Tag Archives: micro preemie

How Little Is Understood

Only a handful of people will ever fully understand any of the feelings involved in Charlie’s birth. That is why I became so annoyed with this article that repeatedly appeared in my social media feeds today.

Numerous moms lauded it and responded with proclamations of sisterhood. However, not one of my friends that have lost a child praised it. Nor, did I see any of my fellow micro preemie moms passing it on.

The thing is, unless you are a micro preemie mom, you can’t possibly understand what I’ve been through. Even then, our experiences may be vastly different. Similarly, I can’t pretend to understand what my friends who have lost a child have experienced.

Yes, you may be able to imagine a bit of the fear that I felt when Charlie made her early arrival weighing in at 790g. But, you can’t ever imagine what it was like for me to sit beside her isolette in silence for days, unable to touch her or hold her. I maintained the vigil simply because I did not want her to die alone.

You can’t imagine the loneliness I felt when people constructed excuses not to visit me and my baby because it was too hard or uncomfortable. You can’t imagine the powerlessness I felt as I pled for my newborn’s life.  You can’t imagine the heartbreak, the anger, the fear, the jealousy, the envy, and the profound sadness I felt during her NICU stay. Each day, I woke up and whispered to myself, “Please, don’t let anything bad happen today. Please, don’t let my baby die today.”

Eventually, she did come home but it was not over.

There was more heartbreak and sadness that came with diagnoses and countless unknowns. Every little milestone was and is celebrated like a hard won victory. Because, that’s what they are.

Most importantly, there are the bits that most likely didn’t cross your mind. My relationships with friends and family have changed. Some for the better while others were broken or abandoned. The stress rocks a marriage. I feel disconnected from a lot of the world around me. I no longer relate to most of my peers.

While I’ve come out of it stronger, more resilient, wiser, and braver, part of me is wounded. I lost my sense of safety. I fight through anxiety every single day. I am haunted by guilt. Periodically, I mourn the loss of my birth story, the loss of my child’s babyhood, and the loss of the imagined life we were supposed to have. I will never be the same.

Each time I see the article pop up in my feed, it’s a slap in the face. It minimizes my feelings and is dismissive of my trauma. Instead, the article shows me how little you do understand. I don’t care that you are a mom. You can not possibly know. You are not supposed to know.

Something horrible happened to me and some of my friends. There are some things so horrible that you can’t understand unless you experience them first hand.

For your sake, I hope you don’t… because you’re a mom.

 

 


Count Down To Christmas!

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We watched the Polar Express together.

Friday night, we bought and put up our very first Christmas tree. Charlie was an enthusiastic participant. In addition to the tree, I hope to make gingerbread houses with her between now and Christmas. This is the first Christmas that she is able to actively participate in holiday themed activities. We are enjoying the novelty of it all.

During the tree assembly, Charlie shifted her focus between helping and running around the living room. At one point she babbled, “Mommy, mommy, mommy, I love mommy.” as she ran towards me. Stunned, I asked my husband, “Did she just say ‘I love mommy’?” He confirmed that, indeed, she had said it. It was the first time she verbally said that she loved anything.

I am counting down to Christmas despite the busy December.

Last week, Charlie was measured for Supra-Malleolar-Orthosis (SMOs). They are a smaller and a more conservative version of the AFOs she wore last year. The orthotics barely rise above her shoe line.

The SMOs were prescribed to correct her pronated feet, help her walk better, and will, hopefully, discourage toe walking. If she continues to toe walk, she may end up with hinged AFOs. She will get and be fitted for her SMOs in the upcoming weeks.

Next week, Charlie has an MRI scheduled for which she will be sedated. The MRI does not bother me, but the anesthesia and accompanying intubation does. I am a nervous wreck. Logically, I know it’s not a big deal and she will be fine. However, emotionally, I am terrified. There is not much I can do but have faith in my logic and trust Charlie’s doctors and nurses.

Nevertheless, this week, I may try to squeeze in a little extra quality time.

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Charlie Loves Gymnastics

Charlie was invited to a gymnastics themed birthday party. “How fun!” I thought when we received the invitation. I wasn’t sure how Charlie was going to participate but I knew she would enjoy it.

The party was Saturday. Charlie was the smallest of the preschoolers that ran through the gym while the instructor set up mats. The other kids seemed bigger, possibly older, and had a more advanced skill set. To top things off, Charlie fell on her face before things even really began.

