For the first time since the surgery, Alyssa woke up last night crying from the pain. Today is day five, if you don’t count the day of the surgery as day one.
She’s hurting and that makes me a little crazy. I know she’ll get better but I want it to be now, not next week, that she feels better.
She’s still on a pain medication schedule of every three hours and she’s sleeping pretty well but I keep thinking each morning, “Today. Today will be the day that we turn the corner and she starts feeling significantly better.”
And we haven’t reached that point yet. She still lays around, not doing much of anything. She hurts and she’s irritable and I understand that. I just want her to feel better.
But at this point, there isn’t much we can do except continue to push fluids on her, offer her food and let her rest.
I know she’s tired of hurting. She’s tired of laying around. She’s an active kid. She’s usually running, dancing, spinning, flipping and cartwheeling her way through the house. I want that kid back.
I know how lucky we are that she’s usually so active, so healthy. I know that. But I want that back for her. I want her well.
And yes, this lengthy (for us) recovery isn’t doing much to alleviate my sense of guilt over doing this to her.
Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll turn the corner.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
The Smell of Healing
Olivia got tubes put in her ears when she was eight months old. She'd had pretty much chronic ear infections to that point.
About a month after the tubes were placed, she got another ear infection.
This time, though, was a bit different. The difference was the smell. The tubes were allowing the infection to drain and so each time I put my baby on my shoulder I could smell the infection in her ears.
It was awful. It was also proof that the tubes were a good thing. The infection wasn't pooling in her ears and festering.
But it was still gross.
A return to the ENT brought us the wonder that is antibiotic eardrops and ear infections pretty much disappeared for the next couple of years.
After Alyssa's surgery on Wednesday, the nurse warned us that her breath might be pretty bad over the next few days. She explained that this bad breath is just proof that the wounds are scabbing over and healing.
So yes, again, the bad smell is a good thing.
But it's still gross.
Even after brushing her teach, the poor child has horrible, horrible breath. We still hug her and she stll lays on me pretty much all evening but I admit that I try to avert my face from the direction of her breathing in an effort to avoid the smell.
The smell of healing is a nasty, icky smell. I do so hope the healing happens fast so the smell can go away.
About a month after the tubes were placed, she got another ear infection.
This time, though, was a bit different. The difference was the smell. The tubes were allowing the infection to drain and so each time I put my baby on my shoulder I could smell the infection in her ears.
It was awful. It was also proof that the tubes were a good thing. The infection wasn't pooling in her ears and festering.
But it was still gross.
A return to the ENT brought us the wonder that is antibiotic eardrops and ear infections pretty much disappeared for the next couple of years.
After Alyssa's surgery on Wednesday, the nurse warned us that her breath might be pretty bad over the next few days. She explained that this bad breath is just proof that the wounds are scabbing over and healing.
So yes, again, the bad smell is a good thing.
But it's still gross.
Even after brushing her teach, the poor child has horrible, horrible breath. We still hug her and she stll lays on me pretty much all evening but I admit that I try to avert my face from the direction of her breathing in an effort to avoid the smell.
The smell of healing is a nasty, icky smell. I do so hope the healing happens fast so the smell can go away.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Elective
So here’s the thing about elective surgery. Sometimes, even though it’s elective, it is actually sort of necessary in an effort to ward off future illness.
Which is the case with Alyssa’s surgery on Wednesday.
And she’s still doing well, by the way, thanks for asking.
But the thing about this surgery is that it wasn’t something that HAD to be done to save her life. It will improve the quality of her life and for that reason, I chose to have it done.
But…I feel awful for making that choice. Intellectually, I know it was the best choice. I have several adult friends/acquaintances who have actually thanked me for having her tonsils removed because they had to do so as adults and the results were horrendous.
Honestly, though, my child is suffering now because of something I elected to have done.
I took a fairly healthy child to the hospital and had them remove parts of her body, which caused her to suffer pretty severe pain for several days. The amount of guilt I feel for doing this is pretty high right now.
