Such a Slacker

I've been so slack.

My last post was back in April, over 9 months ago. And since then, wow, my life has changed markedly. Beyond markedly. And Natty came along for the ride.

I'd known for a while I wasn't enjoying being a professor. You see, when you have a child arrive so early, you worry. You worry when you are supposed to be doing research, writing articles. You worry about the child incessantly (and it doesn't help matters that the worry is founded). But the tenure clock ticks continuously, early deliveries and all. It doesn't matter that your child is hospitalized, it's called publish or perish for a reason. Well, I was not producing. Anyone can see why. Moot point. So there was a proverbial Damocles sword swinging over my head. I knew it would arrive May 2012 with a "not asked back" ending. And besides, the professor life wasn't for me, anymore, although I am not sure it ever was. I missed the classroom.

So in April, when my folks came up for a visit, I told them. We loaded their truck and a UHaul trailer with some of my unneeded possessions. My game plan was to move this past or next summer, to a known job. Wel, the game plan worked. I applied in May, was interviewed in July, and began in August, a mere 2 weeks notice between offer and beginning.

And it was hell. Still is. The moving part. I hate to move. We are living in a rental house in a very depressed part of NC. There is one outlet per room. Extension cords snake across rooms. The heating bill is $400+ per month, insane. And right now, there is a draft past my fingertips as I type. But the house was reasonably safe and has definite charm. It has a gardener's delight of a yard (but I am too busy I can't enjoy that old pasttime).

And Natty is with the loves of his life, Grandma and Grandaddy, on a regular basis. He ADORES them. Adore is probably too passive. Mad crazy love. And they adore him too.

This move was made for a lot of good reasons. Professionally, it was a step up. Personally, goodness, I needed it. I needed to teach children again, to work with practicing teachers in the minutiae of pedagogy. But I also needed what it brought me - the support of my parents.

You see, Natty has been diagnosed with apraxia. Apraxia is a motor-planning disorder which prevents him from talking. All the worry over speech? Well-founded, it now appears. All the worry over feeding? Connected. Failure to Thrive, yep, it's there too. All of it, all the way back to the NICU. The Duke speech evaluator thinks it may be global motor-planning dysfunction. We're getting that part checked out. But I needed to be here ... my parents have been wonderful. They GET it. SOMEONE else gets it! I'm not alone anymore, fighting against smoke and mirrors, having doctors and therapists look at me as if I am crazy. No one is saying all this stuff is behavioral. No, it is mechanical, medical. And now people are starting to figure it out. And my parents are being the wonderful, caring, loving people they always have been ... and they prop me up when I am ready to fall.

I love my job now. It is intense but I adore it. But you know, I adore my son so much more. Natty is a wonderful, crazy, amazing little boy --- despite this issue. He is so happy. He loves to roughhouse, to play, to read his books, to flirt. And I get to be there with him while he does it all.

I promise to be less of a slacker from now on. And I will tell other pieces to the story at some point. But right now, I am exhausted and need some sleep. Have a good one!

Worried Mama - ER Visit

My son developed his 3rd MRSA infection two Thursdays ago. At first, it was a pimple on his leg. The next day, a little bit larger of a pimple, but not very worrisome. I knew what it was (Natty has been colonized with MRSA since October 2009 and this was his 3rd infection in 3 months) but with it not growing terribly larger terribly quickly, like it always does, I was entertaining the notion that his immune system was fighting it. Should have known better. Saturday morning, nickel-sized abscess beneath his skin. In we went to the doctor. And got meds. Bactrim. Good old Bactrim. So I was a diligent mother and gave him his doses. Sunday night, during his bath, it looked ugly. As I peered at the leg, I saw these rose-colored streaks leaving the abscess and aiming towards the groin. Oh no. OK, instead of dressing Natty in his PJs, I put him in an outfit, slapped on his shoes, and carted Boy Wonder to the Emergency Room, already writing that $70 copay check because I knew it was pretty important to get the thing lanced. The doctor didn't think so. Nope, not ready to lance. But he wanted him admitted for IV Vancomycin, because it was spreading to his lymph nodes, ready to become septic. And so Natty was admitted. At 4:30 am, I was up, giving the admiting nurse my son's health history as he dozed in his private isolation room. (Because MRSA is so virulent people have to gown and glove to keep themselves safe. And he gets that private room as long as he's colonized.) Well, then next 2 days were a wonder. And on Wednesday we were sent home again. Bactrim for another 10 days. I have such fun in life, I'm telling you. At least the abscess is getting smaller. Thanks goodness for that.