I assumed I would have to help Charlie participate. I was mostly wrong. After I helped her with hand over hand direction during the warm ups, I stood beside Charlie as she waited in line behind three other kids. In turn, each child ran down a mat, jumped on a trampoline, and performed a somersault on a sloped mat (all with the instructor and her assistant on stand by to help).

Charlie watched the kids before her and was ready for her turn. I said, “Go Charlie!” and held my breath. She ran down the mat, stepped up on the trampoline, jumped in place, moved to the sloped mat, and performed a somersault. Afterwards, she clapped for herself and ran towards me.

“Do you want to do it again?” I asked. ” ‘gain!” She yelled back.

I stood beside her in line, but it was unnecessary. Charlie seemed to understand the concept of the line and waiting her turn. When she was up front, she expertly raised her hand to let the instructor know she was ready. The instructor responded with a raised hand. I whispered, “Go!”

Charlie squealed with excitement the entire sprint down the mat. The instructor helped her on to the trampoline and off again after several jumps. Charlie decided to log roll instead of somersault down the sloped mat. Next, a low balance beam was added to the course. Charlie counted her steps on the beam as she held the instructor’s hand. Like before, she proudly ran back to me and blurted out, ” ‘gain!”

Charlie enthusiastically performed the routines over and over again. Each time she laughed, clapped, and squealed with excitement. She loved this party.

I found out afterwards that Charlie could attend a half hour class for five dollars. Today, we gave the class a shot.

Charlie enjoyed today’s class as much as the party. The instructor and her assistants seemed to understand where Charlie is skill wise and provided assistance as needed.

There was one little girl in her class whose mother worked intently with her on each element. She performed each step expertly and will probably go on to compete in gymnastics. That is most likely not in the books for us.

For me, my goal is simple. I wanted Charlie to have fun. If she learns to follow directions, learns to wait her turn, and grows stronger, that’s all a happy by-product.

I have a new favorite Sunday afternoon activity. It is watching Charlie squeal with delight as she runs towards her next tumble.

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I was unable to take pictures during gymnastics class because I had my hands full. This picture is a leaf she found while we were on a walk.

 

 

 


Premature Babies: What You Don’t See

In honor of upcoming World Prematurity Day on Monday, I sent out the following tweet:

It was favorited and retweeted among those who celebrate World Prematurity Day. A prematurity poster toddler of sorts.

You see the before and after pictures. Maybe you think that prematurity is no big deal. These babies seem to turn out fine.

But, these pictures are oversimplifications… only part of a story. What is missing from these posts is everything in between.

What you don’t see is the three months she spent in the NICU perilously clinging to life while enduring countless painful tests and procedures.

What you don’t see is the long demoralizing walk from the ER to pediatrics upon her readmission to the hospital for complications due to her early arrival.

What you don’t see are endless therapy sessions and appointments with specialists in which we hope for and ask from her things that are arduous.

What you don’t see is how hard she worked for every little bit of progress.

What you don’t see is how, over two years later, prematurity continues to affect her life every single day.

What you don’t see are the babies who didn’t survive.

With all of the before and after pictures that are and will circulate in honor of World Prematurity Day, please keep in mind the things that you don’t see. Surviving premature birth is no small feat.


This Year’s Prematurity Awareness Month and Me

Last year, I wrote a post a day for Prematurity Awareness Month. On Prematurity Awareness Day, I wrote a post titled “Why Have Prematurity Awareness Day (or Month)? This year, I’ve stared at a blank screen for nights. I tell myself that I’m waiting for a muse of fire.

If the truth be known, I’m sick and tired of prematurity. Two and a half years after Charlie’s early arrival, not a day goes by that it does not impact my life in some way. Additionally, I think about it several times a day.

No, I’m not obsessive. It’s just that my life revolves around prematurity.

For starters, I am constantly problem solving with doctors, therapists, nurses, and pharmacies. Then, there is the hassle of social services. Charlie’s medicaid waiver should have been decided months ago. Plus, the insurance company likes to waste my time with automatic denials or by providing misleading information. That’s just the obvious stuff.

