Surgery Cancelled

The Monday that Baby was released from the hospital, Bubba was at the pediatrician's office. He had an ear infection and RSV, which he contracted while on antibiotics for a previous infection. The pediatrician opted to give him an injection (which would also ward off pneumonia) and a prescription for the strongest oral antibiotic available. Since then, Bubba has been completely healthy.
Today we had our pre-op appointment with the pediatric ENT. I immediately told her of Bubba's new-found health, and she was elated. She suggested that we hold off on the surgery to see if his sinus infections and ear infections came back. Her hope is that, this time of year, he will stay well, and we can hold off on surgery for another year. YEAH!!
We don't want to have any unnecessary procedures performed, and we certainly don't want to put Bubba through the pain and agony of sinus surgery if we don't have too. Hope fully, by next fall, his little body will have matured and grown a bit, so surgery will be unnecessary.

A Tribute to Lambie

Born in Edison, New Jersey, Lambie traveled to a children's boutique in Clanton, Alabama. It is here that his life truly began. It is here that a small Guatemalan boy chose him out of a basket of stuffed animals. No one had any idea the impact that Lambie would make at the time, but it would soon be revealed.

Bubba was only home a few months when we traveled to Clanton for my dad's birthday. My mother and I ran in a little children's shop, hoping to find a Christmas outfit. Bubba was mesmerized by the stuffed animals that had been lazily thrown in a basket on the floor, so I put him down to see them. Barely able to sit up, Bubba swayed in circles and stared into the basket. Then, he pulled a floppy white lamb from the pile. With that, he was done and wanted back in my arms. Mimi (my mom) had no idea what she was purchasing at the time she purchased that lamb, and neither did I.

That lamb, named Lambie, has become a part of our family, and he has helped Bubba in ways that I never would have guessed. Lambie travels EVERYWHERE with Bubba. He has seen the inside of various preschools and playgrounds, been kicked around the floor of different doctors offices, and even participated in occupational therapy. Lambie has flown countless hours and should hold his own frequent flyer card. He has been from Arizona to Alabama, from Las Vegas to Dallas. He eats every meal and snack with us and watches as our bedtime routine is performed. Whether he is securely tucked in the back pocket of Evander's jeans or peaking out from Bubba's shirt (his body inside the shirt, but his head pokes out just under Bubba's chin), he will always be there.

Lambie has given Bubba strength and confidence in the most difficult situations. He is Bubba's best friend and confidant. He holds Bubba's hand when no one can and sees him through hard times when no one is around. He helps Bubba tackle challenges that he may not otherwise. He hangs in Bubba's shirt during anxious school hours and is clutched around the throat in public situations. He very rarely gets to rest, but he doesn't mind. He is there, no matter what.

Although he is now dingy and stained, with a small hole in his knee, I truly believe that Lambie has helped with Bubba's recovery. He is Bubba's security blanket and provides him strength to sleep alone and attend school. He is able to comfort Bubba when we cannot, and I thank him for that. Thank you, Lambie, for all you have done!

Reality Check

Our visit to the psychiatrist's office always begins in the same way. She asks questions that she already knows the answers to (example: medication dosage, age, etc). Then she continues with more of the same: How is he doing? Have you noticed any new behaviors? How is the aggression? How is the OCD? How is his attention span? How is his sleep? I could go on and on, but I will spare you. Once the Q and A is over, I am left to pull out my little sheet of paper with my own list of questions, things that I have wondered about or noticed over the past month.

This week I started off with his "pretend play". I explained that Bubba loves kitty cats and garbage trucks, and there are times that he pretends to be either a cat or a garbage truck. That is all well and good...except for the fact that it is very bizarre. This pretend play is not typical 3-year-old pretend play. He becomes so immersed in what he "is" that there is no reaching him. For example, as a cat, he crawls around on all fours, licking, meowing, and scratching things. When his name is called, he gives no response. He is lost in a cat's world. As a garbage truck he goes around the house revving his engine, picking up things (anything breakable or not), and throwing them over his back (as a garbage truck picks up a garbage can). He scrapes imaginary things off the walls and throws it over as well. When he is headed down the hallway, you better lookout because he WILL run you over. He has no idea that others are around.

The psychiatrist simply looked at me, smiled, and matter-of-factly said "Yes, that's part of the Aspergers". Then I continued with something I was much more concerned about. When I or Evander "come at" Bubba in a forceful way (not threatening but walking briskly and making eye contact), he cowers. Now that he talks, he will often say "Don't hit me" or "Don't push me". I immediately say "I would never do that Bubba", but it doesn't seem to sink in. Once I was cutting vegetables and turned around with the knife in my hand. He got this horrible look on his face and screamed, "Don't cut me Mommy! Don't cut me!" I have, of course, been thinking horrible thoughts. What could have happened to him in foster care? Was he abused before he came into our family? Is someone hurting him at school? I have also been thinking about what he might tell others. What if he tells his teachers that I tried to cut him? What if a stranger hears him say this?

