Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Heart of the Matter

It was nearly 36 hours after her birth that I really saw my Emily for the first time.
As I stood at her bedside I took in every part of her.
Her ears were her daddy's.
Her toes looked just like her grandma's.
Her fingers were long and beautiful.
Her mouth was the tiniest mouth I had ever seen, but it was perfect for her.
She was mine...and she was alive...and I realized that the physical and emotional pain of the last few months, days, and hours had been worth it.

A nurse stood nearby and heard Jason and I talking about our baby.
In a matter of 10 seconds that nurse changed my world.
"You know she's being tested for Di'George Syndrome don't you?"
I did, but I was uncertain of what that had to do with the conversation Jason and I had just had.
Everything we mentioned: the small ears, the tiny mouth, the long fingers...they were all signs of Di'George Syndrome.

Later that night Jason sat on the edge of my bed and held me while I cried.
"Why do they have to take everything away?" I asked in a broken voice.
"For once, why can't they let my baby girl just be a baby girl?"
"Why does she have to be a medical condition every single time?"
And in my mind I was thinking back to all of the ultra sounds we had all of the follow up appointments with the the echo the non-stress tests...
Pregnancy milestones that were supposed to be filled with happy anticipation, had been filled with bad news and worry for me...and now, when we were supposed to be filled with peace and joy at the birth of our baby girl, we were filled with dread.

The next few days I healed physically but not emotionally.
I scoured the internet for information about Emily's possible syndrome, and with everything I read, my world crumbled.
If you have any love at all for my little Emily, and if you're reading this you do, don't Google Di'George Syndrome.  I promise it will break your heart, or at the very least, hurt it a little bit.

I knew that Emily's test would come back positive for the syndrome; Jason knew too.
But neither of us shared that with each other until after we knew for sure.
We were standing next to Emily's bed in the NICU when the doctor came and pulled the curtain around us to guarantee privacy.
She put her arm around me and said, "I'm sorry but the tests came back positive.  Emily does have Di'George Syndrome."

Di'George Syndrome holds a wide spectrum of possibilities...from really bad to really manageable.
Although we won't know where Emily falls on that spectrum until she tells us, we've been told that Emily has what they call partial Di'George.  That word partial gives me peace.

In a nutshell...Emily is missing a part of one chromosome.
That small deletion is the reason Emily has her heart defect.
The deletion means that Emily's immune system will most likely be compromised.
The deletion means that Emily will probably have developmental delays: with her crawling, her walking, her talking, etc.
The deletion means a lot of other things too...
And all of it burdens my heart more than I can ever begin to tell you.

It took days...probably weeks...before I could look at my baby girl and see something besides the syndrome.
One night, when the heartbreak was especially bad, I called my mom.  She could barely understand me through my sobs.  She waited on her end of the line until I could get the words out.
My mom has been on the other end of that line more than once.
She's held me in her arms more than once.
She's cried with me a lot more than once.
And more than once my mom has shared with me this simple truth:
"It doesn't matter what Google or the doctors say.  It DOESN'T matter.  Emily will be exactly who God intended her to be."

I've had almost 2 months of loving my baby girl, and I am secure in the knowledge that my mom is right: Emily WILL be who God intended her to be.
However, my heart is still fragile.  The heartbreak is still there...on almost a daily basis.
There are times when I look in my baby's eyes and the pain I feel is so raw I don't know how I can make it through.
The uncertainty of Emily's future eats at me until I think I'm going to go crazy.

Jason has been my rock through all of this.
Jason has no fear for Emily's future.
He barely even thinks about Emily's possible challenges.
He lives in the moment and enjoys everything about it.
And he knows that if challenges arise, we'll handle them.  We'll love our baby girl through them.
And on a very regular basis he assures me that Emily will bring us nothing but joy and happiness.
I believe him.  I do.  But there are times I have to cling to his words like they are my lifeline.

I have hope that one day the pain won't be so fresh.
I have hope that one day I won't feel like I'm living a really bad dream every single day.
I have hope that one day Emily's setbacks will seem like that, a setback, rather than something so much worse.
And I have hope that one day I will feel like smiling every day, all day.