Prematurity creeps into my “regular” parenting life. If I hear a cough, I cringe and make a quick escape with Charlie. No need to challenge those preemie lungs. Feeding… oh goodness… let’s not get into feeding. During play, I watch to see if her pincer grasp is improving, if a heel strike will miraculously appear while she’s walking, and if she favors her left side as usual.

Currently, I’m stressed about Charlie’s upcoming MRI because it has to be performed under sedation with all the risks it entails. Additionally, I’m trying to schedule her new AFOs (yes, she’s being prescribed orthotics AGAIN) before the end of the year since our deductible has been met. On top of it all, meal time is a juggling act of mentally calculating her caloric intake while coaxing her to eat.

Truly, I think about prematurity many times a day. My brain refuses to contemplate it further and my thoughts about it have been tapped out.

But, that’s why I need to write about it. If, for anything, so that our story is told.

So that people don’t make the mistake of thinking that preemies are just small babies. So that people don’t believe that babies come home from the NICU and are suddenly “fine”. So that people know that some preemies don’t ever catch up and some never come home.

We can do better.

For example, we can fund more research, lobby for better health care policies, and educate more people. By doing so, we can improve the lives of these babies and of parents like me.

I’m very hopeful about Charlie’s future, but I’m tired of prematurity. Everyone else should be tired of it too. Let’s do something about it.

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Halloween Weekend Summary

This was Charlie’s first Halloween trick or treating. During her first Halloween, we were in isolation. For her second Halloween, we took her to collect candy at Target because she was unable to walk. This Halloween was her first going door to door and she loved it.

Charlie and her dad pre-game before the office Halloween party.

Charlie and her dad pre-game before the office Halloween party.

Thursday night was like training for Halloween. Charlie’s dad’s office had a Halloween party. She dressed in her Elmo costume (which she picked out), decorated a pumpkin, and learned to trick or treat at the cubicles.

The employees also had a costume contest. There was someone dressed up as a scary blood covered wolf with a plastic chain around his neck. Charlie kept waving to him and saying, “Hi doggy!”

The actual night of Halloween, we went to a friend’s neighborhood. Trick or treating in our dark mountain neighborhood is not the safest of ideas. Our friend’s daughters joined us (and helped) as we took Charlie door to door for the first time.

Charlie made her way up the first porch steps (with help) and stood patiently while the homeowner answered the door. When the door opened Charlie exclaimed, “Snacks please!”

By the next house, she relearned to say “Trick or treat”. Now, she blurts it out repeatedly whenever she hears something that sounds remotely close to it.

Halloween turned out to be much more fun than I had anticipated.

The next day was the first day of November or as my news feed reminds me, Prematurity Awareness Month. My next post will address the month long observance.

When Elmo met Pooh.

When Elmo met Pooh.

 


The Promised Pictures

We had a lot of fun at the March of Dimes Signature Chef’s Auction. We feasted on delicious dishes and met some incredible people.

As usual, Charlie flirted shamelessly. Charlie seems to really enjoy interacting with people.

In the beginning of the evening, she handed out the favors and we thanked people for attending. Later, she tossed the football back and forth with attendees while a football package was auctioned off (and continued on with it past the sale of the item).

As promised, here are some of the pictures from this weekend.

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We’re Not Supposed To Be Here

“We’re not supposed to be here” has been my pouty mantra since around the end of the summer. A therapist or a doctor will tell me how well Charlie is doing. I respond along the lines of, “She is… but this isn’t how it was supposed to be.” I remind them of the empty promises from the neonatalogists and the unfulfilled prophecies.

Charlie wasn’t supposed to need all the specialists or therapists. She was supposed to “catch up” quickly and easily. This wasn’t supposed to be our life.

I know, it’s small, it’s petty, and, even childlike. But, I have been sulking. It’s not one loss I’m learning to cope with but countless other losses that unexpectedly hit with a crushing blow. The proverbial roller coaster ride never really ended for us.

The past two and a half years have been very long and feel like a completely different life. So much so, that when I visit places I lived prior to Charlie’s birth it feels like I’m visiting a dream. I know the place well but I feel like it was someone else’s life that I remember occurring there. Not mine.

After dinner, I took Charlie to get her non dairy frozen ice cream substitute. She loves it and will devour it with a smile on her face.

I sat there and watched her gorge while totally focused on the treat in front of her. During the moment of silence, I thought about how much we laughed today, the new word (“funny”) she said, and all of the fun we had together. Then, it hit me.

