Max is desperately trying to learn how to walk. This makes for a lot of boo boos due to the fact that we have hardwood floors. So I've been putting him in his playpen and it has proven to be a great solution. He goes wild in there, basically bouncing off the sides and having a ball.
So, if you like to laugh at babies falling down, as I do, this video is pretty entertaining.
A few days ago, I found a grey hair on my sofa. I thought to myself, why would there be a grey hair on my sofa? We'd had a family get together a few days earlier and I figured the hair must have belonged to one of our guests. Who had attended that had grey hair? I wondered. I remembered Grandma Judy sitting in the exact spot where I'd found the hair and she did indeed have grey hair. Surely it must be hers! I concluded. Completely ignoring the fact that the hair in question was curly and about 6 inches long. Grandma Judy's hair is maybe, oh, 2 inches long.
Yesterday in the car with John on the way to the hospital for Max's ear tube surgery, the air conditioning was blowing and I noticed a silver hair floating in the air near my face. Strange, I thought, that a grey hair was floating around in the car. Stranger still that it appeared to be attached to me somehow. I batted at it with my hand, trying to get the offending hair away from me. It would not go away. I caught it in my fingers and pulled at it. OUCH! Holy crap! That hair, it's attached to me! IT'S ATTACHED TO ME!!!
I plucked the hair out and stared at it. Still not cluing in that I'd just yanked a grey hair out of my own head. First I considered another, much more likely scenario. That someone else's stray hair had somehow gotten tangled into my own hair. Never mind that it was the same length as mine. Never mind that it was curly like mine.
I spent a good long time staring at that hair while we drove. It looked so foreign. After a thorough inspection last night, I couldn't find any more grey hairs, so until I see an actual grey hair growing out of my own head, I continue to be in denial that those two hairs belonged to me.
To my dad:
My step dad Mark:
My dad-in-law Joe (This is an artists rendering because he does not like pictures of him on the internet):
And, of course, the father of my children:
Father's Day 2009 from Jamie Dillier on Vimeo.
I've always had a love/hate relationship with nursing. With Alex it was hard. We got a late start because they'd taken him away to stay in the nursery because of his fast breathing, and despite working with a lactation consultant during every feeding for three days before we took him home from the hospital, he never did get a good latch and my nipples basically fell off, no I'm not exaggerating, they FELL OFF! At which point I started pumping and bottle feeding the expressed milk until they healed enough that I didn't cry every time he attempted to latch.
Basically though, Alex wasn't really into it. When he was four months old I went back to work full time, pumped every 2 hours for 30 minutes in a supply closet at my office but still had to send formula with him to my mother's house because my milk supply suffered, likely due to the stress of being a new mom working a full time job outside the home. I gave up when Alex was 9 months old because after an entire day of pumping I only could produce 2 oz. FOR THE ENTIRE DAY! Alex couldn't have cared less. He didn't seem to miss the boobs one bit.
When I was pregnant with Max, I worried about whether or not I would or should nurse him. I didn't exactly have a good experience with Alex, and I didn't want the first nine months of my last baby's life to be frought with worry, anxiety, frustration and pain like Alex's were. Especially since I could easily formula feed him. I'm not one of those "FORMULA IS EVIL!" breastfeeders. I wanted to breastfeed because I felt it was a unique experience that I'd only be able to do at this time of my life.
So, Max was born, and I'd decided I'd give it a month and if it didn't work out, we'd quit, give him a bottle and everyone would be happy. After he was born and cleaned up, they handed him to me, I tentatively put him to my breast and the kid latched on like a pro! Nursed on both sides for about 20 minutes each! After nine months Alex NEVER nursed as well as Max did on his first attempt. They had to take Max away for fast breathing, just like Alex and I worried he'd forget how to do it. Then they almost killed him with an overdose of epidural medicine (WHICH SHOULD NOT HAVE EVEN BEEN AVAILABLE!!!! Grrrr...clearly I'm NOT over that yet, actually I probably never will be) and he spent the next week of his life hooked up to machines and monitors and breathing tubes and drugged up on anti seizure medications and the option to nurse him was taken completely off the table until he recovered.
