A New Year, A New Leg

 

Anna officially received her new leg last week! We are so happy with the incredible job they did. She is no longer telling me to take off her leg as soon as she gets home because she's outgrown it and it's uncomfortable. She is walking great and has had no problems adjusting. It makes a world of difference having her prosthetist in town, instead of hours away- I know she is getting the continous care and adjustments she needs to grow and walk properly in the future. Now that she has her leg she can go in any time to have her gait checked and to ensure a proper fit.

 

Lately she wants to run so badly- her little legs go as fast as they can, but she just isn't able to make them go fast enough. The prosthetist told us that it would be difficult for her to run because the ankle in her prosthesis doesn't bend. When she gets older she could get a special leg if she desires to run. I can't lie, that makes this mama a bit sad- the other day I saw all the two-year-olds at her church school running to the playground together, and I can't help but picture Anna struggling to keep up and being left behind. But, as her teacher says, she is 'feisty' and I have no doubt she can handle that and the more difficult situations she will encounter in life.

 

Anna got her first pair of real sneakers! Prior to her new leg she was wearing a foot that was three sizes too small, so we could not make sneakers fit. Now she has the appropriate footwear for outside and doesn't have to climb on the playground in slippers!

 

Here are some shots of Anna in her new leg.

 

 

 

Lastly, I want to thank those of you who gave and are still giving to Anna's Leg Fund. It has been a tremendous blessing for us during this difficult transition to provide for Anna's medical needs. Since most of you gave anonymously, I don't know who you are (unless you want to tell me!), but I assume that you read this blog since it is the only place I posted the link. So know that we feel loved, blessed, and that your generosity brings tears to my eyes. May God bless you tenfold.

 

The Bubonic Plague

If you're wondering why I've been MIA (a whole MONTH without a post- sheesh! That's a new low for me)... it's because I practically crawled from the dark recesses of my new home, the bathroom,  to write this post. Our family has been experiencing a local outbreak of viral gastroenteritis ("the stomach bug"). This has been no ordinary stomach bug, mind you. First it hit me and I was vomiting more than I've ever in my life. My WHOLE life. If I reflect on all the times I've tossed my cookies over the years, this surpasses them all. Worse than the time my whole family survived food poisoning at Disney World. Worse than any of my migraines that landed me in the ER from dehydration after heaving from intense pain. Worse than after eating street food in Peru that my then-fiance Ben tempted me to eat (while he abstained - still bitter).

I threw up every hour for, oh, TWELVE hours. And it was no easy vomiting, let me tell you. It was full-on upheaval at its worst. It chewed me up and spat me out. I have a chain smoker's voice to prove it and can sing tenor for the first and hopefully last time of my life, which kind of freaks my husband out.

I have my toddler to thank for sharing the gift of gastritis. Anna's still battling the symptoms after five days. She's been vegging in front of the television to Cow Tunes for three days now, methodically, filling in the cracks between the couch cushions with cheerios. After realizing I have been humming/singing/rasping along to Cowabunga all day long, and can't close my eyes without picturing a cow getting a suntan in Aruba, I dare to turn off the TV and suffer the demand of "Cow, cow, cow, COW!!" coming from my firstborn. Normally I am stoic to her demands, but sometimes you just have to chalk it up as a loss and give in to the couch potato you just created in a matter of 72 hours.

Tonight she came to me begging, "Night Night, NIGHT NIGHT" at 5:30. I think that's a new record. So I changed my daughter into her pajamas, and was reminded how she has regressed from 18 month to 6 month clothing. Another pound lost, and I might be able to wrap my hand around her waist.

If we have any peaking Tom neighbors, which incidentally I've heard that we do (another story for another day), they might think they've come across a macabre set of the latest Zombie movie. In fact, I think I've just had an "ah-ha" moment. If I ever made a Zombie movie, I would select my entire cast from the waiting rooms of urgent care centers and hospital ERs.

Not only did every person in our family get the bug (including Baby, though she had it the easiest, go figure), but we wiped out our two helpers as well. Poor Jacky spent only a few hours with us and hours later she was damaged goods. My mother-in-law came to relieve her, and eight hours later she was camped out on the bathroom floor.  Meanwhile, Ben goes off for another weekend call day at the hospital (leaving You-Know-Who to juggle dirty diapers, crying kids, and frantic dashes to the toilet...I digress) and manages to give every person at the nurses' station on 7 North South a crick in their neck as they turn to the sound of Niagara Falls.

 I think this qualifies as Bubonic Plague level sickness.

In other words, forgive me for my absence from the blog world...as I make a mad dash back to my favorite haunt.

Thoughts on the Best Nutrition

It's late and I'm sleep deprived, so please forgive my poor grammar and run-on sentences.

I've been re-visiting my experience with nursing Anna now that I have little Kimberly, and remembering some of the feelings and thoughts I have regarding that first four months.

You hear it many times before you give birth, at the hospital, and once you leave for home with your precious newborn. Breastmilk is the best form of nutrition. Only feed your baby breastmilk until they are six months of age. I totally get this. I agree with it. I'm supportive of the recent push for breastfeeding in our society. It's a good thing. But my experience with my first born has let me to believe that at times the pressure can be a little excessive.  While it's true that breastfeeding is the best way to feed your baby, I also think mothers shouldn't be shamed or treated like quitters for needing to go an alternate route. I wrote a little bit about my story in the past but here is a refresher:

Anna was miserable for the first three months of her life. She screamed for about 75% of the time she was awake, and the time she was asleep she writhed around in pain, waking up every hour or so. We considered all sorts of possibilities for her pain. I knew something was not right. But mostly people told us that it was normal baby gas pains, colic, etc. and that eventually it would go away. It was some of the hardest three months of my life. Nursing was a nightmare. Anna hated to nurse, and she pulled away and screamed consistently. I was trapped at home trying to feed her all day because she wouldn't eat. I kept at it, mostly because I felt like it was the only option and that switching to bottle-feeding was the cardinal sin. I tried all sorts of diets, remedies, etc. At one point I was only eating five foods. Five foods. I thought perhaps she could be allergic to dairy but everything I was told or read said that mothers are over sensitive about this and "it's most likely not an issue" was the common word on the street. I was usually encouraged to try and improve my nursing technique. "There is never a reason to need to stop breastfeeding" was the regular motto. So I did. I did everything advised to me. I talked with numerous people recommended to me. I tried a bazillion different techniques and tips. I contacted La Leche League. I had the lactation consultant on speed dial. Nothing helped. I was really stressed and baby girl was so unhappy.

