Saturday, August 22, 2015

Ages and Stages

Our three kids are so different.  Their ages and stages often make me feel like they've been raised under three separate roofs by three separate sets of parents.  I find it humorous, entertaining, and somewhat expected.  After all, we are our own persons and they are too.



Beck has always been an 40-year-old stuck in his younger body.  Wise, logical, understanding, and literal.  He's consistently interested in gemstones, weather, and reading non-fiction.  Lately, though, he's been unimpressed with activities and outings.  He hasn't been negative, just indifferent about everything.  I believe this is the tween stage prequel.  Common phrases out of his mouth:
"I mean, I dunno."
"I kind of like that, but I'm not sure.  It might be boring."
"It's my favorite, or maybe it's not."
"Can we do __? It's ok if we can't because I'm not sure I want to."
"I think that's not cool anymore."
We listen and try to follow his indecisiveness.  We play along.  We call him out.  We give him a hard time with banter.  We love him all the same.  Welcome to peer influence and interest changes, Beckaroni.

 

Penn.  Oh Penn.  That kid feels deeply.  Call it sensitivity. Call it emotional.  Call it a temper.  Call it compassion.  Call it whatever you like, but I love his spirit.  Everything is over the top, honest, and put out there.  He is who he is: Raw and politely unfiltered.  He goes from zero to 10 in a millisecond and always has a special lovey in hand.  They have to be "real" animals though, like an elk or bald eagle stuffy, not a Mickey Mouse character.  He spews facts about wildlife, habitats, and animal behavior.  Welcome to the start of a long school career, Penn.


"Watch this, Mama!" Everlee is immersed in this proud, show-what-I-can-do stage. It could be spinning on one foot, jumping off the couch, handing out napkins at dinner, closing a curtain for bedtime, shutting the car door, or stepping off a curb.  It's all about the accomplishment and making sure someone witnessed it.  Every task, no matter how meaningless, needs to be celebrated.  The smile beams upon a "Wow!" "That's amazing" or "Good job, Lu."  She is also very much into doing things "all by myself... I do it, I do it!" Welcome to validation and independence, sweet girl.



Monday, May 18, 2015

Assignment and Awareness

The secret is out.  To our surprise, we were given Germany as an assignment and waited 11 weeks for medical clearance. After all that time, we were denied travel.  I did not take the news well.  I was angry at the doctors and sad that our season of travel was coming to an end.  I needed a couple days to mourn the loss of that possible adventure.  And all the while, we made sure not to mention the reason of our denial in front of the kids.

Some of you know, but many of you don't.  I'm just going to come out an say it:  Beck has a brain tumor.  A routine scan discovered it in August 2013, three days after we landed stateside with Everlee.  It was a lot to take in, especially with a brand new daughter.  Thankfully, it is benign.  Now we know the cause of Beck's hydrocephalus, found in April 2012. They did not see it on scans prior because his brain was so swollen and distorted.  With time, the shunt regulated the flow of fluid, and the scan images became clear.  His prognosis is extremely positive.  He will lead a normal life, can play sports, and most likely, will never have to undergo treatment.  Though it is growing, there is space to fill without it affecting any brain function.

All of that said, an incoming base has to accept us.  That is, they have the right to say whether or not they can take on our medical needs.

So we wait.

... Above was written July 2014, originally (and appropriately) titled "Our Life in Limbo."  Obviously, Colorado graciously took us.  Denver Children's Hospital is top notch for pediatric neurology, so it fit the bill.

After months of soaking in his diagnosis, visiting specialists, and learning more about his hopeful future, I am willing to share.

Here is Beck's story, recently written for a local journal.

My Voice for Awareness 
Written by Jessica Waldman

At his 6 year pediatric check up, our oldest son, Beck, did not pass the vision test.  Being legally blind myself, I thought nothing of his poor eyesight.  (Sorry buddy, you'd inherited that gene.)  Glasses were an assumption for my kids the day I found out I was pregnant.  Not surprisingly, the pediatrician suggested he see an optometrist at our convenience.  

Two weeks later, Beck and I were shopping at Walmart.  When we passed the Vision Center, I walked to the counter and asked about appointments.  There were no openings, but they took our name.  Within minutes, over the loudspeaker his name was called.  Someone had cancelled.  

The eye doctor was a young female, approachable and sweet.  She completed his exam and told him to go pick out frames.  He was getting glasses!  Just before leaving the exam room, she asked if I'd like to have his eyes dilated.  "Why wouldn't we?" I asked.  "Many parents choose not to dilate because it stings," she said.  I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement.  I wanted a thorough exam, regardless of how my child felt about the drops.  He picked out frames with a smile that took over his whole face.  She brought us back in, tricked him into the drops, and with minimal whining, we waited for dilation.  

