Growing Up

There's been a whole lotta growing up going on around here. The process tends to slow down once kids get to a certain age, but my 3 youngest are still hitting milestones and keeping things exciting in that department.

Which, I'm thankful it's the 3 youngest, because I'm flat-out not ready for the kind of milestones my 3 oldest are going to throw my way in the not-too-distant future. Can I get an "Amen?"

***

Let's start with Libby:




She just turned five. FIVE. That's just so big! I can't believe she's five now.

Five is so neat to me. A lot like four was, mainly because Michaela never really made it that far. Of course she was that age years ago, but she never really was mentally five or perhaps not even four. So Libby is just this whole new world for me. A five-year-old girl! It's so different from a boy, and five is just pretty big and capable and all. I really enjoy her girlie side, too, which is kinda strange seeing as how I never was very girlie in any sense of the word. But she likes baby dolls, and purses, and shoes, and beads, and pink. Those sections of Toys 'R' Us used to be completely foreign to me, but now I'm starting to enjoy them a bit. It took 30+ years, but I think I'm getting a little girlie too!



She writes her name, reads beginner books (ie: Dick and Jane), can make her own bed, and feeds the cat. She's definitely melodramatic (as a girl should be, I guess), gets hurt somewhat easily, and runs like a .......well, girl. As the "only" girl, she tries to do, be, and play like the boys, but that doesn't always work out. The other day, she ventured into the woods to play with the boys in their forts, but couldn't do it without crying for fear of the unknown and the occasional scrapes the briers produced on her legs. I know she was trying to be brave and boy-like because she told me that when she's 6, she won't cry when she goes into the woods.

I don't know, I think I love her because she cried. She's just everything I'd want a little girl to be.

***

Asher is potty training. I would say he's trained, but last night, he soaked himself in the church nursery. That was the first accident he's had since Tuesday morning, though. That was the morning he decided that he was going to tell me he had to go to the bathroom, and actually went. For MONTHS he has categorically refused to use the potty. I would do everything I could think of, and NOTHING would change his mind on using the diaper OR the floor. Can you believe that? He would use the floor and just act like nothing happened! I mean, he's almost 3 for pete's sake!

But he's a pro now (well except for the problem in nursery). He's in underwear all day without a mistake. That includes naps! I got him some truck pull-ups for the nighttime, but I'm hoping that he will train good in that area as his older brothers and sister did. They didn't need pull-ups very long. I might be able to keep him dry in one package worth. That'd sure be nice. Considering how long he's been in diapers, my pocketbook needs a break!

He looks pretty proud, doesn't he?

***

Gabe is.......




He's the youngest to start. And yes, I know, 13 months is pretty late for most kids, but compared to my others he's early. 3 didn't walk until 15 months, one at 18, and one walked 2 days before 14 months (the previous earliest one). All the kids are getting the biggest kick out of seeing him walk everywhere. Used to be they'd alert me EVERY time he walked a few steps from the table to the couch. Now he walks from one side of the kitchen to the other. He still knows that crawling is the fastest method, but he seems to like being a "big boy" and getting around like the others.

He's chatting quite a bit as well. If you catch him in a good mood, he will all-but talk your ear off. He sounds like he's speaking intelligently, just in a different language. This morning, he was soooo cute by whispering all kinds of sweet nothings to me. If it weren't for the fact he was slobbering all over my nose, it would've been double cute :)

I can't believe my baby's walking. Man, he's gonna be riding a bike in no time. Sure feels weird to know he's the last one and all. I keep expecting to find myself pregnant all the time.

Can't say I haven't enjoyed every second though. Cuz I have.

I guess growing up is hard to do when you're growing old, too.

Where to Begin Again....

Not posting for such a long time has been interesting.

One minute I would be laughing about something and saying, "You know, I oughta post about this!" The next, I'd be grateful that I didn't feel as though I HAD to post about that; to just be able to relish the moment, and move on without recording it.

