Clean Sheet Night

Clean sheet night is probably my favorite night of the week. I can get into my clean, made, bed and forget all about the basket of clothes in the floor beside me. I don’t have to think about the dirty dishes on my side stand, or the empty granola bar wrapper/wrappers that was left by one or both of the kids. I can take my glasses off and it’s all a blur, I can just pretend like it’s not even there. When I crawl under the blanket and slide my legs into the clean sheets, it feels something like what perfection must feel like. Ahhh.

 
Last night was clean sheet night. I took a shower and shaved my legs. (One of the things that make having clean sheets even better.) I could hardly wait to go to bed. It had been a pretty productive day. I had cleaned the living room, mopped the kitchen floor and made a decently healthy supper. I cooked garlicky chicken and quinoa. The kids were both fed and had brushed their teeth, and Harper was bathed and in her pajamas. It was still early, so I left the kids with Brad so I could sneak away to my slumber.

 
I lay down, settled in and turned off the light on the side table. It was so nice. Then, not 45 seconds later, I heard Harper running down the hall. She crawled up in the bed with her giant stuffed pup and got under the covers with me. I smelled something. It was food. It was the garlicky chicken that I had made for supper. Then I felt it. It was the quinoa falling out of her hair all over my clean sheets! I do not know how, but the child had about two tablespoons of quinoa stuck all in the side of her hair. As she snuggled closer under the covers, the quinoa was squishing into my sheets and rolling down the bed to where I lay.

 

And just like that, it was over.

 
We got up, wiped the quinoa off the sheets and combed it out of her hair, and went back to bed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was perfection for me. My precious little girl wanted to snuggle up with her mommy, and how could I deny her that. I love those little snuggles.

 
As a mommy of two littles, I can’t expect things to go just so. Things haven’t gone “just so” in well over 9 years. I have had to lower my standards immensely from what they were before children. When I say lower my standards, what I mean is that I no longer have standards.  But that is okay. It has made me a better person. I think. Has it? I don’t know. I have also lost most of my thinking ability.

 
What I do know is that it’s been a busy day today. Clean sheet day has come and gone, there are blankets, toys and shoes strewn all across my living room, there is mud on the kitchen floor, and the kids are eating canned soup for dinner.

Section 504

Oh, time to blog again.  I am stressed.

I have been trying to get a 504 plan in place for Wesley for over a month.  Because of his life threatening allergy to milk, he is eligible to have this plan written out so that the school staff will have a guide of what is acceptable and what is not so that his life is not in danger and so that he can fully participate in school activities.  I can include things like sitting at a lunch table with other kids as long as they don’t have milk, and cleaning off the table with clean soap and hot water before he sits down.  Also, not using his allergen in the classroom as a teaching tool, washing hands after eating and things like that.  If they don’t abide by the plan, their government funding could be cut.

I am sure I am already starting out to be a major pain before the first day of school is even here, but I told the guidance counselor, Mrs. Powell, what needed to be done back in the spring when I preregistered Wesley for Kindergarten.   This summer, I called the special education coordinator because she is who would help me to get this going.  It was her last day so she couldn’t help me.  She resigned!  They have yet to hire a replacement.  I have called back to the board of education twice a week since then and they still have no one.

Yesterday was Wesley’s kindergarten screening.  I have been pretty calm up until then.  I talked to his guidance counselor while he was being tested, and she informed me that the school is under construction, people are on vacation, and she wasn’t going to tell me who Wesley’s teacher will be until the Friday before school starts.  (It starts the following Wednesday.)  Then, on top of that, she told me that they were not having an open house this year, and there would be no way for me to talk to his teacher until the first day of school!

What the crap?!?

She said she would tell the school nurse.  I do want the school nurse to know, but she isn’t the one who will be with my child all day.  I just never imagined that it would be this difficult to get some cooperation with such a serious issue.

So, not only is our 504 plan not even started, but she wanted me to send him to school without educating his teacher about his allergies.  Yesterday, my day was ruined after that.  It was miserable.  I didn’t know really what to do.  I did as much research as I could and I was intending to talk to the superintendent today, but in all my furor, I woke up this morning at 4:00.  I decided to email the guidance counselor and explain my situation.

