Did you catch my double entendre in the title? Trying to be a clever writer and failing with pride ha ha ha!
Anyway, one can well imagine that I have become very comfortable in ICU with Michael officially reaching the 10 day mark of his stay. I'm at hospital for about 5 hours every day. I pop in to see Michael for 10 to 30 minutes at a time, depending on what's happening in the ward, and the rest of my time is spent either expressing or working in the waiting area.
I have gotten to know some of the nurses who tell me about their kids, their pets, their favourite foods and favourite funny videos on Facebook. They also tell me amazing stories about memorable patients; babies and children who survive against all odds or interesting situations they have experience in surgical ICU. The team is quite a wonderful group and they're all very relaxed and friendly. Michael has been a case study for three nurses who are completing their course on paediatric cardiothoracic work and I happily gave consent because there's no harm in helping to further the education of enthusiastic healthcare professionals.
I'm also getting to know some of the parents of other patients. There's Casey who I have written about before. We message and email each other to check in on our kids' progress. I met Christina just yesterday after her son had surgery. He's 5 and the nurses say it's not often they get a preschooler patient. He's the big kid among all the babies and the newest "tenant" in the ward. There's only one girl in the ward and I've told the nurses I haven't had the courage to speak to her parents yet. They always look stressed but the nurses have said maybe a friendly chat with another parent may help them and make them feel a bit more assured, especially because their little girl is improving rapidly after quite a scare last week. Finally, there's the ward's smallest but currently most senior patient because he's been there the longest. He's only a month old and he's been there for almost all of that time. I finally spoke to his mom today and now I'm helping her to find new accommodation in Cape Town as she's here from East London.
I know I'm not the first parent whose child has been there for an extended stay but it makes things a lot easier being comfortable with the people who care for my child in this time. My way of making the best of a situation has always been to integrate myself with the people and thankfully I've encountered really nice people so far. Also, we are going to be back for Michael's second surgery next year and at least we'll be going back into a situation we now know and trust.
While I am trying to not be a nuisance and also choosing to have some days where I only visit once, ICU has become a bit of a second home filled with interesting aunties, quiet children I can only gaze upon from the safe zone of Michael's bassinet, the melodic beeps and flashing colours of the monitors and the oh so unforgettable scent of antibacterial gel.
Just a little drama
Michael is definitely giving us one helluva adventure in hospital.
The week was fairly tricky and he started to look like me might show improvement over the weekend. Well, we were wrong. The nurses tried over a few days to get Michael off the respirator because he wasn't requiring any additional air, just some pressure assistance. If he was breathing on his own, it was logical to take him off the machines.
The attempt on Saturday morning didn't go well. He reacted badly and ended up being put back on the ventilator to give him a rest and he needed a visit from the cardiologist. While the suspicion was that there was fluid around his heart, it turned out that his heart was fine and there was in fact fluid around his lungs. He got some medication to encourage the fluid to be absorbed and flushed out and he was taken off the ventilator.
It was something quite amazing to see him awake after a week of seeing him asleep or sedated. I kept him company while the nurse prepared but I was asked to take a walk while they removed his tubes. The nurses said he definitely found his voice again and was doing fine but would need a bit of pressure assistance which was ok. I jumped and cheered in the ward when I saw him free of the ventilator - such a nerd.
His surgeon said the chest infection and his struggle with breathing was a setback but he was doing really well and all it takes now is some patience to allow him to recover at his own pace. It boggles my mind that he went from being on a ventilator, off the ventilator, on the respirator, off the respirator and then back on the ventilator and off again all in one week. But, all that matters is he is out of danger and improving...little by little he is moving forward.
Got milk?
With Michael receiving a limited controlled amount of breastmilk in ICU, I found myself sitting with a whole lot of breastmilk going nowhere except down the drain. This was fun for the first 2 days because I allowed myself a glass of wine and I could finally eat a bit of dark chocolate.
But then the novelty wore off and I wondered what to do with all the milk I had to continue expressing. And that's when I decided to donate my milk. I called Milk Matters and made arrangements with them to become a new donor. They told me I could collect bottles from them and, by the following morning, I was well on the wagon for milk donation. After just 3 days, I've filled almost 15 bottles and my freezer looks like a milk depot LOL!
So why donate?
It occurred to me that the reason I was continuing this crazy routine of pumping every 3-4 hours was to give my baby the best nutrition possible. For many moms and babies, this isn't possible and there are helpless little babies who would benefit greatly from receiving breastmilk. With my own child in ICU, I wanted to be able to do a small bit to help another baby and all it would cost me is the time expressing which I was already doing. Donating was a win-win situation for both me and Milk Matters.
Now my routine is to express for Michael in the morning and then my donated feeds are the afternoon and evening. I am hoping to continue donating for as long as possible because I only discovered Milk Matters shortly after Wren went on to formula feeding and it's something I have been wanting to do since then. While I never know where this milk will go eventually, it does brighten our situation to know that I am doing just a small bit to help other children grow big and strong.
Breathe
Oh how things have changed...
24 hours post op, Michael was performing like a champion. Got off his respirator, was holding his own and everything was hunky dory. By 48 hours post op, he wasn't doing so good anymore. He went back on the respirator for breathing assistance and he was getting weaker.
Yesterday, we were informed he has a chest infection. He's getting vitamin supplements, antibiotics, regular physiotherapy and suction to get as much of the fluid secretions off his lungs as possible. We don't know when he'll be leaving ICU but he's getting all the help they can provide to deal with the infection.
This morning he was rather wheezy despite physio and suction but he wasn't breathing as hard or uncomfortably has yesterday. It's not nice to see him have to work so hard to breathe but the oxygen he's receiving does help quite a bit.
I officially got a bit stressed yesterday when there was little change. Spent most of the past two days at hospital although I don't get to see him for much of that time. I try to not hang around in the ICU ward too much because I know the nurses need to focus and work without a parent hovering. Also, I can't do anything really while I am in there. He's sleeping so I talk to him for a bit and stroke his arm or his tummy. After 10 minutes, it's hard to not feel like you're in the way so I prefer to pop in for short visits more regularly than lurk for too long.
For all of us, the only thing we can do now is just breathe...relax, take things as they come and go from there.
24 hours post op, Michael was performing like a champion. Got off his respirator, was holding his own and everything was hunky dory. By 48 hours post op, he wasn't doing so good anymore. He went back on the respirator for breathing assistance and he was getting weaker.
Yesterday, we were informed he has a chest infection. He's getting vitamin supplements, antibiotics, regular physiotherapy and suction to get as much of the fluid secretions off his lungs as possible. We don't know when he'll be leaving ICU but he's getting all the help they can provide to deal with the infection.
This morning he was rather wheezy despite physio and suction but he wasn't breathing as hard or uncomfortably has yesterday. It's not nice to see him have to work so hard to breathe but the oxygen he's receiving does help quite a bit.
I officially got a bit stressed yesterday when there was little change. Spent most of the past two days at hospital although I don't get to see him for much of that time. I try to not hang around in the ICU ward too much because I know the nurses need to focus and work without a parent hovering. Also, I can't do anything really while I am in there. He's sleeping so I talk to him for a bit and stroke his arm or his tummy. After 10 minutes, it's hard to not feel like you're in the way so I prefer to pop in for short visits more regularly than lurk for too long.
For all of us, the only thing we can do now is just breathe...relax, take things as they come and go from there.