We’re not supposed to be here.

At least, she’s not.

They thought she wouldn’t survive her delivery. Yet, she was gobbling ice cream in front of me.

I don’t know where we are supposed to be. I suppose I will have to make it up and chart the course as we go.

However, today, the phrase “We’re not supposed to be here” transitioned from a phrase roared in frustration, anger, desperation, and exhaustion to one whispered in breathless awe.

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I Scream, You Scream, Charlie Speaks For Ice Cream

I had a feeling it was going to be a great semester for Charlie’s speech. I knew in the second week that Charlie’s student therapist understood Charlie. As sweet and cute as Charlie is, she is highly energetic and difficult to focus (more so than most two year olds).  She can be a handful.

By the second week, the student therapist had learned to work with Charlie amazingly well. I was impressed.

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This is what part of the screen looks like when I watch from the observation room.

For most sessions, I sit in the observation room with the other parents and watch the session over the cameras on a computer screen. I did this initially in case Charlie became unruly or melted down. I wanted to be able to rescue the student therapist if needed. Now, I just sit there, read, and occasionally glance up at the screen.

What goes on during speech therapy? A variety of play activities. Each semester, I’m always impressed by the students.

If Charlie starts to run circles in the room, the student therapist patiently says, “Oh, you need to run? OK, lets go to the sensory room and bounce on the trampoline.” While Charlie bounces, the student therapist sings a song about bouncing with her.

In another activity, Charlie pretends to shop and has to ask for each item she wants to put in the cart. In Charlie’s favorite activity, she plays basketball where she has to ask for the ball and to be lifted up to the hoop with “Want up!”.

Last session, she played a considerable amount of time with a fake ice cream cone. I noticed it when I looked up at the screen. I thought it was odd because Charlie has never really had ice cream. She gets the non dairy stuff when we go get ice cream. Not the type of ice cream she was playing with while learning to say “ice cream”.

Later that evening, Charlie, Charlie’s dad, and I grabbed a quick bite to eat. After we were finished, we passed the yogurt store where Charlie gets her non dairy treat. She pointed and exclaimed, “W-want ice cream! Ice cream!”

I was stunned.

We actually understood what she was saying! How did she make the connection that her non dairy treat in a cup was the same as that creamy looking cone she played with earlier?

We were obligated to follow our rule. If Charlie uses her words to ask for something, she gets it. She got her non dairy version of ice cream that evening.

Overall, I’ve noticed significant improvement with her speech. Charlie experiments more with two word phrases such as “Bye daddy!” and we can understand more of what she says.

Feeding is finally moving forward as well. With the introduction of erythromycin, she eats more than two bites, doesn’t vomit, and her reflux is gone. She still has difficulty tolerating some textures and with chewing food. However, I’m relieved that she is no longer stuck.

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Family Photo

Today, we took our traditional family photo. The whole thing became an accidental tradition.

When Charlie was in the NICU, the nurses would occasionally mention that we should take our first family photo. I refused. Back when I had no control over anything and felt completely powerless, that was something I could decide. Our family would not be documented, for the first time, in that way or at that time.

Looking back, I realize it was silly. But, I still had fantasies of leaving the NICU and forgetting all about preemie life.

284071_10100763182517989_2042550072_nAfter Charlie had been home for a few weeks, we decided to go to an apple orchard about an hour away. We lived in the Fairfax area at the time which made the trip sort of magical. There were open fields, fresh air, apples one could pick off trees, and fewer people. Things we did not have where we lived.

Suddenly, I decided that this was the place I wanted to take our first family picture. I remember silly things about the moment. Such as how the guy who took our picture commented, “How old is that baby? Three hours?” I remember how we were staring into the sun and how I stepped on a rotten apple. My eyes are barely open in it. But, there you have it. Our first family picture.

A few months later, we decided the Fairfax area was no longer right for us. We left DC Metro suburbia for the mountains. The following apple season we discovered that we now lived about twenty minutes on the other side of the apple orchard. We returned, picked apples, and took this picture.

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I don’t remember too many details about the trip.

Now, here we are. Another year has passed and we are over that orchard. There are dozens where we live and the novelty has worn off. However, today, we made the pilgrimage simply to take the traditional picture.