Is He Thriving?

A work friend asked me this very question one day. And I had to say No. He's doing well, he's a great kid, but Natty is not "thriving." Paul looked downcast and said that since he hadn't heard differently, he just assumed my son was doing well. My son was diagnosed with Failure to Thrive in September. It had been going on, though, since May. You see, in April, Natty began daycare. And because preemies have weak immune systems (long story), Natty got every cold the other children had or carried. 18 colds in 6 months. 8 ear infections. 5 croup attacks. 1 sinus infection. And 8 teeth came in. It got so bad, Natty reverted from sleeping through the night to awaking up to 9 times a night. Babies with ear infections drop their feeds. I watched as the amounts my son drank plumetted. His pediatrician was not concerned since he was starting solid foods. But I had the feeding therapist out to check him out in August. She said he was behind in his bite, by 3 months, so he was 3 months behind on eating solid foods. Solid foods were difficult. I am kind of thankful I was so sleep-deprived then that I don't remember how hard it really was. And the FTT in September. Finally, a doctor who UNDERSTOOD! The doctor put my son back on reflux medication and prescribed Pediasure, 4 cans a day, instead of formula. Wow. A way to fight this! Natty slowly gained weight. In February, we finally met with the feeding specialist at the feeding clinic. Yes, my son had feeding problems. Here is what we were going to do about it ... and a plan was set into motion. Natty has made incredible progress. He is growing. His growth curve is almost what it was prior to the ear infections but isn't quite what it was while he was in the NICU. He's eating. So what if he eats way less than a comparably aged or sized child? He's EATING! And he is still tanking down the Pediasure. But don't ask if he is thriving. You see, I speak to the question. And Failure to Thrive definitely says he is not thriving. Progress is slow but we'll get there. Someday. And when that happens, Paul, you'll know.

Last Minute Queen

This evening, I picked my son up at daycare, turned on his DVD movie, and took him with me back to school. I needed to send in my flexible spending account receipts. And they were due. Today. By midnight. Mind you, we were there until 9:54 faxing them in. I am such a bad mother. I kept him up past his 8:00 bedtime. 8:00 is more my time than his. He never goes to sleep prior to 8:30 anymore. Last night, he finally collapsed at 9:15. So I felt a little justified in keeping Natty out and about with me that late. Maybe tonight he'll sleep through the night. Yeah and pigs fly. Pretty pigs. Nice wings.

