My boys, with their ridiculouly close birthdays, went to the doctor last week. Daniel had his one month check-up, and Nathan had his 3 year check-up. The big one with the amazing blue eyes is 75th percentile across the board, weighing in at 34 pounds. I'm not sure where he puts it because all of his 3T clothes fall off of his body. Also, he eats nothing. One day last week, he had half a piece of turkey sausage and some whipped cream. That's it. All day. He's awesome.
The little one with all the crazy hair landed just below the 50th percentile for height, weight, and head circumference. He weighs 10 pounds. This is so shocking to me, because he and Nathan were just four ounces apart in their birth weights, and Nathan didn't get back up to his (8 lbs 1 oz) until he was six weeks old. Way to go, Danny Boy!
While the doctor was examining Daniel, I noticed that the usual ten seconds of listening to his heart was taking way longer than normal. I played with Nathan while my mind raced. After a while (three or four minutes) the doctor said that she detected a heart murmur. My stomach sank. I'd heard of them, but didn't really know what they were. And honestly, who wants to hear anything abnormal about your four week old, especially something with the heart?
The doctor calmly explained that this is a condition that can frequently appear in infants, and most often is nothing to worry about. But, we needed to schedule an echocardiogram at Children's Memorial just in case. We set up the ultrasound for Monday.
I called Joe just before we left the doctor's office and he gently reminded me that he had a heart murmur and it had never limited him in any way. I was still scared and twitchy.
This is where I should say that my heart goes out to families whose children struggle with illness. This was simply unexpected and I'm ignorant.
Monday rolled around and it seemed like the time was flying by. Joe and the day off and we had initially planned on taking the boys to the Children's Museum at Navy Pier, but we couldn't fit it in before our appointment. So, we puttered around most of the day, then dropped Nathan off with a friend before going to the hospital.
The test itself lasted an hour and Daniel was a champ. He nursed off and on throughout the test (I cannot tell you how many people have seen my boobs in the past month!), making him less screamy than normal. The echo tech didn't tell us anything one way or the other, which only made me more nervous. After we finished, I said repeatedly to Joe, "He's going to be okay, right?" He kept assuring me that he was.
Thankfully, before I drove myself completely crazy, our pediatrician called at 8:00 Monday night. She apologized (can you believe it?!) for calling so late, but wanted to let us know that everything was fine. The heart murmur should have no impact on Daniel's life in any way.
I'm so grateful. I do feel partly stupid for getting all worked up, but really ... I'm just thankful. I'm so so so glad that this tiny little gift is totally okay. I firmly believe that you don't really know what fear is until you become a parent. If we all thought about all the bad things that could happen to our kids, we'd be basketcases. I'm glad my crazy only lasted for a few days.
Showing posts with label In Sickness and Health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In Sickness and Health. Show all posts
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Patchwork
So, I've been meaning to update all week. But really, life (LIFE) is so crazy and hectic that it's almost impossible to sit down and think, let alone write about what's going on.
My family visited my parents and my ailing aunt this weekend. It was a really special visit for a couple of reasons. I got to see my aunt, who is so sadly, failing. But I got to see her. I got to tell her that I loved her and and cheering for her. My aunt is very very thin and had recently shaved her head, rather than tolerate the clumps of hair falling out. Nathan was afraid of her at first, but when we left, this kind, gentle and tactile little boy went up and hugged her like she had long held a spot in his heart.
Alexi is beautiful. He's a tiny peanut of a baby, but just perfect. I found out last night that he's suffering from thrush. So, they're working through that.
My parents are doing well, despite all of the stress that comes with having sick loved ones. My mom is holding this sadness to herself. I've been trying to encourage her, but again, have realized that my solutions may not work for her. She did commit to spend a weekend with my aunt while my cousin and her family visit her husband's family. I think this is positive. I hope too that my mom will carry this visit with her after my aunt passes away, whether it's 2 months from now, or 20 years.
My family visited my parents and my ailing aunt this weekend. It was a really special visit for a couple of reasons. I got to see my aunt, who is so sadly, failing. But I got to see her. I got to tell her that I loved her and and cheering for her. My aunt is very very thin and had recently shaved her head, rather than tolerate the clumps of hair falling out. Nathan was afraid of her at first, but when we left, this kind, gentle and tactile little boy went up and hugged her like she had long held a spot in his heart.
Alexi is beautiful. He's a tiny peanut of a baby, but just perfect. I found out last night that he's suffering from thrush. So, they're working through that.
My parents are doing well, despite all of the stress that comes with having sick loved ones. My mom is holding this sadness to herself. I've been trying to encourage her, but again, have realized that my solutions may not work for her. She did commit to spend a weekend with my aunt while my cousin and her family visit her husband's family. I think this is positive. I hope too that my mom will carry this visit with her after my aunt passes away, whether it's 2 months from now, or 20 years.
Monday, April 12, 2010
And It's Today
Today. *sigh* Today is one of those days that I hope to prepare for every year, and yet, every year I'm scrambling, and failing, and floundering, and my gosh.
Today is The Targo's birthday. He's a ripe old thirty-three. And my word, he is... well, he's everything. And I can't figure out how to express it.
