This is as much about me as my baby.

Baby is now five years old. He's big. He's HUGE. He's easily in the 75% percentile for height and weight. 

We did not get out of prematurity unscathed. We just survived divorce, and my little man is still struggling with switching from one house to another and back. 

He has ADHD, what my other preemie mom friends refer to as "preemie brain", (which actually refers to a wonderfully articulate, funny nature that in turn is also a very distracted one) and he sometimes struggles with social situations. He's not, at least as of current diagnosis, considered autistic. He's too eager to be social and friendly, as far as the psychologists can see. 

On the opposite end, my baby boy is growing up, he's beautiful and smart and hilarious, and loves to tell long stories about battles between his toys (I swear I don't encourage violence at all -- this is just what he's fascinated with). 

4K was a nightmare because, even with a loving, affectionate, attentive and hard working teacher, he had a very hard time following rules and not getting overwhelmed by all the classmates. He was suspended twice for hitting (HARD) other children, and he had far more incidents of hitting than he was suspended for. I hated that in particular, because I felt like he learned nothing from that, and that it was solely for the benefit of the other children's parents. And, paradoxically, it didn't help them either because it encouraged my son to get into even more trouble. 

About me: 

T switches from one house to the other once every week on Thursday. He manages very well. We Facetime or even just come over and visit when he's feeling sad about not seeing the other parent. (We don't live far apart at all). 

I  miss him when he's gone. It's terribly, desperately, awfully lonely. I do enjoy having time to be social (which isn't that much even when he's not visiting, as I've had to take a second job just to keep my head above water) and I feel like I have more energy to devote to activities when he is around just because he's not there all the time. Nevertheless, the house is so empty without him, and I can hardly bear it. 

Dating is just blah. It's seriously impossible. I've met a couple men from dating sites. They never get past the first date. I don't think any of them have asked me, and my heart has not been broken by that once. I have a coworker whom I find interesting and has expressed interest in me, but after chatting online for perhaps a week he ceased to speak. My bluntness frequently drives people away, but this hurt my feelings a bit. Mercifully, I have fantastic friends that have given me so much love and support. My best friend in the world has actually made me look forward to my birthday more than I have in many, many years (we're going to hang out and binge watch the new Gilmore Girls series!). 

I'm loving TV  more than anyone should, although I've had very little time since school has begun again. I'm teaching a lot. I still don't have a full time teaching position, which is the nature of adjunct life - barely living above poverty and working two jobs. I love teaching too much to give it up.  Netflix has become my other best friend. I managed, during the summer, to watch all of Nurse Jackie, The Borgias, Arrow, Orange is the New Black (although I had watched all the previous seasons before, so I didn't watch it all), Scandal, Jane the Virgin, Parenthood, a lot of "Fixer Upper" and and the latest season of "Grace and Frankie". Most of those series I watched from beginning to end. So whenever a guy tells me he doesn't watch TV, I'm totally aghast. WHAT WILL WE TALK ABOUT?! 

15/16 months (half a post. LAME)

**this is a very old half of a post that I forgot to finish/publish. It's important, though, because it's when little T started walking. As over a year has passed, I'm going to publish as is and continue in the next posts.

Dear Little T,

My. It's been a whirlwind around here lately.

I was going to post that you've managed to be not sick for the last couple of months, but this week you have some kind of sinus infection. Apparently it's causing a sore throat, and, while you're cheerful enough during the day, it's kept you up at night, and therefore me.

You haven't started speaking much more, but you certainly have picked up some new inflections. I think what you're saying is, "No!" and "Yeh!" You say them at pretty random times, so I'm not 100% sure you know what they mean, but you defiantly told us "No!" when I tried to put you in your car seat this morning.

My little man is walking.

25 months. Soon.

Hey, it's been a while.

What a year! I will shortly post lots of pictures, and a huge post about all the changes and progress my amazing child has made. It'll make you sick.

However, in the meantime, for my preemie mom friends, if you haven't read this, you MUST:

It's called "Domestic Enemies of the Preemie Mom" and the part about going home without your baby is so perfectly stated that I seriously couldn't have said it better.

http://www.rantsfrommommyland.com/2011/10/domestic-enemies-of-preemie-mom.html

There's also a link to the original writer, but her blog is no longer accepting new readers. I have a huge sad about that.

Also: we're taking T to Disney world! I know, it's nuts - he's only two. Trust me. I know. However, my awesome parents want to take my baby to Disney, and I can't tell them no, so we're going too. More and pictures very soon!

13/14 months

Dear Little T,

I'm so far behind. So, to make up for it, how about a little torture?

This adorable picture was taken in Asheville, by your "Aunt" Becca. We went to tea, and of course there had to be big fancy hats. I literally had to tie you down into that chair, because you decided to stand up in the one that didn't have a strap. We had a great day with our friends. We went to tea of course, and then to a fountain made for kids to play in. You fell asleep in the car on the way there, so only our friend A really got to play in it, while you slept in her stroller.

You've made such incredible progress this month. Just in the last couple of weeks, you've begun standing all on your own, even though you were barely cruising along the sides of couches, and you've FINALLY started eating cereal puffs on your own. You put them in your mouth, you chew them, and you swallow them. BY YOURSELF. You have no idea what an accomplishment that is for you. Up until now, we'd have to shove them in your mouth, you might chew it a bit and then you'd either spit it out, or gag until you threw it up. That's how we were training you to eat, at the behest of your speech therapist.