I cling to the good moments like they might never come again, and I thank my Heavenly Father for helping me to recognize them.
I celebrate every positive step my baby girl takes and I thank Heavenly Father daily for my blessings...because they are many.

Not too long ago I worried that if people knew about Emily's syndrome they would treat her differently or love her less.
I've since learned that if anything, people will love my Emily more.  Not because of the syndrome, but because she is little fighter, my little angel, and my incredibly huge gift from Heavenly Father.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Happy Birthday To Me

Emily's allergy to cantaloupe?
It wasn't the cantaloupe.

Explain this...

The little miss breaks out in hives all over her body every night at 7:00 or a little bit after.
Sunday night.
Monday night.
Tuesday night.
Wednesday night.

Nothing has changed.
She gets the same antibiotic every 6 hours.
12:00 - 6:00 - 12:00 - 6:00
And she's been getting the same antibiotics the whole time she's been in the hospital.
But now at 7:00pm she breaks out in hives.

Anyone have a brilliant answer to this ridiculous dilemma?

Let me show you the proof of what my poor little baby has endured the last 7 weeks of her life:

Bless her little heart...literally.

For my birthday today they FINALLY started giving Emily a taste of milk, and every day they will increase the amount just a little bit.
We're going to go as far as we can without the feeding tube.
I have every hope that the little miss will surprise the world and drink every drop of her bottle every time,
and that she'll never again have to use a feeding tube.
Oh how I hope for that.

Here's my other hope:
that one of these days my little one will smile at me.
Maybe now that she's feeling better she'll be so inclined.

It may not be this weekend, but the little miss will come home.
We finally believe that.

Oh...and in case you were wondering...
That husband of mine got me a NOOK for my birthday...
...never mind that I already have an IPAD.
 I can tell this NOOK and I are going to be great friends.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Sometimes Nurses Are Really Loud

I have a condition.
A serious one.
I cry at even a hint of compassion directed my way.
Today it happened when the hospital social worker stopped to check in.
Lucky for her she's trained for such things.

It's been a challenge for me to find much to smile about lately.
Tomorrow is our birthday. (I'm a triplet remember?)
And while my sister is off celebrating in Disneyland I'll be adding one more day to Emily's never-ending hospital stay.

There is something though that is going to get me through this.

Do you believe in prayer?
I do...with my whole heart.

Emily has had a really bad day.
Today is day 7 without milk and she knows it.
Not much calms her and there are extra nurses on call just to hold her if we are not here.

This afternoon Emily and I said a prayer.
'We' (because it was Emily's prayer...I was just the voice) asked that Emily would be comforted and that her little tummy would be eased of it's hunger pains until she could eat again.

Shortly after I said 'amen' Emily stopped crying and she has been peacefully sleeping in my arms for nearly two hours.

I'm grateful for small miracles.

Monday, September 26, 2011

We Made It Through One More Day

Guess what?
Emily is allergic to cantaloupe.

Are you wondering how in the sam hill I know that?
(Dear Mom, where does this phrase come from?)

The little miss is MAD AT THE WORLD because of that whole 'We're not going to feed you for 7 days' decision.
And yesterday she let us all know just how unhappy she really is.
The nurse blamed Emily's unhappiness on withdrawal from one of the drugs they stopped giving her.
Jason and I are quite sure that if they fed her they would see a different baby.

Back to allergies...

Jason was eating cantaloupe and put some of the juice from the fruit on his finger.
And somehow that finger ended up in Emily's mouth.
She was a happy girl up until the point where she broke out in hives all over her face and legs.
I was amazed at how quickly it happened...and totally oblivious to the fact that Jason had given Emily cantaloupe juice.
I didn't learn that part of the story until much later.

I called the nurse in...she brought Benadryl...and within just a few minutes the hives disappeared.

Poor Emily.

