A stop to smell the roses of this stage of life

I am a stop-to-smell-the-roses kind of a person. One of the tough things about this stage of life for me is that there is so little time to stop and treasure the small things.

Tonight we skyped my family and it's always such a trip, those moments. There are so many good conversations I want to have but mostly we just try to catch up on the big things, raising our voices and trying to hear each other over the whirlwind that is my crazy household with two littles.

I read this post today, which is titled "About a Boy" and is written by my sister Michelle about our brother Matt for World Down Syndrome day. I read it aloud to Isaac and we laughed and I got teary and we marveled over the photos and you just have to go read it. Because my brother is remarkable and my sister writes with her heart and family is such a beautiful thing.

I think that when we love other people, it spreads. Michelle's love for Matt seeped out of that blog post and I ended up sitting on the bed with my Elly for a solid 15 minutes, delaying bedtime, just delighting in her, in those delicious cheeks, in the enormous blue eyes she was batting at me, in the way she holds on to my fingers and sweater and cooed and chirped like a bird, delighted to have extra minutes of my attention rather than be put down for bed. She is breathtaking.

 

We went shopping, all of us, and as I pushed the cart around Judah stacked up canned goods with running commentary, "Mommy, you see it? Dis a small one, and dis a bigger one. You see it? Ta da!" And at the candy aisle, "Oohh dats so yummy. In my mouth. *to himself* No. Dats not yours." And at checkout he singsonged to himself, "I love you daddy and mommy and baby and Judah. I a stinker. A kinker."

He just is growing up and the thoughts are coming out and vocabulary expanding. And yeah, this whole three years old thing is hard for me, because I'd really love if we could just stop and smell the roses together rather than run in circles screaming and testing every boundary. But then, he's also just delightful, in his discovery of the world around him, his intensity of play, his need to 'nuggle (snuggle) on the couch together after he finishes breakfast.

We left Walmart giggling in amazement that I'd seen a woman actually walk out in her underwear (for reals) and the cashier told us about the one "actually healthy" dating relationship at her high school, and how the guy proposed at prom. We loaded up the car and Isaac and I ran around it, him trying to lock me out and me trying to get in before he managed it, both of us laughing and hey, we've been married eight and a half years and we're still flirting. Only now there's a little boy in the back seat saying, "What you doin mommydaddy? What you doin?"

So, I'm catching a few minutes to smell the roses tonight. We are such a mess. The house is a mess. Our schedule is a mess. We're constantly just treading water, trying to keep this house of littles going and headed towards Indonesia. But look at us. These are the days we will look back to, back to when we were young and our kids were young, to when there were feather soft cheeks to kiss and a little boy talking about when we "go to 'nesia". Sometimes we're just hanging on by our fingernails, but oh, thank you Jesus, for the all of this.

Who needs roses when you have baby cheeks and milk breath? 

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Sending my Three Month Old in for Cleft Repair Surgery

Last month we took Elly to Medical City Dallas to have her soft palate repaired. Though we'd been reassured that it was a fairly simple surgery, I was still nervous. It meant putting a baby under anesthesia. I'd also heard comments about "bad repairs", and so I knew that repairs could be done well or not so well, and that how well it was done would affect her speech later on. In that last week I took her everywhere with me, even if others were available to watch her. I just didn't want my peaceful sweetheart far from my side.

The morning of surgery Elly was mad as h*** to be awakened early and not fed. I figured she'd be a screaming baby for three hours until they put her under. I was completely amazed that after falling asleep in the car on the way to the hospital she woke up when we arrived at the hospital and was calm and smiley and wiggly and delightful all through the waiting period. In the pre-op area I was walking with her and she fell fast asleep in my arms five minutes before they came to take her. I got to pass a sleeping baby off to the nurse with no trauma. I really feel like people were praying in those moments, and God answered.

Across from us an 8 year old boy was going in for a repair on his palate, and he and his mom both showed cleft lip repairs. Next to us was a toddler with multiple symptoms who was going in to sew up a repair that had reopened. She had a seizure while waiting in pre-op. I was reminded that Elly's cleft is relatively simple.

Elly was in surgery for a few hours. Coming to her in post-op was the most traumatic part of surgery. She was completely limp and white as a sheet, her hair and scalp orange from a disinfectant that they put all over her head. Her mouth was bloody, tubes and wires all over her, and her tongue had a stitch in it that was taped to her chin to keep her from swallowing it. That's where I almost cried, but instead held my limp baby for hours as the nurses tried to wake her and she stayed firmly under the anesthesia for longer than they expected. That was okay with me because everyone comes out of anesthesia miserable and fighting. When she eventually did start to come out of it, she was manageable but oh so sad. Over the course of that day and the next two, the hardest thing was when she would wake up and her eyes would go wide with pain and shock. At first all she would do was give terrible soft moans, clearly afraid to use her mouth, swallow, etc. I don't blame her. They'd sewed up everything in the back!

 

I stayed that night in the hospital with Elly, spending most of the time swaying with her, because the only thing she wanted was to be held by momma. My back and shoulder were so sore by the time we went home, but oh, that's all I wanted to do. Just take care of her. It was a relief to have the IV and monitors taken off so that she was at least cord free.  It was a surreal night, mostly awake but sometimes dozing in the dark with her carefully cradled, avoiding pulling on all the cords, with my phone and kindle and water and pump in arms reach. There are a lot of nights watches as a mother, and it is a constant conversation of prayer for her.

 

But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord, and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. Ps 3:3-5

 

After the tough day at the hospital, the first few days of recovery were relatively easy because my mom was around helping us and Elly slept most of the time. A week in was harder. For ten days Elly could only eat from a syringe with a soft tube on the end, and she hated it and was not eating enough. That and the transition from prescription pain meds to Tylenol made her a very miserable girl for a couple of days. She was inconsolable all the time and we just took turns walking here as she cried and cried. Once she was back on bottles, she perked back up into happy Elly. She is healing well, but the surgeon is still watching to make sure it fully heals and doesn't reopen.

And.... the most amazing thing is that when the surgeon came to tell us about the surgery, he said they were able to fully close her palate. They had expected to close the soft palate and fix the hard palate at about two years old.  Instead they were able to fully close the cleft with just soft palate tissue, and the only reason she'd need a second surgery is if it reopens or if her speech development later on requires it. I didn't even know that was possible (though Isaac seems to have understood, so maybe I just missed something??), and I am SO thankful.

 

 

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