Yes, you're in therapy. You have a speech therapist (mostly for eating, not really for talking), a physical therapist, who has helped you make amazing strides in crawling and walking, an occupational therapist, and, to coordinate all of them, you have an early interventionist, who thankfully comes to see you at daycare. Thank God for Babynet - a program that provides all these things to us for free.

You have discovered the Joy of the Dog's Water Bowl. If you can crawl past us, and sneak your way through the kitchen, you splash until all the water is on the floor, and you love it. I can't figure out the attraction, but it's better than food, and almost as good as the bath.

Right now, I've just put you to bed, and you're screaming. I wish I didn't have to do that, but 8:00 is bedtime, and you have been wild the last couple of days. You are 14 months old today, and you confirmed this afternoon that Dada is your father. He walked into the room as I was feeding you, and you immediately called out, "Dada!" even though you'd been saying entirely differen things before he appeared. You also said something that sounds very like, "Duck" when I got out your duck toy. You really are starting to talk!

Notice you have a snotty little nose in this picture? That's because you have been sick. You have been sick since your birthday, actually. You got a double ear infection, and then after kicking that, you got strep throat, and then a sinus infection, which you promptly gave to me. The snotty nose has been fun. It feels horrible when I can't make you feel better, and your fever jumped up and down, up and down for over a week.

Even so, when you're happy, your eyes shine like I've never seen anyone's shine. Your smile is magic. I can't wait to see what you'll do next.

Love,
Mama

12 Months: Happy birthday, T!

Dear Little T,

I'm stunned to think that a year ago today (as I wrote this) , I was lying in a hospital bed, begging to go see my baby. I expected to go see you after my 10 o'clock blood draw, but it turned out they meant I would see you after the results came in.

This month has happened in huge leaps. You're crawling properly now, and  your knees are always red. I'm pretty sure you're landing on your nose a bit, too, because your nose is also always red.

It's colder today than it's been in weeks. I have a cute little "Birthday Boy" onesie all set out for you to wear to "baby school", and it's kind of cold.  You also appear to have an ear infection. You've been cranky for a few days, and I was pretty sure something wasn't right, but I thought you had some back teeth coming in. It's not what I hoped for your first birthday, but since your party isn't until Saturday, I hope both you and the weather will improve.

You're "talking" so much more. Now, instead of "Dadada" it's Da, Mamamama (only when mad or upset, of course), and Baba. I'm pretty sure you don't know what any of those mean, but dada and baba are happy sounds, and mamama is what you say when  you're upset and crying. My personal favorite, though is "Aaada!" which sounds an awful lot like, "A duck!" That's why rubber duckies is the theme for your birthday party. Plus, you really like chewing on your rubber ducky's head.

It's hard to know what to tell you on your first birthday. There's so, so much. I bugged your father for fully four years before we were "ready" to have you, because I wanted you so badly. Turns out, your daddy was pretty excited, too. When we found out we were having a baby, he started a project:

1000 paper cranes

He started making paper cranes. Having 1000 is supposed to be good luck, and he was making them for you. He made a great mobile out of them, later. 

As everyone knows, you arrived far earlier than we had hoped. Even now, I feel a pretty intense amount of guilt about it, even though I'm told by every professional out there that it's not my fault. You are an incredibly little man, and growing up way too fast, in spite of the fact that it's just a little slower than other kids.  You're crawling so fast, and pulling up on every surface you get near, no matter how unsteady. 

Pulling up on Daddy

I'm so very proud of you. You're the happiest child I have ever seen, and it amazes me every day. You're so funny, too! The other night I found you using the bumper in your crib as a pillow, curled up, holding a round plastic bear-type light toy in your arms. Even at 4am, I got the giggles looking at you. 

I'm sure someone's going to shout at me for having a bumper in your bed at all, but when you started getting both of your legs stuck in the bars of your bed, and screaming, I decided to put the bumper in. You're extremely good about rolling away from things in your face, so I worry less about those issues these days. 

For your birthday party, even though you were only one, I went a little crazy. You won't remember that day, but I will, and I wanted it to be special. Our friends were there and wonderful, and the only way I could have been happier is if you had tried to eat your cake, instead of throwing it on the floor. Still, you were too cute to be mad at: 

Photo courtesy of Smilin' Down Photography

You were also super funny. Like your Aunt K as a wee baby on her first birthday, you hated the grass, but you put up with it: 

Photo courtesy of Smilin' Down Photography

My favorite thing about you now is how easy it is to make you smile and laugh. Your Daddy laughs, you laugh. We tickle you a little, and you laugh. Daddy comes home, and as soon as you see him, you're crawling for him as fast as  your little hands and legs can move, and trying to climb his legs, and laughing. 

Your constant joy is infectious. I really hope that you keep that forever. One year in our lives, and it seems like life would not be living without you there. The other day I dropped you off at daycare so I could clean and run errands on my day off, and the dog was at the vet, and the house was impossibly quiet. Your dad commented that the house just wasn't right. How very true - our house is no longer right without you. 

Love,
Mama

11 months

Dear Little T,

Today you are 11 months old. It absolutely boggles my mind to think that it's been nearly a year since you were rushed into the world.

I'm absolutely certain that we, as parents, scare other people off of parenthood, at least temporarily, with all of our complaints. I'm sure I'm no different. I was absolutely positive that I would love being a parent, long before you were born, and that is true. As a matter of fact, parenthood is far better than I ever imagined it being. You certainly present your challenges. I've never been busier in my entire life. I remember clearly waking up one night a couple of months before you were born and sobbing, because what if I had ruined our lives? What if I was going to miss having all this time to myself too much?  Shockingly, I don't. I do miss my sleep sometimes, and I do miss occasional lazy days, but you fill in my lazy times with FUN. You're so fun!