* * * * *

A few days ago Trouble was telling her boyfriend Travis (Travis is my cousin) about how excited she was for dinner that night.
"It's left over night, and tonight we get to eat our food from Applebee's!"
"I went with Daddy to pick up the food from Applebee's.  The minute we walked in the door I could smell the apples and the bees and they smelled so delicious!"

* * * * *

And on a serious note:

Almost daily someone will ask me about how they can make a donation to Emily's medical costs.
And almost daily I either ignore the question or say, "Thank you so much but we'll be fine."
In as loving a way as possible, someone I love and respect let me know that I was being prideful and I needed to be more humble in asking for and accepting help.
So in an attempt at humility I will ask the hospital if there is a system in place which will allow someone to make a direct donation to Emily's care through the hospital...
To those of you who have asked...I'll figure something out and let you know.

Thank you is never enough.
But thank all of you...
I've said this before but every night when we pray we ask God to bless all of the people who are praying for our little miss.
We hope you feel those blessings.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

I Don't Know About You...

...but we are a little bit tired of the hospital.

And too?
The little miss can't have milk for three more days and she's not happy about that either.
My poor baby cries the saddest little cry.
It's been such a long 10 days...
...only an indefinite number of days left to go.


Friday, September 23, 2011

Just Passing Through

...and in other news...

Jason passed out last night and fell down the stairs.
I jumped out of bed, yelled his name, and found him at the bottom of the stairs laughing.
"What happened?" he asked.
I. Was. Not. Laughing.
That's all I need...
One baby in the hospital and one husband bleeding from his open skull.

He wasn't bleeding, but he easily could have been.
Like I said...that's all I need.

Emily is finally improving.
They closed her chest, took her off of the ventilator, and stopped her constant morphine drip.
In fact, I actually got to hold her yesterday...and she was awake.

These are a few things I've learned:

Not all nurses/doctors/fellows/residents/etc. are created equal.
And those who actually treat my baby like a person rather than a symptom get my vote...every single time.

The cafeteria food at Primary Children's Hospital tastes the same no matter what you eat after you've been there for a week.

Wet laundry can stay in the washer for two days before it starts to smell like mildew.

My baby girl defies the odds every single time.
And she makes the doctors scratch their heads.

Your true friends are the ones who show up in the middle of a crisis and stay.
To those of you who have shown up...thank you.
From the bottom of my heart...thank you.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

A Note From My Little Brother

I called my brother tonight to check in on his little family.
Olivia, his beautiful new daughter, had a rough first few minutes, but is now doing well.
His two boys, who are both adorable, are having a hard time not calling their new sister 'Baby Emily.'

Our conversation was emotional as we each talked about our day in the hospital.
It's a poignant moment...two siblings discussing their little who is starting her life and one who is fighting for hers.

Both Ben and I were emotional and when the conversation ended Ben said, "I love you Noelle."
I know he loves me, but I don't remember him saying it before.
I hung up the phone and shed a few more tears.

Later tonight Ben texted me and asked for my blog login information.
I gave it to him and then asked why he wanted it.
What you'll read below is the answer to that question.

For the record, I love you too Ben.

Noelle, thanks for letting me post a thought or two on your blog. Fellow readers, please forgive the personal nature of my post. I considered not sharing this on Noelle’s public blog, but as I understand it, a blog is an on-line journal. For the sake of Emily and Olivia and every other niece and nephew that will join our family, I am going forward.

My wife gave birth to our third child today, our first girl, Olivia. I always get emotional when I watch my wife give birth. I see her in the most intense pain and can’t do anything about it. I see her in complete discomfort and can’t provide comfort. I see her go through dramatic stress of all types and can’t provide much, if any, relief.

Then a baby is born and I have an overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude for my wife and for a loving Heavenly Father. As a Mormon I believe that there is life beyond this one. Sometimes the separation between this life and the next is described as a veil. Today that separation between earth and heaven was minimal. 

In Mormon vernacular “the veil was thin.” As our daughter Olivia was born today I instantly knew that she was a gift from God. I knew that my wife and I had been prepared for this gift. I also knew instantly that it was our responsibility to love her, teach her, and provide for her as long as she was “ours”.