An unexpected joy
Before Michael's surgery, we were told to go pass the time and come back at noon. That's precisely what we did but, due to a crisis with another baby in ICU, we had to go to the waiting area. After a while, I went to get a snack and, when I got back, I found Trevor chatting to the woman who was sitting across from us.
Well, her name is Casey. She and her family are from the USA, her husband works for UNICEF and they live in Uganda. When I left the waiting area, Dr Vosloo came to speak to Trevor and also spoke to her about her daughter. She remarked that our children had similar cases so Trevor and Casey started chatting.
It turns out that her family's story is almost identical to ours. They have a 2 year old daughter, had a great 2nd pregnancy, found out their daughter Sasha has Down Syndrome when she was 10 days old and they learnt of her heart defect shortly after. There are, of course, a few differences. Sasha's defect is somewhat different to Michael's, she's a bit older than him and she had to have a repair done although the original plan was for her to also do the PA banding before repair next year.
Anyhoo, medical stuff aside, we had such a great talk about the experience of receiving the diagnosis, all the emotional difficulties, managing a toddler and all this info with a newborn. We talked about the feelings, peoples' response, plans for the future and research. It was incredible to find another family who experienced everything we had experienced.
Casey's done quite a lot of research and she's a teacher so she's passed on some great information to me and we're giving them tips on doctors and stuff here in SA. Because they live in Uganda, her approach to Sasha and Down Syndrome is very practical and hands-on due to the lack of infrastructure and support they have there. Trevor and I are also quite keen on that because we want to be able to support Michael in any way we can with early intervention.
It's something of a miracle that we met these great people and that we clicked so quickly. I said to Casey today that it's going to be quite nice to have a day or two in the paeds ward together so I can meet her daughter properly and she can see Michael. They'll only be in Cape Town for another 3 weeks so I hope we'll all be able to get together with the kids outside of hospital before they head back home. Seems we got a healthier kiddo and some new friends.
Well, her name is Casey. She and her family are from the USA, her husband works for UNICEF and they live in Uganda. When I left the waiting area, Dr Vosloo came to speak to Trevor and also spoke to her about her daughter. She remarked that our children had similar cases so Trevor and Casey started chatting.
It turns out that her family's story is almost identical to ours. They have a 2 year old daughter, had a great 2nd pregnancy, found out their daughter Sasha has Down Syndrome when she was 10 days old and they learnt of her heart defect shortly after. There are, of course, a few differences. Sasha's defect is somewhat different to Michael's, she's a bit older than him and she had to have a repair done although the original plan was for her to also do the PA banding before repair next year.
Anyhoo, medical stuff aside, we had such a great talk about the experience of receiving the diagnosis, all the emotional difficulties, managing a toddler and all this info with a newborn. We talked about the feelings, peoples' response, plans for the future and research. It was incredible to find another family who experienced everything we had experienced.
Casey's done quite a lot of research and she's a teacher so she's passed on some great information to me and we're giving them tips on doctors and stuff here in SA. Because they live in Uganda, her approach to Sasha and Down Syndrome is very practical and hands-on due to the lack of infrastructure and support they have there. Trevor and I are also quite keen on that because we want to be able to support Michael in any way we can with early intervention.
It's something of a miracle that we met these great people and that we clicked so quickly. I said to Casey today that it's going to be quite nice to have a day or two in the paeds ward together so I can meet her daughter properly and she can see Michael. They'll only be in Cape Town for another 3 weeks so I hope we'll all be able to get together with the kids outside of hospital before they head back home. Seems we got a healthier kiddo and some new friends.
24 Hours Post Op
How's Michael doing? (We know that's the question everybody wants answered)
We are happy to say that he is doing really well.
Firstly, the nurses were impressed with how he held up during surgery and he's been strong in ICU. He was given additional fluids, blood and breathing assistance from a respirator plus he was to be kept under sedation for the first 24-36 hours after surgery. It looks and sounds like a bad situation but it really isn't. When we saw him an hour after surgery, I was surprised at how healthy he looked. Not at all pale or worn from the operation.
It was really weird coming home with no baby. Trevor and I laughed at how we kept thinking he was sleeping in his bed so we had to remind ourselves there was no need to be quiet, keep the lights low or plan everything around an evening feed. So, we indulged a lovely soak in the bath, watched Suits in bed and had 8 undisturbed hours of deep sleep.
I went to the hospital after church to see how the little guy was getting on. His ICU nurse told me he was being rather lazy and didn't want to breathe on his own on her first attempt to remove his respirator. I spoke to him for a few minutes and he was moving and wiggling in his sleep. So, the head nurse and the physio said it was time to try taking him off the respirator again as his breathing pattern had improved in the hour since their first attempt. And, he was indeed ready as he started breathing just fine on his own once the apparatus was removed.
Now that he is minus a few tubes, the next step is to give him some breastmilk since he's only been receiving fluids via a drip since the operation. I feel like a cow being milked on a regular basis. I really do take my hat off to women who pump exclusively because this expressing milk thing for every feed is a bit hectic.
Trevor will be visiting Michael this evening to hear what the plan of action is for tomorrow but the ICU nurse says he is doing great for such a small person. She also says that every time she tries to get him to lie straight, he twists himself off to the left...that's my boy! Still doing whatever he likes even under heavy medication and with tubes in his nose LOL!
We are happy to say that he is doing really well.
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| Can still see dem chubby cheeks under the tubes |
It was really weird coming home with no baby. Trevor and I laughed at how we kept thinking he was sleeping in his bed so we had to remind ourselves there was no need to be quiet, keep the lights low or plan everything around an evening feed. So, we indulged a lovely soak in the bath, watched Suits in bed and had 8 undisturbed hours of deep sleep.
I went to the hospital after church to see how the little guy was getting on. His ICU nurse told me he was being rather lazy and didn't want to breathe on his own on her first attempt to remove his respirator. I spoke to him for a few minutes and he was moving and wiggling in his sleep. So, the head nurse and the physio said it was time to try taking him off the respirator again as his breathing pattern had improved in the hour since their first attempt. And, he was indeed ready as he started breathing just fine on his own once the apparatus was removed.
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| Looking good 27 hours after surgery |
Now that he is minus a few tubes, the next step is to give him some breastmilk since he's only been receiving fluids via a drip since the operation. I feel like a cow being milked on a regular basis. I really do take my hat off to women who pump exclusively because this expressing milk thing for every feed is a bit hectic.
Trevor will be visiting Michael this evening to hear what the plan of action is for tomorrow but the ICU nurse says he is doing great for such a small person. She also says that every time she tries to get him to lie straight, he twists himself off to the left...that's my boy! Still doing whatever he likes even under heavy medication and with tubes in his nose LOL!
Hello Hospital
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| "So they call you Superman..." |
In the past two months, both my children have been in hospital. I told my friends with Michael's stay that I suspected it wouldn't be my last time in a paediatrics ward and I was right as we discovered Michael's heart defect and Wren was admitted less than a week later with massive infections.
Now, we're doing hospital yet again. This time I'm in an unfamiliar hospital and 30kms away from home.
I have to say that Chris Barnard Memorial has been pretty good so far. Admission was quick, the nurses in the paeds ward are very warm, friendly and helpful and they were quite efficient in getting all Michael's tests done.