For example - your laughter. You laugh all the time now, and it's the most beautiful sound on earth. Your joy is contagious, and I mean that truly. You love being hugged, and you hug back now. The ticklish spots are mostly on your neck, and you're fully enjoying being zerberted on your belly.

When you're excited, you flap your arms like you're going to fly away, and like everything you do, it makes me laugh.

The crawling process is continuing, although slowly. You have begun a little bit of a scoot. Fortunately for me, you can't move too quickly, so for the moment I can still keep up with you. However, those little changes are happening so fast, I can barely keep up. You've started trying to pull up, and the day you turned 11 months, I caught you up on your knees in the crib, trying to eat the railing.

I know how fuzzy this is, but it's so cute!

What's amazing to me is how calm you are. You're nothing like me with respect to the fact that you can enjoy sitting in your stroller, watching things for hours, while I'd get bored in five minutes and scream, at your age.

Bought this hat when you were three months old. It was huge then! Of course, when you were born, that baseball rattle was as big as your head.

It's hilarious what you like to play with. While last month your favorite toy was a spoon, now grabbing my necklace is your favorite sport. While you can't pick up a little piece of freeze dried yogurt, you can grab at my swinging necklace and never miss.

The feeding is a funny thing. You'll grab at your food bowls, but as soon as  you realized that I couldn't feed you without it, you left it alone. I actually can't seem to get you to play with your food. You will try to put anything in your mouth but food, and you when you do put finger foods in your mouth, you spit them out. You're eating baby food like I'm starving you death. You'll entire containers of baby food, just to start crying when I get up to throw it away. I didn't think baby food was expensive, and it's not - when you're not going through 30-40 containers a week! Fortunately, we have a baby food maker, too.

I'm planning your first birthday party, and I just can't believe it. I can't believe my teeny baby is going to be one. Slow down, little man! I'm not ready for this.

Love,

Mamma 

10 months

Dear Little T,

You are ten months old! It's unbelievable how fast you've changed. Your new favorite look is to stick your tongue out. Constantly.

Photo taken by Rebecca Crandall 

It's ok when you're smiling, but you often do it when you're not, especially when you're thinking about something. That's when it starts to look like a "duh" face. "Duuuuh". Sometimes you even say that. I'm sure there's a brilliant mind in there, but you are a little stinker and you're trying to hide it. You rarely do that when it's just us.

Photo taken by Rebecca Crandall 

I still think you're the most beautiful baby ever made, but dang, kid!

You've made some pretty spectacular changes in just one month. On the 11th, the very day you turned 10 months old, you CRAWLED. It was just a teeny bit, and then you went flat on your belly and did a lizard type army crawl, but you did it! I was so excited, I might have screamed a little. Judging by the state of our house, it's perhaps a blessing that you haven't done it sooner. 

We took you to a couple restaurants this month, and gave you small foods to chew on. You were unimpressed. You tried to eat a chip at a Mexican restaurant, while I tried very hard to get a picture. Alas,  every time you broke off a piece of the chip with your three (!!!) little teeth, you spit it out. I'm not sure you realize that it's food yet. The same thing happened with a french fry. I know, fried foods for infants is bad, but you're still so thin that I'll do about anything to fatten you up. Seriously. Yesterday I gave you two containers of yogurt, which is about the calories in four of your little baby food meals. Oh, and that third tooth? Oh yeah. It's on the top. Not in the middle, like a regular kid, but those eye teeth. Yes, my poor son, you are getting fangs, just like I did as a baby. I can't wait to take pictures of you looking like a little vampire.

Speaking of eating, you food range has exploded this month. You went from refusing everything except cereal to eating everything that is mush you can possibly get your hands on. Since everything, and I do mean everything you get near goes in your mouth (you put my shoe in your mouth yesterday before I could stop you). Now you'll eat any baby food I offer you. Prunes do not faze you a bit. Everything is NOM NOM NOM. As a matter of fact, you really do say "MMMMMMMMMMMM" after every single bite. Every single one! It's stinking adorable. I thought maybe you'd quit, but a day or so ago I gave you your very favorite, yogurt, and the MMMMM was back. That means there's no excuse for you refusing to say "Mama". You just won't. You say "Dadadadada" all day long, but never "Mama". Hmph.

I spent the majority of this month sick as a dog, and the Saturday that I was sickest, you were wonderful. You played, and goofed off, and asked very little of me. Sweet little man. I actually stayed sick for two solid weeks - with what seemed like just a miserable, awful cold. If you felt half as bad as I did, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't feel more sorry for you, and hold you around the clock if you wanted, because that was hideous.

Your firsts this month - you can pretty much sit up, but you cry every time you fall over, and you are simply not interested in sitting up on your own. Lazy! However, you also crawled a teeny bit the other day. WOOHOO! I was getting all worried because you seemed like you were falling behind, and then you went and crawled. Now I can't get you to do it again, so everyone probably thinks I'm a liar. Which just makes you a little stinker.

STINKER. That you is what you are! You made your first in-tub poo the other day, too. Delightful. The worst part is, with the bubbles, I didn't see it. I didn't see it until I went back a couple hours later to dump the little tub out (What? My hands were full! I'd like to see YOU juggle a wet baby and a baby tub full of water without dropping anything!) and the water was brown. That was all kinds of gross. Good thing your Daddy wasn't there - he would have thrown up.