As I was driving home from the hospital Noelle and I talked on the phone. We talked about our babies. We hoped for Emily and her recovery. We shared our feelings about the truths of life beyond the veil. It was a touching and personal moment. I was strengthened by Noelle’s faith and courage in light of Emily’s trials.

In my opinion the most important thing that occurred in that conversation was a mutual acknowledgment that God lives, and that He is in complete control: whether you have children or not, whether you can have children or not, whether you have a spouse or not, whether you are fighting illness or not, whether you….…………fill in the blank. 

Today I am particularly grateful to know that I have a Father in Heaven who loves His children, watches over them and is guiding each one of us throughout life’s ups and downs. My hope is that after today’s experiences I will learn to trust in Him more perfectly. May you do the same in your individual journey.


The Daily Grind

When we leave the hospital at night they always tell us, "No news is good news.  Go home and sleep."
Last night the hospital called us twice.
Our baby girl has had some setbacks, and it looks like she's going to be in the hospital for at least two more weeks.
They were going to go in and close her chest this morning, and remove the breathing tube later today or tomorrow.
That's been postponed now...until when...we don't know.

There are so many things about this situation that I hate.
But focusing on them doesn't do me any fact, it does just the opposite.
I'm trying really hard to remain positive and hopeful.
Some minutes are better than others.
I called my dad this morning and he gave me a pep talk.

I think Jason and I are going to start taking turns at the hospital.
We can't hold Emily right now, and she is so sedated that she doesn't always know that we are there.
And considering that we've both got jobs and life that goes on with or without our baby in the hospital...that seems our best option.

I've been trying to figure out what it is I'm feeling this time around and I think I can finally put it into words.
I feel like my role as a mother has been taken away from me...that it was only a temporary gig.
Like the universe is telling me, 'Sorry, you didn't do a good enough job.'
I can't hold my baby, I can't feed her...
Because of her breathing tube she doesn't even cry...
It's the most helpless feeling in the world, and it's hard.

Taking a deep breath...........

My sweet sister-in-law is in the hospital today too.
She's having a baby.
She's been worried about me and she's felt guilty that she's having a healthy baby.
I've tried telling her that there is no room for guilt.
I hope she believes me.
Because from the very bottom of my heart...and soul...I'm only happy and grateful that her little one is healthy.

Would you please keep praying for my little one?
She could use it.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Missing Our Baby Girl

Jason and I are sad.
Plain and simple.
Our baby is sick and she's in pain and we hate it.

She is being kept sedated and she is on a continuous morphine drip.
As of today the infection hadn't gotten any worse but hadn't improved either.

Her body is fighting like it should but the infection is a bad one.


If there is one bright spot it's that we are catching up on our sleep.
But we would trade our sleep for our baby any day.

It will probably be Thursday before we can even think about bringing her home.

How about I end with something funny.
My parents have a cricket living somewhere inside their house.
Every morning when my mom's alarm clock goes off the cricket answers it, and spends the next several minutes chirping.
Whenever I think about it I laugh.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Then And Now

A week ago:


I'm going to need it...

Friday, September 16, 2011

On Being Grateful For A Crying Baby

Hell... exactly what the last 48 hours have been.

When I posted my last white flag of surrender waving...
...I was surrendering to the norm of being a new mommy.

Jason went out of town on Tuesday and I was surrendering my sleep.
I was surrendering to the dirty dishes in the sink... the unmade bed...
...the uncombed hair...
...the house in disarray...

And I was surrendering to the cold that was wiping me out.
I have been living on cold medication and Coke for the last week.
The cold medication to keep my symptoms under control, and the Coke to keep me awake.

And flowing in and out of all of it was the thought deep in my heart that something was wrong with my baby girl.
"She's sick," I would tell anyone who would listen.
"She doesn't feel feel well," I would say out loud over and over again.
And yet I had nothing to prove it.
No high temperature.
No cold symptoms.
Until last night.