But I miss writing.

A lot.

***

So much has happened in my life since September 25th. There's probably no way I could go back and remember all the highlights of the past 4 months in a way that would make you feel a part of them. I'd be surprised if I could even recall the events themselves, never mind the details. But for your sakes (and mine, when it comes to archiving), I'm going to try. So here's a short list:

-We went to Campmeeting in September
-Chris was laid off in November
-Gabe turned 1 in December
-Chris started college full-time at the beginning of January
-My cousin AND my sister-in-law were married this past weekend

I've been very faithful to read other people's blogs, in case you were wondering. No, I haven't always been much of a commenter, but many of you got a little note from me here and there. There's something pretty incredible about blogging and the blogger community in general. As long as it's kept in it's place, blogging can be a wonderful outlet and source of information (useful AND useless). I never intended to not be a part of that, but for awhile, I just needed to be an innocent bystander. Just a reader.

And thank God for the readers.

Because so many of you have been a source of comfort and happiness and intrigue to me over the past 2+ years. Your simple words of love or laughter are worth checking my email for. Every time. Thanks for being patient with me.

***

Time heals all wounds, you know.

And just like a doctor takes stitches to close a gash on your arm, I took some stitches and sealed up my heart. This was no superficial cut. No scrape, scratch, small bruise. It was a whopper of a boo-boo, if you will. And I just knew that leaving it open would expose me to too much infection, and too much input, and too much pain in the end. Closing up was a must.

You'll forgive me if I seemed to overreact, won't you? You'll have to put yourself in my shoes, I guess.

Because now I can talk about it. It doesn't bother me like it did before, and for that I'm thankful. But time has had a lot to do with it as well. Life has moved on. That wound is not raw anymore. The stitches are long gone, and the scab is gone as well.

Now, there's just a faint scar that remains....

***

September, Asher had another seizure.

He had not been sick, he had not had a fever. He was playing, and he fell and had a grand mal seizure. My world about stopped.

And I think I hid it well. It was MY nightmare--mine and Chris'. And I just needed to close up. No one else needed the burden, in my mind.

See, it was MORE than just a seizure. Not only was it a seizure without a fever (which, is more problematic, of course), but Chief thought it could potentially be genetic considering Michaela's medical history. And out of all the tests (genetic and otherwise) that she has had done over the years, this particular disease he had in mind she had never been tested for. Essentially, the disease starts as a fever seizure and then about 6 weeks later, the child would have another seizure that was not fever-related. After that, the seizures would come more often and the child would essentially lose their ability to do X, Y and Z.

You know, like Michaela has.

So, we decided to have her tested after Asher had his initial fever seizure. To see if their seizures were genetically linked. I was fairly confident that this disease was not what Asher had. I mean, tons of kids have fever seizures. It really wasn't a big deal. However, seeing as how Michaela has such a bad seizure history, I thought Chief's idea of running the test would be a good idea. You know, just to rule it out. So we ran the test and had to wait 6 weeks.

Sometime during that waiting period, Ash had the second seizure. The one NOT fever related.

6 weeks to the day he had the fever seizure.

Like I said, my world stopped.

***

God says, "I won't give you more than you can handle." and "My grace is sufficient for you." And I believe those words. But there have been plenty of times when I would tell God, "You have a much higher opinion of me than you ought to! I really can't handle THIS much!"

The repercussions of that seizure just never seemed to end in the week after it happened. See, when Michaela was little, we never knew what we were up against. We always had hope that she would get better. That the seizures would get under control in time, and then she'd flourish again, back to her very intelligent, very capable little self. By the time the bomb of her diagnosis hit, we were already in the trenches with a full battle plan. We grew into her regression. We were clueless until her disease is what our lives had already become.

But that luxury would not be there with Asher. If he had that dreadful disease (and by this time, I was pretty convinced even without the results being in), then I knew the road ahead of me. I started mourning that day. All the little smiles and boyish things he did, all the words he would say, and all the years we would see those things melt away. I contemplated them all. I watched him endlessly it seemed, just trying to soak it all in and remember how he "was."

