Thankful on Thursday (a day late)

When talking to my husband earlier today he said, "You can't even begin to imagine how badly you want something until it almost gets taken away."

Today, we are thankful this little person who is due to arrive into our lives sometime in November.



Barely nine weeks into my pregnancy, this little one is already giving us a run for our money. At a routine OB appointment the mid-wife found that I had a heart murmur, a fairly common and minor pregnancy complaint but one that warranted a visit to the cardiologist. Yesterday I sat in the office and went through my medical history with the cardio, even commenting that I have been "obnoxiously healthy" my entire life. He started listening to my heart. And listening, and listening. After several minutes he started talking about what he heard - a loud flow murmur but another more concerning sound from my pulmonary valve. A sound that when combined with my typical pregnancy symptoms of exhaustion and breathlessness could be pointing to a condition known as pulmonary hypertension. My cardio explained that there are many levels of PH, that it could be relatively minor but it needed to be checked out immediately given that it is associated with a higher rate of poor maternal outcomes and that depending on what he saw, he may recommend termination of my pregnancy.

I swear, I stopped breathing. I don't think I started again until about 3pm this afternoon.

Yesterday was a nightmare, holding it together long enough to explain everything to my husband before breaking down into chest heaving sobs when telling my Mom. Googling, closing the window promising never to do that again, only to do it again hoping that I would find something, anything to provide me with some hope if I just found the right mix of search terms. Sitting in Church and thinking "You've got to be kidding me. This can't be happening." before realizing that I had to get up, press forward and take care of my son. Last night was agonizing as I reached out to friends and family for prayers and tried to keep myself from falling apart.

This morning I drug myself through the motions of getting Michael to daycare. Then made the drive to the hospital for an echocardiogram. The tech spent 45 minutes looking, taking pictures and finally looked at me and said "I don't see anything horrible on here. I think you are going to be ok." And I sobbed. Relieved that I was almost in the clear but still the lingering fear that the doctors would find something she didn't. A few hours later the doctor called and said to me "Breathe. You are still going to have a baby in November." And I did. I have two major heart murmurs, and a lot of stress on the heart muscle but nothing obviously wrong at this point. He has put a laundry list of restrictions on my activities and I'll be closely monitored going forward to make sure that my condition stays stable.

So a day late, I am thankful for...

1. My son, who reminds me that I always have to put one foot in front of the other and who loves me even when I am having a less than stellar mom day.

2. The Captain, who I want even more than I had dreamed.

3. My faith because during moments like last night, I just need something to believe in.

4. My family and my husband who never let me forget that I am strong and that I can get through anything.

5. My interpeeps for coming through with thoughts and prayers, email messages, wall posts and text messages that reminded me that thanks to the wonder of technology I am never alone.

Wordy Wednesday

Totally Tubular

Michael got his tubes put in on Friday and we are already seeing a huge difference in our little guy. The kid who said nothing but dadadada 24 hours before was saying Mommy, Daddy and Bailey by Saturday morning.

It was an early morning, but I think Michael helped to brighten every one's day with his monster jams, Magilla Gorilla and of course, the all important frog boots. They are THE must have boot for spring.



We were called back to pre-op and Michael charmed the nurses, anesthetists and doctors with his good lucks and frog boots. Then came the moment when we needed to remove his boots and things went downhill very quickly as Michael was not pleased with the thought of being bootless. Fortunately we were blessed with very understanding nurses so once he was in his "scrubs" the boots went right back on.



We met with our ENT and anesthesiologist who reviewed the procedure with me one more time before we went back to the OR. Both doctors agreed that there are certain battles not worth fighting, so Michael walked back to the OR holding his Mom's hand and still rocking the frog boots. I set him on the table and held his hand while they but him under, which was the worst part for me. Even though I knew he was in great hands, seeing his eyes roll back in his head before closing was a gut wrenching moment. I just kept reminding myself that in this moment I was all Michael had (the hubs wasn't able to get away for the surgery) and that I needed to keep it together for his sake.

I waited for Michael in the recovery room and 20 minutes later they rolled my still sleeping baby back to me. He woke up a few minutes after that and after about a 2 minute hissy fit he was happily drinking from his sippy, eating cheerios and watching the Today show. His surgery started at 8am and by 8:45 I was strapping him back into his car seat so we could head home.