Emily cried the entire night.
And Emily doesn't cry.
From about midnight on, my sweet baby girl cried until she was exhausted.
And then when she couldn't cry, she whimpered until she had saved enough energy to cry again.
We rocked in the rocking chair.
We snuggled in bed.
I sang quiet songs.
I prayed...over and over again.
And my little miss just cried.
 At 4:00 this morning I joined her, and we both cried until we were out of energy.

One minute after I knew her pediatrician's office was open, I called.
"What are her symptoms?" I was asked.
"She is crying and it's getting harder for her to breathe."
They wanted to see her in two hours.
I called my angel of a sister who came and held Emily as she cried, and I jumped in the shower.

My sister and I spent an hour in the pediatrician's office.
From there we were sent to the hospital.
And from the hospital my baby and I were taken to her children's hospital by ambulance.  
Thankfully Jason's flight home was today, and he met us at the hospital.

Miss Elimy has an infection in her incision.
A serious one.
One that has most likely been growing ever since her surgery, and just in the last week presented itself so that I could see it.
The infection is deep, going all the way to her still healing sternum.
 After being at Primary Children's for just two hours Emily was taken into surgery, where they opened her up and cleaned out the infection.
Her incision was left open, and tomorrow and the day after that, and probably the day after that, they will clean her incision and give her continuous antibiotics.

We left our baby girl in the hospital ... again.
When we got home I climbed into a hot bath, and sat in the dark and cried.
Oh how I cried.
My mom told me tonight that she was proud of me.
When I asked her why she said, "Because you followed your heart and you saved your little girl's life."

I'm tired.
More tired than I've ever been.
And I'm filled with emotions I may never be able to express.

But know this...
I've seen a miracle today, and when I can put two coherent sentences together I will tell you about it.
At the bottom of all of the pain is my absolute knowledge that God lives, and that God loves my baby girl.

Once again Emily has to's a good thing she knows how.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

No Words Are Necessary

To Whom It May Concern:

The End.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

A Little Something

My mom asked Trouble why she changed her  clothes.
Trouble answered with this: "My shirt was freaking me out."
Where does she come from?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Finally! A Story About Something Other Than A Baby!

You know you're an overprotective mother when you go for a walk and dress your baby like this:

Isn't Emily's blanket cute?
Her aunt Tiffany made it for her.

Two nights ago Emily didn't sleep.
That was fun.
Kind of kicks the advice of 'sleep when she sleeps' right out the door.

I've been working on a post now for several days.
By the time I'm done it will most likely be my longest post to date.
I'll bet that makes you all sorts of giddy with anticipation.

Tonight the entire family was together for dinner.
Do you need a reminder of what 'entire' looks like?
One siblings...five boyfriend...
...and 11 nieces and nephews...
...and sometimes a dog.

Emily's cousins love her, and they are always anxious to be near her.
They make a big show out of washing their hands before they touch her.
Tonight a few of Emily's cousins asked about her feeding tube.
They wanted to know how it worked.
Every five minutes one of them would ask, 'is it time to feed Emily yet?'
When it was finally time, Emily had an audience.
It made me laugh.
Emily's cousins formed a semi-circle around her and just sat there as she ate her bottle, and then gathered closer when we finished off the bottle with the feeding tube.
Erica, who is 8, gave the others a play by play of what was happening.
"First you have to check the tube to make sure the milk can go through..."

A little bit later, Trouble (who is my friend again) curled up next to me.
She had her Daddy's phone and was playing Angry Birds.
"Noelle, I can't do this bird.  Can you show me how it works?"
I did, and she was thrilled.

The longer this post goes, the less sleep I'm going to get before my shift to feed the little miss.

Now for something totally random:

When I lived in NYC we often furnished our apartments with things we found on the street.
One night there was a knock on our door and I opened it to find two of our friends carrying a couch.
"Look what we found on the street," they said.  "We knew you could use it."
It makes me SHUDDER to think that we took that couch and sat on it every day, but desperate times...
Another time I was with a girl who had just come from California.
She was tall and blonde and beautiful.
It's fair to say that she stood out in the ghettos of Brooklyn.