I don’t want to be a pain in the butt.  I want to be a HUGE part of Wesley’s education.  I want to help out at school and I want his teachers to like me.  I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot, but what am I to do?  I am not going to risk his life!   I really didn’t want Wes to miss his first day or week of school.  It would be such an injustice.

I know that some people whose children have never had allergies really just don’t understand why I would not send Wes to school until things are fixed.  But Wesley’s life is more important to me than anything.  I absolutely refuse to risk it.  I can’t send him in there with a lunch room full of milk cartons and kindergartners without first explaining some things to the people taking care of him.

Today, I feel a lot better, but still freaking out.  Mrs. Powell emailed me back and said that she would arrange for the 504 meeting the day before school starts.  That is much later than I would like it to be, but atleast it is getting done.

I have all my stuff printed out.  I just need to get his doctor to sign.  I’m hoping that was the worst of it.

Whew, feeling better already!

Summertime

Wesley’s summer has been very eventful so far.  It seems like it is going by so fast.  Too fast.  In one month, he will start kindergarten.  That makes his Mamma’s heart break.

We have tried to stay busy and have fun before school starts.  I bought us season tickets to the water park and we have been going once or twice a week.  We have traveled to Indiana to see our cousins, then to Cincinnati for a NephCure walk, then to Johnson City, Tennessee for our convention.  All back to back.  It feels good to finally be home and not traveling.

My most fond memories are of summers when my cousins would come visit.  We would have the best times playing all day, then staying up late catching lightning bugs and looking at the stars.  Then we would go to bed, wake up and do it all over again.  I want that for Wesley too.  He has lots of cousins and he loves them all.  We have gotten together with them a few times this year.  It seems the same as it was for me when I was little.  Even though they only see one another occasionally, they are best buds when they get together.  It’s like they were never apart.

This summer, with cousins (and friends as close as cousins) we have picked strawberries, went to the fair, swam, hiked, learned to shoot a bow, dug in the dirt, gone to the drive-in, caught lightning bugs, cooked out, roasted marshmallows and got a few boo-boos.

I would call that a good summer for a five year old boy.

The best news is that Wesley has been in remission for ten months!  It really eases the worries.

It’s not over yet.  We still have time for more fun.  As a Mommy, this has been my best summer yet!

Mouse In The House

Last night we found our cats running down the hall batting a dead mouse back and forth.  Gross!

Well, thankfully it was dead.  I was happy to know that my cats know how to take care of business… and hopeful that there were no more of those cute little critters running around my house.

We came home tonight and Wes was eating a snack while I read him a story.  I heard a rustle in the egg noodle bag.  Yes, it was another mouse.  Yes, I threw away everything open on my counter.

So, the boy decided to trap this mouse.  He came up with a plan fast.

                          ^^  (The Plan) ^^

When I asked him how is the cat going to get out to kill the mouse, he replied, “I will open it really fast when I see the mouse coming”
Notice the half peanut butter sandwich to draw the mouse to the trap.

I suppose my child will stand here all night until he catches his mouse!

Food Allergies. Maybe No More?

I can’t find the switch to turn my brain off.  It is 4:30 a.m. and I am still wide awake.  Here is what I am thinking:

Finally, after four very long years, there is a possibility that Wesley may have outgrown some or all of his food allergies.  We have been waiting to get all of the immunosuppressants out of his system so that he can be tested.

It really and truly has always felt like this day would never come.

Last week I called his allergist and made an appointment for Monday.  I talked to her later on Friday and she said if we could get blood work done that day, he could do one oral food challenge at his appointment if the allergy “markers” weren’t there.

Oh, I was SO excited.  I was at work, but I immediately made arrangements to take the kid to get blood work.  Come to find out, it has to be sent out of town and we won’t know until Wednesday.  So, our appointment will be Wednesday.