I pumped every two hours like clockwork. I was determined to have a good hearty milk supply for him when he was ready for it, even if I had to give it to him with a bottle. As it turned out, I overdid it a bit because by the time he was allowed to breastfeed again, I nearly drowned him with my letdown. With the help of lactation consultants, I learned how to help him handle my overproduction and soon, my boobs learned just how much to produce and my nipples stopped acting like firehoses and Max discovered his first love: Boobies.
Nursing Max has been a completely different experience than nursing Alex. It feels natural and normal and comfortable for both of us. But now, Max is one year old, and that means it's time for him to wean and I'm feeling very conflicted about it. On one hand, it is simply time. He's eating regular food now, he can have cow's milk now, there is no added nutritional benefit to breastfeeding him. It would certainly be nice to have my own body all to myself again. To be able to have a glass of wine whenever I like, to be able to take cold medicine... But, on the other hand, he still seems very much like my baby. When I nurse him, and he's curled up on my lap, head resting in the bend of my arm, face snuggled into me, I never want to wean him. I want this feeling forever. The feeling of being his comfort.
I feel like breastfeeding Max is such a huge part of being his mother that I'm not ready to give it up just yet. I know that sounds silly, I know I'll still be his mother even without nursing him, I certainly didn't feel any difference in the realtionship with Alex when he weaned. I'm not really sure why this is so emotionally hard for me, but it is. There are people who say to go ahead and keep on nursing him. Nurse him until he's 2 or 3, until he can pull up my shirt and take my boob out of my bra himself. And while I respect those people who do that, I'm sorry, but ew. You do what you're comfortable with, by all means, but I really don't think that long term nursing is for me. Like I said, it's time to wean, I'm just sad about it.
I've decided I'll continue nursing him through the end of June. He's got an allergy test and his Tympanostomy tube surgery next week and I feel like he'll need to comfort nurse after those events. But after that, come July 1st, I hope to be able to have him off the boobs and on cow's milk from a bottle and/or sippy cup.
It all boils down to the fact that my baby, my little Maximus, is growing up. This is just the first of many things I'll miss.
Max 1 year old from Jamie Dillier on Vimeo.
One year ago, Max was born!
I've learned a lot in the last year because of Max.
I've learned that I can survive natural childbirth
I've learned what my personal hell looks like (When Max almost died)
I've learned that family and friends rallying around me can give me strength I never knew I had
I've learned that a person can actually survive on 3 hours of sleep per night for an entire year. That person might go crazy, but it is possible.
I've learned that peanuts are EVIL!
I've learned that my little family, John, Alex and Max, are the sum total of what I need to make me happy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Happy birthday my one year old boy! I love you more than I could ever tell you.
Last year I was a wreck. I was one day past my due date and very, VERY miserable. I was prone to spontaneously breaking down in sobs every 15 minutes or so. I barely acknowledged John's birthday because I couldn't get my mind off the fact that there was still a baby living in my body and I wanted it out like three weeks ago. I didn't want to throw him a party because I could be having that baby ANY SECOND NOW! In fact, I didn't have the baby until noon the next day.
This year will be better. John and Max (and Grandma Judy) had a party on Sunday and opened all their presents. I'm even prepared with a father's day gift for John this year. John's taken the day off and I've arranged to have the neighbor's eldest daughter (she's 12) come watch the boys for a couple of hours this afternoon so I can take John to the movies (he chose Star Trek, so I totally scored and get to see a movie I want to see again too! mmmm Sylar-Spock).
My husband is awesome and I wish there was a way for me to say that without sounding 13, but I, like, TOTALLY love him and stuff!
Happy birthday Honey!
Took Max to the doctor this morning. He's been grumpy and inconsolable at night, back to getting up 3-4 times at night, not eating well, pulling his ear...all signs pointed to another ear infection. I wasn't sure though because he was also getting 6 brand new teeth. With no fever, I hesitated to go to the doctor, knowing all the symptoms could be teething related, but I decided to go ahead and take him in anyway because I wanted to talk to his regular doctor about his peanut allergy.