The psychiatrist simply looked at me, smiled, and matter-of-factly said "Yes, that's part of the Aspergers". She went on to explain that Bubba has a distorted perception of reality. The way he sees things are not always the way things are. She said that, to him, eye contact is threatening. He sees eye contact as an act of aggression, so these thoughts are the first to come to his mind. Then she hit me with a sobering thought. "He only says these things at home because he is comfortable there, but he feels this way everywhere, with everyone." I felt like crying! Do you know how many times a day you make eye contact with a person? How many times a day does someone try to make eye contact with Bubba? No wonder he is anxious in social situations. No wonder he has problems with aggression. He thinks everyone is trying to hurt him.

Since then, I have been randomly stopping Bubba and asking to see his eyes. I then ask him "Does Mommy look mad? Does mommy look happy?" After he answers, I say "Sometimes Mommy likes to see your eyes, but mommy would never hurt you." The psychiatrist said that we need to start exercises like this, even though he is too young to understand, because one day he will. He needs to know that eye contact is not hurtful or mean.

We always go to the psychiatrist and start the same ole way. The questions are repetitive and ridiculous. We never end in the same way, though. I always leave feeling terrible for Bubba. She manages to give me a reality check once a month that puts everything back into perspective. I wish there was a manual explaining every possible symptom or behavior that Bubba may have. I really do want the information she gives, but I hate learning about it in that manner. Just give me all the info I need up front, so there is no confusion. If I understood the gravity of all the situations Bubba was in, I feel like I could help a lot more.

Gregory Preschool Institute of Learning

Go ahead... call me a dork. I know what you are thinking...especially Momma Bird. I can hear it now. I decided over the weekend that, if Bubba and Baby can't go to school, I will bring school to them. My degree is in education, after all, and I do know a few things about teaching. So... welcome to the Gregory Preschool Institute of Learning. Ha!

On Friday, I went to Bubba and Baby's parent/teacher conferences and got a wealth of information. I found out that Baby doesn't talk (WHAT?) to her teachers, so they did not know if she could count, say the alphabet, or name her colors. After informing them that she knows all of the above, I immediately became concerned. Since when does Baby not talk to someone? She never stops talking. She talks to strangers in the grocery store, nurses in the hospital, and bugs on the sidewalk. I worried that she must have been uncomfortable at school for some reason, and then I got mad. Why had no one informed me of this? Why hadn't anyone said "Look, your kid doesn't say a word? What's the deal?" Instead, they explained that they knew she could talk because she talks to Bubba on the playground, so they weren't concerned. Not good enough!

Next I went over to Bubba's classroom where I found more interesting information. Bubba knows every shape known to man-kind (octagon, decagon, heptagon, etc), but he cannot identify any letter in the alphabet. He does, however, know the SOUND of every letter in the alphabet. Interesting! Typically, a child learns the letter name and then the sound, but my child has done the reverse. In a strange way, this is exciting because the letter sound is a higher level skill, so I know the letter name will come. Nonetheless, we have some work to do.

This was the beginning of my idea. I immediately knew that I needed to work with Bubba everyday to learn his letters, and I knew it wouldn't hurt Baby to hear it either. I sat down with a piece of paper and made a small schedule, two hours of circle time, math, science, letters, reading, art, sensory, and snack. Next, I went to my rubbermaid bins of teaching supplies and dug out everything that I could use (sentence strips, construction paper, glue sticks, calendar, art book, etc).

Today was our first day of school, and I must say it went pretty well. Bubba is amazingly different when in a "learning environment". I know it sounds strange because we were still at home, but he had a different objective. I think he really enjoys learning, and you could see it on his face. He was engaged and interested. He followed directions and listened to what I was saying. He sat still while I read and helped to put away his things when we were done. This is just the first day, so we will see how it goes, but it looks promising. Maybe I can at least mold two young minds!

Never a dull moment

Thursday started with a bang. Baby was up wandering around most of the night, unable to sleep because of difficulty breathing and fever. Then I had a horrible dream that my children were kidnapped by my mother's daughter while at gymnastics, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Just as I started to dose off, Bubba barged in the room. I'm not exactly sure of the time, but I think it was around 5:00 am. I decided to give up on sleeping and hop in the shower.

Now, my family will tell you that I have never been a fan of showering. That might sound disgusting, but it's true. Before Bubba, I always took a shower every other day. Every day is just absurd and a waste of time! Now that Bubba is here, though, I cannot shower if another adult is not in the house. The reason for this is because he may hurt himself, Baby, or the dogs. He may also wander outside alone (it has happened before). He just cannot be trusted, so I always shower when Evander is home. Thursday, however, was a different story.

