SPRING!

Yesterday provided us with gorgeous afternoon weather and blue, sunny skies. We spent the morning running a couple of errands an enjoying time as a family. We returned home and the three boys played outside while I got lunch together. Tate sat happily on a blanket watching as Gabe & Connor played and chased one another.

Gabe had to go in to work and close shortly after we finished lunch, but the weather was too nice to keep the boys inside all night, so after Tate's nap we headed back out! We walked down to the playground where the boys had it all to themselves. I reluctantly put Tate in the baby/toddler swing not sure how he would feel about it. You tell me? (If you look closely in the middle picture you can see his 2 teeth popping through!)

Connor loved helping to push him in the swing and REALLY wanted Tate to be able to go down the slide with him. After we finished playing we continued our walk and made our way home. Both boys loved being outside and so did I. Today the high is supposed to be 74 and I'm hoping for another day of fresh air and fun. 

I'm Just Sayin'....

Tate got his helmet on Friday and while the appointment itself was far better than anything we imagined or expected, this has been far from easy. Tate did wonderfully during the fitting, never crying or getting aggravated during the 3 hour appointment. (We did get a break half way through, but could you sit perfectly happy and still if someone putting a helmet on and taking it off of your head for 3 hours?) HE didn't seem phased in the least.

We came home after the appointment and Gabe went to work. Earlier that morning I had allowed myself a lengthy, hard cry while driving to the grocery store. Gabe and I held it together throughout the appointment on Friday but as we left Gabe said, "I could cry right now if I'd let myself". We were all doing fine until bedtime on Saturday night. Tate had to sleep in the helmet for the first time.

To say it didn't go well would be an understatement. After putting him in bed he cried for about 30 minutes. I got him up, fed him, tried to rock him and laid him back down. After another 20 minutes of crying he finally fell asleep. He slept soundly for about 2.5 hours. Then he woke up shortly after 10:30. After a diaper change, feeding and cuddles I laid him in bed, and he cried screamed for about 15 minutes, rolling and thrashing his head against his crib rails. It was horrible. I got him up and held him and sobbed with him for the next 3 hours. It was about 1:30 when he finally fell asleep. I called Gabe at work asking for reassurance about our treatment decision. It was heart breaking. Nothing prepares a parent for what I went through with him that night.

The last few days have been better, but he's still not sleeping well. Thankfully there's no tears, and screaming fits. Just lots of tossing and turning and waking up .

In all of this I've learned so much about people, and it's only been three days, so here's the low down on my thoughts:

*People are different, not any of us are made the same. Why do adults keep staring at my child? How on earth will their children ever behave any differently when they're not wise enough to turn away and stop staring as though our son is a freakshow? STOP STARING. I'm just sayin'.

*I realize that teenagers are the epitome of all things cool, classy, sophisticated and  awesome. Knowing this I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised by the behavior of some ultra cool girls at church on Sunday. Except, I was, I was surprised to the point my eyes welled up with tears that flowed down my cheeks during communion. Since our family sits in the second pew, it is not easy to miss us. It was just the little boys with me on Sunday since Gabe didn't get home from work until 5:15a.m (with the time change) and we left the house at 7:55 a.m.. After I had received communion and as we were making our way to our pew, I watched in shock/horror/disbelief as one teen nudged another in line for communion and pointed in our direction. The shock/horror/disbelief morphed quickly in to heartache, sadness and anger as the pointing turned in to full our snickering and then laughing.  The one was shaking trying to gather herself before receiving our Lord. As tears fell slowly from my eyes, I prayed for Him to help me through this. Do NOT LAUGH at my son. I am momma bear, hear me roar. Mess with my son, I kick your @$$. I'm just sayin'.

*I know my son is cute. Please don't stare at him and then say, "He's got the cutest eyes." I know he has great eyes. It doesn't take three minutes of staring, a couple of whispers to the person you're with, and getting caught by mama for you to notice he has great eyes. Or a great smile. Or is "just so cute". I know you mean well when you say how cute the helmet is, but it is not a fashion accessory, I had great HATS for accessories. HATS that will be too small for his head when this process is over. Forgive me for sayin' that I don't find the helmet cute.

*Gabe has told several people that I'm "having a hard time with it." The fact of the matter is that we're both having a hard time, but Gabe hasn't really been around to see it and deal with it as much as I have. Today was his first day off and home with us as we went through the day. It was the first time he had to clean the helmet. The first time he had to wrestle around and dodge from getting head butted by the plastic battering ram. Really, one of the first times he's had to put Tate to bed wearing the helmet. Imagine sleeping with a football helmet on your head. Imagine looking at your child wearing a football helmet as you lay your child down and thinking about how uncomfortable it would be. Is your heart breaking? I'm just saying that this is the way I feel at every nap time. At every bed time. Every time he wakes in the middle of the night. Every time I think about this happening multiple times a day for the next 6 months.