Turns out his ears are fine (for once!) and all of his symptoms were caused by him cutting a mouthfull of teeth. So that was great news. The doctor was happy to hear that he was going to have tubes put in next week and agreed with everyone that it should be the miracle cure we've been needing for some time.
When I told her what the other doctor told me to do at home with peanutbutter on Max's arm, Mitzi had the exact same reaction that I had "HE WANTED YOU TO DO WHAT??!?!" She was glad that I was hesitant to do it and told me not to get him anywhere near peanuts until we see an allergist. She gave me some names of allergists and also gave me a prescription for two epipens, one to keep in my purse at all times and one to keep handy at home.
Max is seeing the allergist next Monday for an allergy test. Mitzi seems to think that we will be able to find out from this test a) what other allergies he might have b) how serious the allergy is and b) whether or not there's a chance he'll grow out of it.
Poor kid, after he's subjected to the allergy test (a "prick test" on his back), he will go in for surgery on his ears the next day.
Max saw an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat specialist) today, and as expected, the boy needs tubes. I had many concerns going into the appointment; he's in pain with earaches and irratable all the time, he's constantly on antibiotics which I'm VERY uncomfortable with, he isn't sleeping well... but perhaps the most obvious problem didn't even occur to me. His speech.
Max babbles. He says "Mama", "Dada" and "Ba" But we're still not completely sure he knows what they mean. When the doctor asked how well he talked and I just looked at him and said "well, he doesn't talk" We were immediately sent in for a hearing test where Max didn't exactly fail, but he didn't exactly pass either. Poor kid hears about as well as he would sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool.
The doctor said that we had two choices moving forward, we can just keep doing what we're doing and hope he grows out of it, which means more ear infections, pain, antibiotics, loss of sleep and a delay of his speech development... or get tubes which should immediately restore his normal hearing and greatly reduce the amount of ear infections he gets, and if they do get infected, they can be treated with ear drops instead of oral antibiotics. The big risk is he'll need to be put under general anesthesia (which makes me nervous) and we'll have to be real careful about not getting water in his ears until his ear drum heals (until the tubes fall out). There's also a small risk that his eardrum will not seal up completely once the tube falls out and he'd require a second surgery to patch the hole.
Well it took us all of 30 seconds to decide to go with the tubes. We'd actually decided on them before we went to the appointment, but the speech delay sealed the deal for us. I had no idea that could be his problem! It also occurred to me that some of his insecurity, the way he's so clingy with me, could be due to his hearing problems. I know I'd be a little insecure if I couldn't hear properly.
So, on June 23rd he'll be going to Primary Children's Medical Center, exactly one year since his last stay there the week he was born. Thankfully this time though, it'll be a shorter, much less stressful stay.
About a week ago, Max stole Alex's PB&J sandwich and ate a little bit of it. I noticed, after I'd wiped the mess off his face, his skin was all red and splotchy. I figured it was either from having been outside and maybe having a bit of hay fever or even just from me rubbing the PB&J off his face a little too aggressively. Being the nervous mother I am, I watched him closely the rest of the afternoon, I googled "Peanut allergy" and watched him for any other signs. There were none.
Yesterday Alex was eating a peanut butter sandwich (no jelly) and he gave a little chunk of it to Max. I wasn't too nervous about it because he'd clearly survivied his first peanut butter experience. But maybe 30 seconds later he started coughing. I turned around to look at him and his mouth and chin looked as thought he'd been attacked by a swarm of mosquitos. Hives were spreading all over his face and his eyes were puffy and watering. His nose was just pouring boogers. I watched him for a couple of minutes, I thought maybe he'd rubbed crumbs in his eyes or something. When his lips started swelling I started to panic. Do I call 911? Should I call his doctor? He seemed to still be breathing ok and his lips, while puffy, were still pink, not blue, so I called the nurse at his pediatrician's office and she advised us to get in the car immediately and come into the office.
Thank goodness I had the car!
When we got to the office, the nurse was waiting for us out front and she took us right in to a room and started taking Max's vitals. She noticed he was retracting with his breathing, which is what happens to Alex when he's having an asthma attack. It means he's having to work harder to get air into his lungs and you can see it when the skin between the ribs and around the neck sink in with each breath.
