just use another set of eyes… and hands.

Looking back, I can’t fathom how we survived without baby proofing every square inch of our house when it seems so necessary now. Perhaps that’s the difference in one versus two kids. It’s hard to keep a constant eye on two moving objects that rarely coincide with the same direction.

Over the years, I’ve had multiple people, including strangers, tell me that Austin is the most active child they’ve seen. I’m never sure if that’s a compliment or code for GOOD LUCK! But, as Everett becomes more and more mobile, I’m not sure that he isn’t going to follow big bro’s lead. He is on the move. He is quick. And, he is up to no good.

No more waiting. Time to corral these kiddos.

Any recommendations on your favorite brands or items for baby proofing?

the rolling pin

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rolling pin

Everett is a roller. He doesn’t crawl. He doesn’t scoot. He rolls face first across the floor over and over again, sweeping up our hardwoods with every tumble. He covers an impressive amount of ground in a short period of time. The kid is fast.

I really don’t think he will ever crawl. He successfully raises himself on hand and knees, but refuses to actually take that first movement forward… or, backward. Instead, he flops to his belly and rolls and rolls. Or, he straightens his legs out in a yoga-inspired form, attempting to free stand. It doesn’t work out well.

The first time we shot video of his nimbleness, family and friends gasped at the sight. Here was our infant spiraling face first against the hard ground. Ouch. But, he was giggling.

I blame the helmet for his extreme confidence in rolling. Who else has a kid that repeatedly crashes his head into the hard floor with no regrets at all? Does not faze him. It’s the helmet. Take it off, and he is wailing within five seconds. We have a big problem when he graduates from that helmet.

He has roughly two months, give or take, before graduation day. It’s time to work on coordination, son. Better get crawling, or, walking.

We should probably just buy him a bike helmet.

up all night

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Tonight I find myself talking to the baby monitor.

“Please go to sleep. Please go to sleep. Please go to sleep.”

But, he doesn’t listen. Tonight, the baby tosses and turns, fusses and cries. He is already setting the tone for the night.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Mom.” There will be little sleep in the following hours. Tonight, Everett and I will be partying with the crickets. And, tonight, I embrace that.

I am tired. I am exhausted. These last couple weeks have been draining. But, tonight, my baby is sick. It’s probably just a cold, but he’s snotty, miserable and running a fever. He needs me, and I will be there.

I’m a bear without sleep. I love sleep, and I need it – just ask the hubs. Fluffy, soft blankets pile atop our bed. Five feathery pillows fill my side. There are few things better than snuggling beneath the covers for some uninterrupted Z’s.

Usually, I dread these nights when the kids won’t sleep. I feel it’s an intrusion on my precious quiet time. I’m all about sharing, but I don’t want to share my nights. Save that for daylight hours.

But, when our kids are sick and our kids need us, we forget about ourselves. We are given the strength to run on minimal minutes of sleep. We are given just enough patience not to lose our sanity. We are given the gift of unconditional love. And, we are given caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

So, tonight, I doubt I will sleep, and tomorrow, I will probably be a bear. But, I am a Mommy. I will hold my baby tight rocking him for hours on end, and I will sing him lullaby after lullaby until he can find rest. We care, and we love, and we do the best we can. Sleep, sweet baby, sleep.

one thousand loads of laundry

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In a time before animal cracker crumbs were a staple in our bed, before 7 a.m. was sleeping in, and a clean house lasted more than 15 minutes, I spent my spare time doing things other than laundry.

In fact, I actually enjoyed laundry. Laundry day was once a week, and on that day, one or two loads were accomplished. And, that was all that was needed. I would turn on the television and frivolously flip through channels as I lazily folded each piece of clothing.

Fast forward to reality where I am routinely six feet under piles of laundry, and folding clothes is a race against two ticking time bombs. Forget putting it away. Grab and go as necessary, which is why my home is often dotted with miniature shirts, socks and undies. Currently, I do three – sometimes four – loads a day. Let’s look at that for a minute.

Before children, we’ll say two loads of laundry a week. That’s roughly 8-9 loads a month and approximately 104 loads a year.

After children, we’ll play conservative and say three loads a day. That’s 21 for the week, and a grand total of 1,092 loads of laundry a year. Uh. Wow. And, I only have two children.

If this trend continues, we still have approximately 18 years before our youngest moves out. Multiply that number by 18. Nauseating.

Now, I’m hopeful it won’t always be like this. Right now, Everett is a spitter. Not a dainty dribbler, but a full impact soaker. When he spits, he leaves a wave of destruction on anything within a three-foot radius. You can hear the splat across the room. Ew. We clean out our arsenal of bibs and burp cloths every single day. I hear by one year, we should be done with the spit. Fingers crossed.

As for Austin, well, I wash a lot of Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Train undies – and, sheets. Yay for potty training…

I’m beginning to think the stereotypical “smelly kid” label might not be so bad after all.

Looking back, maybe I should have registered for stock in Tide or Dreft, as opposed to a million different socks, blankets and lotions that have all been used once.

Perhaps, it’s time to visit my nemesis, Pinterest, and see how many ways I can make my own laundry detergent. Brilliant. I’ll just squeeze that into my schedule between 1,092 loads of laundry.

potty fail

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This afternoon, when I asked Austin if he would like to sit on the potty, I received a glare. Then, in total silence, he carries his potty into the office, sets it down, and closes the door – him on one side, the potty on the other. He shakes his head without making eye contact and scurries away.