Recovery has been a breeze and our biggest issue so far has been that Michael can suddenly hear all the little noises he's been missing all this time. So the sound of the heater turning on, our neighbors walking around upstairs and the other million and one little noises we take for granted were completely over stimulating him for the first few days. There were lots of tears and crappy sleep but he seems to have worked his way through things now and is doing great. Now the hubs and I just need to work on watching we say around him since there is a good chance anything we say could come back to haunt us.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

I think these boots are one of my better Target purchases :)

What's in a name?

The Hubs and I spent A LOT of time coming up with Michael's name. It was a long and lengthy debate but in the end we were able to come up with a name that we love.

The name Michael has many meanings. Both of his grandfathers are named Michael so it was kind of a given that if we had a boy that the name Michael would be in there somewhere. What sealed the deal for me is that Michael the Archangel is one of the patron saints of the military and given that the Hubs was going to be in Iraq when Michael was born I liked the idea of having that connection.

Michael's middle name, August, was the no brainer part of our name discussion. Growing up, one of the Hubs's best friends was named Augie. They went to school and were in the boys scouts together from the time they were six until they graduated high school. Following graduation, Augie's family moved to Ohio where he went to college and joined the Marine Reserves after 9/11. The Hubs and Augie kept in touch through the occasional email and AIM chat which doesn't sound like much but if you knew my husband you'd realize just how much effort that was.

In 2005, Augie's reserve unit was sent to Iraq. "Lucky Lima" as they were called suffered major casualties throughout their entire deployment. That spring, the Hubs's unit was asked to send Marines to augment Lima Co and he seriously considered going but after some thought and talking to Augie he decided to stay home and focus on school. On August 3, 2005 Augie and 13 other Marines were killed when an IED exploded underneath their transport vehicle. It's impossible to even begin to explain the Hubs's devastation over the loss of his friend but I can say that without a doubt he would not be a Marine Officer today if it were not for that experience.

Currently, there is a traveling display in the National Museum of the Marine Corps honoring the 22 Marines and Navy Corpsman from Lima Co who were killed during that summer. We took MIchael today so the Hubs could "introduce" MIchael to Augie and we also took some pictures to share with Augie's parents.


The Hubs, Michael and Augie (rockin the "warstache")

While I love Michael's name, and the meaning behind it I hope that next time around we can choose a name we love without so much emotion behind it.

Confession

My kid eats hot dogs. A lot.

When he started out on solids, I was determined that my child was going to eat right, right from the start. I made all his baby food, everything was organic and I loved it. I would spend Sunday afternoon and evening with my husband, chopping, steaming and pureeing. Life was good.

When Michael first made the transition to finger foods, I continued to make all his food for him. Sweet potato fries, broccoli bites and chicken nuggets were recipes frequently on the menu and the Hubs and I got quite good at preparing foods for our son that were homemade, unprocessed, organic...you get the picture.

Then Hubs went to OCS, accepted his commission and started TBS all in a three month period and I was thrown back into life as a single Mom. Sure he was home on the weekends but that needed to be used for reviewing bills and budgets and shopping and getting his laundry taken care of and uniforms ready for the next week. He didn't have time to help me in the kitchen and I didn't have time to spend in the kitchen on my own because I needed to prioritize things that needed to be done while the Hubs was home.

And so long gone were the days of homemade chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries. I found myself on a first name basis with the "crew" at my local Trader Joe's where I was able to buy pre-made and frozen sweet potato fries, organic string cheese and organic, all natural, uncured, nitrate free hot dogs among other convenience foods that Michael would eat. Each time one of those packages landed in my cart I felt like there was one more tick in the crappy Mom column with my name on it. Sure, I was doing the best I could but what if my best wasn't good enough?

I thought about this tonight as Michael inhaled a hot dog and string cheese for dinner. Sure, it wasn't the "quality" meal I wanted to serve my son but he is happy and healthy and eating. There is some small victory in that. And today, and in many days ahead, I am going to have to take those small victories and celebrate them for all they are worth.

So yeah, my kid eats hot dogs. And if that is the worst thing that happens to him today, well then we are both way ahead of the game.

Wordless Wednesday