It is just such a good thing to think about.  Wow, we have been so consumed with every bite that our kid eats and even what we eat for so long, it is nice to ponder that maybe, just maybe our kid can eat like everybody else’s kid does.  People won’t think we are overreacting.  When we go to restaurants we won’t have to ask for the manager and tell him fifteen times that our kid could die if he doesn’t cook the food the way we tell him to.  If we eat cereal with real milk, we won’t have to wash our mouth and quarantine everything that touched the milk. In fact, it is very rare that we even own cow’s milk anymore.  I have tried several times to completely ban it from the house.  We have probably only bought eggs about five times in these last four years because it is so scary to make sure all the egg is cleaned off even before we put it in the dishwasher.

We realized that Wesley had a problem very early.  In the NICU, he couldn’t nurse so I pumped.  They gave him my milk, but continued to push me to add formula so that he would grow faster.  I refused for several weeks until they finally made me feel like I was starving my child. (Which I definitely wasn’t.)  So, I gave the okay to mix formula in.  It made him very sick.  He got NEC and was npo for seven days.  Then THEY were starving my child.  Err, makes me mad to even think about it.

Back on subject..

So after he came home and continued to grow, we did what a lot of parents do.  He was probably six months old and we were eating ice cream.  We put a little in his mouth to see if he liked it.  Not long after, he had a rash around his mouth.  Not a big deal.  I never suspected a serious allergy and we moved on with our life.

In the next few months he would get a small rash around his mouth occasionally after eating.  It concerned me, but not much because the rash was the only symptom.  Then, one night we had friends over and ordered pizza.  Wesley was just a little over a year old and had a couple of little teeth.  I gave him a pizza crust to chew on.  About an hour later, his face was crazy swollen.  His eyes almost swelled shut.  He was wheezing.

I was a big dummy.  He was having an anaphylactic reaction.  I really didn’t think that could happen unless you had a nut allergy.  We called the on call pediatrician.  It was about 11:00 at night.  He told me he was having an allergic reaction, go straight to the emergency room.   I still wasn’t even that worried about it.  I really didn’t know how serious it was.  Well, his breathing kept getting worse and his lips were turning blue by the time we got there.  The next week, he was allergy tested and here we are.

Milk, soy and egg.

Once, he drank some of my iced coffee through a straw.  It had cream in it.  He started reacting and I had to use the EpiPen.  Not long after this, he had a cup of milk spilled on him.  On his body, everywhere the milk had touched, (which was most of his body) looked like it had been burned.  Another ER visit.  And that wasn’t even from ingesting it.  It was skin contact, and that was the beginning of the Arnett house milk ban.

Nevertheless, I have been very diligent to keep my child safe from these foods that could kill him.

So, all of these nice thoughts have been going through my head.  I keep thinking of all the things that he has never had and how I want him to have them all.  I keep imagining what if he has only outgrown one allergen.  It would open up a whole new menu for our kid.  I am just seriously overjoyed.

But then, I think, how can this even be possible.  How can something so deadly just be outgrown?   Just like that?  Apparently it happens.  In fact, by the time children are five, and Wesley is, they have a 90% chance of being allergy free.  Except for peanuts.  Most of the time peanut allergies are for life.  Thankfully, Wes isn’t allergic to peanuts.

Wesley is pretty dern ecstatic about this allergy test too.  After he had rituximab, we started to realize that if he could just stay in remission long enough, he would be able to be tested.  I started talking about it to him about a month ago.  He talks about it very often.  We go to the store and read the ingredients and daydream of what he could eat if only he just outgrew soy.  He has been talking about having his allergy test since I told him.

I was at work when I found out he needed blood work on Friday.  I called the house to tell my mother-in-law to take him to the lab.  I talked to Wesley and he normally hates to know he is getting blood work.  He was SO happy!

But, little did I know that my kid is just as stressed out about this as me, maybe even more so.  Last night we were going to sleep and he was talking a lot.  Then he kind of got sad and tears were welling up in his eyes.  He asked me how did I know that he wouldn’t die when we do the food challenge.  I told him his doctor would be very certain that it was safe before we try it.  I reminded him how we did the peanut challenge.  I told him if he had a reaction, we have medicine and he wouldn’t die.  He cried.