We started Kindermusik this month, and it's kind of fun. I honestly never expected to feel like I got exercise, but I wasn't thinking about carrying/swinging you around the whole time. You seem to have fun, but you get overwhelmed by the end, and make it very clear to me that you want to go home. Very loudly.

In just another week we're going to our friend Alice's birthday party. I'm excited, and I hope you'll be good, and smile a little.

Picture taken by Rebecca Crandall of http://feistync.wordpress.com/

Even if you're cranky and crabby, you make every day better and more fun. I can't imagine life without you any more, and I wouldn't want to. I'm still really happy that you've got all the teeth you need for a little while, though.

Love,
Mamma

Official Parents of Preemies day

The first ever Parents of Preemies Day will be on  March 23rd, 2012! 

While I don't feel that my own courage and commitment need to be honored, I'm very pleased to announce that the courage and commitment of all preemie parents will be honored on this day. Yay!! 

Please follow this link for more information: http://parentsofpreemiesday.org/recognizing-parents-of-preemies.html

9 months

Dear Little T,

What a month. All of a sudden you are making big strides, and the dichotomy of being a mom emerges again.

You measured, two days ago, at almost 27 inches tall. That means you've grown an entire FOOT since birth. A foot. Do you have any idea how long it took me to grow the last foot I grew? YEARS. And you've gone from nothing to over two feet tall in something like 16 months. I'll never cease to marvel about it, even though I've seen it a million times with other people's kids.

Your first tooth came in this month. During the week of Christmas break. While Daddy was sick. So, yeah, it's been fun. I spent the whole week taking care of screaming, angry T, when I'd gotten to really enjoy cheerful, happy T. I was so looking forward to spending a week with happy T, and playing, and cooing, and I got an angry, angry child. Seriously, I put you down and you screamed like I had stabbed you repeatedly with needles (much like when we got your shots).  Except this happened every time I put you down. Since we've been to the doctor, oh, weekly since Thanksgiving, I promise you, you are not in pain because I'm putting you down. You did, however, make me want to give you to the circus. Fortunately, the tooth popped through, you bit me, and I was sure all was well. But those crankies did not go away. They went away abouta week or so later when the second tooth came through as well!

Christmas was...it sucked. I was excited about the idea of opening presents as a little family. And we did! Like two days after Christmas, because Daddy was so sick, he couldn't even get out of bed to go to Grandma's house, and I had to take you alone. After two presents, it was too much, and you started to cry.

There was plenty of good stuff - you learned to roll all over the place, so it's anybody's guess where you'll be if I leave you on the floor for a minute and come back. I'll put you in the living room, and you'll be gnawing on the dog's tail in the kitchen by the time I turn around.  I'm not joking; you tried to chew on my foot this morning, too. Also, you're getting up on your hands and knees! That sounds like no big deal, but you do it, and you rock, too! Yes, that totally means you're awesome, but it also means you're rocking back and forth, like you're thinking about crawling. You even launched yourself forward like..well, like a kid on a bike with training wheels going off a ramp, and landed about and inch in front of where you started. But hey! It's a start! You're going to crawl!

All my notes for this month have to do with the crankies. It overwhelmed us this month, but, as I said, you are true sunshine now that those darn teeth have come through. You were impossible to entertain for more than oh, three seconds at a time, and now you're happy as a clam to play with your box of diapers for an hour or so. I had to re-Ferberize you (YES, we do that. I love you more than I can say, but if you refused to sleep all night, or woke up 10 times a night, I'd kill myself and your Dad - obviously not in that order) because you were waking up at least twice a night, and Daddy's been working tons of overtime. He awesome for that - believe me - so we can pay your NICU bills, but I sure do miss him when you're crying in the middle of the night.

I had this whole internal debate with myself the other day - I thought it was very deep at the time. I wondered if I was spoiling you by holding you every night and rocking you to sleep and such. I always wondered what possessed parents to spoil their children, but I would give my eyeteeth and pinky fingers to keep you smiling. Half the time I worry that I'm not giving you enough love and attention and you'll grow up to be a sociopath (THANKS, Criminal Minds!) and the other half I worry I spoil you too much and you'll grow up to be a sociopath (Thanks again, Criminal Minds. Awesome show, truly terrible on the parent psyche).

Your new sound! You tell us very emphatically each day, "Da! DAdadadaDA! DA! Daaaaaa!" You even informed me that "Daddadada". Not a "Mama" in sight. Except for the class "Goo" and "Aaaah", you're not doing any more talking.

I love you. More every day, even when you're being a pill. Every day you give me another reason to laugh and smile. I can't wait to see what you accomplish next.

Love,
Mamma

“Time doth flit; oh shit.” 
― Dorothy Parker

Seriously. I have to stop playing on the internet.

This review of the nosefrida is so true and so funny.

http://tinyurl.com/8xhq6ay

A nosefrida, if you don't know, is this thing. 

This thing is gross. You literally suck snot out of your kid's nose with a tube. There's a little spongy thing that keeps the mucus from getting in your mouth, but it's still kind of horrifying. 


T hates it. HATES. He SCREAMS. Imagine tearing a child's arm off, like in the beginning of Stephen King's book IT (if the kid survived, of course). That's how he screams. He screams MUCH harder than say, when the pediatrician stuck his finger for blood and then squeezed and squeezed and squeezed it. He does NOT appreciate the nosefrida. 