And I worried about Gabe. Seeing as how this seizure monster would be genetic, then there was the potential for Gabe to be affected too (I wasn't worried about the other children, as they were past the age range for it to show up). It was just too much. I tried to put that thought out of my mind for the time being, but the notion just became another facet in a huge realm of awful possibilities.

So, in light of all this, I did the only thing I could think to do:

I stitched up my bleeding heart with positive thinking, prayed that God would steel my mind for the future, and tried to march on like nothing was wrong.

But I couldn't blog. I just couldn't.

***

Six weeks after Michaela's blood work was sent off, it came back.

Negative.

***

It is Chief's thought that Asher's seizure was nothing more than an isolated incident. Fever seizures, like the first one, and regular seizures, like the second, are diagnosed in different categories. They are not considered related. And each category allows for a person to experience ONE seizure of that type without being officially diagnosed or treated. It's like getting a freebie, if you will.

And as Chief said: "He's had his freebie."

And he hasn't had another one since then.

***

Life is back to normal now in so many ways. I'm just being a mom, and taking care of the house, and we're homeschooling, and just doing life. All the children are doing well--nothing to complain about, and Chris is well too.

As for my heart, you can't really tell that I went through this 4 months ago. I laugh as much as I used to, and I don't stay awake at night.

But if you look close....really close.....you'll see a faint line where that gash was. And if you're quick enough, you may see my startled reaction every time Asher falls down randomly or makes a strange snorting sound. You may even hear my heart skip a beat.




Because some scars, you have for life.

Whirlwind Week

It's been over a week since I last posted, and Jen was so kind as to give me the necessary hand-slap to get me back on course. After my last post, it's pretty cruel to not give an update. My apologies.

But Asher is doing well.

Like febrile seizures are want to do, they only come around during a high fever. And as most of you know, high fevers usually only come around during a sickness. Asher got over his within 24 hours of when he had the seizure, for the most part. He hasn't been sick since........ie: no seizures.

I trust that's the last we see of 'em.

***

I had quite the whirlwind week last week. And once you hear about it, you'll know why I haven't posted. In fact, some of you may even scold me! But hey, sometimes you just gotta live on the wild side, ya know?

For starters, last Monday (not to be confused with the Monday just past), my Sister-in-law Jes came into town to visit. Chris' sister is an officer in the Navy, and her schedule is often difficult when it comes to working out visits. She's always been good about it though, and so she decided to pop into town in between her duties. And just because I think she's incredible (and ahem.....she was MY friend before I even looked twice at Chris...hehehehe!), I'm going to tell y'all what she's doing these days. Because I like to brag on her:

She is now a personal aide to the second most powerful Admiral in the United States Navy. That's right folks. MY friend, MY Sister-in-law, was hand-picked by a 3-Star Admiral to work along side him and over his staff for the next 2 years. This guy is in charge of the ENTIRE Atlantic Fleet (which, in case you didn't know, is the biggest in the world). And MY Sister-in-law has this man's ear. WooHoo Jes!

Anyhow......Jes was so nice as to fly in last Monday, rent a car, and stay with us until Wednesday. I purposely kept the news from Chris, and we surprised him. I even got him Tuesday off so he could visit with her. We had fun. It was so sweet for those two to be together. Chris doesn't get to see his family very often.

***

The day after Jes left, Thursday, I got the chance to breathe a little. I didn't have hardly anything to do that day, so I got caught up on the things I put aside while she was here. Unfortunately, Michaela woke up with a bad cough and saying she didn't feel good, so she stayed home from school. She slept pretty much the whole day. By Friday she seemed much better, which was good because she had a doctor's appointment that day.