*I'm just saying I HATE THIS. I HATE ALL OF IT. I HATE not seeing Tate's hair and curl and stroking it throughout the day. I HATE not being able to cuddle with him and put his cheek next to mine. Or easily wipe his face after a meal. I HATE not being able to kiss the top of his head throughout the day. Or kiss him on the forehead at bedtime. I HATE feeling helpless. I HATE hearing him cry at night. I HATE laying him down in bed and not being able to make the sign of the cross on his forehead and instead having to do it on his nose. I HATE IT. I know it could have been worse. I know that we're blessed that he's as healthy as he is, but I'm just sayin' my heart hurts and is full of sadness. I'm just sayin' my husband is sad and full of worry and heartbreak too.

*We're being prayerful and know that He will get us through. We know we are being prayed for and over and we feel those of you lifting us up. I'm just saying that one day this will be done and our lives will go on, but for this moment in time our load feels heavy, just like our hearts. I wish we had the resilience that the boys do. Connor said to me on Sunday, "Mommy, I just love Tate's helmet, because he is cute and his head will get better." I know his head will get better. I know this is a bump in the road, and we're headed in the right direction, but I'm just sayin' this stinks.

To see all of the pictures from the helmet fitting go here.

Connorisms

Connor says some of the strangest, funniest, sweetest and off the wall things. Here's a taste of what you could have possibly heard around our house lately:


*(After burping): That kind of sounded like a sound a pig makes. That's why I'll call it a Pig Burp.
(What the Heck?!)

*"Mommy you're the best mommy I ever had. Daddy you're the best Daddy I ever had." Connor, we're the only mommy & daddy you've ever had. "Yeah, you're still the best one though."

*"I think one day me and my wife will live somewhere like where we want to and not where you want me to. Like wherever I want". Well what if your wife doesn't want to live where you do? "Well, we will live where she wants, OF COURSE."

*Connor, why don't you play with Tate for a little bit?  "I don't think I want to. He doesn't play right."

*Connor, do you want to say a prayer for baby Tate with Mommmy & Daddy before his appointment? "Um, we prayed for him last night." (In the tone of complete and utter annoyance).

In semi-related news, we found out really GREAT news about Connor on Friday. Not only was he accepted in to St. Rose school for Kindergarten next year, we were also COMPLETELY BLESSED with a letter informing us that we had received the Tuition Assistance we had requested to help aid us in the cost for tuition. The school and the curriculum they offer is truly amazing and knowing he will be attending this school and grow in his faith was the blessing of good news we've needed of late!

Dear Tate

Dear Tate,

Tomorrow is the big day. The day we get your helmet. The day I'm dreading. The day my heart is breaking over. I've tried to live life for the past several weeks, and especially for the past 9 days, as though tomorrow isn't truly reality, more or less a terrible recurring dream. I've tried to avoid thinking of it, but who am I kidding? Every time I look at your sweet face those thoughts creep in to my brain and undeniable twinges of sadness, anxiety and guilt come over me.

I've told your Dad a couple of times that I think I would have been more prepared for this had it happened to Connor. Not that you're my favorite. Not that I wish that it had happened to Connor. Not because Connor is accident prone (however maybe we should invest in a helmet for him too). Maybe we would have been more prepared since Connor had a rough and shaky beginning. By age two months he had been hospitalized, released, and hospitalized again. He had undergone a spinal tap, poking prodding, IVs, etc. and all while Daddy was preparing to go to Iraq and Mommy was flying solo.

By your age, 8 months, he had been on medicines for his severe GERD. He had done Esophageal pH monitoring, an Upper GI Series, and an Upper Endoscopy. He was "healthy" but had spent a lot of time going to the doctor and specialists. Our extended family was being plagued with illnesses and health issues. By the time your big brother was your age I had become so accustomed to rolling with the punches I found myself prepared to receive less than perfect news every time we visited a doctor. You've only been to the doctor for required preventative care appointments- Weight/Height/Immunizations and we were out of there. I wasn't prepared to roll with the punches this time, and after that January visit, I felt like I was jumped in a back alley and sucker punched.

Yesterday you awoke from your nap with your first ever fever. Your temperature was 101.6 and after Tylenol and Motrin I finally got it down to 99.2, of course this was after you were awake from 10pm to 1:30a.m. This morning, you still have a fever. No other symptoms. Just a fever. I can't help but wonder if this is your way of telling me that you're feeling anxious, worried, scared, nervous, uneasy, upset. Maybe it is? I know I am feeling all of these things and more. Rest assured child, you are not alone.

I'm worried for the way that people may look at you. Will they stare? Will they comment? Will they ask inappropriate questions? Will I be able to restrain myself from harming them if they do? Will I have the words to tell them that there's nothing WRONG with you? Will I be able to keep from crying every time someone looks at you with sad eyes or eyes of pity or looks of  "Thank God it isn't My Child"?