However, when you have a child that has to go to the pediatrician say, at least once a week (actually, I've totally lost track. I've made a vow to keep a doctor visit journal) and usually for breathing issues, getting rid of snot is a priority. Those bulbs just aren't good enough. So yeah, I'm willing to use the greatest thing on the market for my son. As a matter of fact, I've bought three. (The dog ate the first one, so I bought a spare the second time). 


It's amazing. Your kid will act like you chopped off his arm and ate it, but at least he'll be able to breathe. 

I promise...

I'm working on T's monthly letter. However, I apparently love to post-steal, and here's another:

The Bloggess. I find, all too often, people mock depression. People mock the struggle, they mock because of those who abuse it for a disability check, they mock because they've never been there, and they mock because they can't see the bleeding. I suffer from anxiety. When I say suffer, I mean that. It's not the same. I'm perfectly aware that it isn't the same, but I think it gives me some empathy for those who suffer so much that they seriously don't have the will to live, and when they're finally rising out the depths is when they have the strength to commit suicide. How ironic is that? It reminds me of the phenomena wherein a terminally ill person seems to get well all of a sudden, right before he dies. And yet, people still don't believe. Everyone believes in friggin' breast cancer. How many don't believe/understand how many babies struggle to live, to breathe, even though the parents sacrificed everything to have them, and have done everything possible to have a healthy child? How many people, on the same end, don't believe that depression is real, or that it really affects people?

The Bloggess wants to see people wear silver ribbons for depression. I want to see more purple in support of babies like my son. My son, the beautiful light of my life, the cheerful happy child who is delighted to see anyone who will smile at him, that some people have said wasn't worth saving because he was born too early and so very very small. I have a lot of ribbons to wear.

Here's her original post about her struggles with depression: (I hope my ramblings didn't go too far off base).

http://thebloggess.com/2012/01/the-fight-goes-on/

For the babies: Prematurity awareness. 

                                    

For Depression. For every person who struggles to feel alive. 

I missed World Prematurity day

However, this article gets to me, so I'm going to post it anyway, because the March of Dimes walk is getting closer.

http://newsmomsneed.marchofdimes.com/?p=10405

From the March of Dimes website: 

The global toll of preterm birth is harsh. We estimate that worldwide, 13 million babies are born too soon each year. More than 1 million of these premature babies die before their first birthday. Here is a story from one of our friends in England, Honeybee Mum.

My girl was born in Africa at 26 weeks. We don’t know what she weighed, nobody bothered to check. We do know she had a 1 minute APGAR of 8. Then she was put outside on a table to die. After 6 hours they realized she was still breathing and ventilated her. In a shared crib. After 5 weeks she was sent home to die, in order not to clutter up the hospital. Shocking? Yes, but not so very far adrift from many preemies’ arrival all round the world. Including ‘western’ preemies.

My girl’s determination, strength and character shine through all of this. 6 years later she has a list of diagnoses that scare many medical professionals. She attends mainstream school, and speaks or understands several languages. She defies the odds at every turn. And yet our frequent blue-light rides in her ‘special van’ (ambulance) terrify us every time. When she’s lying blue-grey on the floor and I can’t find her pulse – again – I am at my most distraught.

My girl wants to be a dancer. A chef. A paramedic. She wants to build houses and paint. She wants to walk like her friends. She wants her body to work properly. She wants to be able to feed herself. To have a wash by herself. And a thousand other little-huge dreams. She roars with frustration and anger, then reaches deep and finds the strength to try again and again and again. I learn from her. I learn most of all to share a love of life lived in the moment, all the while holding onto dreams of the future. Dream big and aim high. Meanwhile do what you can today. My girl has taught me this.

I was going to write about the poignancy of driving miles to a hospital that hopes it can cope with her needs, on World Preemie Day. I was going to stop harping on about the history and the past. But while our babies are still demanding to come early into the world, their stories need to be told. Over and over again, until the unaffected world leaders begin to listen and hear their (silent) shouts for equity. For the care and attention that should be their birthright, their due. For the tables and waiting places to be taken away for ever. For their ongoing needs to be addressed and supported. For proper research, at the point of prematurity and on and on into the future lives of the ‘unlucky’ ones. Because yes, some come away unscathed. The few and far between ones. The lucky ones. Their terror journey has ended. For so many of us, the rollercoaster will continue to an unthinkable ending.

This problem is truly global, affecting families everywhere. Although the vast majority of preterm births and related deaths occur in poor countries, families in wealthier nations are also at risk of having a baby born preterm. In fact, the number of premature babies born in the United States has increased 36 percent over the last 25 years.

The March of Dimes partners with organizations around the world to raise awareness of the problem of premature birth. Today, November 17, 2011 — World Prematurity Day — we are making a global effort to draw attention to the global crisis.

Our global alliance partners include the European Foundation for the Care of Newborn Infants (EFCNI), Little Big Souls International Foundation in Africa and the National Premmie Foundation in Australia. We welcome inquiries from organizations who are interested in supporting these efforts.

Tags: premature baby, premature birth, prematurity, preterm birth,World Prematurity Day

MSNBC on Micro Preemies

http://health.newsvine.com/_news/2011/12/12/9387753-tiniest-preemies-growing-up-healthy-despite-odds?threadId=3294064&commentId=60690174#c60690174

The fact that some of these people are arguing against saving these babies is what hurts me the most (in the comments).  Who would ever look at my son and say he wasn't worth saving?