I'm big into birthdays. BIG! I always tell the Targo that I don't need Christmas or Valentine's presents, but to do something nice for me on my birthday. I feel even more that way now that I'm getting freaking old.
But this isn't about me, is it? No no no. It's about that man. That man. The Targo.
I've been trying to figure out what to get him for at least a month. I've been racking my brain, asking Amazon, looking, seeking. Bah! Why does he have such expensive tastes! He just bought a new camera, so I couldn't get him that.
Today I found it. It's not the most creative gift in the world, but it's so him. (It's a nerdy book, but I'll reveal it tomorrow, just in case he reads this. I'm not even sure he remembers I have a blog. Heck, most of the time I don't remember I have a blog.)
It's taken me all day, but I've realized that what he wants, what he needs, is my love and support. He's got a lot of pressures (we all do, I know) and I'm not the most supportive person to him. I may talk a good game, and I truly am his biggest fan, but I fall into that trap of nagging and patronizing behavior. I'm not saying he's perfect; I'm just saying that instead of tearing him down, I need to build him up. Like he does to me.
Today I'm thinking about this man, the one in the pictures. The one who rushes home every day to spend those short hours with Nathan and me. The one who frets over the bank accounts every day and tries to figure out how we can afford a new car, a home of our own, or just a simple family vacation. Somehow he makes it all work.
Today I realized that all I need to get him for his birthday is a whole lot of love and encouragement. Words of affirmation affect him more than anything else I can do. Because that's how he's wired.
And me... I'm insane about him.
Today... today. I'm going to remind him that he's my happily ever after. I hope it makes up for the book I got him.
Happy birthday, Yo-Yo.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Hope
I had a whirlwind visit to my parents' house this weekend. I feel so blessed that they live close enough that I can just jump on a train and get there 2 1/2-3 hours later. My dad picked me up at the station, we drove to their house and I hopped in my mom's car. After a 45-minute drive, we arrived at the hospital where my aunt is being treated.
I don't know how she's doing. According to my disgruntled, snarly, old relatives, she's on death's door. According to my cousin, her daughter, she's making progress, but there's no guarantee. What I do know is that she survived a terrible bout of cancer about 10 years ago. And now, the cancer is much strong, much wider-reaching, and much worse. She's lost a significant amount of weight, you can see it in the drawn expression on her once very pretty face; yet, her strong legs are twice their normal size, filled with cancerous fluid. She progressed in just two weeks from being on oxygen and having a feeding tube, to eating real food on her own and not needing the oxygen. She's sitting up, walking down the halls, and expressing her hopes of going home, physical therapy, and rehab. She's a fighter.
My mom and I took my cousin out to eat later that day. She's 7 1/2 months pregnant and trying to hold everything together. She's really doing a great job. I don't know how she's doing it, but she's managing to care for her family (two children) and also spend about 8 hours a day at the hospital. We were glad to let her take time, even if it was just two hours, for herself. Time where she didn't have to care for anyone else.
I've been periodically sending my cousin information about cancer centers, including universities that have clinical trials going on. She's accepted them graciously. But today, I realized I needed to quit. My level of "hope" isn't hers. Hers is much more grounded in the day-to-day reality of caring for a very sick relative. Mine is 200 miles away.
I know if this can be beaten, my aunt can beat it. She can. If she doesn't, it won't be because she's not strong, or because her family didn't do everything they could to get her well; it's because it's her time to go. I feel very grateful to have had her love, friendship, and those of my two cousins for all these years. That says a lot about a person - that sort of legacy. She'll know when she dies, whether it's soon, or several years down the road, that she lived well.
I don't know how she's doing. According to my disgruntled, snarly, old relatives, she's on death's door. According to my cousin, her daughter, she's making progress, but there's no guarantee. What I do know is that she survived a terrible bout of cancer about 10 years ago. And now, the cancer is much strong, much wider-reaching, and much worse. She's lost a significant amount of weight, you can see it in the drawn expression on her once very pretty face; yet, her strong legs are twice their normal size, filled with cancerous fluid. She progressed in just two weeks from being on oxygen and having a feeding tube, to eating real food on her own and not needing the oxygen. She's sitting up, walking down the halls, and expressing her hopes of going home, physical therapy, and rehab. She's a fighter.
My mom and I took my cousin out to eat later that day. She's 7 1/2 months pregnant and trying to hold everything together. She's really doing a great job. I don't know how she's doing it, but she's managing to care for her family (two children) and also spend about 8 hours a day at the hospital. We were glad to let her take time, even if it was just two hours, for herself. Time where she didn't have to care for anyone else.
I've been periodically sending my cousin information about cancer centers, including universities that have clinical trials going on. She's accepted them graciously. But today, I realized I needed to quit. My level of "hope" isn't hers. Hers is much more grounded in the day-to-day reality of caring for a very sick relative. Mine is 200 miles away.
I know if this can be beaten, my aunt can beat it. She can. If she doesn't, it won't be because she's not strong, or because her family didn't do everything they could to get her well; it's because it's her time to go. I feel very grateful to have had her love, friendship, and those of my two cousins for all these years. That says a lot about a person - that sort of legacy. She'll know when she dies, whether it's soon, or several years down the road, that she lived well.
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