It’s interesting how things have changed in two years. What was then fewer people is what we now consider crowded. The walk up that big hill (which was a challenge the first time) was a piece of cake because we spend a lot of our free time hiking. The biggest change of all, Charlie walked up the hill (with assistance) with us.

So here it is… this year’s picture.

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A side note: Kaia (our dog) is not in the picture with us this year. She is alive and well (and the best hiking partner ever). But, we went to other non dog friendly places after this picture was taken.


Arizona

Very late last night, I returned from a trip to Arizona. You may wonder why I went to Arizona. I attended my second Share Union.

So now, you may want to know what the heck is ShareUnion. Words do not do ShareUnion justice but I will do my best to try and explain. It’s an amazing opportunity many of you may be missing out on.

Some parents (myself included), feel that while in the hospital or NICU there is a lot of support from social workers and staff. However, once you journey beyond the institutional setting that support is often difficult to find. That is where Share Your Story steps in.

One of many March of Dimes programs is the website Share Your Story. It is a website for NICU parents, special needs parents, parents who have lost a baby, parents of babies with birth defects, parents who have lost a pregnancy, people struggling with infertility, parents to be with high risk pregnancies, parents of babies born sleeping, and pretty much anyone else dealing with a birth related issue.

The site offers several features. There are forums where topics are discussed and questions are asked. Additionally, users can start a blog. Worried that you aren’t a good writer or fret because you don’t know how to write a blog? Don’t. The blogs on the site are different than other blogs. No one on the site focuses on things like style or grammar. The interface is not complicated. Your message and what you have to say are the important things. You can help other parents just by participating in the blogs or forums.

Plus, there is a photo gallery to post pictures. I’m sure I’ve forgotten many other features. I encourage you to visit the site and peruse it. You are bound to find something useful.

Back to ShareUnion:

In simple terms, ShareUnion is the annual gathering of the Share Your Story site’s users, lurkers, and want to be users. However, it is so much more than that.

Everyone gets something different out of it, this is what I get:

Since Charlie’s birth, I have lost my connection with the world around me. I don’t share in the common experience of those around me in my everyday life. I feel like I don’t belong and hardly anyone truly understands my world. That is not the case at ShareUnion. Most of the attendees are walking or have walked in my shoes or similar shoes.

Also, I have lost my sense of safety since Charlie’s birth. I have anxiety daily over things I would not have given a second thought prior to when all this began. Each time I attend ShareUnion, I feel it is a step further in getting my feeling of safety back.

Finally, the moms who have lost babies can talk about their babies or the NICU parents can talk about their experiences openly. There is no social awkwardness or having to pretend that everything is OK. It is what it is and we help each other survive it. We celebrate our children’s lives.

The attendees have become like family to me. I don’t want anyone interested in attending to miss out because they did not know about it.

The ShareUnion gathering is free and includes sessions, speakers, and (delicious) meals. However, each attendee is responsible for transportation and lodging (having roomates cuts the cost significantly).

If you are interested in attending next year’s ShareUnion (sometime next summerish), get started on the site now. The more the merrier. I hate that all of us met this way but I’m so glad we did.

 


One Of The Many Reasons Parenting Magazines Are Not Relatable To Me

Maybe it was because last night I had one of those nightmares in which I was pregnant again. Or, it may be because I know too many women who have lost their babies. Whatever it is, I was turned off to find an article titled “How Social Media Is Giving My Pregnancy Anxiety” in my Twitter feed.

I’ve written before how I don’t relate to the articles in parenting magazines. I’ve had a distaste for them ever since a particular one repeatedly arrived unsolicited in my mail box to explain the exciting things occuring during my pregnancy long past the time my pregnancy was cut short.

I suppose I don’t find the cloth diaper or breast feeding debates interesting because I didn’t really have a choice in either (and I couldn’t care less what other people do). Despite Charlie doing well, I can’t pretend that I fret over what kind of preschool she should attend or the latest (and trendiest) toddler activity.

I wanted to give the author and the title the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the author was concerned for her pregnancy because of all the awareness posts regarding  premature birth and pregnancy complications. I clicked on the link hoping to find some mention of all that.

Nope. It was concern over whether her baby shower would be Pinterest worthy and the appearance of Facebook photos. Once again, another parenting article that I found to be not relatable in the very least.