And I think, this is all he has ever known.  He is an awesome self-advocate.  I have taught him how serious food allergies are.  How scared my baby must to go against every thing he has been taught.

Boy does it break my heart that my little boy, who should be carefree, is worrying about such a thing.  He has been through so much in his short little five years.  He doesn’t even realize it.  It is all just normal to him….  Until we tell him he can eat an allergen.

Well, that is yet to be seen.  We have to get the blood work back first.

So this is what I am thinking and why I am still awake at the time that most people are just waking up from their good night’s sleep.

The Flu

Monday, we went to Lexington with Brad’s mom to take the niece and nephew back to their mamma.  We met at the mall and shopped some.  Wesley started feeling bad about an hour later and said his legs were hurting and he wanted to be carried.  Then my mother in law said that Wesley was feeling hot.   He was so whiney and hurting.

After what seemed like forever, I finally made my way to Walmart to get a thermometer.   I wanted to check him while we were there because I knew if it was very high, we could very well end up right back there in the hospital.  After he had his rituximab infusions, the doctor said not to mess around with a fever.  A fever is an emergency.   I took his temperature and it was under 100.  We went on home and he went to bed early. 

Tuesday was New Year’s.  The boy was still running a low-grade fever and seemed weak, but no doctors were open and his temperature was still under 101.  That night, it got higher so I paged his nephrologist.  He said to take him to his pediatrician in the morning.  At that point, me and Brad were coming down with it too.  We all had fevers and our bodies ached. 

So Wednesday morning, we were a mess.  I knew I had to take the boy to the doctor.  I got up, called for an appointment and took a shower.  We got there and waited.  Wesley was on the table playing a game and I just got up there and laid beside him.  No position I was in made me comfortable. 

The nurse swabbed his throat and his nose.  Fifteen minutes later, the doctor walked in with an informational paper and said the flu test was positive.   She prescribed him Tamiflu and sent us home to drink plenty of liquids.  We all stayed in bed for the rest of the day except I had to go to the pharmacy to get the Tamiflu. 

That night was rough.  We were all so miserable.  Every time I coughed, I felt like a cat coughing up a hairball.  It was gagging me.  I threw up on the wall.  Not much is worse than cleaning up your own vomit. 

I went to my doctor the next day because of my cough.  Every time I coughed, even now still, I can’t get control over it.  My flu test was positive as well, despite having the flu shot this fall.  I could’ve saved a $35 copay and told him that on the phone if he would just call me in something for cough.   He prescribed me cough syrup and sent me home to drink plenty of liquids.

Fortunately, Wesley is getting better.  No relapse.  But now that he is better, there is nobody to entertain the poor little guy.  He has watched every episode of Phineas and Ferb ever made.  Now he is on to Garfield and Pocoyo.   He has been in here every 15 minutes happily jumping on the bed causing our heads to throb.  Poor kid.  The first one to get better always gets the bad end of the deal. 

Me and Brad are cold and sweaty and feverish.  Yesterday Brad said that our sheets must be teeming with all sorts of nasty germs.  I washed them.  I am sure they need it again, maybe when this goes away. 

On a positive note, this is the most time we have spent together as a family in a very long time.

I am so hoping that the morning will be better.  Maybe next week I can write a much more interesting story when I am not under the influence of cough syrup and cold medicine.   Until then, stay far away from us.  You do not want this!

Welcome To Holland

I have an online support group that I use for Wesley’s rare kidney disease.  One of my fellow support groupers just shared this wonderful poem.  It brought tears to my eyes.  It is a wonderful illustration of how I feel about Wesley.  

“I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” 

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.”

Bedroom Remodel

We have an older house.  It was built in the 1960’s.  One of the things that I really like about it is that all the floors other than the kitchen and bathrooms are hardwood.  It is the old stuff.  I love it.  Dings, dents and all.

The people who lived here before us must have thought it to be a good idea to cover the bedrooms in carpet.  Apparently at one point, the whole house was carpeted, including one of the bathrooms.  When we moved in, only the bedrooms had carpet.  I promptly removed it, except in the master bedroom, because Brad (love his heart) really likes carpet.  ????  I know, right?  Carpet is so gross.