Since Evander hadn't been home since Monday, I hadn't showered since Monday afternoon (after getting home from the hospital, where I also hadn't showered. I have a thing about public, or in this case semi-public, restrooms, but that is another post). I decided I had to do it. After all, what could happen? Bubba was watching TV, and Baby was still sleeping. I wedged a chair under the back door and made sure the "extra-high" locks were secure before committing to my shower. I turned the water on and peeked in on him. Nothing. I got my clothes and towel out and peeked in on him. Nothing. I started to step into the shower, but I peeked in on him. Nothing.

Just as I was stepping out of the shower (5 minutes later), I heard a lot of commotion and noticed that the bedroom light was on (and I hadn't turned it on). I burst through the bathroom doors to find that Bubba had moved the nightstand from beside the bed and pushed it up against the dresser. He was standing on top of the nightstand, holding fist fulls of jewelry. Baby was beneath him covered in necklaces, bracelets, and attempting to change her earrings. Bubba was wearing Evander's college ring and my pearls.

After cleaning up and removing the bling, Bubba was headed to school and Baby was headed for a chest x-ray. Bubba arrived at school fashionably late, as usual, and we were off. When we saw the pediatrician, she finally had good news for us. Baby's lungs are clearing, and we can begin to ease off the breathing treatments. She wants us to continue the antibiotics and breathing treatments for a month. She also wants us to pull Baby and Bubba out of preschool. The doctor explained that Baby's immune system has been compromised and, until she is fully well, she will continue to "catch" everything around her. So...after much discussion, Evander and I have decided to do the following:

• Reschedule Baby's b'day party for March 28


• Reschedule Bubba's surgery for March 30


• Immediately withdraw Bubba and Baby from preschool


• Keep Bubba in PPCD and begin 5 days a week in the fall


• Enroll Baby in mother's day out (where she went before) 2 days a week for the fall


• Withdraw my application to return to teaching in the fall

Depending on how Baby does over the next few months, she may have to see an immunologist, but we will wait and see. Thanks to everyone for their prayers and well wishes! We hope she continues to do well.

Round Two

Baby was released from the hospital yesterday with host of medications and supplies (diagnosed with RSV, bronchiolitis, and pneumonia). We have breathing treatments every 4 hours (day and night), chest pt (basically I beat on her chest and back), steroids, and antibiotics. She is doing better, but she is still having a really hard time breathing. I wish I had stolen the oxygen monitor from the hospital, so I would know how she is every second of the day.
When I picked Bubba up from school yesterday (yes...hours after Baby was discharged), though, he was running a fever of 102.4, coughing his head off, and complaining of a headache. I went home, kissed Evander goodbye (because he is traveling this week, of course), picked up Baby, and headed for the pediatrician's office.
I am not going to lie... I cried all the way to the pediatrician's office. The thought of having two terribly sick children was more than I could handle at the moment. Baby and I had been at the hospital for 48 consecutive hours, and I had gotten NO sleep. I was so afraid that her oxygen was going to dip (even though she was getting oxygen) that I couldn't sleep. I kept my eyes glued to the monitor.
My suspicions were confirmed. The pediatrician said that Bubba has an ear infection (what's new) and RSV. I said several curse words, then apologized for my inappropriate comments. The doctor then went on to say that Bubba is evidently immune to antibiotics, because he was taking antibiotics for a previous infection when this occurred. Because of this, an injection was required and a mandatory 20 minute wait would follow (to make sure he had no allergic reaction). He freaked out about the shot, but then went about his business.
Twenty minutes later, the pediatrician and nurse came in the find Baby and I lying across the exam table, nearly asleep, and Bubba licking the mirror. Welcome to my house! We were good to go. So...now I have two children on breathing treatments every four hours, steroids, and antibiotics. FYI... potent steroids and toddlers do not mix well!!

Worlds Apart

She is lying just inches from me, but we feel worlds apart. Her body is elevated on a white cloud of pillows, but she looks horribly uncomfortable. She is trapped in a spider web of tubes, one protruding from her nose to sustain her life, another running from her tiny chubby arm to the IV pump hovering over my head, and the last one sticking out of her sock to record her heart rate and oxygen level. As I look at her, I can see her belly rising and falling, trying desperately to breathe. I try to sync my breath with hers but realize I'm about to hyperventilate. It is just too fast. A bead of sweat runs down her forehead and rests on her pale round cheek. When I start to adjust her blankets, I quickly realize she isn't hot. She is sweating because her fragile body is desperately working to breathe. I brush her wet blond curls from her eyes, and she stirs. I hold her close, but know this is out of my hands.

As I lay beside her, I think of the last time we shared a hospital bed. Our baby surprise had finally arrived and she was beautiful. I never pictured, on that wonderful day, that we would be back under different circumstances. She is not the one who is supposed to be wearing the hospital gown. This is not how a mother ever wants to see her child.