***

Michaela is now seeing yet another specialist at our Children's Hospital, a psychologist. As she's gotten older, her behavior is becoming further and further removed from what would be considered age appropriate. For example: A five-year-old acting like a three-year-old is not so big a deal compared to a nine-year-old acting like a three-year-old. Get it? So the older she gets, the more unacceptable her actions become. And sometimes, the stuff she does could be harmful to herself or others.

For instance, she's very impulsive. She rarely thinks about what she's doing before she does it. This is a very "two-year-old" way to act. However, she's a lot taller than a two-year-old is. So, even if a normal two-year-old would try to touch the eye on the stove, they really couldn't because of their size. But, Michaela CAN touch that eye, and she very well WOULD. It's the same with going outside. A very young child may WANT to go out, but they can't open the door (or even reach the handle in some cases). Michaela can very easily open the door on a good day, and has absentmindedly walked into the middle of the street, not realizing that her safety is in jeopardy.

This is just one reason why we are seeing a behavioral specialist. In general, Michaela needs to calm down and not be so hyper. It causes her to be out of control, and we have a hard time changing that. Out of control means a lower quality of life for her AND the rest of us. Between this psychologist (who evaluates and treats through counseling) and a psychiatrist (who prescribes medicine), we should have a game plan in the near future.

Unfortunately, this means many visits to the hospital in a short time frame. I think I've been there four times in the last month. And the end is not in sight yet.

Sigh.

So that was last Friday.

***

Then, last Thursday night (so we're backtracking a bit here), my good friend Donna called me to tell me that her middle son Paul had decided to get married on Saturday. The COMING Saturday. Like, IN TWO DAYS. For some reason, Paul wanted to be married really bad. I've always had a soft-spot for Paul, and have enjoyed the times he wanted to hold my babies and tote around my little kids. He would tend to be hardened on his exterior, but you throw those little smiles into his day, and you could tell he was a total mushbug on the inside. I liked seeing that side of him.

Paul had moved to Kentucky and neither I nor his Mama had seen him all that much. To make a long story short, she REALLY wanted to go to the wedding in spite of the circumstances (which are too lengthy to note here), and so did I. But she wasn't sure if it would work out for her to go on such short notice. Saturday morning, the DAY of the wedding, she called me at 8am asking me if I wanted to go with her to KY.

Two hours and twenty minutes later, we were on the road for the 4-5 hour trip up there.

I know, you think I'm crazy.

But it worked out for the kids and Chris, and I took Boo and Gabe. Those two did excellent on the drive. We got up there, went to the wedding, and drove back. Almost exactly 12 hours later, I was home and in bed.

Just in time to sleep before church services the next day.



And THAT'S why I didn't blog last week.

Normal

We didn't realize what was going on last night with Asher.

It seemed like he would wake up crying every few hours. For no apparent reason. Very strange for him, seeing as how he sleeps through the night, and has continually since he was 1 month old. Every time we would go in there to see what was wrong, he would only say, "I want to see you Mama/Dada." We would tell him to go back to sleep, and he would. Not without waking up Gabe, unfortunately, but that's another story.....

Around 6 this morning, it happened again. This crying all of a sudden. I was afraid (and angry) that he would wake up Gabe again, so I went in there and was pretty upset with him. That only made him cry worse. Come to find out, he was very hot to the touch.

Ahhhhh......now I understand what's wrong.....

***

I took him into bed with us for the rest of the morning. It was obvious that he was sick. You know the signs: a lot of sleeping, hardly eats, cries a lot, clinginess. He had all of them. Including a continual fever.

I personally don't worry too much about fevers. They're there for a reason, and I don't like to mess with that. He was fighting off something by having that fever, and as far as I was concerned, it could finish the job so I could have my old Ashey back. And as long as it doesn't get too high, and cause too much discomfort for the child, I tend to NOT medicate for a fever. If I do end up giving them something, it's a bit of Tylenol or Motrin, but again, only if it seems like the child is having a miserable time.