Well, our bedroom carpet has seen it all in the 7 years that we have lived here.  (and probably years before that)  It was getting bad.  One time, Coke was on sale, like really cheap.  I thought it was a good idea to stock up.  I stored a few cases under the bed.  That, in fact, was a bad idea.  For some reason one can exploded and the carpet was never the same again.  Then, of course along came a kid and the rest is history.  Bottom line, I have been disgusted to walk on my carpet without feet covering for some time now.  I have threatened to pull it up, only to end up in a fight with my husband.

My wonderful Granny called me last week and told me that she found some FREE carpet for me!  It was new and from a duplex that had been for sale, then when it sold the people ripped it up and put down hard wood floors.  (The stuff that Brad wants covered up.. Argh!).  I figured anything would be better than what we had.

So, my daddy said he would help me lay the carpet.  My mom came over on Monday and helped me move everything out of the bedroom.  Then, we started tearing the old carpet out.  Oh, it was gross.  Have you ever looked under carpet?  It took all day Monday to get all the work done.  Tuesday was put it all back together day, or so I thought.

I decided to paint the walls before laying the carpet.  It took 4 trips to Lowe’s before I finally got the paint color right, kind of.  First it was light gray, then dark gray.. then for some reason purple.  I finally got tired and decided to stick with the purple.  I got most of the room painted late Tuesday night.  I was so exhausted from running around with a kid all day trying to make paint color decisions that I was starting to get delusional.  Then, as I was painting, I realized that if I had a little girl, I would have to make my room hers.  It was starting to look like a little girl’s princess room.  After I got mostly finished, I decided that I didn’t care what it looked like, I was done changing colors.  I was starting to lose square footage, and my sanity.

Wednesday, I started to finish it up.  After looking at the princess purple for so long, I thought it would be a good idea to go back and get some darker purple paint for just one wall.  It made it look a little less like Ariel was moving in.

My dad came and helped lay the carpet.  Thursday, I was finishing up and moving stuff back in.  (still not done)  But finally I have accepted the paint color.  I am sure that if I had of had time to contemplate it, I could have chosen a better color, but it is definitely better than the crazy bright red that I had before.

So… after ALL that, and a crazy first of the month day at The Medicine Shoppe, I came home, ate some pizza and watched a movie.  During the movie, which didn’t at all interest a five-year old boy, my son broke his whoopie cushion and his world came crashing down.  It was so pitiful.  You could see the sorrow in his little eyes.  He LOVES that whoopie cushion.  I assured him that we could go to the dollar store in the morning and get him a new one.

Wesley has a new little thing that he does.  I am a big “list” person.  I have to make lists or I don’t remember what I am supposed to do next.  Well, he has caught on.  Whenever there is something that is important to him that has to wait, he brings me paper and pen and tells me what to write.

I had to pause the movie to write, “Let’s not forget to buy a whoopie cushion at the dollar store.”  Which was fine.  Except, because we are out of tape from all of his many lists… He GLUED it to my newly painted purple wall.  I didn’t know about it because I was trying to watch a movie.  He came and told me and I tried not to flip out.  His excuse: no tape.  I know it was completely innocent.  I couldn’t yell at the little guy, but boy did it send my blood pressure up.  I could feel my heart beating in my forehead.

I calmly told him that he is not allowed to even touch any wall that is purple.  So, I just wonder, is it worth trying to make your house nice when you have a kid?  I see other people who do it.  It must not be that hard.  Maybe I am weak or maybe my kid is just a little extra strong; maybe it is a little of both.  Who knows.

I do know that next time, I will work an extra day at work and hire it done!  Maybe I should just wait till the kid is grown.

My 29 Weeker

I just got an email from The March of Dimes reminding me that this Saturday is World Prematurity Day.  November is also Prematurity Awareness Month.  To me, every November these reminders hit closer to home than I would like them to.

