It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas?

I've never been one to jump on the Christmas bandwagon early -- I think it's shameful and wrong for Christmas paraphernalia to show its face until after Thanksgiving. After the turkey and pumpkin pie have been cooked and eaten, however, I'm usually ready for Christmas. This year Thanksgiving has come and gone and I'm still wandering around with no Christmas spirit -- the weather we're having is totally throwing me off my holiday game! I'm ready for frost and snow and steaming mugs of cocoa, but the neighborhood boys are still running around in shorts.

Seeing the houses all lit up when I drove home from work tonight was a little disconcerting. The next-door neighbor's large, plastic nativity scene looks strangely out of place in such temperate weather. Mary smiles on as usual, but the Wise Men are looking a tad overheated. The light-up reindeer across the street looks awfully forlorn as he waggles his head back and forth over a lawn devoid of snow. I did some Christmas shopping on my way home, but it just wasn't the same without the giant puddles of slush in the parking lot. So, I need some help getting in the holiday mood -- let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

That being said, we did enjoy the nice weather during our long, lazy Thanksgiving weekend. Max and I went to the park and he had a blast. He has decided that he really likes the swings and kept asking to go on them "agem, peese." He still thinks that grass it a little strange. When he falls down and gets pieces of dirt and grass on his hands, he runs over to me with his hands stretched out so I can "fix" it. Puddles of water, however, are WAY fun.

Molly has discovered her thumb and is very pleased with this new development. She seems to be really happy to have found a "paci" that never gets lost. When she's hungry or crabby and the paci has managed to wander off, she jams her thumb in her mouth and happily sucks away until Mom or Dad can come to her rescue. Possibly related to the thumb discovery is the happy fact that Molly slept through the night for the first time on Wednesday. I put her to bed around 9 p.m. and she didn't wake up to eat until 5:30 a.m. -- that's all night in my book! Of course, she hasn't done it again, but I'm still holding out hope that it'll become a regular routine. Hey, I can at least hope, can't I? ;)

Giving Thanks

This year, once again, I have so many reasons to be thankful. Last Thanksgiving seems like a long, long time ago -- a lot has happened in just a year. At this time last year, Molly wasn't even a twinkle in her daddy's eye -- we had no idea that we were about to set off on another difficult pregnancy and early delivery adventure. It wasn't the easiest twelve months, but even with all the worry and all the hardship, there were so many wonderful and joyful things for which to give thanks.

Max learned to walk and then run. He said his first word and then many others. He laughed and played and threw fits and gave kisses like any other toddler. He is funny and frustrating and amazing and sweet and I'm so very thankful to have him in my life. Like Harry Potter, he's "the boy who lived" and I can never stop being thankful for that.

We found out we were expecting another baby and later discovered that we were having a little girl. We were less thrilled to learn that the pregnancy that was classified as "high risk" by default, since we'd already had a preemie, was truly high risk in its own right. I was fortunate to have received such great medical care and I'm very grateful to all the wonderful L&D doctors and nurses who helped me stay pregnant as long as possible. I'm thankful for each and every day I spent on bedrest -- it was tiresome and difficult and maddening, but it was so very worth every second. I'm thankful that we were able to keep Molly in as long as we did and that she had such a short and uneventful NICU stay. Thanks again to all the incredible NICU doctors and nurses who, once again, took such good care of my baby. I'm blessed to have such a happy, healthy little girl.

I'm also thankful for all of our friends and family who helped us through our difficult times. I'm grateful for all my preemie friends, who were there to lend support when I needed it -- you all helped me out more than you could ever know. I'm grateful for my work friends and my "old" friends -- for all the phone calls and emails and dinners and visits and assistance that you so generously offered and gave. I'm so proud of the big kids, who were such troopers while I was on bedrest and really pitched in around the house. And I'm very thankful for my wonderful family -- when we desperately needed help, you all were there for us. You cooked and cleaned and shopped and changed diapers. You mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes. You washed and folded laundry and did the dishes. You said prayers and offered encouragement and believed in a happy outcome.

I'm thankful for my wonderful husband, who was right there with me on that crazy rollercoaster pregnancy. He is always my strength and my calm and is always there for me when I need him. He's a good man and a wonderful father and the heart of my heart.

We wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving!

Molly, Molly, Molly, Get Your Adverbs Here

Sweetly. Happily. Insistently. Joyfully. Loudly. Surprisingly. Impatiently. Peacefully. Wonderfully. Brilliantly. Molly.

