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Monthly Archives: July 2010

The Awesome-est picture, ever.

I once called this the awesome-est picture ever. Luckily, I can admit when I’m wrong, because this is…

He’s not yelling, he’s not talking, he’s not screaming, he’s just being himself.

A ham. A character. A goofball.

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Posted by on July 31, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

I guess I’ve spent more time with cats than kids.

Ollie.

Dear, sweet, behind Ollie. I hesitate to say it, because I don’t want to jinx him, but ::whisper:: I think he’s catching up.

He’s recently started getting on his hands and knees to scope out the territory. 

Even more exciting, he’s started rocking while on his hands and knees.

And the final success in the perfect trifecta?

He’s taken a “step” with each knee (I think).

He just has to gain some confidence in his abilities and see the light that crawling is more efficient than rolling everywhere. Right now, his uncertain rocking reminds me of a cat getting ready to hack up a hairball.

That’s one of the first things that came to mind when he started doing this? I guess I’ve spent more times with cats than kids.

It’s all starting to come together for the little bugger. And it started with him sitting unassisted. Within the few months that he’s been doing that, he’s blowing through his milestones and baby tasks faster than I imagined. I sort of expected him to take as long to figure out the army-crawl (or even regular crawl) as it did for him to work out sitting.

But, nope, he’s mastering things so quickly that it seems someone told him he has only has about five months to catch up to his peers and he doesn’t want to disappoint.

I went to get him out of his crib one morning, and as I reached his door, I heard a CRASH from his room. A bit startled, I went faster and opened the door to see what the ruckus was…

My little buddy was sitting in his crib (for the first time) pulling stuff off the little dresser next to his bed. The crash I heard was the remote control for his radio being tossed onto the floor.

Opening the door to that was cuter than, oh, I don’t know….

a kitten falling asleep in a teacup or something.

He was just so happy with his new ability!

I just love this kid. Everything he does is pretty awesome.

What worries me — a little tiny bit — is the idea that his getting into trouble is a milestone that we celebrate. Our applause when he figures something new out, whether it’s good or bad, has to be worse than straight-up telling him he’s cute all day long. I mean, are we trying to create a monster here?

No, we’re not, but we are hesitant to discourage him from doing things that kiddoes his age have been doing for months.

Things like exploring the tv cabinet…

This is a place he’s been wanting to explore for months and he’s finally gotten into it!

He finally worked out that sitting in front of it gives him the leverage needed to open the doors. Before that, he was propping himself up on his elbow while laying to fiddle with the handles. He wasn’t successful, but it was a neat puzzle for him to work on.

But today!  Today he was victorious! He sat himself on his dupa in front of the doors and viola! He’s in!

You must be heartless if you think he shouldn’t celebrate his victory and be able to play in the cabinet that houses a ka-zillion magazine, a bunch of cords and wires, the wireless router and, well, everything we don’t want him to find. But how can we cut him off from that, when he finally worked that out?

We let him play with the doors and really get excited that we were actually going to let him pull stuff out, and then shooed him off.

We tied the doors closed with a bit of yarn and he cried.

Poor little man, we’re so mean.

 
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Posted by on July 31, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

Surprisingly, a chiropractor seems to be the missing link in his army of specialists.

Remember when Ollie wasn’t sitting? When he wasn’t showing any signs of ever being upright or mobile…ever?

Yeah. Those days were interesting, strangely frustrating.

It was during that time that my wheels started turning and the words “preemies, lack of mobility and chiropractics” started finding their way into my Google search bar. The research and first person success stories I found — along with a conversation my sister-in-law overheard at her chiropractor’s office — convinced me to at least give it a try. Seriously, what did we have to lose?

Surprisingly, a chiropractor seems to be the missing link in his army of specialists.

Before our first visit, Ollie would sit for only seconds at a time, really. And only when he was very distracted by a super cool toy. When your child is getting to be over a year, and then rounding out a year and a half, and he’s still not sitting, you start to second guess everything that you ever heard about “typical preemie behavior” and start questioning whether or not he’ll ever sit…or crawl…or stand….or walk….it’s a dark road to venture down.

So, we added Dr. Erin to our team of helpers, working alongside our Occupational Therapist and Physical Therapist.

I’m not lying when I say I was crazy-surprised with the quickness of actual, physical, tangible results.

Within his first month of once-a-week chiropractic visits, he was sitting on his own for whole chunks of time.

WHAT?

And now, in his third month of visits, he’s army crawling like a pro.

Double WHAT??

We’ve had 10 visits with Dr. Erin. In that time, the strides that Ollie has made have blown his OT and PT out of the water, and they had 8 months of weekly visits with him.

Triple WHAT???

I know, I know, it does seem bizarre to take a baby, erm…toddler, to a chiropractor, and even weirder when I’ve never actually been to one myself. But I’ve heard great things about baby chiropractics in general. And, this chiropractor in particular comes very, very highly recommended. And, we’ve seen with Ollie, it can take “alternative” measures (remember the beef jerky days?) to convince him to do things. I admit, though, I had my reservations.