Five years ago, I went into labor completely unexpectedly at 26 weeks.  I had a sort of bad feeling that morning, but I figured I was being paranoid, so I went on to work.  Finally, I started asking questions to the other girls that I worked with about my symptoms.  I called my OB and was assured that everything would be fine as long as I wasn’t bleeding or in pain, which I wasn’t.  After being at work for over seven hours on my feet, at the urging of one of my co-workers (who to this day I am SO VERY thankful to), I went on the the doctor just in case.

He was checking everything out and I had my eyes fixed intently on his face as I saw his expression change to fright.  He started talking fast and making phone calls while telling me that I was dilated to 2 cm and the bag of water was coming out.

That was the last thing I thought I was going to hear.  When I left work, I told my boss that I thought it was nothing and I would be back in a few minutes.  I just wanted to be sure.

When I saw the urgency of the situation, I started to cry.  My husband was out of town working and I felt so scared and alone.  I thought I was losing my baby.  The doctor actually yelled at me and told me to stop crying or my water would break.  Oh, how hard that was to do.

He continued to make arrangements for me to be taken to another town with a hospital well equipped to handle such cases.  I was told to drive to our local hospital which was only right across the street.  I was so scared to get up and walk, let alone drive.  I walked into the hospital and how I got to wherever I went, I have no clue.  I called work to let them know I would not be back.

My dear and wonderful friend who worked in an office connected to the hospital heard my problem and she was there right away.  She stayed with me until the ambulance drove me away.  I really don’t know if she realizes how much that helped me.

In the local hospital they started me on very high doses of magnesium sulfate by IV.  It was horrible.  I was so miserable.  After what seemed like forever, the ambulance drivers and a nurse came and drove me to what would be my home for the next 24 days.

By the time I got there, I was delirious.  The magnesium was really starting to kick in.  I would have never thought magnesium would have such an effect on you.  It was worse than the flu.  I had a terrible headache and my whole body was in pain.  I wanted to die.

I am not really clear on what exactly happened in the next 2-3 days.  All kinds of people were coming to visit.  I was so happy to see several of my work mates drive so far just to come see me.  I have pictures that I am so thankful for. It was a completely miserable time.  I was in major shock.  I was not at all prepared for anything like this to happen.

I had been around so many women who worked right up until their due date without a problem.  When I read my pregnancy books, I skipped the preterm labor parts because I knew it wouldn’t happen to me.  I thought that was only for people who didn’t take care of themselves.  I didn’t know a healthy person carrying one baby was even at risk for such a thing.

Well, I am here to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you don’t smoke or drink or do drugs.  It doesn’t matter if you quit caffeine and start eating nothing but healthy food.  A perfectly healthy mom can give birth way before her due date.

Those weeks in the hospital really humbled me.  I was not allowed to get out of my bed.  I had to let strangers bathe me.  My cousin shaved my legs.  I held my poop for 3 days for fear that I would give birth while doing the deed.  When I finally had to go, it was the middle of the night and they brought me a potty chair and placed it right beside the pull out couch where my sweet cousin Melissa was trying to sleep.  I had a catheter for most of the time I was in there and the thought of people seeing my pee hanging off the bed in a bag was just more than I could handle.

All in all, it was horrible.  But, it made me into a different person.  I think a better person.  I have much less shame than I had before, and for that I am grateful.  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t let people I don’t know bathe me anymore, and I definitely don’t poop out in the open (although I probably could if I had too.)  I am just saying, I am much more open about things now.  Not everything is so private.  It makes life a little more comfortable when you have no secrets.

I will always be grateful for my wonderful family and friends who were there by my side throughout the whole thing.  They made sure that I was never alone.  They brought me food, new pillows, and even got me hooked up with a refrigerator in my room.  I got chocolate and p.j.’s and movies.  People were massaging my legs and feet.  My toenails were painted all sorts of colors.  I couldn’t have asked for better care.

After those weeks in the hospital, I pretty much knew the day before Wes was born that it was time.  At that point, I made it to 29 weeks.  It was the first day that I had been left alone by myself.  I kept having contractions.  I told the nurses.  I was afraid to tell anybody else.