I finally threw insecurity, advice, and society's expectations to the wind and switched Anna to soy formula at 3.5 months. Life became like a dream compared to what it had been. She was happy, healthier (sans a little constipation), and so were we. I only wish I'd done it sooner.


When we finally took Anna to the pediatric allergist months later it was discovered: She had milk protein allergy. She showed the highest sensitivity possible on the test. The allergist explained to me that milk protein remains in a mother's breast milk and is passed to the baby. It's not the same as having a baby who is 'sensitive' to dairy and gets a little fussy, but who can handle when the mother has a piece of cheese. Babies with milk protein allergy can't tolerate any bit of dairy in the mother's diet. And God knows I love dairy. So finally we knew- this is why Anna was so unhappy and in so much pain for the first three months of her life. It all made a lot of sense: her constant screaming, the mucousy bowel movements, her refusal to nurse and lack of weight gain. I wanted to cry for my little girl and her pain that I couldn't take away.

Why didn't I switch her to formula earlier? Why did I continue to breastfeed my daughter when she was so miserable? With the new baby here and another 'go' at nursing, I've done some soul searching about the issue and this is what I came up with:

Lack of knowledge- I didn't know she could have milk protein allergy and that it could bother her so much. Everything I was told is that most women who think their child has a problem with dairy are probably incorrect and to not stop breastfeeding.

Pressure (real or imagined)- the pressure from society that formula is from the devil and your child will not be as smart, attached to you, or overall fabulous if you don't breastfeed exclusively (not true).

Feelings of inferiority- I feared what other people would think if I fed my baby formula.
That I was lazy.
That I was a bad mom.
That I was selfish.
That I didn't care about what was best for my child.
All not true. Unfortunately the fear of others thinking I wasn't doing what was best for child actually kept me from doing what was best for her (and for me). Ironic.

So why am I writing about this now? Ben and I decided that with Kimberly, I would stop being ridiculous and do what was best for the family. If breastfeeding was causing everyone to be stressed and unhappy, than we wouldn't put the whole family through misery in the name of nursing. For now, breastfeeding is going okay (though like Anna, the baby has  a hard time with the touchy speed of my milk flow, which vaccilates between being unamanageably fast and painfully slow). I will do all I can to continue and encourage successful nursing. But if something goes majorly wrong, and we feel like the best choice is to stop- I'm listening to my motherly instincts. And I think all women should have the right to do so without being judged.

Rant over.

A Chosen Name

As I've said at some point in the past, Ben and I believe strongly in the power of a name. Throughout history God used the process of naming to tell his story.  Names were prophetic and spoke of what was to come in the next season. God even changed names when a person was transformed or entered into a new season in their identity.  I could go on, but my friend Kristina said it better than I could ever attempt to in her post, What's In a Name?, which I highly recommend.


From the beginning Ben and I wanted to choose names through prayer and  patience, believing that God would speak to us about what he wants to do in our family's journey through each child.  We initially chose a different name for Anna, but God tugged at our hearts to choose a name that meant "grace". While at the time we had no idea what was about to unfold, we knew he was promising to bring grace to our family. That's exactly what he did, and this promise from early on served as a source of comfort during that time. With our second baby, I sensed God drawing me to the name Kimberly, a family name, one wasn't new to us.  God was speaking to me about redemption.


The name Kimberly doesn't actually mean Redemption the way Anna's name translates directly to Grace.  The name signifies to us redemption through family history, after the tragic loss of Ben's sister a month before she was to enter into the world. Her name was Kimberly. While such a loss is always carried in one's heart, I have been truly inspired at the way in which God redeemed that loss, including the blessing he brought to the family with four more beautiful children. We named our sweet girl after this little one in heaven, knowing that in some way in the next season of our lives, God desires to bring us redemption.  I'm not sure what that looks like or what it refers to, but I'm excited to see it unfold. The middle name, Hope, was an easy choice. The promise of redemption brings with it hope.  Hope is one thing Ben and I have never lost while treading this journey of challenges the last few years. I am confident that no matter what comes our way in the future years, we will retain that hope. Hope is a powerful, beautiful thing.


Kimberly Hope, you were chosen by God.
Our family is blessed to be chosen for you.
We love you.

A New Year

I've realized that I've spent too much of the last year focusing on my wants- wanting my children and husband to not have to struggle with illness, allergies, and disabilities. Wanting to not have to wonder how to pay medical bills for the rest of our lives. Wanting these stresses and burdens to be lifted more than anything else. I wouldn't say it has done anything positive for my overall attitude; in fact it has hindered a lot of joy. I have let so many of these things take away the joy of what I do have. Sounds cliche, but true.

This year I'd like to be more thankful and joyful for what I've been given: two beautiful girls and a wonderful family whom God has provided for. A steady, secure job for my husband. Supportive family. My own health. Abundant Grace.

May the new year ring in this truth in my heart, more often than not.

Happy New Year!