The article itself says little to offend, except to further the idea that many preemies aren't worth saving. The lack of information and knowledge out there is frustrating and infuriating, and the fact that people routinely ignore this issue for Breast Cancer Awareness makes me even angrier. And yet, I don't exactly know what to do about it - I'm going to participate, no question, in March for Babies. I'm very much looking forward to it. Still, it doesn't seem like that is enough.

It's the gestational age of a baby, much more so than the weight, that matters in saving him or her. Even then, yes, sometimes the complications are very great. However, people labor intensely to save 80-year-olds when they are struggling to survive; how much less worthy is a child who hasn't even had his chance yet?

It makes me feel helpless and angry. If you're reading this, please share this information - no parent should have to lose his or her child if that child could be saved, and no parent should have to fight the naysayers who think that our children aren't/weren't worth saving.  It's just sickening.

8 months

Dear Little T,

This month has been a roller coaster.  While you are absolutely more adorable than ever, you are impossible to capture on camera. It never does you justice.

Thanksgiving sucked, because you have been so sick.  The continuous rattle in your throat and chest has made into my very own little Model T Ford.  We're best buds with the doctor now (a new doctor that I love). She even calls us at home and meets us on Saturdays.  Seriously, I totally love her.  The pharmacist also knows us by name, and I am not even kidding. She recognizes us before I tell her who we are, and lets me know if your prescription is ready yet or not. 

This month alone you've been on three rounds of antibiotics, most of which are so strong that runny, snot resembling poops are becoming a way of life.  I've actually lost track of the number of times I've lifted you up and thought, "Oh. He's wet. Wonder if he had a bit spit up? Oh, NO. NO, that's NOT spit up. Ewwwwwww!" and then we're running for the bathroom. The scenario that follows is a bit like this:

Mommy holding baby out from body, rushes to bathroom. Then, Mommy twirls in circles, wondering where on earth she's going to PUT baby while she runs the bath. No more spreading of the poo! Somehow, she manages to wrangle the baby out of the PJs with one hand, balancing baby on the edge of the sink, pulls the diaper off, dumps in sink. More twirling while we once again worry about where to put baby. Finally, giving up, puts baby on towel or blanket on carpet outside of bathroom, while warning dog away. Dog will most certainly lick baby parts, which will lead to Daddy, Mommy or both throwing up and adding to mess. Mommy finally gets bath run, plops baby in bath, begins to scrub. Baby then produces more phlegm-poo, and scenario begins again, only this time with wet, naked baby.

Usually this happens on the nights when Daddy is working, of course. Mommy is about to join the cast of the The Walking Dead because of the lack of sleep - not only from the phlegm-poo scenes, but from the Very Full Monster Wet Diaper (VFMWD) that you somehow manage to produce while you are asleep for like, an hour (seriously, people, how does one kid pee that much?), which also produces a similar bath scene to the phlegm-poo scene, the HONGRY wake ups at midnight, 2 or 4 or 5 am and, my personal favorite, the Breathing Treatments.

Yes, Breathing Treatments (with Albutirol, another reason the pharmacist knows us), with a capital BT. Apparently, you wheezed. I was a little worried you hadn't kicked your cold before Thanksgiving, so we went to see the doc, and Lo, Little T is wheezing. I couldn't hear said wheezing, I still can't identify said wheezing if my life depends on it, but you were. (Actually, when I did finally identify wheezing, a week later, we had a full scale panic alert. Mommy + no sleep + sick T + wheezing = Trail of Mommy Tears.  We went to see that poor doctor on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and she called us at home on Sunday, and had her office staff call us at home on Monday.  Anyway, the Breathing Treatments were every four hours around the clock, and Daddy was working all those nights, so I got up and gave them to you.  You don't like them. I don't like them, either. The face mask, made to look  like a friendly, cheerful fish, has no appeal for you. You straight up scream when I tried to put it on you. It's clearly made for a child twice your size, anyway. I just ended up sticking the blowing tube of steam-like medicine (not hot, just steam-like) in your face and letting you breathe. It smells a lot like new plastic. You like to nom the end of it sometimes, but I figure if it makes you happy and you'll put up with it, we're good.

A week after this begins, you're better, but  not well. So, back to the doc we go. The Breathing Treatments, (which apparently aren't all that unusual for little kids, even "Termies" as we call full term babies) are almost over, but you still sound like a little Model T. Now you're on steroids. Maybe that's why you've been so irritable this week - Baby 'Roid Rage.  Anyway, you finally seem to be actually getting well, which is almost new to us, since we haven't seen it since summer time.

Moving on from illness: Somehow you are growing so fast, it's unbelievable. You eat more than any baby I've ever seen, and yet you're still so thin for a baby. It's odd, but I guess you're eating to make up for the lack of extra baby fat. I figure that, and then I have a good cry, because I still feel like it's my fault that you didn't get the time to get that baby fat. You are, however, bigger than one of my friend's one year old daughter, which astounds me. She's pretty wee, but she looks like a normal one year old to me. It's fascinating to watch her stand. How does a kid do that? You aren't even sitting up yet. Actually, we'll sit you up, and you'll totally fold yourself over in half, and have your face literally on your knees. Then you push up with your hands, which is totally cool. The house is filled with squeeing and excitement (mine) when you do it. Of course, when the camera's out, you'll just roll to your side, as if to say "ha! Ha, Momma! I defy your camera!" Contrary kid.

Along with growing up very quickly, your hair is getting long on the top. You still have a bald spot in the back, but long hair in the front. It's very stylin'.

Since it's December, I get to sing you "Baby, It's Cold Outside", my favorite Christmas song. There's no snow, of course, and if you think about the meaning too hard, or at all, it's a little creepy for me to sing to you, but whatever. It's a song, and you don't care yet, anyway.