I don’t understand the whole parenting magazine or website thing. Most of the articles I come across are of no interest to me. However, I do wonder if they would be more appealing had I had a healthy pregnancy and carried Charlie to term.

I simply want to enjoy the time I have with Charlie. One day, I will look back on this time as the best years of my life. I don’t need validation of my parenting ability or do I desire to be the best parent. Secretly, I think we are all messing it up in some way and that’s OK. But, you know what? To Charlie, I’m the best mommy there is and that’s what matters to me.

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The Steps Back

10632804_10101908364064989_7657235980990242876_nCharlie has made so much progress, it’s only natural she would take a few steps back. This was the week for back sliding and hassles.

Earlier this week, Charlie had her medicaid waiver eligibility interview. It did not go as well as hoped. Unfortunately, the medicaid waiver that applies to Charlie has a ten year waiting list. Although I still cling to hope that all this will be a memory in ten years, we are getting on the list.

Later in the week, Charlie had a follow up with the gastroenterologist. There is some question as to what is going on in Charlie’s GI tract. To find an answer, she will have an upper GI. If that is unremarkable, she will have an upper endoscopy. Following the appointment, Charlie went to the splash park.

10419984_10101908363800519_4688971542622721905_n_editedFinally, we gave the big girl bed experiment a valiant effort. However, Charlie is not ready for it. Yes, she got out of bed and wandered around her room. That was not the problem. The problem is that she banged on the walls and door incessantly.

Initially, it wasn’t a problem. We ignored it and eventually she went to bed somewhere on the floor. However, the intensity of the pounding increased until she bruised herself. With her high pain tolerance, her dad and I became concerned she may accidentally hurt herself.

Replacing the crib rail was not an option because she gets stuck in the slats in her attempts to get out. For now, she sleeps in her play pen. It’s OK she is not ready for a big girl bed yet. In the near future, we will try again.

 


Flight

10599193_10101903098901419_4288387578415227_n_editedCharlie has her Medicaid Waiver screening tomorrow. I’ve worried about it for about a month. If Charlie is found not eligible for a Medicaid Wavier, then we lose Medicaid as Charlie’s secondary insurance.  With all of her needs (PT, OT, ST, formula, medication, etc), I don’t know how we’ll manage without it.

Without Medicaid, the services available to her will become limited and she will have to discontinue some of her therapy. We will go even deeper into medical debt because the bills will pile up much faster.

For the last month, I’ve gathered documentation and researched the waiver process. I’ve had nightmares the past two nights about losing Medicaid as her secondary insurance.

10516774_10101903098048129_3487054563820410646_nThis morning, I woke up and looked over her paper work. Then, I realized that I am as prepared as I will ever be. I took a deep breath and decided to try and stop worrying about it. Tomorrow, I have a fight. Today, rather than stress over it, I chose flight.

Charlie and I went to Leesylvania State Park. She played in the water (her sensory issues are improving remarkably), climbed on the playground, and walked on a riverside trail (her legs are getting so strong). It was relaxing and I could forget about the medicaid waiver issue for the afternoon.

Wish us luck tomorrow. We need all the positive thoughts we can get.

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When Words Fail Her

I can only understand about 25% of what Charlie says. That is, if she says anything at all.

A lot of the time she grunts or “talks” with her mouth closed. Other times, it’s garbled gibberish. With context clues and effort, I can understand about 25% of what she says.

Tonight, my husband realized that all of those sounds have meaning and we can’t understand most of them.

Charlie was climbing on him and playing with a Little People’s tricycle. She rolled it up his arm, put it on his head, and exclaimed some garbled words. He dismissed them and continued flipping through the channels.

She repeated her gibberish over and over. He realized she was trying to tell him something. After asking her to repeat it a few more times, he deciphered she was actually saying, “It’s a hat!”

He was so impressed with her. But, at the same time, so saddened. He realized her thoughts and receptive language is fine. Her body (more so her mouth) will not do what she wants it to.

Although, I already knew this. It makes me sad as well when I think about it. I can’t imagine the level of frustration, isolation, and whatever else she may feel. I wish her fine motor skills were decent enough for sign language.

However, I try to remain positive and remind myself that she seems happy. The whole ordeal doesn’t really appear to bother her. She is one of the most joyful and enthusiastic people I know of.

Before she went to bed tonight, she said, “nigh” (good night) for the first time. Then, when I told her I loved her, she leaned in and kissed me.

