The Elusive Hernia

Twenty minutes.  That's all it took once they got her back there to shove that perky intestine back in and stitch up the hole.  We first noticed her hernia mid December but it eluded multiple doctors and nurses for months.  My mother-in-law, a nurse, saw it, Brent and I saw it, her preschool teachers had noticed, but no docs.  We'd take her to an appointment and it would not present itself.  She's stand, sit, bear down, strain.  Nothing.  Not even on an ultrasound. Then we'd get home and it would pop out.  Of course. Finally, at an unrelated appointment, a developmental check of her cognitive progress, it presented itself when I took her potty.  I quickly brought Everlee back into the room and showed the doctor, to assure myself I wasn't losing my mind.  She confirmed my suspicions and gave us a surgery referral.  Went to the surgery consult, and the hernia could not be found.  Damn elusive thing.  It's like the LockNess monster.  So many sightings, no confirmation.  Graciously, the surgeon agreed to put her on the books based on our information.  I didn't even have a picture.  In 25 years, only once had he cut a patient open and find nothing.  I did not want to be the 2nd.  Thankfully, he made the cut and found the hernia sac.  The medical team sent her home without any physical limitations other than not submerging in water for two weeks.  So no tubs or pools.  I can handle that.  Brent was out of town for CE during the time of the surgery and urged me to reschedule, but everything went smoothly with helpful neighbors.  Plus, the next available surgery date was in June, and who wants to be out of water for two weeks in the blazing south then?!  I had to laugh when they said she'd set her own limitations.  I replied with, "So, there are no limitations."  According to them, she would walk hunched over for a day and be in extreme pain.  Reality: she was herself within two hours and I didn't give her pain meds except for nighttime the first night.  She was running around with friends, climbing stairs, and jumping on the trampoline that afternoon.

A local women's church group makes scrub caps for each child to keep.  

Our head nurse's scrub cap was the exact fabric of Lu's dress. Even though we'd changed into the hospital gown, I had to hold it up and get a "twin" picture.  

Lulu's big potatoes

Another nickname.  This one she responds to as if it is her name: Lulu.  Another Brent creation and sometimes, he shortens it to Lu.  She likes it.  She points to herself when he says it and flashes that toothy smile.

Speaking of her identity, she says her own name now.  As of about a month ago, if you ask her "Who are you, " she says "Eh-ah-EE."  Three syllables and close enough.  She is not regularly saying any more words than the last post I made, but she certainly makes more attempts.  Yesterday, she formed her first sentence unprompted.  We went swimming with friends because it is already 90+ degrees down here.  I hate heat.  The perk is that we are swimming outside in May!  When it came time to go, I motioned for Beck and Penn to get out of the pool.  Penn came right away.  Beck kept swimming a few more minutes.  Once the littles dried off and dressed, I went back over to the edge solo and hollered for him again, "Beck!  Get out of the pool. We are ready to leave."  Everlee pranced over a moment later as I turned my back and loudly demanded, "Baaa (Beck) Go!"

E has made other strides these past couple months:
- drinks out of a regular cup
- loves to read (Remember when she wouldn't sit for more than 3 seconds!?!)
- is starting to tell me when she needs to potty (She was taught to hold it until you take her.)
- keeps her clothes on when she goes potty (Used to strip down just to sit on it.  That process was long.)
- lays her head on my shoulder unprompted (Would not the first few months... then only when I asked her and counted to 10... progressed to every time I sang to her... now, just a few times, but on her own when she's been tired or just because.)
- graduated to the big kid swing
- pedals/rides a tricycle

I am sure there are more that I'm forgetting.  They may seem small potatoes, but these are mini victories in development and bonding.

This past weekend, we took an overnight trip to Great Wolf Lodge with friends.  The biggest change I've seen in her is she's slowing down.  She is still busy busy, as everyone who knows her says, but the manic behavior that I have felt at a loss over is beginning to level out.  GWL could have been a nightmare if the manic had come out.  For some reason, it didn't.  And I was grateful.  She didn't appear overwhelmed at the crowd or experience.  There was not the sensory overload I was anticipating.  She blended in.  She had a blast.  And that meant, we all had a blast.

Oh, and she's whining in English!  Now, that's a milestone!

Everlee's Progress

She's been home 8 months.  Wild.