We went to see Santa today. I really thought there was no way we'd get you to smile, but you were hamming it up for the 8 year old girl in line in front of us.  - I hope you cry. Although, you totally smile any time you see just about any one, but especially Daddy. Every day, and every smile is like sunshine for us. Your Grandma Deb visited today, and she said what I often think - just seeing you makes her(my_whole day better, and brightens her(my) mood. I know just what she means. I wish I could bottle up your laughter and save it forever.

Love,
Momma

The Duggars and loss

It's been announced, yes, that Michelle Duggar has had a miscarriage.

I'm so deeply conflicted about this. I'm absolutely sorry for them. Losing a child, especially that far along in pregnancy, is so painful. Regardless of how many children one has, a parent anticipates a child for so long, feels him or her moving inside of her, and to have it die... I can't, and won't imagine. It devastated me to go from being pregnant one minute to waking up a couple hours later and not being pregnant anymore. My baby was alive, and is a beautiful boy now. I don't know how I'd face life if I'd lost him.

I am grateful that she has other children that she has the opportunity to take solace in, but I imagine, too, that she has to provide comfort, as much as one can, to those children. If she gets pregnant again, it's never going to be with the innocence of anticipation that someone who has never lost a child, or had a preemie, has. I know the thought of being pregnant again fills me with as much fear as it does joy, for many reasons, but primarily the fear of loss. The fear that I will love that child so deeply, be literally connected to him (or her) and then lose that child prevents me from even considering another at the present.

So, yes, while on one hand I am not terribly surprised that this pregnancy did not go well, I feel true sorrow for her and her family. I know her body is probably tired, and I disagree with her that she could go on trying for children, or simply not preventing them, because I think God allowed us discover birth control so that we could better take care of our bodies, and take better care of the children we have.  My father himself comes from a large family, and I know there were times where he and his siblings did not feel they, as individuals got enough attention. It's not that they weren't cared for, but they lacked something. I would never choose that for my own children.  I think there's selfishness, even greed, in that.

Nevertheless, no one deserves the pain of losing a child. Just having my own son has made me much more sympathetic to that. I loved him before he was conceived - I yearned for a baby. I adore this child, and I have known women to face life without a baby that they felt moving and living inside of them. I cannot imagine the pain of that loss, not truly. I can try, and that in itself shakes me to my core. I honestly do not, cannot, imagine living after something like that, or wanting to. I'm not saying or advocating suicide if one loses a child - not at all - I just don't know how I could face it.

I love a good mom post

For those without children, sometimes it seems like my gushing in bullshit, and my complaints are too horrifying to imagine.  This mom sums up my response to that very nicely:

http://akasupermommy.wordpress.com/2011/11/14/10-things-i-hate-about-motherhood-and-one-that-i-love/#comment-91

This section had the most impact on me:
"Fear. Loving a child means spending countless hours, days, weeks, years fearing for that child. You fear that they will be hurt, that they will become sick, that they will die, you fear that you will die and they will be orphaned, you fear that they will ask you about death and you won’t have an answer; you fear that they will be the one kid in their kindergarten class that isn’t invited to that one kid’s birthday party; you fear that they will never love books as much as you do; you fear that they will worry about their looks; you fear that their heart will someday be broken. You lay awake at night worrying about the fact that their heart willsomeday [sic] be broken. You lay awake at night, worrying. Which is why, on those rare nights when the children sleep right through? You’re still not sleeping." 


My blessed mother in law (who really is one of the best mothers in law anyone could be blessed with) wants to keep my son for the weekend. This weekend is my birthday, and I feel like shouting "WOOOHOOOO!" on one hand, and on the other, a little sad that my baby won't be home for my birthday. It seems this works for almost every aspect of motherhood. 

Yay!!!

T is just shy of 7 months, and he's on the charts for his weight! I'm so excited!

According to the World Health Organization (and the chart below, which has random stats, not T's), he's at 10.9%!! He was at 5% just a month ago, so this is amazing. As of yesterday, he weighed 16.1 pounds. He's quintupled his birth weight.


By infantchart.com

Preemie awareness month

This is what T looked like 11 days after his birth. That is a beanie baby next to him.  I know of other babies, equally premature, who did not do as well, and died. Please be aware of the problems of premature birth, which is the most common cause of infant death. Go to marchofdimes.org for more information. Thanks for your support. 

7 months

Dear Little T,

Since Daddy always calls you that, it seems suitable that I address you as such on the blog.

This month you are really trying to sit up. You've begun squealing, and screaming (happy screams!) which is so cute, and you make the most use of those screams when you are proud of yourself, like when you sit up for a second (usually with a little help from me or Daddy).

We put together your Johnny Jump Up this weekend, but you're not really into it yet.

It's getting so much colder, so we've finally dug out your sleep sacks. I'm so grateful that someone gave them to us - they're not cheap, and you've managed to dirty three of the four in the last couple of days.

While we started you on solids a month or so ago, we decided that you needed to wait a little more. I tried you again the other day and it was so different. You sat up (in the bumbo chair), opened your mouth, and leaned for it. You didn't seem to want it that much, but I have a feeling you just weren't that hungry.

Christmas is coming, and Mommy is trying to make some gifts this year instead of buying them all, to save money, and because it seems more thoughtful, for those that don't want specific items. However, I feel sometimes that I'm neglecting you while I'm working on those. There's so little time!