One day we were walking home for lunch and we passed a mirror that someone had put on the street.
I stopped my companion and said, "Dani, this would be perfect for our apartment!"
We had one tiny mirror above the sink in our bathroom, and with 4 girls living in the apartment, another mirror would be almost miraculous.
It took both of us to carry that mirror, and carry it we did...the 30 plus blocks back to our apartment.
The looks we got...the still makes me laugh.
There we were...two Mormon missionaries...walking the streets of Brooklyn with a giant mirror.

I only tell you that to tell you this:

If you happen to see me out walking up and down the streets of my town, just know I'm looking for a treadmill.
Desperate times...desperate times.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Little Emily Had A Bad Day

Today for the first time in Trouble's existence she and I were not friends.

Emily and I had a great morning together.
She drank more of her bottle than she has in several days and she was happy and content.
This afternoon it all went downhill.

Trouble was hanging out with me while I fed Emily.
We were having another mostly successful bottle feeding and I was, for once, feeling optimistic.
When Emily was two thirds of the way through her bottle she stopped eating and I let her.
I had been unable to get her to burp and I knew she probably had a big bubble in her tummy.
Emily spent 10 or 15 minutes on my shoulder before I gave up and put her in her car seat.

I attached a syringe to her feeding tube and had just poured the milk into it, when Emily burped, and milk came out of both her mouth and her nose.
At the same time I went to clean up the milk Emily did something...took a deep breath, or coughed...something...and started to choke on the milk that was still in her throat.
The choking scared her and she panicked.
I was still holding the stupid feeding tube with one hand and couldn't get Emily out of the car seat without dropping the syringe and spilling milk everywhere.
Emily's little back was arched, her face was turning purple, and she wasn't breathing.
By this point her nose was filled with junk, making it even harder to get a breath, and she just stared at me with scared eyes.

I said over and over again, "Breathe baby, breathe."  I had turned her over and was attempting to clear her airway, when she took one deep breath and then started to scream at the top of her lungs.
I held her close and let her cry.
I cried too.
It was somewhere in the middle of all of this that I heard this from Trouble:
"Noelle, you're not a very good mom to Elimy."
It's amazing how much the words of a three year old can sting.

My little lady was as pale as a ghost and her color wasn't coming back.
She was breathing, but she acted like she had passed out.
I left my office and found my mom.
She took one look at me and asked, "What happened?"
At that point I lost it just a little bit and was shaking.
"Mom, her color isn't coming back.  What's wrong?  What should I do?"  The questions tumbled out and my mom pulled Emily and I both in for a hug.

We watched her for a minute, and after taking another deep breath, Emily opened her eyes and looked at me.
Her eyes didn't leave my face and slowly her color came back.
She settled into my arms and before too long acted like nothing had happened.

I called Trouble's mom and said, "If Trouble tells you that I used sour words with her, I want to defend myself."

How's that for pathetic?  Calling my sister to defend myself against her three year old daughter.

Emily's tube got pulled out tonight.  I'm not sure how.  She screamed and screamed as her daddy put it back in.

What did I do?
I went to my bedroom and threw some things around and cried a good long cry.
Jason has yet to come to bed.
I'm guessing he's probably scared of me...or sick to death of my emotions.

At least my kitchen is clean.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

All I've Eaten Today Are Chocolate Chip Cookies

And what I seriously need to know is this:
HOW IN THE WORLD does my neighbor have the time or the energy to make said cookies?
She had a baby a mere two weeks before I did.
AND she had her make up on.

* * * * *

I'm in love with Emily's pediatrician.
Don't worry, Jason knows this, and he's okay with it.
Somehow I don't think he's threatened by a man old enough to be Emily's grandpa.
While I'm sure pediatricians really do care about the kids they treat, they're mostly there for the moms.

Because I'm certain you care I'll share what we've been dealing with the last few weeks.
The little miss has a feeding tube and has had since they started giving her milk in the hospital.
Jason and I have a love/hate relationship with the tube.
During the day we hate it; in the middle of the night we love it.