Everlee is making progress in speech therapy.  She goes twice a week for an hour each session.  We wish she'd be progressing more quickly, but since she hadn't ever used the roof of her mouth or lifted her tongue to her teeth, she's playing catch up.  Big time.  At this point, her comprehension is nearly spot on for her age, but verbally, she is at 18 months.  She has 5-10 words she says consistently, is imitating, and tries new sounds and words everyday. However, rather than skip some steps in verbal language because of her increased comprehension, she is still going through each step in the language development timeline... just like a baby would... though years behind.  First, she was pointing and grunting.  Then babbling.  Now, she can do Ms and Bs fairly well.  She is also clear with open vowels.   But beyond that, she struggles.  For example, if we ask her to say "penny," it comes out "eh-ee."  She drops the consonants. 

Instead of Ds and Ts, she makes Gs and Ks.  The therapist calls this "backing."  The sounds are made in the back on the mouth.  It's easier for her.  Everlee just hasn't worked the front before.  She doesn't want to lift her tongue.  She is physically capable of lifting it, but isn't used to doing it.  If we don't correct it, no one will understand her as she ages. "Daddy" comes out "Gah-gee."  (At least that one has a consonant.)   

Brent is not certain she has innervation/feeling in her upper lip or the tissue underneath.  We sterilized a needle the other night and poked away at her lip.  She didn't flinch. Touched her cheek and she immediately said "ow-ee."  Of course, this would make it more difficult for her to feel the different sounds she is learning.  Could be a game changer. All we can do is keep plugging away.

Miss E and Sir P have made huge strides in their relationship.  It's safe to say he actually likes her now. There will always be sibling issues, via adoption or biological, but he doesn't resent her anymore.  They test each other, but they willingly play together.  I'll take it!

She mimics every single thing Penn does, so I'm glad most of his anger is gone.  The alternating days of preschool have paid off.  Hummm, summer will be interesting...

I got a kick out of this last picture.  Penn often wears a weapon around his waist.  Well, she wanted something to carry her items too.  I took an elastic headband and shimmied it down her tiny core.  She hung her pony and pink, plastic cell phone from the headband and was as happy as can be.  Ah, the little things.  

Assignment Time

Big question of the day... Where will be be moving next?

Assignments were supposed to be handed out between January 6 - March 18.  The end date was yesterday.  We still do not have orders.  I have been very impatient this time around, mainly because we own our home and we need to list it, like, yesterday.  There is no way in heck that I am listing without orders in hand.  New developments in that department have eased my worries, as once again, just like in Minot, a family has approached us about our home.

Friends and family constantly ask us if we've heard, where we want to move, what we've asked for, our dream sheet. We have requested to go overseas again.  But that does not mean we will.  The Air Force will place us where Brent will be of most help to them, the spot has to be the same rank, and at this point, most important is the ability of the new base to meet Beck and Everlee's medical needs. Legally, they have to place us within X number of miles of a major pediatric facility.  All E needs for the next decade is speech therapy.  Any base will have that.  However, we are not convinced an overseas base can provide Beck's care. Knowing this breaks my heart a bit.  Travel is large part of who I am, a segment of my soul.  But, I will never compromise my children's needs.

For the curious minds, our top five list was:

1. Germany
2. England
3. northern CA
4. Colorado
5. Alaska

Stateside, numbers 3 and 4 have huge medical facilities. Let's see how it all pans out!

The Eyes of Time

Sometimes, when tucking them into bed, I think, gosh, I haven't seen you guys all day.  I'm with them, but I'm not always present.  The source of my absence is a combination of busy motherhood: chores, making meals, picking up, keeping up with them, taxiing, homework, reading, and sadly, the use of technology on my end.  I don't think I'm an over-user compared to others, but I shouldn't be comparing.  I should be the best me I can be.  It is easy to check Facebook, Google a topic, send a message, browse Etsy, read the front page of CNN... and get sucked in for ten minutes at a time. But that can happen once an hour.  Truly.  Nothing on there is so important that I be checking my phone that often. Why do we live with it constantly next to us?  So, I am going to take a step back.  They grow up too fast.

I vow to look my children in their eyes more, since I teach them to do the same.  To be up to speed on their current events, rather than the world's.  To answer them as promptly as I do my texts.  To put my social media family on hold, instead of asking my own family to hold on another minute.  Because, at the end of the day, I want to feel like I have seen them.  I have heard them.  That I have given them as much of myself as my "patience tank" allowed. Not so much for their benefit, but for mine.  Then, I can retreat to adult time with visions of their sweet eyes looking back at mine, no matter how hard the day was.