We blitzed through chest X-rays, an ECG, swabs, weighing him and getting him hooked up to the pulse/Ox machine in under 2 hours. The only unpleasant experience was his blood draw which was not only long but difficult. Let's just say the nurse didn't do the most efficient job and it hurt much more than it should. Daddy Trev wasn't impressed at all and we all felt a bit traumatized after it was done.
Michael got fed, wrapped in a blanket and left to sleep off the busy time he had coming into hospital while Mommy and Daddy went to get a much needed meal.
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| Trevor sitting in the afternoon sun passing the time |
Michael's surgery is taking place at 09:30 which means he has to get his last milk feed at 03:00...yup, I have to set my alarm and feed him then for the first time in weeks. He has to get a serious bath before surgery so that's happening at 05:30 and he then he can't get any fluids from 6am, yikes! They'll start prepping him for surgery from 08:00, his operation will begin at 09:30 and then he'll be done somewhere between 11:30 and noon. That's one helluva morning for all of us!
Now that I know how hectic tonight and tomorrow morning are going to be, I'm nervous. Part of me wants to sleep and another part of me is too nervous to close my eyes and start the cycle of broken sleep for the night. I'm also nervous because Michael will be denied milk while he's awake and being prepped for surgery and that's pretty hectic for an 8 week old who spends his days doing nothing but feeding and sleeping. He has yet to take a bottle which compounds the situation but I guess we're just going to have to make do and improvise.
It's been wonderful receiving so many heartfelt messages offering prayers and thoughts for the little guy. It means the world to us and we know so many people are carrying us in their hearts. I want to get a plane to sky write "thank you" because that's the biggest font size possible and even that doesn't fully cover the true enormity of the gratitude we feel. There's that thing on the back of taxis which reads "When days are dark, friends are few" Well, not for us. Our days are quite bright and it's thanks to the many people; friends, family, doctors and nurses, who are helping us and guiding us through this experience.
Thanks to you all from the bottom of our hearts xoxo
A broken heart
As Michael entered his 4th week, he developed major nasal congestion. It got so bad that he started setting off his Angelcare monitor while he struggled to breathe past all the gunk in the back of his nose.
I took him straight to his paediatrician who confirmed he definitely had bad congestion but he was concerned about the monitor going off. He admitted Michael to hospital for apnea observation and we agreed to him running a battery of tests on Michael which would have to be done anyway at some or other time.
So, off we went to Mediclinic Durbanville for a 48 hour stay. There were blood tests, X-rays, ultrasound, an ECG and an appointment with a paediatric cardiologist for a thorough look at his heart. All the tests were fine albeit tiring and Michael was quite the trooper with all the positioning, poking and prodding going on.
The big one was the cardiologist's appointment. The little guy slept through his cardiac ultrasound and it was a good thing because it gave us time to process the news we received.
Michael has an atrioventricular septal defect. Children with Trisomy 21 often have a heart condition and he has one of the more common varieties. I've included a picture which illustrates the defect here.
In Michael's case, the defect is quite complicated so a full repair won't happen until he's a toddler. To help his body cope, he is getting a pulmonary artery banding. This will reduce the excess blood flowing through his lungs to only what he needs and take some strain off his heart until the repair can happen. He still has good blood flow and little mixing but the defect is creating flow imbalances to his other organs and his heart is enlarged.
When we heard this, we weren't even shocked. We were kind of expecting things to go wrong and to hear more bad news. However, this is something that can be fixed and he has the best paediatric heart surgeon in the country. It's not great knowing our infant is undergoing major surgery but it's better than him suffering through heart failure which is the eventual complication of his defect.
The surgery is taking place on 25 July at Christiaan Barnard Memorial hospital and it's going to be a 7-10 day stay while he recovers. The surgeon, Dr Susan Vosloo, is very confident there will be no problems and he is healthy in every other way so he's in good condition for surgery.
We aren't nervous (yet) for the surgery, more concerned about Michael after. It's not nice to see a little baby who cannot communicate that he is pain and we wonder how he'll be fed when the incision is on his side. Dr Vosloo assured us that he will be pain free or comfortable at the least as they like to make sure the babies are cared for. As for feeding, well we'll have to see how to cross that bridge when we get there.
It's going to be weird leaving Michael in ICU while I come home but I am learning to let go and trust in others tasked with caring for this little person. I have come around to the conclusion that what must be will be and all I can do is have faith.
I took him straight to his paediatrician who confirmed he definitely had bad congestion but he was concerned about the monitor going off. He admitted Michael to hospital for apnea observation and we agreed to him running a battery of tests on Michael which would have to be done anyway at some or other time.
So, off we went to Mediclinic Durbanville for a 48 hour stay. There were blood tests, X-rays, ultrasound, an ECG and an appointment with a paediatric cardiologist for a thorough look at his heart. All the tests were fine albeit tiring and Michael was quite the trooper with all the positioning, poking and prodding going on.
The big one was the cardiologist's appointment. The little guy slept through his cardiac ultrasound and it was a good thing because it gave us time to process the news we received.
Michael has an atrioventricular septal defect. Children with Trisomy 21 often have a heart condition and he has one of the more common varieties. I've included a picture which illustrates the defect here.
In Michael's case, the defect is quite complicated so a full repair won't happen until he's a toddler. To help his body cope, he is getting a pulmonary artery banding. This will reduce the excess blood flowing through his lungs to only what he needs and take some strain off his heart until the repair can happen. He still has good blood flow and little mixing but the defect is creating flow imbalances to his other organs and his heart is enlarged.
When we heard this, we weren't even shocked. We were kind of expecting things to go wrong and to hear more bad news. However, this is something that can be fixed and he has the best paediatric heart surgeon in the country. It's not great knowing our infant is undergoing major surgery but it's better than him suffering through heart failure which is the eventual complication of his defect.
The surgery is taking place on 25 July at Christiaan Barnard Memorial hospital and it's going to be a 7-10 day stay while he recovers. The surgeon, Dr Susan Vosloo, is very confident there will be no problems and he is healthy in every other way so he's in good condition for surgery.
We aren't nervous (yet) for the surgery, more concerned about Michael after. It's not nice to see a little baby who cannot communicate that he is pain and we wonder how he'll be fed when the incision is on his side. Dr Vosloo assured us that he will be pain free or comfortable at the least as they like to make sure the babies are cared for. As for feeding, well we'll have to see how to cross that bridge when we get there.
It's going to be weird leaving Michael in ICU while I come home but I am learning to let go and trust in others tasked with caring for this little person. I have come around to the conclusion that what must be will be and all I can do is have faith.
Supermassive Black Hole
Normally, I'm able to associate music to situations in my life. The week after Michael's Down Syndrome diagnosis has no music because there is no sound, no lyric, no rhythm that can describe the darkness that came over me.
I like to describe myself as a scientist with a little creative sprinkled on top. Because I function with facts, I spent the first few days after the diagnosis reading...and reading far too much. I scheduled an appointment with a genetic counsellor so we could get a better understanding of what this condition means for parents. There was just so much information and my brain was spinning at 4000 km/s.
I spent my days weeping in the shower, tearing up with every feed and just feeling lost, angry, sad and confused. How the heck did we end up with this?!?!
The genetic counsellor was great and answered all of our questions. We had all this information and set off to Arabella for a weekend of rest. Or so I thought.