Molly is turning into more and more of a little person every day. Even as I'm sorry that I'm losing the tiny baby that she was, I'm delighted by the baby that she's becoming. She's such a jolly little soul. She loves sitting with you, looking into your face, and "talking" to you in little coos and ahhs. If you smile at her, she'll give you the biggest, sunniest smile right back as she squeals with glee. She's becoming interested in her toys and likes to bat at the various rattles and rings that are hanging from her (formerly Max's) Boppy Prop and Play. She still loves to be held and I tote her all over the place.

She's sleeping pretty well at night, which is a nice surprise (Max didn't sleep through the night consistently until he was over a year old). Molly is usually in "bedtime" mode by 8 or 9 at night. I feed her before I go to bed and then she usually wakes up and eats one other time before morning. She's usually good about going right back to sleep after her midnight snack. But, there are times when she fusses around in her bassinet and ends up in bed with Mom. I often laugh when I'm getting ready to get into bed, because I'll pull back the covers only to discover a stray burp cloth or pacifier or a lone baby sock under the sheets. You definitely couldn't mistake this for a child-free house -- here there be babies. ;)

Max loves his little sister (even if he doesn't always like her stealing his attention) and I think they'll be great friends. If I bring him downstairs in the morning and Molly is still upstairs sleeping, he'll go look for her. He peeks in the Pack and Play and looks in the swing and asks for her. If you point to Molly and ask Max who she is, he always replies, "It's a baby." He tries to say her name, although it comes out like "M'wee," but usually she's just "a baby." Max will try to give her back her paci if she loses it and will take her burp cloth and pat at her face with it. I guess that makes up for all the times he tries to drop encyclopedias or Baby Tad on her head while she's nursing. ;) But, after all, isn't that what big brothers are for? To protect you from all outside threats, so they can have the privilege of tormenting you themselves!

Finding Normal

When you first find out you're pregnant, you have all kinds of wonderful hopes and dreams for your baby. Of course, you are certain that your baby will be gifted -- your baby will be special. You dream that he'll be the next Einstein or Mozart or Bill Gates (well, maybe not Bill ...). You want to give him the very best start in life, so that he can fulfill his potential. You read all the books and listen to the doctors and try very hard to do everything "right." You take your vitamins religiously and exercise (moderately) to keep your body healthy, even on those days when you feel green and pukey. You give up your morning coffee and your celebratory Friday night beer. You forego lunch meat and feta cheese and eggs sunny side up to avoid any danger of listeria. You give up peanuts and peanut butter in the attempt to minimize your unborn baby's chance of developing scary peanut allergies. You drink vast quantities of water and try several different types of belly cream to ward off stretch marks. You plan on having a natural birth and being able to hold and nurse your baby shortly after he is born. Of course, you'll room in with the baby in the hospital, so that he'll never be more than an arm's reach from mama (and probably not even that far!).

But then your baby decides to come 13 weeks too soon and while you're lying in the hospital willing your labor to stop, those dreams are shattered and replaced by different dreams. In those first few scary days, you simply pray that your baby will live or, if his little body isn't up to the fight, that he will at least not suffer and that you get a chance to hold him and tell him how much you love him and say goodbye. Then, as your little one stabilizes and begins his long, slow NICU journey, you find that you have new hopes and dreams for him. Above almost anything else, you dream that one day he'll be "normal." You dream that his mind and his body will be strong and healthy. You dream that he will be able to see and to hear and to talk. You dream that he will learn to crawl and then walk and then run. After he comes home, you read and re-read the developmental information in your baby books and worry while you wait for him to reach his milestones. You celebrate every accomplishment, no matter how small, since it's another step on the road to Normal.

Max had what we had hoped was the last of his developmental appointments today. I was ready for him to get that coveted "normal" stamp of approval and an early discharge from the follow-up program. He was weighed and measured as per usual -- 28 lbs and 32 1/4" tall (I think he's actually taller than that, for some reason he always measures short at his developmental appointments). He's in the 95th percentile on the preemie growth charts, so he can move on over to the regular charts. They did all the regular physical exams and ran him through some developmental tests (stacking blocks, sorting objects, pointing out pictures in books, etc.). Max did really well, except that he was starting to get tired and crabby and decided it was more fun to throw shapes on the floor ("uh oh!") than to sort them. He also wouldn't point out very many body parts, even though he knows them. To his great delight, the doctors let him out in the hall so that they could see him run. Unfortunately, it seems like he still has some mild tone issues. Based on the way he walks and runs, the doctor says that he still has some high tone in his hips and also in his ankles (meaning his muscles/tendons in those areas are a little too tight). Since he seems to be compensating for it just fine (i.e., he doesn't trip and fall down a lot), there isn't anything we need to do at this point. I always wonder how many full-term babies would get flagged for having minor issues if they were followed as closely as Max has been.