Yes, yes, this was something that will make her feel better in the long run but in the short run I chose something for her that hurt her. That caused her pain and stress and this choice, in the end, was mine.
Tom was willing to go along with whatever the doctor decided. But he wasn’t there for the final decision. He brought Alyssa to me and I went consultation with her. I heard what the doctor said and I made the choice.
I chose to let a doctor cut into my child.
She’s on the mend. She’s eating and drinking and sleeping well. She’s starting to speak above a whisper and she’s enjoying being babied.
But she hurts and I made that happen.
This is a rambling confession of maternal guilt. I know that. I also know that in a few weeks, when she’s fully healed and back at school and gymnastics and yelling at her sister and not looking down at an impending case of strep, I’ll be glad for this decision.
But right this second, I feel terrible for having made this choice, for choosing immediate, short-term pain in an effort to avoid long-term infection. Even though I know, I KNOW , it was the right choice, I feel awful for it.
This is the heart of a mother.
Which is the case with Alyssa’s surgery on Wednesday.
And she’s still doing well, by the way, thanks for asking.
But the thing about this surgery is that it wasn’t something that HAD to be done to save her life. It will improve the quality of her life and for that reason, I chose to have it done.
But…I feel awful for making that choice. Intellectually, I know it was the best choice. I have several adult friends/acquaintances who have actually thanked me for having her tonsils removed because they had to do so as adults and the results were horrendous.
Honestly, though, my child is suffering now because of something I elected to have done.
I took a fairly healthy child to the hospital and had them remove parts of her body, which caused her to suffer pretty severe pain for several days. The amount of guilt I feel for doing this is pretty high right now.
Yes, yes, this was something that will make her feel better in the long run but in the short run I chose something for her that hurt her. That caused her pain and stress and this choice, in the end, was mine.
Tom was willing to go along with whatever the doctor decided. But he wasn’t there for the final decision. He brought Alyssa to me and I went consultation with her. I heard what the doctor said and I made the choice.
I chose to let a doctor cut into my child.
She’s on the mend. She’s eating and drinking and sleeping well. She’s starting to speak above a whisper and she’s enjoying being babied.
But she hurts and I made that happen.
This is a rambling confession of maternal guilt. I know that. I also know that in a few weeks, when she’s fully healed and back at school and gymnastics and yelling at her sister and not looking down at an impending case of strep, I’ll be glad for this decision.
But right this second, I feel terrible for having made this choice, for choosing immediate, short-term pain in an effort to avoid long-term infection. Even though I know, I KNOW , it was the right choice, I feel awful for it.
This is the heart of a mother.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Nine Years
Today, October 4th 2012 is my and Tom’s anniversary. Go us, huh?
We have our ups and downs. We, like I’m sure most people living under the same roof, have our moments when the other’s quirks get a bit annoying for frustrating.
But it’s good. We’re good. And for that I’m so very, very thankful.
We spent most of the first eight years of our marriage as a commuting family. I worked at a place that was 65 miles away from where we lived. In the beginning, I drove every day. Then Alyssa was born and by eight months old, she was actively resisting her car seat. She knew what kind of drive she was in for and she hated it.
I hated it.
I started campaigning to move. But it took eight years for that to happen so Alyssa and I and eventually Olivia, commuted, we stayed with my mom during the week because her house was closer to my work. And we went home on the weekends.
Over the years there was anger over the situation. I admit to that. But we survived them. We moved past them and here we are, in a house that’s only 18 miles from where I live.
Tom works from home and takes care of Olivia in the mornings. He’s there to take care of Alyssa on school holidays, weather days, sick days.
We all pull our weight and we’re all the better for it.
Here’s to the next nine. May they be as adventurous as the first nine as we continue to grow together, learn together, love together.
We have our ups and downs. We, like I’m sure most people living under the same roof, have our moments when the other’s quirks get a bit annoying for frustrating.
But it’s good. We’re good. And for that I’m so very, very thankful.