I remember last year thinking that this would be the year that I'd take my own baby to see Santa. I can't believe that's really coming up. You got your picture taken at "baby school" (daycare) last week, and you looked so unbelievably grown up.

You're already getting too big for your size 2 diapers, and moving into 3's. We haven't even finished the first box of 2's yet!

You got shots (they were supposed to be 6 month shots, but you got in a little late, and then you were sick when we took you, so you had to wait), and that was miserable. You were so cranky that weekend! I know you didn't feel well, and I felt bad for you. You pretty much slept, ate a little, and cried/whined. We watched Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast (your first time for both), but you didn't seem to enjoy them all that much. Maybe later. Maybe we'll try The Jungle Book; that was your aunt's favorite.

This month you have begun grabbing things and stuffing them in your mouth. I know that's a normal baby thing, but it's fascinating to watch you. I bought you a stuffed tiger at the zoo last month, and I gave it to you just to see what would happen. Not only did you attempt to stuff his entire head in your mouth, but you got so frustrated when it didn't fit! I thought only the dog could manage to slobber on a toy that much, but I was completely mistaken. Clearly, you are giving him a run for his money.

Your giggling is the highlight of my days. You start by smiling, and then saying "Ohhhhh", which turns into "EEEEEEEE".  It's not a conventional laugh, but it's more than delightful. I can't help but laugh with you. I'll do anything to make you laugh more - get hit in the face with the bear mobile over your swing over, and over and over again, sing silly songs, stand on my head. It's worth it.

Halloween was beyond adorable. You were given two costumes, which actually turned out much better than the one we bought you, just in terms of comfort. We didn't go trick or treating, but I did take you to our annual party, where you promptly fell asleep. I think the highlight of your grandmother's night was getting to hold you before I took you home.

I can't imagine life without you, Little Man. You bring new joy to every single day. 

Love, 

Momma

Month 6

Dear TK,

Today 13 days ago you are turned six months old. I wrote this post then, and needed to find pictures. I'm slack.

We went to the Pediatric Rehab today to have a NICU follow-up. I was very nervous; I suppose I was just afraid they were going to tell me that something was wrong with you. I know you're perfect. You've been the Strongest Baby Ever since day 1. My pride in you and your abilities truly knows no bounds, and I'm sure that would not have changed had the doctors said something was wrong, but nevertheless, I worried. That's what I do. The doctor and the therapists all said that you're right on track for your age. You're not the average six month old, but since you should have been born in June, you are absolutely doing great for the average 3 1/2 month old. You're at the 50% percentile for head size, and your weight is on the 5% for 6 months and 50% for 3 months. You're still a little short, but that's ok. You're a member of our family, so you fit right in.

Geekery and drool.

The cooing and talking and squealing continues, and every time you and I have a conversation, it's a joy. You are so much fun right now! You respond to people more than anything - you don't care much about toys, or music, but you really like people's faces. You light up and smile whenever anyone talks to you, and when we go out to the store, you're not happy unless you can see my face, so I put you in your stroller backward so you can see me. You sure know how to make your mommy feel loved!

Your current "words" are: Aroooo, Wooo, Gooo, and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, and WAH, which is an old word for you. Daddy likes to say that Aroooo is your best friend. Maybe that's what we'll call the toy tiger I bought you on your first trip to the zoo on Saturday.

The last couple of weeks have been really difficult. An acquaintance lost her son two weeks ago to SIDS. He wasn't much younger than you are, and, worse, he spent less time in the NICU. It reminds me just how fragile you are, and it made me very, very afraid. Her words just tore me apart. I hope I'll never be able to truly imagine her pain, but what I can imagine is absolutely terrifying. I'd be sleeping with you in my bed if I weren't afraid that would risk your life more than keeping you in your own bed.

This month I've been trying to knit you a Sock Monkey costume, but I don't think my skills aren't quite at that level, so I bought you a banana costume instead for Halloween. I can't wait to see the pictures of you in it!

Everyone is always commenting on your beautiful big eyes, which are obviously turning hazel now, like mine. Every one of your expressions are so beautiful, but when you open your eyes wide and smile, no one can resist you. I meet babies your age, and I often think, "Gosh! They have such small eyes!"

Your daddy says he still doesn't like babies, but he obviously adores you. Watching you two play together is like a dream come true.

The bath is new fun for you now. You're learning to enjoy splashing, and when you get your feet really kicking, everyone gets wet. I don't think our home has ever had so much laughter in it.

You do cry, but usually only when you're tired or hungry. Yesterday you cried for 30 minutes on our drive home from visiting a friend, but as soon as I picked you up out of your car seat, you were smiling and happy again. It was dark, and I think you might have just been lonesome.

This month you are in size 2 diapers, which in the way of milestones is no big deal, but it's exciting for me. I had to return yet another box of size 1s. Target actually will not let me return anything else! I'm banned!

Our NICU bills are still pretty formidable. We've actually resorted to having money taken out of your father's check every month, and one of the bills has gone to collections. I hate admitting that, but it's true. Even with insurance, which actually covered enormous amounts of the bills (which totaled, just for you alone, $250,000), the remaining costs still fall to us, in addition to lots of testing and bills for me. I can't imagine how bitter I'd be if we were dealing with all these and we didn't have you with us. I can't imagine being someone who struggled and struggled and still lost their baby, or family member. I'm really looking forward to joining the March of Dimes this coming year in hopes of helping others. Someday there might be a cure for HELLP Syndrome, and Pre-eclampsia, so this won't happen to other families, I hope.

Love,
Momma