A sentimental me will plop down on the couch after bedtimes, chat with my helpful husband, and...
open my laptop.

        

Gold Medalists

There's a mom out there whom I only met and spoke with for twenty minutes, in a random encounter, on the beachfront of Cinque Terre's jewel, Vernazza.  Little does she know what an impact she made on me that day and long since.  I watch her life through social media feeds and find myself smiling each time I come across her posts.  She has a way of making every event... mundane, ordinary, unfamiliar or otherwise... extra fun.  She's a homeschooling mom of six who develops her own global curriculum.  At the end of each school year, the entire family of eight takes a trip to the part of the world they studied.  I was inspired by her, the importance they clearly make on cultural exposure, and her commitment to making moments count. She carries this through to daily life.  Watch the Superbowl on TV? No way.  Let's pull the TV outside in the snow and watch it from the hot tub.  Olympics hosted in Russia?  Let's plan traditional Russian meals for the duration of the Games. She's always using whatever is going on and turning it up a notch in the fun, meaningful, relevant, and memorable departments.  She's a gold medalist in this sport.

The other night, I channeled her.  Dad and Grier were here visiting and had gone to see the USS Yorktown with all three of my boys.  E and I stayed back so she could nap, and because I envisioned her falling into the harbor.  She's too busy to take to an aircraft carrier.  Much like the decision we made in China not to take her on the river cruise.  Not much has changed.  While Everlee slept, I made a short list of fun Olympic themed things to do with my kids.  I was as excited as they were.  Maybe more.

Cross country ski competition.

Decorating cupcakes with M&Ms to look like the Olympic rings.

Crafting a Downhill picture.  Penn was the only one into it. His version is on top, mine on the bottom.  If you look closely, you can see his person's eyes and smile, and the sideways triangular hat.  Complete with pom pom!

The Year of the Horse

There is a Chinese Association of Greater Charleston.  Who knew?  They host an annual Chinese New Year celebration at a large church about 20 minutes away and have a two hour program showcasing traditional music, dances, and songs.  And then, they feast.  We joined in the festivities and the kids lasted longer than we expected.  They especially liked the red envelopes containing a coin.  Beck held Everlee's hand as they raced up to the stage to accept their gift.  She was so excited to run back and show Daddy!

Penn didn't get the right memo.  CNY, not Halloween.  

She's always fuzzy, because she DOESN'T STOP MOVING. Thank goodness she's a good sleeper!  It's the only break this mama gets.  

Happy Year of the Horse!  

 

Winter Wonderland?

It doesn't snow in the south.  Not here.  So, when the lightest dusting powdered the flower beds earlier this week, school was cancelled, the base closed, locals bought out the grocery stores, and kids had a field day making tennis-ball-sized snowmen.  Our boys' joy was not the least affected by the lack of amount on the ground.  We alternated between playing outside in the snow and warming up inside by the fire.  Brent kept that fire burning from breakfast until bedtime.  Everlee didn't love the cold.  She lasted for about half an hour before looking miserable.  It was a peaceful, wonder-filled couple of days.

Sedation

A month ago, Beck had a second extended MRI scan to follow up a questionable one in August.  Actually, it was a third time.  The follow up in early November was a nightmare.  They incorrectly scheduled it in the adult side of the hospital and expected him to lay still for an hour and a half without any medication.  Most adults can't even do that.  They also attempted to administer his IV without a numbing patch or nitrous.  Three women and one man literally held his failing body down to stick him, and as he shouted out "Stop them, Mommy!  Make them STOP," I quickly took to Mama defense and decided to step in...  To stop the chaos of an already frightened boy.  To end that painful moment and make it right.  To reschedule at Children's with all the painless tricks of the trade.  The kid has been through enough already.

Fast forward to December 3rd.  It was a Tuesday.  I asked two separate friends to help with the littles as not to lose a friendship or make anyone homicidal.  That was at the height of the Penn-Everlee showdown.  I had snacks and extra clothes (for Everlee, not Penn) packed the night before and actually left my house a few minutes early for the drop offs.  (True story.  Early never happens.)  I even shoved two twenties in my back pocket to hand to each friend for lunch or whatever.  I felt on my game, prepared to focus on Beck. That was all about to crumble.  