As Friday night drifted into the early hours of Saturday morning, I hit my breaking point. I was feeding Michael in the dark and thinking a few things at the same time: Why did God do this to us? What kind of god places such a burden on an innocent child doomed to spend life being different and incapable of independence? Wouldn't it just be better if he hadn't been born in the first place? How lonely is he going to feel when he learns he will never marry or have children? How are we going to cope with a special needs child? What happens to all our dreams for the future?
There were just a lot of thoughts and, at my lowest point, I detached emotionally from Michael. I looked at him and felt nothing. When I wasn't looking at him, I felt pain and a deep, deep sense of loss. I was in mourning because I felt I had been robbed of the son I had prayed for. Honestly, why did God give me what I wanted and, via an extra chromosome, not only take it away from me but also give me a whole new set of problems?
If you had seen me that night, you would've agreed that I really needed some psychological assistance at that point. The next morning, Trevor had the arduous task of bringing me back to life. He spent an hour sitting and talking with me trying to pull me out of a completely negative headspace. Eventually, he got it right and I slowly started returning to normal with a slightly more positive outlook.
I have to say that I'm only explaining my feelings. Trevor also went through a very difficult time for weeks after but I can't speak of what he felt. All I can put down here is my experience. It was awful. They say that receiving that diagnosis is exactly the same as losing someone you love and you do go through the stages of grief. I personally was mourning the loss of the future I hoped for, not only for myself and my family but also for Michael.
It took quite a while for me to make peace with that extra chromosome and what it means. The journey there had plenty of hiccups and, of course, I am still a bit heartbroken that Michael's path ahead isn't easy. I had many days where it felt like I was in a dream waiting to wake up or that I was standing inside someone else's life. But it is what it is and all we can do now is choose how we deal with it. Our friends and family have been incredible pillars of support and they're a big part of how we've been coping. I know Michael is loved and our job now is to help him reach his full potential...whatever that may be.
I like to describe myself as a scientist with a little creative sprinkled on top. Because I function with facts, I spent the first few days after the diagnosis reading...and reading far too much. I scheduled an appointment with a genetic counsellor so we could get a better understanding of what this condition means for parents. There was just so much information and my brain was spinning at 4000 km/s.
I spent my days weeping in the shower, tearing up with every feed and just feeling lost, angry, sad and confused. How the heck did we end up with this?!?!
The genetic counsellor was great and answered all of our questions. We had all this information and set off to Arabella for a weekend of rest. Or so I thought.
As Friday night drifted into the early hours of Saturday morning, I hit my breaking point. I was feeding Michael in the dark and thinking a few things at the same time: Why did God do this to us? What kind of god places such a burden on an innocent child doomed to spend life being different and incapable of independence? Wouldn't it just be better if he hadn't been born in the first place? How lonely is he going to feel when he learns he will never marry or have children? How are we going to cope with a special needs child? What happens to all our dreams for the future?
There were just a lot of thoughts and, at my lowest point, I detached emotionally from Michael. I looked at him and felt nothing. When I wasn't looking at him, I felt pain and a deep, deep sense of loss. I was in mourning because I felt I had been robbed of the son I had prayed for. Honestly, why did God give me what I wanted and, via an extra chromosome, not only take it away from me but also give me a whole new set of problems?
If you had seen me that night, you would've agreed that I really needed some psychological assistance at that point. The next morning, Trevor had the arduous task of bringing me back to life. He spent an hour sitting and talking with me trying to pull me out of a completely negative headspace. Eventually, he got it right and I slowly started returning to normal with a slightly more positive outlook.
I have to say that I'm only explaining my feelings. Trevor also went through a very difficult time for weeks after but I can't speak of what he felt. All I can put down here is my experience. It was awful. They say that receiving that diagnosis is exactly the same as losing someone you love and you do go through the stages of grief. I personally was mourning the loss of the future I hoped for, not only for myself and my family but also for Michael.
It took quite a while for me to make peace with that extra chromosome and what it means. The journey there had plenty of hiccups and, of course, I am still a bit heartbroken that Michael's path ahead isn't easy. I had many days where it felt like I was in a dream waiting to wake up or that I was standing inside someone else's life. But it is what it is and all we can do now is choose how we deal with it. Our friends and family have been incredible pillars of support and they're a big part of how we've been coping. I know Michael is loved and our job now is to help him reach his full potential...whatever that may be.
The day our life changed
At my 16 week check-up, my gynae started the appointment by expressing her displeasure with me. I was supposed to go for a blood test at 12 weeks which I forgot about and only had it done a week before my next appointment. The test indicated an increased risk of Down Syndrome.
Trevor and I were sent off to a specialist who couldn't make a conclusive diagnosis and we declined amniocentesis. The specialist felt that if we weren't going to terminate, there was no point in doing the amnio and risking a healthy child who showed no other indications of Trisomy 21 except for that one blood test.
For the rest of my pregnancy, my doctor checked for every marker and none showed up. I even had a 3D ultrasound on a shoot for work and that gynae who didn't know me remarked that the baby showed no signs of Trisomy 21. And so we all hoped and prayed everything was fine.
The day after Michael's birth, the paediatrician examined him thoroughly again and said he had some concerns. Michael didn't show enough of the physical characteristics for him to make a diagnosis and we all felt a blood test would answer everybody's question. For the next week, we were just a normal family with two children adjusting to life with a newborn.
And then the paediatrician asked to see us. He examined Michael yet again and, after that, we sat down and he delivered the news: Michael's blood test confirmed he has Trisomy 21.
I held my composure while he explained the situation to us and we listened to the information he provided. But, when we got into the car, the walls came down and so did the tears. I cried bitterly all through Michael's feed and most of that afternoon is a blur.
In just a few seconds, Michael's entire future was ripped from us. The boy I imagined playing soccer at school, giving me grief during high school, partying during his university days, getting married and having kids was gone. Those images were burnt in my mind and we were left with nothing but black.
Despite knowing there was a risk, nothing prepared us for the reality. And to make matters worse, Trevor had to rush off with Wren-Lee to the doctor as she was sick and steadily deteriorating. We were tired emotionally and physically and had to prepare ourselves for what was coming...
Michael's birth story
At my very first antenatal appointment, my gynae said, "I wonder what this one's birth story is going to be."
What she meant by that was whether or not this child would have an interesting story like Wren's. Well, he does have a story...and it is something crazy and incredible.
At 35 weeks, I got the flu. I tried to go to work on two separate days but I was exhausted and not holding up well. On top of that, Michael was kicking and wriggling much more than usual and it only added to my discomfort. I saw my gynae on the Friday as she was leaving the next day on a three week holiday in Europe and would be returning right before the date we planned for a C-section if necessary. She was concerned about my health and that of the baby so, she booked me off work for an extra week to recover. We had a look at Michael, he was fine and the last thing she said was that this baby just needed to wait for her to come back.
Resting is something I don't do well and being forced to do very little for a week was more agony than enjoyable. By the Monday, I felt much better although still heavily congested. I was up and about doing stuff and felt good about the day. When I woke up the next day, it was completely different. I was freezing cold, just couldn't warm up and I was unbelievably tired.
Trevor, Wren-Lee and I all went to bed early because he was set to fly to Durban at 06:30 the next morning. We lay in bed chatting briefly and I was still awake for about 20 mins after Trevor had fallen asleep. While I lay there thinking, I felt a pop and warm liquid running down my leg. I knew immediately that my water just broke.