Ages and Stages Questionnaires

I have a love/hate relationship with milestones. When I took my son in for his first well baby check (just out of the NICU), he was a month adjusted but 4 months old. So the nurse, clueless wonder that she is, asked me if he was achieving all of these 4 month old skills. Uh, no. Preemie parents have it so hard. We have just been through this harrowing shock of early delivery of our children, literally willed them into good health and increasing weight, taken them home on a wing and a prayer, and the nurses ask about chrono age milestones? It's VERY discouraging. (Note to any pediatricians out there - change this practice. Yesterday.) When Early Intervention came for his first evaluation, he was significantly behind, at two months adjusted age, for gross motor activity. Significant enough to get PT twice a week. Well, we have been through many more EI evaluations and equally as many well baby checks and those damned milestones keep haunting me. I can look them up in the baby books. You know the part - What your baby MIGHT be doing, What your baby PROBABLY is doing, etc. Even when I used adjusted age, we missed so many of those milestones. After the 3rd well baby check, I delivered my famous (to me) line to the nurse. We went over the 9 month milestones with all "no" answers and I said, "Now, for me to feel a little bit better about things, can you ask me the 6 month milestones? Because we might have achieved SOME of those by now!" And she did. And I felt a little bit better. Well, my state has this research project going on. They are following a sample of children longitudinally, looking at development, etc. I completed the first two sets of forms but at the 12 month adjusted form, I quit. It was too much. I didn't send it it, even with repeated reminders from the researchers. You see, their forms say to do X age (in that case, 12 months) but I operate on adusted age ... and yet they send the forms at the adjusted age time period. So I get SO confused between the chrono age, the adjusted age and when all the things he's dealing with actually developed. And then there's the problem of me not wanting to feel down. I KNOW he's behind. I don't need a bunch of researchers to interpret that for me - you would be too if you spent the 1st 4 months of your life in a hospital bed. We're working on it but I just don't want to feel down. I have a lot on me on a daily basis and prefer positivity over negativity. And a long list of Ages and Stages that Natty is not meeting just is not productive to my confidence. Well, the researchers called last week. They caught me at a weak moment. Could I please fill out the 18 month forms they sent? Hell. OK. So I sat down last night and completed most of it. Not good. Some things (particularly language) are so markedly delayed ... but they don't ask the important things, like how bad were his ears before the tubes? If they knew he spent 6 months with fluid constantly in his ears, they might understand. They might get it. But no, it's just a survey and he failed miserably. Again. A parent of a normal child told me I obsess too much over milestones. Well, I daresay you would too with these experiences. If YOUR child always had a "no" behind half his milestones, you too would read ahead to start thinking about how you could improve matters. You'd target those very specific things ... and try. You would. I KNOW you would! So if I abhor milestones, you can see why. And if I pay a little too much attention to what he should be doing, you can understand that as well. The good side to it all is Early Intervention. They assess him (and he does poorly there too, always qualifying for more services) but it's people there. People who say the right things, like "Poor baby, of course you can't sit. You've had so many ear infections, I'll bet you have fluid in those ears. And it screws up your balance, doesn't it?" And then "He has such pretty eyes." They know how to talk to me, how to make me feel a tiny bit better for the missed milestones.

Crunchy Sleeping

I brought home a very early preemie when he was 3 weeks adjusted with the knowledge that preemies have significantly higher rates of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) than do term babies. He was also a refluxer. And high needs. Natty had spent the first 14 weeks of his life in a couple of rooms that did not get dark. The nurses needed the lights to be able to see and care for the babies. He'd listened to other babies cry, and cried himself, for weeks. People were constantly moving. Natty was fed and changed every 3 hours, clockwork. And now he comes home to a mom who wants to sleep during the night hours. Needs to sleep. His sleep rhythm was a little off. But so too were his senses. This place was QUIET! No banging trash can lids, no talking, no swishing feet or other babies making noise. How can anyone get some sleep in this place? So Mommy set out to make the adjustment for Natty. Air purifiers helped cleanse the air of cat hair (we were blessed with four at the time) - the purifiers also made some noise! Grandpa provided a nature sound maker. Because we had two cribs (long story), Mommy went out and got the second Nature Disk. And then humidifiers. Preemies need humidification to keep their nasal passages open. Add in the noise from a humidifier. Last, the crib shaker. Simply put, Natty slept soundly in the bouncie. A crib shaker does the same vibration technique, all night long. With an inverted mattress and a crib shaker it was ALMOST a bouncie and that was good enough for him to sleep. So he slept. Well. Until the ear infections. Oh, ear infections are no fun. Babies can't sleep with ear infections because their ears hurt when they go horizontal. It's the pressure. So Mommy and Natty learned how to sleep standing and sitting up. Natty slept very well in the front carrier. He also slept on Mommy with Mommy sitting up in the rocker, pillows around, making it almost as comfy as the crib. Six months of ear infections and Mommy and Natty were doing well. Teething. Oh teething. Not fun. It is not fun when a kid's teeth are coming in 4 at a time. So he'd cuddle with Mommy in her bed. Mommy did not sleep much, too worried she'd roll over on him or smother him with her blankets, but Natty did. Deeply. Even with teeth coming in. It was a long teething time. So between the different issues, Natty learned to sleep, crunchy style. I still sleep in his room, at 17 months adjusted. This way when he awakens and cries, I can be there. Quickly. He is as secure as can be in his life. I've never understood why we have societal conventions that dictate that babies have their own rooms. It's crazy. Why do we do that? It has been so much more organic and humane for me to stay in the same room as him ... easier. And since he didn't sleep through the night from 6 months adjusted through 16 months adjusted, it made it a lot easier to get up for those 3 night feedings with me in the same room. Soon, I will be leaving his room, moving back into my old bed. I've found I make noise which awakens Natty from his deep sleep ... so if I move to another room, he may sleep better, deeper, and longer. But in the meantime, we've been very crunchy.