He was still getting plenty of oxegyn it seemed, they didn't feel the need to give him anything. The doctor who wears the funny shoes (He's my 4th choice of all the Pediatrician's in the practice, they're all great, but since we came in w/out an appointment, we didn't get to choose the dr who saw us.) came in to look at him and now Max was getting little bug bite looking hives on his chest, belly and arms which the doctor said was a systemic reaction, meaning that he did injest the peanut butter. He thought the swollen watery eyes and redness of his face was from Max rubbing the peanut butter around on his skin, which he had done.
"Well, he's allergic to peanuts" The doctor told me. I supressed the urge to say "Gee, ya think?" and instead asked him some basic questions about what he should avoid contact with from now on, since all I know about peanut allergies is from that episode of Arthur when Binky finds out he's allergic to peanuts. He told me the basics, peanuts and peanut butter, obvoiusly. But also other nuts and legumes (and I asked about beans and peas which he said were fine, so I'm not sure what other legumes other than nuts I'm supposed to be avoiding), candies and cereals packaged or processed in plants that also package and process nuts. He advised me to read labels carefully and avoid anything made with peanut oil and that also means no eating at Chinese Resturaunts unless they specifically cater to people with peanut allergies (which means cooking in separate pans, etc.).
I'm also to put some peanut butter on his arm sometime next week (not sure why next week and not today, but whatever, I'm not too excited to get PB anywhere near him again any time soon anyway) and see if he has a skin reaction, if so, the doctor wants us to keep an epipen on us at all times.
"Oh, and I'm going to give you a prescription for Amoxicillin for those ears, they're infected". I just stared at him. "Are you kidding me?" I ask him. This would be infection number five since February and we were just in last week to check his ears and they were fine. He was not kidding.
"Has he been fussy?" the doctor asks.
"Well yea, he's always fussy. And he's teething."
"Has he been pulling on his ears?"
"Well yea, but he's teething."
"Has he been sleeping well?"
I couldn't help laughing at that. Ha. Sleeping well. HA!
"Why didn't you bring him in?"
"He didn't have a fever and we were just in last week and they were fine."
"Well, they're not fine."
"They never are."
"He needs tubes."
"I know."
"Here's a referral to an ENT."
I've been a wreck ever since. It's like this doctor visit was the last straw for me. I'm out of my mind worried about this allergy. I got up this morning and threw out everything that was peanut related or may at some point touched a peanut. It was a lot of stuff. Cereals and cookies and some of the few foods my picky boys will eat. When you add that to the long list of dairy foods I've been eliminating from Max's diet to try to get rid of his diarreha (which will just come back again thanks to the antibiotic), we're left with barely anything for him to eat!
I've been just a puddle of pathetic sobs all morning. I cried the entire time I was making John's breakfast because I had no idea what I could give Max for breakfast this morning. I cried while I took the boys to the grocery store to find something, ANYTHING ok to have at our house that won't KILL MY BABY! I cried when I spent too much and worried John would get mad. I cried about how I have to worry about everything he eats from now on. I cried about how he'll have to be that weird kid at school who has to always have a packed lunch from home. I cried about how I'll always worry when he eats or sleeps over at a friend's house because they could have PEANUT BUTTER THERE! NOOOO!! I cried about how he'll never just get to eat a candybar. I cried about how he'll never know the yumminess of a peanut butter cookie. I cried about how he may someday have a rebelious streak and eat a peanut M&M and I won't be there with my epipen and he'll die, HE'LL DIE!!!! I cried about how I thought it felt impossible to keep my kids safe in the big scary world before and now that big scary world is infested with killer peanuts!
And then I'd calm down.
And then Max would cry and pull his ear and I'd start crying again because he's got another ear infection and why does his life have to be filled with so many things that suck? Why can't he just be well and happy and not have to keep taking all these medications that make his tummy hurt? Why can't it just be easy? Why are my kids always sick? Why do my kids have to deal with allergies and eczema and asthma? It's not fair! WAHHHH!
Believe me, I know I'm overreacting. My kids ARE healthy. There's just a couple of annoying things in their lives that suck, but they're manageable, preventable, and they'll be just fine. But, I seem to be having a breakdown about it all the same.