So, we'll go back in six months for our last follow-up appointment. Since I was hoping for "normal," I was a little bummed to hear that Max's tone issues have resurfaced. Part of me has been waiting for the magic day when my child suddenly won't be a preemie any more and I was hoping that yesterday was that day. But, the more I think about it, it's kind of silly for me to be disappointed. Max is Max is Max -- the outcome of yesterday's appointment doesn't change who or what he is. And I love exactly who and what he is. He will always be a preemie -- for better or worse, it will always be a part of him. I guess sometimes you have to redefine normal -- this is normal for Max and he's handling it just fine. Besides, normal is over rated anyway, because I know that my boy is special. And I'm dreaming him up some wonderful dreams ...

Prematurity Awareness Day

Today is Prematurity Awareness Day. I recently read a poem that really sums up what it is like to have a preemie and this seemed like an appropriate day to share it.

The Preemie Experience

The preemie experience is the shattering of all your dreams
For a normal, healthy delivery,
Of the ability to carry home a beautiful squirming bundle
After a short stay in the hospital.

It is lying there in your hospital room listening to
The happy sounds of whole families joined
Together by the birth of a grandchild, cousin, niece,
Or nephew, and knowing that your
Child is miles away and may not survive long enough
For you to see or simply touch.

It is that first glimpse of a skinny, scrawny, not much bigger
Than a Barbie doll child
And feeling, fear, awe, and joy for such a fragile soul.

It is sitting by your baby's "bedside" day after day,
Week after week, month after month,
Alternating between the emotional high of "Look, her eyes are open," or "She's crying!"
And the lows of "I'm sorry, Mrs. Moore. Something has
Shown up in Lauren's ultrasound,"
Or even "There is nothing we can do ..."

It is hearing the alarms go off for the twentieth time in less
Than fifteen minutes because your
Child's heart rate keeps hitting zero.

It is watching children dying around you, wondering if
Your child will be next.
It is hearing your child's cry of distress as the nurses
Insert yet another IV and do another
Round of daily blood tests.
It is meeting other parents of children who are doing far better
And wondering, "Why me?"
And meeting parents of children who have just died,
And praising God for His mercy
To your child and feeling guilty because your child is alive
And someone else is grieving for theirs.

It is days of nightmarish testing and coping with less
Than positive results to the tests.
It is days of joy at seeing the first eyelash appear,
The child gain a whole ounce in one day,
And two bright shiny eyes look at you and into your soul,
And knowing that your child now recognizes you as Mama or Dada;
Or perhaps looks at you and does not see you at all ...

It is that final hurdle before coming home!
It is the sorrow of waiting for the monitor company
Representative to show you what to do
If the alarm sounds when your child is choking,
Gasping for breath, or simply dying.
It is the joy of just being away from all those nurses
And tubes and wires and beeps, and
Walking into the nursery you hastily prepared because, after all,
The child wasn't due for another three months!

It is thinking the nightmare is over ... only to realize it still
Continues in the form of
Such acronyms as PVL, RSV, BPD, CP and numerous others.

It is the final realization that those developmental delays
Have to be dealt with,
That reflux is a normal and unfortunate occurrence in most preemies,
That the constant fight to gain weight is in direct proportion
To a preemie's ability to do so.

It is watching a child struggle to pick up his or her head, sit,
Crawl, or walk.
It is witnessing only silence when the child should be babbling,
Because the child cannot hear.

It is the mental images of a child running and playing
And communicating with others in a
Perfectly normal manner that are marred when you face years of therapy
In order to simply get the child to eat by himself or herself,
To talk or walk and then run.

The preemie experience is a journey...
A journey through your soul in order to find the faith and strength to cope,
A journey of the mind when you face the emotional weariness,
A journey of the heart ... to accept that, no matter what,
This child is yours,
And you will love this child no matter what.

-- Sandra D Moore

Unfortunately, I'm far from being the only person to have this experience, so you'll have to excuse me if I step on the soapbox briefly. Every year, half a million babies are born prematurely. It is the number one cause of death in newborns and many of the babies who survive face serious health issues. To raise awareness of the growing problem of premature birth, the March of Dimes has designated November as Prematurity Awareness Month.

The March of Dimes is leading a national effort to save babies from premature birth by funding research to find the causes and by supporting local programs for families with a baby in intensive care. The MOD supported research on surfactant therapy -- a treatment that Max received shortly after birth and which helped his underdeveloped lungs function with assistance. They continue to support research into the hows and whys of premature birth, so future babies might be spared what Max and (to a lesser extent) Molly went through.