Crunchy Cloth Diapers?

I am cheap.

There, I admitted it. Back when I was TTCing, I was so determined I would have a child, I researched diapers. My research had nothing to do with diaper rash, nothing to do with fit, nothing to do with what's best for baby.

Oh no. I do not pay retail. Ever. I am Queen of Clearance. And as queen, I realized cloth diapers are way cheaper than disposables.

I cloth.

Not only do I cloth, I do prefolds. Yep. While only 10% of parents do cloth, of those parents, only 10% of THEM do prefolds. And that means I am in the 1%.

Rare company.

Now let me tell you about cloth. First, an idiot could do cloth. (Good thing, huh?) You fold the prefold into thirds. You place it inside a diaper cover and put it on the kid, fastening the velcro. Done. Now comes the hard part. If all there is within the dirty diaper is urine, you put the diaper in the diaper pail. If you have excrement, you dunk the puppy in the toilet enough for the bulk of the feces to fall off, then stick it in the diaper pail.

In the above paragraph we are not talking a true puppy; instead, it is a metaphorical puppy. Slang. Got it?

Next, cloth can be very crunchy. You can get organic diapers, bamboo diapers. You can wash in Charlie's Soap. You can lanolin covers. You can get covers to match your child's outfit.

Me, I'm cheap. Yeah, I know, I said that already ... but I get the pure cotton bleached diapers (bleached because I like them white and not off-white making me think they aren't clean). My diapers come from China. (No telling if there is any lead in them.) I wash them in Tide. Granted, it is Tide Free and Clear because I have sensitive skin. I rinse in vinegar - fabric softener renders diapers unable to soak things up, so vinegar is an excellent water conditioner. And all my covers are bought on sale, used, or with discount codes.

So ... crunchy. Not intended for any other purpose than fiscal cheapness. The side benefits are great but I won't lie and say I did it for his well-being. Nope. If I can get his diapering done for less than $500 (and we're $100 shy of that right now with a potential upgrading needed in a year), then I think that's great.

New Beginnings

I'm a mommy in search of an identity. Well, maybe the word "identity" is too strong a noun. I sometimes feel like I am the ONLY mother out there like myself. Others are interesting but they just don't have that curious mixture of Live-and-let-live with Damn-no-we-are-not-going-to-try-cry-it-out with 5 minute rule but also shopping for organic lettuce so the kid's brains don't get fried on pesticides.

I started out this path as an infertile TTCer. (That means trying to conceive, for the uninitiated.) I had a heavily medicalized path. From drugs to IUIs to finally some heavy duty fertility drugs and IVF, it was a hard route. Well, I got my son from that path, so I can't complain.

And then there's how I got my son. At 10:22 p.m., when he had only perked for 27 weeks 6 days, a really nice doctor sliced open my abdomen and pulled him out, all to save us (him and me, him being my son and not the doctor, although if he had lost my son my mother would probably have killed the doctor). I'd had a painless Grade 3 placental abruption that we milked for 11 days, changing my oil (i.e., doing transfusions) as I lost blood, eking out more precious days in the womb for the little guy.

And then there was his NICU stay. 115 days. A perfectly normal 28 weeker stay that was complicated by his reflux. It took him projectile vomiting into the bassinett of another NICU resident for the doctor to realize there WAS something wrong with my son, other than just him being a boy. And then a comedy of errors, errors which if Medicaid knew they would demand some of their money back from the NICU.

So, all said, I finally got him home. And welcomed Early Intervention to our lives. My Nathaniel, lovingly called Natty, funnily called Natster, and often termed 'Ster in short, has been home over 16 months now ... and I think I am ready to start speaking to my identity crisis.

For the uninitiated to parenthood, you can SAY you'll do things one way and when the pedal hits the metal, it can be a different story. I am that story.