I guess maybe she does communicate in her own way.

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We’ve been visiting Chuck E Cheese’s a lot lately. It’s an easy and fun way to work on most of her therapy goals.


All Quiet On The Royal Front

I haven’t had the urge to blog lately. I want to say it is due to lack of happenings. However, that’s not true. There is just as much occurring now as ever. Therefore, I think the change may be in me. Those big emotions are not stirred up on an almost daily basis. I may be settling into my normal.

Oh, insurance does not want to cover a medical necessity? I’m used to that. What’s that? The medicaid waiver process is a giant snafu? I kind of expected it. Are those people judging us as we go about our routine? Shrugged off. Another diagnosis? I saw it coming.

Don’t mistake me. Like anyone, some days are better than others for me. I do struggle from time to time. I continue to feel disconnected from the “regular” parenting world. But, those powerful consuming emotions are not an every day thing anymore. Maybe, more of a once or twice a week kind of thing.

The dust is finally settling after our world was rocked by Charlie’s premature arrival.

On a side note: Today was the first day that I looked at Charlie and saw a little girl instead of a baby. I don’t care what people say. This time did not fly by. It felt like the longest two years of my life.

I happily tossed out the bottles (she takes her formula through a sippy cup now). I was thrilled to take the rail off of her crib. I look forward to the (very far off) day without diapers.

Bye bye baby and hello little girl!

Taken earlier today.

Taken earlier today.


Charlie’s Big Week Ahead

Charlie doesn’t know it but next week is a big week in her world.

First, we are taking her to see her favorite Sesame Street character, Elmo, at Busch Gardens. I wanted to take her to see Elmo since the weather warmed up. Things such as schedules and finances finally worked out so we can take her this upcoming week.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited.

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Next, Charlie is being freed from her crib. I want to say she is moving to a big girl bed. In reality, she’s having the front rail taken off of her crib to make a toddler day bed.

Most of my friends have posted on Facebook the day their kid first climbed out of the crib. I planned on keeping Charlie in her crib until she reached that day.

However, Charlie keeps getting stuck in the bars of her crib as she tries to get out. Nap time is frequently interrupted by Charlie’s desperate cries for help. She finds new and inventive ways to become trapped.

A couple of times, I considered breaking a bar to free her. Charlie hasn’t realized that, try as she might, she will not escape the crib through the bars.

Part of me is a little sad that we don’t get to have that moment of when she does finally climb out of the crib. The sadness is short lived because my mind is busy figuring out the logistics of this change.

I have additional concerns on top of those concerning bedding and Charlie staying in bed. Her room, although currently childproof, will have to become Charlie proof. She likes to pull the clothes and diapers out of her drawers, dump the laundry basket, and carry out whatever other mischief she can invent. Her room will be rearranged.

Next week is a big week for Charlie. I can’t wait to see how it all plays out.

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Charlie visited Sky Meadows State Park today and enjoyed the gorgeous weather.


Specialty Clinic On The Horizon

On Wednesday, Charlie will make the two hour journey for her follow up appointments (she gets reassessed in several areas) with developmental pediatrics. I admit, I am a little nervous. The past couple of visits to the clinic did not go so well for us.

I realize we are lucky and Charlie is doing really well considering her extremely premature arrival. But, I can’t shake the feeling that we should be done with all this. I’m kind of like a little kid pouting and saying to myself, “We weren’t supposed to have this challenging of a journey.”

For some reason, it was easier for me to accept the long NICU stay than it is the long period it will take Charlie to “catch up”, if ever.

Sometimes, I think I should stop hoping for the end of specialty clinic visits, regular insurance phone calls, and numerous therapy appointments. Because I hope, each follow up with the developmental pediatrician feels how I imagine a prisoner must feel before a parole board. I see the progress Charlie has made and dare to think, “It won’t be long now until we are finished with this.”

However, my hopes are shot down when a new area of concern is discussed or limited progress is pointed out. Often, I knew of the issue beforehand. However, I had anticipated it wasn’t a big deal. Or, I assumed it could easily be addressed.

Additionally, I feel guilty and greedy for wanting more. We are fortunate Charlie is doing well. That should be enough. I feel selfish for desperately wanting her to “catch up”.