But she’s so gentle with him. It’s not like she’s cracking and forcing and strong-arming his body into doing something it clearly doesn’t want to. She gently persuades his body to respond to her encouragement. Really, not unlike his PT. She uses a thermometer of sorts along his spine, to determine where any inflammations are (inflammation = heat, the thermometer recognizes those areas that aren’t lined up properly) and can actually show me where his areas of weaknesses are.

Even more convincing, she mentioned the same exact challenges that his OT and PT have mentioned when it came to his lack of mobility. Without me having to utter a sound about them. PT mentioned his lack of lumbar curve? Hey! So did Dr. Erin! She mentioned she’d like to start working on helping him turn his head back and forth? Guess what! So did OT! So now we have three different kinds of professionals working to manipulate his body to create that lumbar curve and helping him turn his head.

And, it’s working.

And, he doesn’t even cry during his adjustments.

Crazy, eh?

Dr. Erin mentioned, when we first started seeing her, that we’d hopefully see results in one to three months. In that first month, he was sitting; in his third month, he is army-crawling. He’s even properly getting out of a sit by leaning forward to support himself with his hands and getting into a crawling position.

My toddler that doesn’t toddle is so on his way to toddling-town.

 
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Posted by on July 14, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

Some unknown hypersensitivity to something I’ve eaten, worn, encountered, inhaled, touched, smelled, slept near, looked at funny…whatever

It’s always awesome when someone tells you that you look great; it’s even more awesomer when it’s your doctor who exclaims, “you look fabulous!”

Today I had an appointment with my hematologist, the blood doctor who prescribes the aforementioned “bane of my existence” blood thinning shots. She’s delightful, this woman, barely pocket-sized, with a strangely ironic name (kinda like a dentist called Dr. Root-Canal) who matches her eyeglasses with her shirt — today both were lime-green.

And what girl doesn’t like someone who tells her she looks good? And not just good, but “fabulous!”

Add to that equation the idea that I’m 16 weeks pregnant and I about kissed her.

She’s that delightful.

My hematologist and I see each other every other month or so. They take my blood and count the platelets to see if my dosage needs to be altered in any way…perhaps I’m too clotty, perhaps I’m not clotty enough, and we strategize our plan of attack for the next few months.

I am to continue with the Lovenox shots (I knew that), and start a Baby Aspirin a day around 20 – 22 weeks or so (about 4 – 6 weeks from now). Even though the Lovenox is clearly doing its job, according to all my blood tests, I still cringe a little when I remember that starting around week 24 with Ollie was when the s–t was starting to hit the fan. I want any extra reassurance that we really are doing all we can to let this one gestate properly for as long as possible.

So chew a Baby Aspirin! Can do! After the next appointment in September, we will become even closer buddies by seeing each other every month or more, depending on what secrets my blood is whispering at the time. I’m under the impression that these tests can even determine if there are clots developing anywhere in my body, and I can’t begin to talk about the sigh of relief that gives me.

So far, though, I’m somewhat reassured because this pregnancy is different already from Ollie’s. I went through the same weeks of absolute exhaustion, but have yet to add a single pound to my frame (which is good, since I’m still lugging about baby weight from a pregnancy that only lasted six months). I’m not as hysterically emotional this time around, but instead added in a couple rounds of your stereotypical — deemed “overrated” about a week before I ever experienced them — cravings.

Raise your hand if, as a non-pregnant person, you’ve wanted to eat a maraschino cherry wrapped in a slice of salami.

Nope, didn’t think so.

But I did.

And it was delicious. I’m not gonna lie.

I’ve stood in the kitchen with cherry juice dripped down the front of my shirt at 11:30pm, carefully wrapping two cherries in a slice of salami and stabbing them in place with a green plastic cocktail toothpick. I actually got out of bed to invent this diabolical snack (diabolical? yes, lunch meat is now frowned upon by medical experts while incubating a living person…) and it was quite delectable. In fact, I might call it the perfect mix of sweet and salty…for now.

Cravings…overrated? Maybe not so much.

But I also have a case of the itches. Itching so bad I’ve gone through two bottles of anti-itch lotion and had my liver and something called “blood salts” tested to see if I was going into liver failure.

With me, you never can tell what’s going on.

Thank God, I’m not experiencing liver failure, just a random, run-of-the-mill pregnancy-induced allergy to…something.

So far unidentified, this heebee-jeebee waxes and wanes like a tide. During the day, I’m not going to go nuts with the itches, but I get spots. I scratch a bit, make my skin turn to a red roadmap of where my fingernails scraped, and go about my business. In the evening, though, I’m transformed into a red ball of itches, needing immediate attention, or I about go crazy trying to reach it.

Which, incidentally, doesn’t make self-injections any easier.

Trying to keep an inch pinched, keeping a syringe steady, while my skin is crawling with some unknown hypersensitivity to something I’ve eaten, worn, somehow encountered, inhaled, touched, smelled, slept near, looked at funny…whatever, requires real talent, stability, focus and true grit.

But, hey, since this pregnancy is going so differently from Ollie’s, I’m convinced of two things: 1) This one’s going to end completely differently: full-term and healthy right from the get-go, and 2) if anyone has true grit, it’s us.

And I look fabulous(!) being all true and gritty and stuff.

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2010 in Uncategorized