Emily has reflux...a pretty nasty case of it, and has been on medication for it ever since her surgery.
The more Emily drinks from her bottle the worse the reflux is, making the little miss not a huge fan of her bottle.  She'll always drink from it but only to a certain point.  And then, no matter how hungry she is, she refuses the bottle.

I'm quite certain we're in trouble with this one.
I see signs of subtle manipulation.
She'll conveniently drink a third or half of her bottle and then act like she's dead to the world.
It's deliberate.
I know it.


Reflux + eating from the bottle = worse reflux.
Worse reflux = congestion and goopy eyes.
(Because who knew?  Nasal congestion is often tied to goopy eyes.)
Congestion and goopy eyes = fussy baby and tired mommy and daddy.
And finally...
The feeding tube = everything is worse x ten.
And the longer it goes the more likely it is that Elimy will develop an aversion to her bottle.
An aversion to her bottle = NO BUENO!!!

The pediatrician is putting her on a new medication for reflux starting now and in one week he wants us to 'pull the tube.'
That's not at all intimidating.
Dear child of mine, please eat.  Love, Mommy

I'm typing this post one handed due to a baby in the other arm.  Are you impressed?

The reason I love the pediatrician?
I get to wait a week to pull the tube.
And one week = how long Jason is abandoning me for "work."
You think I'm mental now? Check could get worse.

Look how cute she is makes up for my feeding angst:

Monday, September 5, 2011

The Reason I Don't Blog

I'll be honest.
I'm in a bit of a funk.
Actually it might be more than a bit.
Sometimes I think I'm a pretty good faker, but even that is getting harder to do.
I wonder...if I screamed really loud, for a really long time, would I feel better?
I might, but then I would wake the little miss.
Don't worry, I'll figure it out...I just need to dig deeper than I ever have.
Anyone have a really big shovel?

Friday, September 2, 2011

Life Is Now Measured By Bottles and Diapers

The mailbox used to hold magic for me.
Back in the day when people wrote letters by hand.
Now it holds medical bills.
Every day...more bills.
Is there someone in this world who wants to send me a hand written letter?

Trouble studied my face for a minute yesterday and asked, "Noelle, what's wrong with your eyes?"
"What do you mean Trouble?  I don't think there is anything wrong."
Trouble ran her finger over the dark circles under my eyes and said, "Why are your eyes a different color now?"

I made Jason go on a date with me last night.
I called my sister who willingly came and stayed with the little miss while Jason and I went and grabbed dinner and then went to the grocery store.
Not only did my sister agree to babysit on a minutes notice, she also brought a basket full of clean laundry.
Here's the thing.
I can't...can't...can't...allow someone else to do my matter how much I might whine about doing it myself...unless that someone else is my sister.
And I love her for being willing to do it.

I texted my little sister the other night and mentioned that I needed chocolate chip squares.
And that the need was so strong I might die because of it.
The next day she texted me this:
"There are cookies under my jacket at work."

What do people do without sisters?

Emily had an appointment with her cardiologist this week.
So far everything looks great.
She's suffering from reflux and some nasal congestion that worries me, but there is not a doctor I can find who is worried about it like I am.
At least once a day I tell Jason what I think the cause of the congestion is and at least once a day he tells me I'm wrong.
I guess he feels justified because so far the doctors tell me I'm wrong too.

I think we're finally figuring things out.
I took Emily with me to work yesterday.
I don't get anything done when she's there, but Jason doesn't get anything done when we're home.
However, we've got a makeshift nursery at the nursery and before too long Emily will feel at home there.
People tell me all the time that I'm crazy to be going back to work so soon.
I'd be more crazy if I wasn't going to least a little bit.
Plus...Ben misses me when I'm not there.
Don't you Ben.

Jason's boss sent me flowers the other day.
After everything else he's done for us, he sent me flowers.
Those flowers made my entire day.

One of these days I'll comment again on your blogs.
But know that at 3:30 in the morning, when it's my turn to feed the little miss, I'm reading.