I am not sure what is going to happen on Wednesday. Maybe that is why I’m already anxious and thinking about it. I have my fingers crossed it’s going to be a good appointment.

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Charlie visited Skyline Drive this weekend.

 


My Favorite Sound

Charlie joined me today as I picked through a clearance sale at the mall. She pretended she was looking for clothes and rifled through the racks beside me. After she became bored, she played peek a boo with anyone that looked her way.

A sales lady got sucked into a game of peek a boo with Charlie. As the laughter from both sides died down, the lady asked Charlie what her name was. Charlie smiled at the lady, fidgeted with her hair, squirmed, and remained silent. The pause in the conversation became uncomfortable. I jumped in and answered for Charlie.

The lady asked, “How old are you Charlie?” Charlie answered with babble. The lady looked somewhat surprised to hear a toddler babble. I disclosed, “She doesn’t talk yet.”

I’ve been cranky and exhausted from this past week.

I was too tired to explain Charlie’s early arrival. I didn’t have the patience to hear a stranger’s awkward remarks upon receiving the information. I was not in the mood to discuss diagnoses and how we hope she will one day “catch up”.

I just wanted to find some deeply discounted clothes and get out of there.

Speech, like feeding, is one of those skills that Charlie struggles with. The good news is that she is improving. While she continues to babble, Charlie now has twenty eight words.

Among those words are “hop” for help, “Melmo” for Elmo, bye-bye, eat, and happy. Sometimes when Charlie is having fun she repeats “Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy…” with a huge grin. I’m nearly brought to tears each time she does it.

However, Charlie started using my personal favorite word a few weeks ago… mommy.

Charlie learned to say her name a few weeks ago as well.


I Didn’t Realize It Was Miserable

Thanks to the Parker Lee Project, Charlie received her first case of her new formula yesterday. It has only been a day since Charlie started her new formula but, I’ve already noticed a huge difference. I didn’t realize how miserable feeding had been for us until today.

Charlie has been learning to eat solids for over a year with limited success. Until yesterday, her major source of nourishment was from a partially hydrolyzed whey protein infant formula.

However, this posed two problems that we (her daddy and I) were aware of. First, the formula tasted disgusting so we had to get creative about disguising the flavor. Second, there weren’t enough calories in infant formula to satiate Charlie.  The formula had to be fortified with pretty much any food that flowed through a cross cut nipple.

Honestly, we had no idea what we were doing. But, as long as she continued to grow and gain weight everyone seemed happy with the approach. We (her doctors, her daddy, and I) hoped the spit up, reflux, and vomiting was something she would outgrow.

Feeding had become a complex process of guesswork and mixing of formula with food substances that Charlie was coaxed to eat. She was good about it. Better than I would have been.

But, there was a lot of spit up and occasionally she would vomit for what seemed like no reason at all. We constantly reminded anyone who played with Charlie, “Careful, don’t make her throw up!” Her crib sheets needed to be changed, at least, every two days due to spit up stains. This was our normal.

After her evaluation at the feeding clinic, we learned that Charlie has difficulty with chewing, trouble coordinating the movement of food with swallowing, a sensitive gag reflex, slow gastric emptying, poor motility, and a casein allergy. The gastroenterologist prescribed a specialty formula (a fully hydrolyzed whey protein pediatric medical food with fiber).

There has been a noticeable difference only a day after the switch to the new (and more appropriate) formula.

While it smells gross, Charlie readily eats the new vanilla flavored formula. There is no mixing or convincing her to eat. Plus, she hasn’t spit up or vomited since the introduction of the new formula yesterday morning. Her reflux has improved significantly.

I had no idea how stressful and awful Charlie’s feeding and GI issues were until they improved. It wasn’t until I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when feeding Charlie this morning that I realized how bad things were. I feel somewhat guilty for not making the realization and insisting that the issue be addressed sooner.

As a side note, I would like to inform my readers about The Parker Lee Project. Through the amazing work of the organization, parents in need of medical supplies can apply for the supplies (if available) free of charge. I’m grateful The Parker Lee Project supplied us with thirty days of formula (almost $1000 worth) while we wait for the paperwork to be processed with insurance and the durable medical equipment provider.

Additionally, those who have extra medical supplies that a child has out grown or no longer requires can donate them to this organization. Financial contributions are also appreciated.

preemie feeding

Charlie golfed a little on the Fourth.

 

 


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