Heading into the first friend's neighborhood, Penn declares his belly hurts.  Mind you, my kids are never sick.  Not the normal everyday kind of sick, at least.  Broken arm, palate surgery, hydrocephalus, yes.  But fevers and colds, no.  I brushed it off telling him he probably needed to go to the bathroom.  Ten seconds later, he puked all over the car.  A lot.  I wanted to cry.  I wasn't too far from home but far enough to turn around and wash him up, change him, clean out the car and still make it to drop off number 2 and then the scan on time.  I rushed to Kimberly's house and rang the doorbell.  She immediately jumped in when I explained what was already written on my verge-of-meltdown face. We stripped him down to his undies on her front lawn and she whisked my saturated kid to her downstairs bathroom. While I tried to salvage his car seat, she bathed him at light speed and dressed him in her own son's clothes.  I decided he'd have to come with me, because I didn't want him to get her boys sick.  Before we rushed off, she gave us a plastic witch's cauldron from Halloween for him to hold, should he get sick again.  It is a thirty minute drive downtown.  Oh, and I left his mess of clothes right where they were.  I was not about to leave that smell in an enclosed car while we were inside the hospital for several hours.  

We drove with the residual stench and me frantically making phone calls to Brent and my next helpful friend. When we got to Molly's house, I traded E for a second set of clothes close to Penn's size since he had gotten sick a second time.  With the cauldron, it was not enough of a mess to change him, but I wanted a back up for the rest of the day. Goodness, my friends are true friends.

We rushed to Children's and spent what felt like twenty minutes driving through the tight parking garage looking for an open spot.  Once parked, we put the cauldron on the ground next to the driver's side back tire, grabbed an empty grocery bag Molly provided, and hustled to check in.  We'd still made it on time.  Barely.  Thank goodness, because this scan was extremely important to me, and we'd waited an extra month for results due to the prior scheduling mix up.

I signed in.  They called our number to approach the official check in desk.  A very upbeat lady asked for my ID and insurance.  I dug and dug through my purse.  Nothing.  My wallet wasn't there.  Instantly, I knew where it was.  I had done my Christmas shopping online, in bed, the night before. It was cyber-Monday.  I'd left my wallet on my bedside table.  Rather than freak out, I killed with kindness and desperation.  I didn't make up a story, I told her the truth. I'd been shopping in bed, we chatted about the deals.  I told her I'd left early, that this little mohawked boy with me had puked on the way down, that my stoic son needed this MRI. I spoke very calmly and candidly, mother to mother, woman to woman.  She winked at me, "Your husband is military right?"  I didn't need the wink.  He is military. "Because we can look your insurance up with his social, honey."  And to confirm my identity she took Beck aside for a moment and asked him my name, if I was his mom, and what our address was.  It all checked out and we were checked in.

With that done, I sat down and took a deep breath.  Then I thought, how in the hell am I going to get out of the parking garage?  I figured if I had to, I'd have Brent or a friend come bail me out.  It took me until mid procedure to feel the unused twenty in my back pocket that didn't get handed to Kimberly since I took Penn with me.  Hallelujah. There was even enough for cafeteria lunch.

Beck was under general anesthesia for the 90 minute scan. This experience was far superior for Beck and me.  A group of friendly doctors and nurses walked us all back to a colorful room, showed us the machine, talked in kid terms about what would happen (even though we've done a few of these before ;-) and told him there was a long standing competition of who could count the highest.  No one had ever passed 10.  Beck smiled with confidence and assured them he could beat that!  He breathed in the sleepy gas and by 3 laughed and said the ceiling was blurry.  By 5, he was out.  They even waited to put his IV in after he was under. Having staff both trained and equipped to work with young, scared kids makes a huge difference.

In recovery, we waited to for him to wake up on his own. Penn was very curious and concerned.  He kept rubbing Beck's head and holding his hand.  It was a series of sweet moments that made this mama tear up.  It is hard to watch your child go through procedures, even routine ones.

So, he didn't win the counting competition, but we left a lasting impression.  As Beck was coming to, the medical staff realized Penn had been tightly holding onto an empty plastic bag for hours.  And the story of our morning, our comedy of errors, was thoroughly retold by a drugged up patient and his interjecting younger brother.