That night my water broke and it was clear what was next.  The doctor induced me at 8:00 am and after a few not very painful contractions and a lot of sitting and waiting, my boy was born at 1:16 Tuesday November 20, 2007.  He weighed 2 lb 12 oz and was 16 inches long.  His due date was February 6, 2008.

The doctor told me before he was born that I wouldn’t be able to hold him; they would have to take him straight to the NICU.  To my surprise, and I am sure a lot of others, he was breathing on his own!  The doctor slapped him down across the top of my left leg and told me to hold on to him.  I was so scared that I was going to drop him.  Brad and the doctor were over cutting the cord and there I lay so dizzy from whatever I just done, holding the smallest human I had ever seen in person.  Well, I wasn’t holding him up to my chest like the movies..or in real life.. I was holding him so he wouldn’t fall off of my upper leg.  They took him and weighed him and did the APGAR test which he scored pretty well on for being a little guy.  By the way, in my delivery room, there was a team of about 15-16 people prepared for every scenario.  That took me by surprise just like the rest of it.

So, the good news was that they wrapped my “Baby Boy Arnett” up in a blanket and let me hold him for 30 seconds before they whisked him away to the NICU.  I am sure they must have known what good that did me or they wouldn’t have done it.  I didn’t expect it at all.  It was such a wonderful moment.

Wesley was in the NICU for 8 weeks.  That could be a whole story in itself.  He couldn’t nurse, so I pumped the whole 8 weeks he was in there so that he could have the best food that was made for him.  So many things happened in those weeks.  The NICU is a blessing and a nightmare wrapped into one.  I have still not recovered from the whole ordeal.  I don’t think I ever will.  I suppose it isn’t a bad thing.  When terrible things happen and you make it through them, you become a better and stronger person.

Wesley was born right smack in the middle of Prematurity Awareness Month.  This month is a very emotional one for me.  So many memories.  We have had a few set backs, but for a 29 weeker, he has really done well.  I am very proud of my little boy who will be five in a few short days.

Here is Wesley at about 2 days old.  My first real time holding him.

Poop and Stuff

It has been a relatively rough week in the Arnett household.  In some ways it has also been good.  Wesley took his last dose of steroids on Saturday, and so far our daily urine tests are coming back perfect.  But as I just mentioned, it has just been a really “off” kind of week for all of us.

Brad and I had some kind of food poisoning/stomach bug late last week and it really took a toll on the old energy levels.  The weekend was packed with more social interaction than I could handle.  Then, I did my regular Monday babysitting and the baby just really wanted me to hold him in all constancy all day long.  Not to mention my own child and his infinite need for food and me.  Whew, I almost didn’t make it through that day, but in fact I did.  Then, Tuesday came waking me up for more.

We just purchased a new HVAC after all summer of suffering in the extreme heat.  Our previous A/C had a freon leak in a bad spot and it was just too expensive to repair.  Also, our gas furnace quit working when the previous owners lived here, so we have always relied on baseboard heating during the winter.  These things all added up to the fact that the best option was to dish out the cash and get an entirely new unit.

They came over Tuesday to begin working on taking out the old unit.  They found lots of things that should have been included in the bid, but were overlooked.  But, thankfully to my benefit, the agreement was signed and I had already paid in full, so it was their loss.

Wesley quickly made friends with one of the guys.  He pulled up a chair and talked the man’s ears off.  The guy, probably out of a need to calm his nerves, finally lit a cigarette.  Oh, MY!  My child was ALL over that.  He asked the man, “Don’t you know that smoking is bad?  Do you know who Jehovah is?”  Then, Wesley promptly went and got the computer and put in a DVD to teach the man about God!

Well, I was a proud Mamma for sure.  My kid was standing up for what is right, even if he was jabbering up a storm and driving this strange man that he didn’t know absolutely bonkers.  But you see, it was keeping him busy, so I was able to get a lot a cleaning done.  It was a win-win.

The man informed Wesley that he knew smoking was bad and he was going to stop.  Then an hour later, he lit up again.  Wes didn’t miss a beat.  “You said you were going to stop smoking.”  This went on for two days.