I woke Trevor up (and Wren-Lee jumped up too), called my parents and then tried to figure out how to get out of my bed without soaking the floor. It was pretty comical and I laughed while Trevor explained to Wren what was happening. With her safely off with my parents, I realised we had a slight problem seeing as I hadn't packed for hospital and didn't have everything I needed. But, there was no time to stress about it so we went off to hospital with whatever I could gather at 11pm.
The nurses called Dr Truter who was looking after all my gynae's patients in her absence. He advised a sleeping tablet and rest. Trevor went home and I went to sleep...until 4am. The contractions become more prominent and it started to hurt. By 8am, Dr Truter came to introduce himself and have a talk. Because I was 36 weeks along, there was no plan. He examined me, felt another c-section was the best course of action and it was set for lunchtime. I was really sore and he gave the go ahead for me to get a shot of Pethidine. I got the next shot an hour later and still the pain got worse. Another hour later, I got my third shot of Pethidine and strapped into the monitor.
My contractions were incredibly painful and I started asking if I could get an epidural for a few hours till my delivery. Request denied: It wouldn't be necessary if the baby was being born so soon. Trevor had the unpleasant job of rubbing my back with every contraction as I tried to breathe my way through them which was tough with heavy nasal congestion. By 11:50, I demanded to be freed from the monitor around my belly and ran for the shower. The hot water on my back finally brought relief and I refused to leave as my contractions were on top of one another. Trevor was begging me to get into my surgical gown so I could be wheeled to theater and I refused to leave the bathroom. Ironically, my stubbornness in that moment is what changed the game.
I eventually got into the gown, back in the bed and was wheeled into the passage en route to theater. Just as we were about to leave the maternity ward, I felt something change, a strong urge to push and I screamed. The nurse looked under my blanket and realised that this baby was coming out now. They turned me around and rushed me into a delivery room.
By now I was exhausted, begging for oxygen and saying I couldn't deliver this baby. I was seeing stars from lack of oxygen and in extreme pain. Between the midwife, the gynae and Trevor, I was getting three streams of information and instruction and there was no time for any painkillers so I was going au naturel. Lots of screaming, shouting and six pushes later, there was a baby.
The first question I asked as I watched Trevor and the paediatrician inspect the new little person with the big voice was for the time. It wasn't even 1pm yet. Apparently it was just 10 minutes from the time I was wheeled into delivery until Michael was born. This kid fought his way out into the world on his own terms.
I had wanted a natural delivery from the time I found out about the pregnancy, and although it definitely didn't go the way I planned, it was an amazing experience. The next day the gynae explained that I dilated the last 4 cms in less than an hour before I delivered so my contractions were incredibly painful and my exhaustion and rather loud reactions were valid. Michael's birth was definitely unexpected but he surprised us all with quite a story.
What she meant by that was whether or not this child would have an interesting story like Wren's. Well, he does have a story...and it is something crazy and incredible.
At 35 weeks, I got the flu. I tried to go to work on two separate days but I was exhausted and not holding up well. On top of that, Michael was kicking and wriggling much more than usual and it only added to my discomfort. I saw my gynae on the Friday as she was leaving the next day on a three week holiday in Europe and would be returning right before the date we planned for a C-section if necessary. She was concerned about my health and that of the baby so, she booked me off work for an extra week to recover. We had a look at Michael, he was fine and the last thing she said was that this baby just needed to wait for her to come back.
Resting is something I don't do well and being forced to do very little for a week was more agony than enjoyable. By the Monday, I felt much better although still heavily congested. I was up and about doing stuff and felt good about the day. When I woke up the next day, it was completely different. I was freezing cold, just couldn't warm up and I was unbelievably tired.
Trevor, Wren-Lee and I all went to bed early because he was set to fly to Durban at 06:30 the next morning. We lay in bed chatting briefly and I was still awake for about 20 mins after Trevor had fallen asleep. While I lay there thinking, I felt a pop and warm liquid running down my leg. I knew immediately that my water just broke.
I woke Trevor up (and Wren-Lee jumped up too), called my parents and then tried to figure out how to get out of my bed without soaking the floor. It was pretty comical and I laughed while Trevor explained to Wren what was happening. With her safely off with my parents, I realised we had a slight problem seeing as I hadn't packed for hospital and didn't have everything I needed. But, there was no time to stress about it so we went off to hospital with whatever I could gather at 11pm.
The nurses called Dr Truter who was looking after all my gynae's patients in her absence. He advised a sleeping tablet and rest. Trevor went home and I went to sleep...until 4am. The contractions become more prominent and it started to hurt. By 8am, Dr Truter came to introduce himself and have a talk. Because I was 36 weeks along, there was no plan. He examined me, felt another c-section was the best course of action and it was set for lunchtime. I was really sore and he gave the go ahead for me to get a shot of Pethidine. I got the next shot an hour later and still the pain got worse. Another hour later, I got my third shot of Pethidine and strapped into the monitor.
My contractions were incredibly painful and I started asking if I could get an epidural for a few hours till my delivery. Request denied: It wouldn't be necessary if the baby was being born so soon. Trevor had the unpleasant job of rubbing my back with every contraction as I tried to breathe my way through them which was tough with heavy nasal congestion. By 11:50, I demanded to be freed from the monitor around my belly and ran for the shower. The hot water on my back finally brought relief and I refused to leave as my contractions were on top of one another. Trevor was begging me to get into my surgical gown so I could be wheeled to theater and I refused to leave the bathroom. Ironically, my stubbornness in that moment is what changed the game.
I eventually got into the gown, back in the bed and was wheeled into the passage en route to theater. Just as we were about to leave the maternity ward, I felt something change, a strong urge to push and I screamed. The nurse looked under my blanket and realised that this baby was coming out now. They turned me around and rushed me into a delivery room.
By now I was exhausted, begging for oxygen and saying I couldn't deliver this baby. I was seeing stars from lack of oxygen and in extreme pain. Between the midwife, the gynae and Trevor, I was getting three streams of information and instruction and there was no time for any painkillers so I was going au naturel. Lots of screaming, shouting and six pushes later, there was a baby.
The first question I asked as I watched Trevor and the paediatrician inspect the new little person with the big voice was for the time. It wasn't even 1pm yet. Apparently it was just 10 minutes from the time I was wheeled into delivery until Michael was born. This kid fought his way out into the world on his own terms.
I had wanted a natural delivery from the time I found out about the pregnancy, and although it definitely didn't go the way I planned, it was an amazing experience. The next day the gynae explained that I dilated the last 4 cms in less than an hour before I delivered so my contractions were incredibly painful and my exhaustion and rather loud reactions were valid. Michael's birth was definitely unexpected but he surprised us all with quite a story.
A not-so-normal birthday letter
Dear Wren-Lee
We did it – we survived your first year. I’m not going to
lie, it was pretty awesome. Watching you grow from a tiny newborn into a tiny
toddler has been a blessing and you have forever changed both my and your
father’s lives with your presence.
I have to thank you for teaching me that life is messy…literally.
In this past year, I have cleaned up more mess than the combined efforts of my
entire life thus far. The washing has been endless, cleaning you up is
relentless but I’ve loved you more with every one of your 42 bibs that I had to
hang up on the line. But no matter the mess, you just keep smiling and it’s
hard to not smile along with you.
Thank you for staying away from the two B’s: Bieber and
Barney. You have no idea how delighted I am that you aren’t hypnotised by that
purple dinosaur and not mesmerised by the vocal styling of the child star. Honestly,
Bieber is on some weird trip right now and, hopefully, you’ll miss that craze
altogether. The third B, boys, are a different story altogether and we’ll
address that issue in your next birthday letter 20 years from now.