We spent most of the first eight years of our marriage as a commuting family. I worked at a place that was 65 miles away from where we lived. In the beginning, I drove every day. Then Alyssa was born and by eight months old, she was actively resisting her car seat. She knew what kind of drive she was in for and she hated it.
I hated it.
I started campaigning to move. But it took eight years for that to happen so Alyssa and I and eventually Olivia, commuted, we stayed with my mom during the week because her house was closer to my work. And we went home on the weekends.
Over the years there was anger over the situation. I admit to that. But we survived them. We moved past them and here we are, in a house that’s only 18 miles from where I live.
Tom works from home and takes care of Olivia in the mornings. He’s there to take care of Alyssa on school holidays, weather days, sick days.
We all pull our weight and we’re all the better for it.
Here’s to the next nine. May they be as adventurous as the first nine as we continue to grow together, learn together, love together.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
On the Mend
Pre-op:
And:
Not to be outdone, Olivia this morning before Alyssa's surgery:
Post-op:
The surgery went really well. The doctor was out about fifteen minutes after they started, saying she was done and in recovery. He said it went as well as it can and she woke up really easily from the anesthesia. She looked a little annoyed at me when my mom and I first saw her lying on the gurney in recovery but she was still groggy and starting to feel the pain.
Now we're just pushing the fluids and letting her sleep as much as she can/will.
Thanks for all the good thoughts.
And:
Not to be outdone, Olivia this morning before Alyssa's surgery:
Post-op:
The surgery went really well. The doctor was out about fifteen minutes after they started, saying she was done and in recovery. He said it went as well as it can and she woke up really easily from the anesthesia. She looked a little annoyed at me when my mom and I first saw her lying on the gurney in recovery but she was still groggy and starting to feel the pain.
Now we're just pushing the fluids and letting her sleep as much as she can/will.
Thanks for all the good thoughts.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Scheduled
I got the call today. Tomorrow morning at 9:45 Alyssa will go into surgery to have her tonsils and adenoids removed.
A simple procedure, the surgeon said. It should take ten minutes. She’ll be home and ready for juice and popsicles before we know it.
Except…this is my baby. My child who will be under general anesthesia, who will have someone taking part of her body out of her.
Simple. For the surgeon, maybe.
For me? Not so simple.
I keep telling myself that it’s no big deal, she’ll be fine. Of course she will. But then my mind goes dark and scary, thinking of everything that can go wrong. She could have a bad reaction to the anesthesia. She could bleed more than they expect. She could not wake up…
It’s scary to hand your child over to a doctor, knowing they’re going to bring you back a hurt, scared little girl who sort of understands why we’re doing this but not really.
Nine is a tough age. She can seem so worldly, so sure of herself. But she’s still so little, so fragile, so needy.
She’s had trouble sleeping the last couple of nights, ever since she heard we’re doing the surgery, actually. She blames the daytime naps. I let her. I know she needs to save face, to not admit how very nervous she really is about this.
So I keep telling her how simple it’s going to be. How easily she’s going to heal. How much better she’s going to feel when it’s all over and she’s past the healing, the getting better.
But here, in this space, I’m scared too. That’s my little girl they’re going to take away. Even for a simple procedure, it’s scary to let her go, to trust.
I tell myself the same thing I tell her. She’ll feel so much better when it’s all over. The strep will stop haunting her. She won’t miss as much school and she’ll sleep better, deeper.
She’ll be just fine.
A simple procedure, the surgeon said. It should take ten minutes. She’ll be home and ready for juice and popsicles before we know it.
Except…this is my baby. My child who will be under general anesthesia, who will have someone taking part of her body out of her.
Simple. For the surgeon, maybe.
For me? Not so simple.
I keep telling myself that it’s no big deal, she’ll be fine. Of course she will. But then my mind goes dark and scary, thinking of everything that can go wrong. She could have a bad reaction to the anesthesia. She could bleed more than they expect. She could not wake up…
It’s scary to hand your child over to a doctor, knowing they’re going to bring you back a hurt, scared little girl who sort of understands why we’re doing this but not really.