So, obviously, it’s going really well. ::smacks head::

Things began amazing with Austin. There were few accidents. He wanted to sit on the potty, and he loved the rewards. We went all out with intense enthusiasm and praise, not to mention the M&Ms and prizes from the dollar store.

But, a few days in, and he’s decided he is so over the potty.

Apparently, he is still doing well at school the couple times a week that he attends. But, at home, he has decided to boycott the potty… again. I’m not sure what changed, other than my child’s incredible stubbornness in the first place. I’m not sure where he gets that trait…

Now, when I encourage him to sit on the potty, he throws a tantrum – an over the top, kicking and screaming, mommy is going to rip her hair out kind of fit. The thing is he hates diaper changes, too. I really think he would be content walking around in a diaper for the rest of his life. Try to get a girlfriend in those, Austin. We usually put him in regular underwear at home, and when he wets himself, it doesn’t even seem to bother him. He could care less if he is soaked.

Since he can’t be bothered by wet diapers, wet undies or even going commando, where does that leave us? In a pile of pee, I guess.

Time to re-strategize. Score Austin 1,347, Mommy and Daddy 0. But, the final score will be Mommy and Daddy WIN. You will be potty trained, son. Just you wait.

i’d rather eat my foot

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Every morning and every evening, we select one jar of baby food, open it, and then promptly throw it in the trash. At least, that’s how it feels.

Everett detests solids. Over a three month period, we’ve tried four or five different brands, different consistencies, real food, and even puffs – you know, sugar air – but, always we are met with pursed lips, overly dramatic grimaces, gags and spitting. On the rare occasion, he will actually down a small jar of sweet potatoes or squash. It has to be orange. Odd. But, even those “favorites” are often met with the same distaste.

It’s baffling to me honestly. That child will stick everything under the sun in his mouth and gnaw at it – a cooking utensil, our fingers, a shoe, our phones, Austin’s toys, or a personal favorite, the foot. But, the moment we slip in a bite of actual food, it is not up to his standards. You know, his high standards of feet and shoes.

It’s difficult not to compare our own children, but Austin was an eater. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, he loved his meals. You had to keep your fingers to yourself during mealtime less you lose one to that chomper. It took him a while to learn the concept of sharing one’s food.

And, thus, we are left with the question of whether Everett is just ridiculously picky, a late bloomer, or if he has an aversion, which apparently is common in kiddos with medical issues off the bat. Feeding evaluation should be scheduled for next week.

Maybe he just wants a cheeseburger.

six months of living

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beads of courage

It’s been six months since our sweet Everett began to live. His birth certificate may say January, but a part of me feels like March 11 was his true birthday. It is certainly a day I will always celebrate along with his given birthday. This is the day Everett’s heart became whole. The day his life changed for the better. After two months of constant struggles, for the first time in his little life, he could breathe easy and finally found life worth smiling about.

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We should have known Everett was going to give us a run for our money even before he was born. At 38 weeks pregnant, I went to my regular OB appointment, feeling large and ready to gripe about evicting this child. Everything was running smoothly until we listened for his heartbeat. Immediately, I noticed the tempo was far slower than normal. My doctor continued to listen but remained silent, until I sputtered out, “Is that kind of slow for him?” And, at that point, his little heart began pounding away normally once again. After a couple more heart decelerations, my doctor decided it best to head straight over to the hospital, and since I was already at 4 cm, we would induce. Talk about a surprise for the hubs.

From there, everything was a breeze. God had blessed us with our second beautiful, healthy little boy. He passed every test with flying colors and nursed like a champ from the beginning. Life was normal, well, our new normal, for two weeks.

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I took Everett to his two week well check and chatted about his progress. He was still several ounces below his birth weight, but the pedi didn’t seem concerned since he appeared to be nursing quite well. Then, she listened to his heart, and my own heart sank as she listened, then listened again. She noted there was a loud murmur, and we discussed whether it was best to wait and see or consult with a pediatric cardiologist. We chose the latter.

I first called the hubs and family, trying to stay positive and calm, convincing myself this would be nothing. It had to be.

No sooner had I walked in the door then I found myself dialing the number for the cardiologist. I fumbled on the phone, unsure of what to say in such a foreign situation. Amazingly, they had an opening the next morning.

Still convinced it would be no big deal, I decided to schedule Everett’s two week labs immediately after the appointment since I would be at the hospital. How naive, I see, in hindsight.

I arrived late for the appointment, of course, still learning to navigate how to leave the house while tending to two children. I forgot to fill out the paperwork, and I ran off without my driver’s license. Thankfully, I still had an old license that they accepted as my picture id. Needless to say, I was a bit frazzled. The appointment lasted an eternity. I thought we would never see the doctor. I was anxious to receive the all clear and move on with our lives.

He finally sat down with Everett and I, and I knew this was all wrong. I stared at him blankly as he told me my son’s heart has a problem. He was diagnosed with an Atrioventricular canal (AV canal) defect. This is a combination of problems that result in a large defect in the center of the heart. There is a hole between the chambers of the heart and problems with the valves that regulate blood flow in the heart. AV canal occurs in two out of 10,000 births and is often associated with Down syndrome. E does not have Down’s.

He would need surgery – ideally, at four to six months. The plan was for Everett to double his birth weight before surgery would happen. But, God had other plans.

Continued i’ve never liked dominoes

Below is a visual explanation of AV canal that I found online via the Cardiac Center at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

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