You’ve broken hearts. That nose thing you do and your easy
sociable nature means that even the hardest person can’t resist your charm.
People long to see you and you are spoilt because they love you so dearly. Your
father suffers the most. I think his heart broke the minute you were born and
you are now the glue holding it together. Your dad will move heaven and earth for you
and, like me, he’s equally proud and sad to see you growing up so quickly. He
takes such great care of you and you continually reward him with kisses and poo
nappies in the morning. It’s awesome!
I hope that you don’t stop being such an affectionate child.
Your hugs and kisses make the most stressful day seem blissfully unimportant
and other people appreciate your cuddles more than you could imagine. I also
hope that your first word isn’t boobies but you seem to be heading that way – Daddy’s
child.
Stay strong kiddo. You’ve endured being born by C-section,
reflux, many injections (they were good for you!), being locked in a car (by
accident and you slept right through it), learning to crawl on a tiled floor,
teething and numerous bumps from playing under the coffee table. You did all
this and more with very little fear or tears - it’s admirable. You’re braver
than most grown-ups and this is a strength that will come in handy as you grow
older.
Finally, just be you. Daydream, hug your friends, go
swimming, make big splashes, try new foods, don’t watch TV if you don’t want
to, share your toys…do all this and everything else you like to do without
hesitation or reservation. Your father, family, friends and I will always be
there to guide you, protect you, encourage you and, most importantly, love you
just the way you are.
Happy first birthday my little monkey…and here’s to many,
many more happy birthdays to come!
Love you,
Mommy
Christmas countdown
As 2012 races towards its end, we look forward to the holidays and, of course, Wren-Lee's first Christmas.
Now, the song goes "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.." but Wren's already got those at the bottom so maybe the top two will appear as her gift. With all the festive cheer about, don't underestimate a child's ability to realise something's going on.
Wren discovered Christmas decorations. Every time we take her into a shop, her little head whips to and fro looking for the decorations dangling from the ceiling or standing on a shelf. She gets terribly excited about them and we think we might have a small problem with our Christmas tree's emancipation from storage coinciding with her learning to crawl. Trevor's brilliant solution: leave fake gifts under the tree so she's drawn to them instead of the tree itself.
It was this magnetic pull towards anything Christmas related that lead to the so-called Christmas outfit. My mom took her along to the store one day and decided to go through the baby clothing section. Wren grabbed a bib from her pram and my mom thought it was a sign that she must buy the matching romper. Together, they are Wren's official Christmas outfit. (See below)
I had a good chuckle when I got sent the photo of this get up and thought it utterly ridiculous. After seeing it in person, I couldn't help but love it and now I'm embarrassed to say I'm looking for those baby reindeer antler headbands to go with it.
No judgies; I'm a mom who likes to dress my kid up every now and then.
And while I don't believe in getting Wren's a gift just yet because she still too young to understand the gesture, her father has already picked out her gift. Guess that means I'm going to have to wrap it and let her go a bit crazy on it come Christmas morning.
Are my crazy friends and I having our Christmas party again this year? Yup, we are! Let me give you the stats: 24 people, a menu of more than 10 different dishes and 14 bottles of champagne. How many babies at this shindig? 0 :-) It's going to be quite a night!
I still find it hard to believe that last Christmas I was very pregnant and had no idea how Wren would change my life for the better. I can't wait to see the excitement on her face when she rips the paper off her gift and have her sit with us at the table for Christmas lunch. What's even better is that my family from Pretoria is arriving in Cape Town and they'll meet her for the very first time.
It may sound cheesy, but Wren-Lee is truly the best Christmas gift ever!
Hell week
They say that when it rains, it pours...and that was certainly the case during what I shall now refer to as "Hell Week". Ten straight days of back-to-back disasters.
In the second week of my new job, my folks were in Durban and Wren-Lee was with my mom-in-law. On the Wednesday, she hurt her back and Trevor had to rush off to go and pick Wren up and take her back to work with him. That night were were supposed to attend the Linkin Park concert and Wren was meant to sleepover at my in-laws. After loads of phone calls and going back and forth on babysitters, I reluctantly decided to skip the concert. I sat on the couch that night sobbing because Linkin Park is my favourite band and my dream to see them perform live went up in smoke. I still haven't had the courage to look at the tickets again and it's been weeks since this incident.
Aside from the concert being a bust, we had a bigger problem: Who was going to look after Wren-Lee the next day? Trevor was flying to Durban at 6am and I absolutely had to be at work. Everyone we could think of was at work and we weren't prepared to leave her with someone she wasn't entirely familiar with. It was a complete miracle when our friends, Clint and Tanya Morris, called and said they'd rearranged their day to help us and take care of Wren. Nothing comes close to the relief we felt and the extreme gratitude to our friends who went above and beyond for us.
Wren was fine the next day and thoroughly enjoyed her time with Clint, Tanya and Chloe. That night, she accompanied me to a dinner with my new colleagues and charmed everyone. Everything was fine until the next morning. While I was busy getting ready, I put her on my bed with pillows to protect her. One second she was facing away from me and was right up against the pillow and I literally turned my back and then heard the thud. My heart stopped beating and I knew I would find her on the floor. Thankfully, she was perfectly fine, not a bump, bruise or scratch on her but that was the last time she was left on the bed unattended.
At this point I thought things could definitely not get worse...and then it did. I went to a shopping centre to pick up some goodies en route to a friend's house. Wren fell asleep in the store and I put her pram in the car's boot and then put her into the car. The car key was in my way and I through it into a cup holder. When I closed the car door, there was a click and the car locked itself with the key inside. Panic ensued. Thanks to some very helpful guys, it took 40 mins and a broken window but we managed to get the car unlocked. Wren slept through the entire ordeal. Trevor had to rush from the airport and found me in a bit of shock. The reality of what happened only hit me after the fact and I was quite emotional for the rest of the day. My friends, sweethearts that they are, were on hand to medicate the situation with a healthy dose of vodka and cranberry. It worked well!
The crowning moment of the week came just a few days later. I pulled into my in-laws driveway to pick Wren-Lee up and my clutch broke. It was divine intervention that it happened there instead of on the freeway or, worse yet, when Wren was in the car with me. After quite a mission to get the car towed the next morning and trying to figure out how to get to work, I got the news that my entire clutch system needed to be replaced to the tune of a few thousand rand. By the end of that week, I was emotionally and financially depleted.
Looking back on it now, I can laugh at the comedy of disasters the week was. I'm thankful, however, that Wren was spared any harm or difficulty because she came a little too close there.
In the second week of my new job, my folks were in Durban and Wren-Lee was with my mom-in-law. On the Wednesday, she hurt her back and Trevor had to rush off to go and pick Wren up and take her back to work with him. That night were were supposed to attend the Linkin Park concert and Wren was meant to sleepover at my in-laws. After loads of phone calls and going back and forth on babysitters, I reluctantly decided to skip the concert. I sat on the couch that night sobbing because Linkin Park is my favourite band and my dream to see them perform live went up in smoke. I still haven't had the courage to look at the tickets again and it's been weeks since this incident.