I've tried to bottle my feelings of overwhelming guilt about this. Mothers tend to internalize and become overwhelmed with guilt whenever anything happens to our children. In looking at photos, this condition (while far less obvious then) was present in you as a newborn. In discussing with Doctors, I'm learning more and more that while sleep positioning (and overall positioning in general) play a role in this, so does fetal development in the womb. When I spoke with the CFS I told him about my low lying placenta. I shared with him that you were head down, with your head cushioned upon my placenta in all 6 ultrasounds performed from weeks 17 up until your birth at 37 weeks. The way it almost seemed as though you were using it as a pillow. This could have begun the process of your plagiocephaly. I keep wondering what I could have done differently while you were inutero.

Then there's the days where you fell asleep in your car seat while I was running errands. I didn't rush to take you out of it. Or rush home so I could remove you. I finished what needed to get done and then I took you home. Was that to blame? Or when I had my gallbladder surgery- I wasn't able to hold you as much as I wanted to those first few days. Was that the culprit? Or maybe if you weren't such a steady sleeper that slept through the night at such a young age. Maybe we should have woken you up more to reposition you? Connor never liked his swing, you loved yours and would play in it constantly. Maybe I should have limited your time there? I DON'T KNOW. I'm struggling because I just don't know what I should have done differently. Maybe nothing, but I can't help but think that somewhere, someway, somehow I failed you.

I hope you know how much I love you and how overwhelmingly sad I am about this. I never for one second wanted or imagined anything in life being harder for you or your brother. I never imagined you having to go through something such as this. My heart is broken for the misconceptions people may have about you. Will they see you as I see you? As a healthy, special gift from God? Or will they just see you as a "special" child? I think a mother's love is the nearest thing to Godly love. We see our children as perfect, just as He overlooks the bad things we do and loves us and sees us in His eyes. I pray people will always see you through MY eyes.

"Mommy Troy" (your Godmother) wrote this as a prayer request while your loving Godfather was away. It stuck out to me that she said she didn't want to wish away the time, but wanted to try to make the most of it. That's what I'm struggling with. At this point in time, you're only 8 months old and to think that you'll be wearing your helmet for 6 months (3/4s of your life span!) feels so very heavy and daunting. I don't want to wish away the next 6 months of milestones and firsts and life, but 6 months is.... 6 months.

I cried  knowing that last Sunday was the last Sunday for 6 months I will spend rubbing your hair as I try to coax you to sleep during mass. I've have found tears stinging my eyes when strangers comment on your cute little curl that wildly sticks up right now. After tomorrow afternoon no one will see your cute little curl for 6 months. I'll only see it for a few minutes, three times a day.

I've shed tears when I've thought about this summer. Knowing I can't take you to the pool to swim with your brother because your helmet can't get wet. I've cried thinking that in all of your first birthday pictures we'll be celebrating with you wearing your helmet. I thought of getting everyone helmets instead of party hats- maybe that will ease my sadness when the time comes. I'm just so sad for you and for this experience.

I know it could be worse. I know it could have been MUCH worse. I know that and feared that. I am thankful every second that it wasn't worse, but as I explained to someone: Telling someone that broke one of their arms, "It could have been worse. You could have broken both of them." Doesn't take away the stinkiness of having a broken bone in the first place. Knowing it could be worse doesn't make me hate it less. Doesn't make me more okay with it. Doesn't make my heart stop from breaking. Knowing it could have been worse makes me say extra prayers of thanks, but doesn't stop the thoughts or emotions that come about for better or worse.

My sweet son, I pray you feel the overwhelming love I have for you and the joy you have flooded my life with. I pray we get through these next six months unscathed and you come out with the cutest little Tater Head there is. I pray that we are making the right choice for you. I pray I have not let you down. I pray I can make you proud over the next six months, and the next 600 years. Most of all I just pray for you. I pray that I am worthy of the blessing and gift you are to me, your daddy and your brother.

I love you my sweet boy.


Love,
Mommy

Tate's Helmet Casting

We had Tate's appointment for his helmet casting this afternoon. After getting online and seeing this, Gabe and I were both feeling heartbroken and full of anxiety. We arrived at the appointment and filled out all of the paperwork and got rolling. Kudos to Eric, the AMAZING orthotist, who made the experience a million times better than we ever imagined it would be. Tate didn't cry at all. He got ma and yelled for about 10 seconds when I had to hold his hands down and keep him from putting his beloved fingers in his mouth.

They will use the casting to create a mold which they will fill with another plaster to create a true to life "statue" of his head. Then they will use that to create the fit for his helmet. 

We go back NEXT Friday, March 12 for the fitting of his helmet. Thank you again for all of the prayers, they have been a comfort for us. Thank you all for EVERYTHING. Knowing we're not alone makes this much easier to go through.