Decades ago, millions of dimes from concerned Americans helped defeat polio. Today, the MOD needs all the change you can spare to fight premature birth. You can help the March of Dimes save babies by donating your spare change at a Coinstar center or making an online donation. End soapbox. ;)

I look at my sleeping babies and know that I am very fortunate and blessed to have them here, safe and sound. Every baby and every parent deserves that happy ending.

Ultrasonic Boy and the Rash-Faced Girl

Max had his hearing test on Monday (Dad took him -- I didn't think I could show my face in the audiology department quite yet ;). As we suspected, but wanted to confirm, the boy has very good hearing. This would explain why he always wakes up if you go into his room at night, no matter how quietly you try to tip toe. Max was much better behaved at his appointment than he was at Molly's, so I don't think we've been blacklisted quite yet!

The terrible teeth are still working their way through -- Max is alternately a total riot or a total crab butt. His latest game is to carry toys from the family room through the kitchen and hurl them over the baby gate, laughing all the way. He's also starting to do a lot of pretend play. This evening he carried around a pot and wooden spoon and pretended to stir some imaginary concoction, then take a taste off of the spoon (or, even better, feed you a taste). He likes to pretend to talk on his play cell phone as well -- the conversation pretty much consists of "Hi! Bye bye!" I think it is funny that he talks on the play phone but refuses to say a word to either grandma on the real phone when they want to say hi. Of course, on the less cute side of the coin, there are also thetantrums when he is told he can't have another cookie or it's time to change a diaper or unreasonable things of that nature.

Molly is still growing like crazy. She's always had a bit of baby acne, but she's recently developed a nasty-looking rash on her cheeks. It seems to get more red and inflamed when she rubs it on things or sleeps on it. I figured it was either more baby acne or some eczema, but since you AREN'T supposed to put moisturizer on baby acne and you ARE supposed to put it on eczema, I took her in to the doctor to get checked out. The doctor thought it was eczema, but she said the early stages of both types of rashes look similar. So, we're moisturizing, which might be helping, although it never seems to help the mystery rash that Max has on his arm (also presumed to be eczema). If anyone out there has any good eczema treatments, I'm all ears! Of course, while we were at the doctor's office, Molly finally got an official weigh in -- 14 lbs, 4 oz! I love that she's such a chunk.

I'm finally getting back into my old workout routine. This is the first full week of it and boy am I sore! I didn't realize how out of shape I was until I started exercising again. Speaking of workouts, the weight bench calls ...

The Good Old Days?

While driving to work the other day, I drove past my favorite coffee "shop" (is it really a shop if it's stuck in a strip mall?) and had an urge to stop in and pick up some coffee (decaf, of course). As I was nearing the turn in, I had a little mini debate with myself. The "bad" me on one shoulder urged me to stop in and get a big, fat, fully caffeinated double cappuccino. The "good" me on the other shoulder gasped in horror that anyone would pay $4 for any beverage that came in a paper cup, especially something that wasn't particularly good for me or my nursing baby anyway. Should I waste money on something I really don't need or should I go ahead and treat myself (because, hey, don't I deserve a treat)? As is often the case, guilt triumphed and the "good" me prevailed. So I drove past the coffee shop, continued on to work, and drank half a cup of really abysmal work coffee.

I had to laugh about how much things change -- ten years ago (give or take) I was a free-wheeling college student and did pretty much whatever I wanted to, whenever I wanted to. A double cappuccino was a daily (at least) indulgence back in those days -- one that I didn't think twice about. I'd schedule my classes so that I never had a lecture before 10 a.m. and I often managed to rig it so that Friday was entirely free of classes. I remember that once upon a time I slept until noon on Saturdays and then spent the afternoon drinking coffee and reading a good novel. I hung out with friends until the wee hours of the morning, took the dog for long walks, and never had spit-up in my hair.

These days, I'm happy if I get to "sleep in" until 6:30 a.m. I look for sales and ferret out bargains. I buy diapers in bulk. I haven't had more than an occasional sip of real coffee in 2 1/2 years -- I drink vast quantities of (somewhat unpalatable) nursing tea instead. I do still manage to squeeze in a fair amount of reading, but the titles are usally things like "The Happiest Baby on the Block" and "Programming ASP.NET" that I've checked out of the public library. I love my friends, but we don't see each other near as much as we'd like because we're all so busy. I get spit up on or pooped on or peed on almost on a daily basis. The only time I'm up in the wee hours these days is when I'm dealing with a teething toddler or a hungry baby (or much-procrastinated Halloween costumes). Saying I'm busy is a bit of an understatement.

But, do you know what? I'm happier and enjoy my life more now than I ever did in my carefree college days. I don't sit around and mourn the "best days of my life" because I'm living them right now. These are the days.