Aside from the concert being a bust, we had a bigger problem: Who was going to look after Wren-Lee the next day? Trevor was flying to Durban at 6am and I absolutely had to be at work. Everyone we could think of was at work and we weren't prepared to leave her with someone she wasn't entirely familiar with. It was a complete miracle when our friends, Clint and Tanya Morris, called and said they'd rearranged their day to help us and take care of Wren. Nothing comes close to the relief we felt and the extreme gratitude to our friends who went above and beyond for us.
Wren was fine the next day and thoroughly enjoyed her time with Clint, Tanya and Chloe. That night, she accompanied me to a dinner with my new colleagues and charmed everyone. Everything was fine until the next morning. While I was busy getting ready, I put her on my bed with pillows to protect her. One second she was facing away from me and was right up against the pillow and I literally turned my back and then heard the thud. My heart stopped beating and I knew I would find her on the floor. Thankfully, she was perfectly fine, not a bump, bruise or scratch on her but that was the last time she was left on the bed unattended.
At this point I thought things could definitely not get worse...and then it did. I went to a shopping centre to pick up some goodies en route to a friend's house. Wren fell asleep in the store and I put her pram in the car's boot and then put her into the car. The car key was in my way and I through it into a cup holder. When I closed the car door, there was a click and the car locked itself with the key inside. Panic ensued. Thanks to some very helpful guys, it took 40 mins and a broken window but we managed to get the car unlocked. Wren slept through the entire ordeal. Trevor had to rush from the airport and found me in a bit of shock. The reality of what happened only hit me after the fact and I was quite emotional for the rest of the day. My friends, sweethearts that they are, were on hand to medicate the situation with a healthy dose of vodka and cranberry. It worked well!
The crowning moment of the week came just a few days later. I pulled into my in-laws driveway to pick Wren-Lee up and my clutch broke. It was divine intervention that it happened there instead of on the freeway or, worse yet, when Wren was in the car with me. After quite a mission to get the car towed the next morning and trying to figure out how to get to work, I got the news that my entire clutch system needed to be replaced to the tune of a few thousand rand. By the end of that week, I was emotionally and financially depleted.
Looking back on it now, I can laugh at the comedy of disasters the week was. I'm thankful, however, that Wren was spared any harm or difficulty because she came a little too close there.
Late night runaround
Surprisingly often, we get asked by other parents and people in general if we sleep. Most assume that with a 9 month old who's got teeth coming out, has a will of her own and is likely going through separation anxiety, sleep is something we don't see much of.
And then, of course, our response to this question is met with a mixture of shock, surprise, disappointment and just a sprinkling of "How'd you get so lucky?"
Wren-Lee is still very much a creature of habit and politely lets us know around 7pm when she's tired and would like to be put into her cot. If it's early or later, we don't really mind and we take our cue from her. No point trying to force a kid to sleep if she's not ready or tired yet.
But then that rare day comes along when she's totally disinterested in sleeping...like the other night for example.
Two hours of playing, rolling, babbling, kicking, touching my face, playing with my hair and staring at her feet ensued before it took a chamomile tablet to get her to nod off. I was half asleep before she was and almost dosed off waiting for her to calm down. It was after 9pm before she was finally moved into her cot and I'm supposed to be in bed at 9:30pm. Fail.
Now, not too many years ago, I would put on a revealing top, wear high heels and slap on the lipgloss before hitting the clubs. And we all know that 11pm is the best time to head out for a night on the town.
Last night, I put on a billowy top, wore flip-flops and slapped on my spectacles before hitting a 24 hour pharmacy. I forgot to buy formula and didn't have enough for Wren's bottles. And we all know 11pm is the worst time to remember your kid needs milk for the next day.
Oh...how times have changed.
Guess my late nights are long gone.
Who's the boss?
Yesterday was Boss's Day. Why bosses need a day is beyond me but, hey, it exists.
Our little boss got the day off from work. She went driving around with her Nan and had a good time showing off in the shops.
People are surprised that Wren-Lee goes to work with us most days of the week. Sure, we have the odd difficult day with her but we cope just fine usually. It's also given me valuable bonding time with her and she's grown quite comfortable in the work environment.
But she really is the little boss here.
Wren-Lee is the CEO - Child Entertainment Officer. While her GD (GrandDad) is the MD (Managing Director) and actually runs the business, she's in charge of providing happiness and smiles and maintaining the inventory of baby stuff in the office.
Our CEO has her own stamp comprised of her hand and her saliva.
Laptop working correctly? Stamp!
Desk making the right sound when tapped? Stamp!
Documents need checking? Stamp!
Phone ringing at the correct volume? Stamp!
She also regularly does roll tests on the board room table to make sure it is indeed level. Other tasks include welcoming visitors for meetings, laughing as often as possible so it doesn't get too quiet and rearranging everyone's desks on an hourly basis so you actually see all the work you might have pushed elsewhere.
The CEO is also the only staff member who does all her snacks and lunch like clockwork and she's allowed regular naps in her "cubicle"; a camper cot in her dad's office.
Honestly, I'm going to miss working with her. I'm starting a new job in less than two weeks and our time together is being drastically reduced. It's been a wonderful blessing to spend so much time with her till now and she's grown independent enough to be ok with not seeing much of me from now on.
And while my new office has crazy staff, two French bulldogs and a magnificent view, it takes quite a lot to replace my CEO.
Our little boss got the day off from work. She went driving around with her Nan and had a good time showing off in the shops.
People are surprised that Wren-Lee goes to work with us most days of the week. Sure, we have the odd difficult day with her but we cope just fine usually. It's also given me valuable bonding time with her and she's grown quite comfortable in the work environment.
But she really is the little boss here.
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| Big Boss and Little Boss having a meeting |
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| Let me check my calendar...oops, it's broken! |
Our CEO has her own stamp comprised of her hand and her saliva.
Laptop working correctly? Stamp!
Desk making the right sound when tapped? Stamp!
Documents need checking? Stamp!
Phone ringing at the correct volume? Stamp!
She also regularly does roll tests on the board room table to make sure it is indeed level. Other tasks include welcoming visitors for meetings, laughing as often as possible so it doesn't get too quiet and rearranging everyone's desks on an hourly basis so you actually see all the work you might have pushed elsewhere.
The CEO is also the only staff member who does all her snacks and lunch like clockwork and she's allowed regular naps in her "cubicle"; a camper cot in her dad's office.
Honestly, I'm going to miss working with her. I'm starting a new job in less than two weeks and our time together is being drastically reduced. It's been a wonderful blessing to spend so much time with her till now and she's grown independent enough to be ok with not seeing much of me from now on.
And while my new office has crazy staff, two French bulldogs and a magnificent view, it takes quite a lot to replace my CEO.
Waiting and watching
I see I've been taking long gaps between blog posts. Life is a bit hectic right now and it's difficult to find space and time to write. For Wren-Lee though, life is just peachy.
She's finally mastered rolling. Yippeee! But, like Derek Zoolander, she only turns to the left. Seriously. Model tendancies with this one.
I like putting her on one end of our bed and watching (and filming) her roll all the way to the other side. Don't worry, I'm a mom who's all about safety so there are a lot of pillows to keep her safe.
While rolling is fun and really cute, it's what's happening in her mouth that has everyone on tenterhooks. We can see her first tooth waiting just under that surface of her gum. Her eczema is flaring up, her tummy is wonky, she chews everything in sight and she's been sleeping quite a lot during the day. It's obvious her body is prepping for that tooth to erupt.