Asher was just spending most of his time resting on the couch, and so we thought we'd just ride this one out. He was clingy, but was fine in my arms. So I held him. A lot.

At some point in the early afternoon, he fell asleep on the couch with Libby. Seeing my new found freedom, I took the opportunity to tie up some loose ends on house chores. In the meantime, Gabe woke up from his nap, Michaela went down for hers, and Chris took the two older boys to town to get some stuff.

Which means, it was just me and Gabe when Ash woke up from his nap about 2:30. He was crying again, just like he had the night before. He wanted me, and I was happy to oblige him, except Gabe was nursing at the time. He wandered over to me, but I told him to go rest on the love seat until I was done with Gabe.

And then it happened.



Asher cried out and started to convulse in a full-blown, grand mal seizure.

Another child.

Seizing.

***

My heart stopped.

And everything that we've been through the past 7 years ran through my mind. That first morning when she was turning blue, the myriad of EEGs, the abilities that just keep melting away......

I gently picked him up while his eyes rolled into the back of his head (how many times have I seen that face?), and his little arms beat rhythmically against my chest (the all-too-familiar thudding sound). I carried him to the kitchen sink and doused a kitchen towel in cool water, remembering the very first time I ever saw a child having a seizure: It was the same exact type situation, a fever induced seizure. The little boy's mother was hysterical, calling his name, while the other adults around him ran for wet blankets and covered him from head to toe. I was doing the same now, covering his hot head (how hot is it? hasn't he been this hot before?) with that towel. The twitching slows.......the eyes come back......the lips turn from blue to white. There's drool on my shirt. He's limp and catching his breath. He's post-ictal now....

I only know that term because I've known it for years....

I've been here before.....

With a pretty little blue eyed girl.....

***

Amazingly enough, even to me, I didn't freak out. Not during the seizure, and not later. And not now. I knew from the second I saw his face contort, that this was not the same as Boo. This was not the terrible monster we've been fighting all these years. I knew, in the back of my mind, where all the years of study and learning are kept, that this was not even Epilepsy.

It was simply a fever-induced seizure. A febrile seizure. A common childhood occurrence.

But even as my mind took that all in, and I took the steps necessary to help my little son, I couldn't help but go through all the feelings I've dreaded. All the years I've worried and cautiously watched every child grow up in my arms---for a twitch, for that cry---to wait until I felt they were past the risky years. Listening, watching, steeling myself against the day that I'd have to watch another child deteriorate. And breathing again, when they thrived and grew and learned

and didn't have a seizure.

Asher won't fall into that category, but I'm not the hysterical mother I thought I would be in light of that fact. I'm not freaking out, and I'm not upset. By the end of the day, he was eating plenty, talking a bunch, and fooling with his siblings. He's sleeping now, and not crying out. His fever broke in the late afternoon, and he's back to normal.

Normal.

He's normal.

And thank God, I'm normal too.





For more information about febrile seizures in children, click here.

Ok, Son....Enough Now

First the head, now THIS....



Got his thumb jammed in between some folding chairs. What you can't see from the picture is that it is about twice it's normal size. It's so swollen, that the black nail looks like it's going to pop off any second (and I've been told that it probably will). The underside of the thumb is reddish and badly scraped.

He's using the hand (to climb, no less!), but not the thumb. And as long as you don't touch it, he's as happy as a lark.

OH! So, the thumb was on Sunday, and on Monday night (the day he got the stitches out) he busted his head open AGAIN. Same place. He fell and it started to bleed again. Thankfully, it only looked like the scab had been displaced a bit, and not another deep gash.

It's been a bad week for Stinky.

Never A Dull Moment

Fell on blunt metal object. Thought he broke his neck. Ended up splitting his head. Bled profusely. At Toyota dealership service garage. Had all 6 kids. By myself. Call 911! Went to ER. Got 4 stitches. Was his normal, happy self.




(semi-graphic pictures........be advised......)










Mama loses 5 years. Gains 6 new gray hairs.