A couple of men lingered around my house Tuesday and Wednesday and made some messes (which I am very accustomed to anyway), but ultimately, it was worth it because I have complete control over my indoor temperature now!   These were the highlights of the week.  Now for the bad part.

Yesterday I let Wes skip his home school.  There was a lot going on at the house and besides, he was getting fully educated about HVAC installation.  That could help in the future, right?  But, today, it was a different story.

I started off the school day a little too late.  I was really procrastinating trying to get some things done around the house (which didn’t really happen anyway).  Then there were the regular multiple phone calls.  Finally about 11:30 we sat down to begin our schooling.

It started off great.  We discussed how each member of our family is important in different ways.  We talked about the things that Wesley does to help out around the house.  He is in charge of feeding the cats.  He helps me fold the washcloths when I do the towels, he is getting to be super good about keeping his room immaculately clean.  Things like that.

Then Brad came home for lunch in the middle of learning right and left, and the trouble began.  I had to stop and wash Brad’s window cleaning rags.  More phone calls.  Lots of interruptions.  So come time to get back down to business and the boy was done.  He spilled apple juice all over my freshly mopped floor.  That was about all I could take.  I even yelled.  I even spanked.  I even made him stand on one foot in the corner.  It was bad.  Not just that he spilled the apple juice, but the way he was acting.  This was a day that I wished that my little boy was at school, right now.

How could I think such a thought?  What if he got sick a bunch of times and had multiple relapses and had to go back on the dreaded medicines?  I would feel so guilty for ever thinking such a thought.  Was I feeling this way because I am at my wit’s end, or is this the normal reaction of a parent of a child with such delicate health?

But you know, I am never alone.  I don’t even get to shave my legs without interruption.  Ever.  Sometimes, that may drive a person to think such thoughts.  Can I really handle this home school business?  I suppose only time will tell.  Maybe if Brad would just take him to Lowe’s with him on occasion and let me be by myself for an hour.  Would that make me a little less crazy?

Speaking of crazy, maybe that is the problem.  Mid-Summer, I decided that I was only half as crazy as my doctor thinks I am.  So I started cutting my anti-depressant in half.  I actually have felt WAY better and have lots more energy after doing that.  But maybe that other half of craziness is sneaking back up on me.

Well, after this long, energy draining, emotionally tiring day, I had to make my way to the grocery, boy in tow.  It took the rest of the life out of me.  I came home, put the groceries away and started to feel sick at my stomach again.  Very much like I did last week.  I thought I was going to vomit, but instead it came out the other end.  So there I was, on the toilet, trying to poop/stop pooping, catching up on my Better Homes and Gardens mag and dreaming that my home could become one of those perfect homes in there, and wishing that I had perfect crafting skills and, and, and here comes Wesley holding two kittens in his hands.  One was squirming and complaining an awful lot.  As I was trying to tell Wes to put them back in their bed, one kitten starting pooping.  Right there in mid-air.  Right there with Wesley holding it over my lap while I sat on the toilet.  O-M-GOODNESS.  I yelled for Brad, but he was napping on the couch.  He was not the least concerned about the situation.  I took the kitten and let it’s tiny turd land on a page in my magazine.  It was so symbolic of the way I felt.  My big dreams, always being pooped on.

I started to freak out about all the poop going around and I yelled some more for Brad.  Note: Brad never budged.  (Do you blame him?)

I finished my business, and me and the kitten went straight in the shower.  Poor little guy is only four weeks old.  But I cleaned him all up and blow dried his little fur until he was back to normal.

So do you see my point?  I can’t get any minutes alone.  Not even minutes that should be mine.  The time that I am not alone, which is all the time, is filled with multiple levels of various disasters. I feel so overstimulated all the time.  I just want to take a giant nap and sleep everything away.

Anybody else feel this way?

I sure hope I can keep up the home schooling.  I am definitely starting to have serious doubts.  But, hey, that is what this year is for.  It is simply an experiment to let me know if I can do this or not.  He isn’t required to go to school technically until year after next.  But I will make my decision and he will be doing something, be it at home or in public school next year for sure.

Maybe it’s just been a bad week.  Who knows.