Nine is a tough age. She can seem so worldly, so sure of herself. But she’s still so little, so fragile, so needy.
She’s had trouble sleeping the last couple of nights, ever since she heard we’re doing the surgery, actually. She blames the daytime naps. I let her. I know she needs to save face, to not admit how very nervous she really is about this.
So I keep telling her how simple it’s going to be. How easily she’s going to heal. How much better she’s going to feel when it’s all over and she’s past the healing, the getting better.
But here, in this space, I’m scared too. That’s my little girl they’re going to take away. Even for a simple procedure, it’s scary to let her go, to trust.
I tell myself the same thing I tell her. She’ll feel so much better when it’s all over. The strep will stop haunting her. She won’t miss as much school and she’ll sleep better, deeper.
She’ll be just fine.
Monday, October 1, 2012
On the Freaking Ball
Sometimes, I am so good at this mom thing. Sometimes.
Okay, most of the time, I’m just winging it. I fully admit that.
But sometimes the stars align and I manage to juggle the very few balls I toss in the air and it feels good to think maybe I can do this.
Two weeks ago, I purchased a pattern and some fabric for my mom to make Olivia’s a Halloween costume. She’s going to be Merida from Brave. Olivia, that is, not my mom.
Alyssa said for months she wanted to be Adele. Then…she watched The Hunger Games and started reading the book and poor Adele has been replaced by Katniss. Honestly, I’m relieved because I had no idea how I was going to make Alyssa an Adele costume and NOT have her have to explain who she was to every single person she encountered.
So she’s got a bow and arrows. She’s got black pants, shirt and jacket. I’ve mastered the side braid that Katniss rocks in the movie.
The only thing missing is the mockingjay pin. We saw them about a month ago at Walmart but that was before Alyssa decided she wanted to be Katniss for Halloween.
Now that she’s decided that? They’re gone.
So what does a resourceful mom do?
She goes to Amazon. I know, right? The best place EVER.
The pin has been ordered.
So has Olivia’s Brave bow and arrows. They are all scheduled for delivery no later than October 11th. That’s like 20 days before Halloween. I’ve never been so ahead of the game in my life.
And get this….I’ve even already emailed the school to make sure it’s okay for the girls to take their bows to school for their Halloween parties. I’ve assured both teachers that neither girl will have arrows anywhere near their bows.
So yeah, it’s October 1st. Do you have your Halloween on?
Okay, most of the time, I’m just winging it. I fully admit that.
But sometimes the stars align and I manage to juggle the very few balls I toss in the air and it feels good to think maybe I can do this.
Two weeks ago, I purchased a pattern and some fabric for my mom to make Olivia’s a Halloween costume. She’s going to be Merida from Brave. Olivia, that is, not my mom.
Alyssa said for months she wanted to be Adele. Then…she watched The Hunger Games and started reading the book and poor Adele has been replaced by Katniss. Honestly, I’m relieved because I had no idea how I was going to make Alyssa an Adele costume and NOT have her have to explain who she was to every single person she encountered.
So she’s got a bow and arrows. She’s got black pants, shirt and jacket. I’ve mastered the side braid that Katniss rocks in the movie.
The only thing missing is the mockingjay pin. We saw them about a month ago at Walmart but that was before Alyssa decided she wanted to be Katniss for Halloween.
Now that she’s decided that? They’re gone.
So what does a resourceful mom do?
She goes to Amazon. I know, right? The best place EVER.
The pin has been ordered.
So has Olivia’s Brave bow and arrows. They are all scheduled for delivery no later than October 11th. That’s like 20 days before Halloween. I’ve never been so ahead of the game in my life.
And get this….I’ve even already emailed the school to make sure it’s okay for the girls to take their bows to school for their Halloween parties. I’ve assured both teachers that neither girl will have arrows anywhere near their bows.
So yeah, it’s October 1st. Do you have your Halloween on?
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