We are still very fortunate that she's quite calm and hasn't been really sick. Everyone's hoping that her teething will be without much incident but only time will tell. At this stage, it looks like we may have a tooth within a week or two.
I'm still trying to understand the whole "pancake" association with baby's first tooth. Although I have faith in Google's wisdom, I haven't found anything or anybody who can explain it to me or where it comes from. So, while we wait for this tooth, I'll see if I can dig up some history on the pancake thing and hopefully I'll have an answer soon.
Roll, roll it girl, roll it girl.
Watching a small human learn how to become mobile is probably one of the most entertaining bits of parenting. This small creature not only has to discover it's own body, but then has to work out how to coordinate these newly acquired bits and pieces to achieve some sort of motion. It's quite a lot of work.
Wren-Lee could roll from her tummy to her back at 3 months already. A necessary step for a child who seems to live by the motto "Work smarter, not harder". She refuses to hold her own bottle although she can, rolls off her tummy if she's feeling lazy and pretends to cry to get our attention if she's tossed her dummy somewhere that she can't reach. Yup, she's got this efficiency thing down.
But when it came to rolling from her back to her tummy, it took a bit of effort from everyone. I spent hours teaching her to tuck her arm in so she could shift her weight. We rolled her back and forth as often as possible so she'd get used to the movement. Eventually, she seemed to understand what to do and began attempting it on her own. (And cue "Eye of the tiger")
This resulted in a small baby contortionist act. Wren twisted her body into the most bizarre shapes as she tried to master this new skill. I've seen S shapes, Q shapes, a pretzel and a few yoga poses in the mix. She also got herself tangled in her playgym trying to roll over.
Finally, she worked out her own little system and does manage to roll but it takes some effort. And after the hard work it took just to get this right, the kid has discovered a new challenge: Once she's on her tummy, how does she move forward? Oh well, guess we better prepare ourselves for learning to crawl soon.
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| Who's upside down: you or me? |
Chubby cheeks
If you look back at photos of Wren-Lee, you'll notice that she's quite petite and not quite as fat and squishy as other babies. That's because we had no idea that she was a skinny kid. In fact, she was a full kilogram underweight for her height.
We took her to a dietician who specialises in paediatric nutrition. Yes, we also didn't know someone like that exists. Turns out she knows her stuff and gave us a simple solution to the problem: we add a supplement to Wren-Lee's formula which provides extra kilojoules. The canister of soft powder is probably every dieter and model's nightmare.
So, she's been on the supplement for about 6 weeks now and gained weight really well. We discovered that her digestive system didn't like rice cereal so her solids diet consists of yummy fruits and vegetables (which she LOVES!). We'll be introducing protein into the mix soon in the form of chicken and we get to try the cereal again but this time it'll be brown rice cereal which is an unrefined wholegrain and likely to not aggravate her reflux.
And now that the boring nutrition lesson is done, the proof is in the pudding (or so they say). In our case, it's our little pudding face. Here's a before and after pic so you can see that our little bird has chubby cheeks :-)
We took her to a dietician who specialises in paediatric nutrition. Yes, we also didn't know someone like that exists. Turns out she knows her stuff and gave us a simple solution to the problem: we add a supplement to Wren-Lee's formula which provides extra kilojoules. The canister of soft powder is probably every dieter and model's nightmare.
So, she's been on the supplement for about 6 weeks now and gained weight really well. We discovered that her digestive system didn't like rice cereal so her solids diet consists of yummy fruits and vegetables (which she LOVES!). We'll be introducing protein into the mix soon in the form of chicken and we get to try the cereal again but this time it'll be brown rice cereal which is an unrefined wholegrain and likely to not aggravate her reflux.
And now that the boring nutrition lesson is done, the proof is in the pudding (or so they say). In our case, it's our little pudding face. Here's a before and after pic so you can see that our little bird has chubby cheeks :-)
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| Before |
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| After |
Sickly Mommy = Sickly Monkey
It comes as no surprise that Wren-Lee is sick. Being around my germy germs isn't exactly good for a kid who no longer has the protection of Supermom's awesome antibodies. But what did come as a surprise was just how sick Wren-Lee is.
I was booked off work for two days with flu and told to be careful around kiddo. That meant little contact and having my hands drenched in sanitiser. We sent Wren-Lee off to my mom in law for the day so I could rest and recover. Unfortunately, she didn't have a good day and was miserable when she came home. She hadn't slept well, was struggling to drink her milk and burst into tears for anything and everything. Fortunately, we planned ahead and made a doctors appointment for the next morning just in case. And then came the puking. We all know how much I love the puking.
We did the best we could to try to help her but sleep just wasn't on the cards. I was up till sometime after 3am and spent that time singing "Incy Wincy Spider" and "Jesus loves me, this I know", rocking back and forth and I even turned the bathroom into a steam room to help with decongestion. By 5:30am she was unhappily awake. I looked and felt like the walking dead and Trev wasn't much better either.
We called the doctors office and had her appointment moved up by 2 hours because there was no way she could endure any more lack of sleep, coughing, sneezing and being unable to keep her food down. Doctor told us she has a really bad cold. Thankfully nothing to be concerned about. However, her symptoms were so bad because this was the first time her immune system had to fly solo. It was over-compensating slightly.
With meds in hand, I fed Wren, bathed her, got her comfy and she's been sleeping for over 2 hours now. I, on the other hand, aren't sleeping at all. I'm on cortisone and the medication keeps me awake. Not great for someone who's had like 2 hours of sleep. My brain literally doesn't know what to do with the mixed "Sleep" and "Awake" signals. So please don't be alarmed if my eyes start fading, my heads starts drooping, this keyboard starts to look awfully comfy and then vgsgrw4rfewr4efesw4erewvgftftr3wfew4rweftrwszdx...zzz...
I was booked off work for two days with flu and told to be careful around kiddo. That meant little contact and having my hands drenched in sanitiser. We sent Wren-Lee off to my mom in law for the day so I could rest and recover. Unfortunately, she didn't have a good day and was miserable when she came home. She hadn't slept well, was struggling to drink her milk and burst into tears for anything and everything. Fortunately, we planned ahead and made a doctors appointment for the next morning just in case. And then came the puking. We all know how much I love the puking.
We did the best we could to try to help her but sleep just wasn't on the cards. I was up till sometime after 3am and spent that time singing "Incy Wincy Spider" and "Jesus loves me, this I know", rocking back and forth and I even turned the bathroom into a steam room to help with decongestion. By 5:30am she was unhappily awake. I looked and felt like the walking dead and Trev wasn't much better either.
We called the doctors office and had her appointment moved up by 2 hours because there was no way she could endure any more lack of sleep, coughing, sneezing and being unable to keep her food down. Doctor told us she has a really bad cold. Thankfully nothing to be concerned about. However, her symptoms were so bad because this was the first time her immune system had to fly solo. It was over-compensating slightly.
With meds in hand, I fed Wren, bathed her, got her comfy and she's been sleeping for over 2 hours now. I, on the other hand, aren't sleeping at all. I'm on cortisone and the medication keeps me awake. Not great for someone who's had like 2 hours of sleep. My brain literally doesn't know what to do with the mixed "Sleep" and "Awake" signals. So please don't be alarmed if my eyes start fading, my heads starts drooping, this keyboard starts to look awfully comfy and then vgsgrw4rfewr4efesw4erewvgftftr3wfew4rweftrwszdx...zzz...
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