With his pupils large, the doctor took a look.  She glanced back at me unsettled, and immediately asked, "Your pediatrician said everything's ok?"

That sentence sent chills up my spine. 

"You're not getting glasses today.  You are going to the hospital."  She excused herself from the exam room to make a few phone calls and write a script for me to hand to the attending ER doctor at Children's.  

Although she wasn't forthright, I knew something was terribly wrong.  With no symptoms, literally none, my oldest son had been operating with intense pressure on his brain and eyes.  She could see the swelling from his dilated pupils.

Beck was diagnosed with hydrocephalus, water on the brain.  Something was preventing his brain fluid from draining.  At the time, we did not know the cause.  Twelve hours later, he went in to surgery.  Neurologists placed a shunt, or plastic tube, in his brain to reroute the fluid down to his abdomen.  Beck affectionately calls it his "straw."

He came out with three significant battle scars and a permanent tube in his brain.  He should have had poor balance, daily headaches, bouts of dizziness, and occasional vomiting.  We should have seen signs.  But there weren't any.  He was riding a bike and playing street hockey the morning before we walked into Walmart.  He was a normal, active boy with no complaints and few illnesses.  Thankfully, he still is. 

Sixteen months later, and three days after bringing our daughter home from China, a routine MRI found the cause.  A small tumor blocked the drainage in the brain.  It had been there all along, they presumed.  They hadn't seen it on prior images because his brain was simply too swollen and distorted, it masked the tumor.   

Our son is now 9 years old and is a student at Pinon Elementary.  His prognosis is excellent.  The tumor is not malignant, and it has room to grow without damaging his brain.  He will most likely live with it for the rest of his life, as long as we always treat the hydrocephalus and have a properly functioning shunt.  He gets regular MRIs to track the growth and the drainage of the fluid.   

I share Beck's story, not to expose my innocent fighter, but for awareness.  May is Brain Tumor Awareness Month.  Beck's case has been presented at continuing education conferences, and it has been stressed that his medical condition would have gone unnoticed by the optometrist if she hadn't dilated his eyes.  It would have eventually been caught, at the risk of irreversible damage, when his body simply couldn't adapt anymore. 
   
Please, take your children to an annual eye exam, and have his or her eyes dilated.  A few drops of sting, and some minutes of defiance, is worth the alternative.    

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Last Summer

I'm baaaack!  My computer has been maxed to capactiy for over 8 months, and although I asked my sweet husband to get it working again for our 10 year anniversary in October, again at Christmas, again at Valentine's Day, and yet again for my birthday, it was not until I took it MYSELF to Mac Corner that it was repaired this week.  They basically rebuilt my laptop with a new hard drive, processor thingy, and upgraded software.  I feel like I'm visiting my therapist for the first time in far too long.  Where do I begin?

The easiest way to recap all that has past is through pictures. Here was last summer:

Beck played his first piano recital.

We made our rounds to say goodbye.  We were not sure where we were moving to, but we knew it was our summer to move.  So, we carried on with final visits.  Here's Mattie with all her grandbabies.

Visited our besties, the Black family, who we were stationed with in Italy.


 And spent loads of time with all our local friends.


Our neighbors were some of the hardest to leave.  It was like Sister Wives.  One big happy family with keys to each other's homes and daily driveway chats.  

A little girl who crushed on Penn in preschool even went for the goodbye kiss!





We played hard too, enjoying that hot, humid southern air. We took advantage of our porch, the long driveway, and beach while we could, not knowing what our next house or location would offer.  


Cousins came to visit too.  Just like old times!  
And we took two mini-vacations over long weekends just us: Kennedy Space Center and Asheville, NC. 





The kids said goodbye to their bunnies.  (We still thought we'd be going overseas, so we thought we couldn't take them with us.)
The big event was Everlee's Gotcha Day Party to celebrate her one year anniversary with us.  It was simple and a blast! She was super into Frozen.  A cupcake cake, a picture board of memories, the Frozen CD blaring from my parked van, family and friends, and a bubble machine in the driveway. Hours of fun!  







We got last minute orders to Colorado, Beck went to school in SC for one week, our house was packed up, and off we went. Just like that. 



It all happened so quickly.  Maybe for the better.  We didn't have time to absorb all the chaos and change.  We just powered through it.