Tuesday, June 10, 2014

"The Gift of Presence"

Recently this article was published. I go deep here, hit the spiritual elements of our journey, and land on one solid truth: sometimes what we need more than anything else is someone to walk with us in pain and joy, in hurt and triumph.  I learned this through three simple words, spoken in to my soul. I was still pregnant, crying out to God, and more than anything else I wanted to hear, "this baby will live" or "don't worry." But I didn't hear that. Instead, my soul's ears heard a steadying and merciful, "I am here."

If you want to read more, the article, "The Gift of Presence" is here (published by Banner magazine).

You can also read more about elements of the story as published in the article in these posts from this blog:


As I read through this article today my first thought was "ugh! a typo!"
And then I got feedback from friends, positive at that, and I thought perhaps I should re-read it.  A second reading reminded me just how blessed and surrounded we were. We were exhausted. I soaked up every ounce of those blessings and rang them out on Jonathan and then greedily looked for more blessings to soak in. Steve plodded on, focusing on the next step and acting as a strong pole for me to lean on when I crumbled, and J -- JAM knew no different. This is how life had always been. We needed and coveted your prayers and gifts, and sometimes we were sure we were completely burned out, but somehow we were sustained. Thank you. Thank you so much. Two years out almost, and it is still hard to remember, hard to believe how our world so quickly changed. But in it all, we were supported. Thanks.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Happy Birthday Virginia Apgar.

If I could have tea with anyone from the 20th century, I'd pick Virginia Apgar. Analytical and compassionate, she is my hero.

I discovered Virginia Apgar when I was sitting in on a medically themed Adventures in Ideas seminar at the University of North Carolina seven or eight years ago. In so many ways she paved the foundation for neonatal and maternal fetal medicine practices today. And she did so in an era when female medical doctors were uncommon. I wish I'd known her.

In many ways, thanks to her work, my son lives.

She saved babies with numbers.  For more on her work and my absolute adoration for her, see this recent post on Hand to Hold's blog.

Happy Birthday, Virginia Apgar. Born 105 years ago tomorrow.


Thursday, June 5, 2014

No GI answers yet - but glad for summer

Jonathan is now back to his October weight. That's a loss of half a pound more. He's been pretty sick (including temps so high he ended up in the ER last weekend) so this explains some of it, but we were hoping for answers now.  No weight gain in eight months is scary in a one year old.

JAM continues to grow taller and looks more and more like a little boy every day, but he is still stuck at an easy-to-toss 15 to 16 pounds. It makes Steve's nightly romp with the kids easy and fun, but it has cause me to gain worry weight --the weight that he should have gained by now plus some.  A new gym membership and new FANTASTIC running group in town should help with both the worry and the weight on my end, but neither get to the root of JAM's sticky problems.

We had hoped that the procedure with GI would answer all our questions. It didn't. No poor absorption issues spotted. Nothing.

So we are back to confused.

In other news, he has perfected his hand clapping and has stood for up to five seconds on his own. He has even taken his first step - although it was more like a graceful fall than a step. He might just be walking by two!

And finally, I ended my day job last week. This led to a slight crisis of identity. This week I woke up to a dream where I'd just graduated from college but had no job and no idea what I wanted to do with my future. I hadn't even applied to grad school, but I thought to myself that, since I couldn't figure out what else to do with my life, maybe that's what I should be doing.

Thankfully the morning light reminded me that my job was set before me, and it was a good and worthwhile position. I even got a training manual from his new speech therapist in our new town later that same morning. She says that since he's entering the program late, I need to read chapters one through six by next Wednesday. And just like that, I'm back to school! Training how to be an advocate and teacher for JAM.

By the way, my office view couldn't be better. I get to be outside whenever the weather allows, and I can work from a sunny window inside. Plus, there's no dress code, and my solo client is one of the easiest going, cutest people in the world.  I'm blessed.  I just hope I can also bless him.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Lifelong 'disability' - PVL

This is a hard post to write, so like most hard posts, I've put it off for a good two or three weeks, mulling over whether or not I wanted to make this public and how. But sometimes it's the hardest things that are most important to put out there.

Last month a brain scan showed that our son would not outgrow his prematurity by age two. My response surprised me. We were not shocked. We took it the same way we'd take hearing he had an ear infection or strep. Perhaps because we realized that we already knew, and he has been receiving therapy for this for over a year without a name in hand. A full week later the implications set in, the finality of it all, and it took me another week to process this fully. In the end, though, my stomach has settled and my son is exactly the same person he was before the diagnosis.

To be fair, for the most part, the news came as a blessing. The MRI of his brain showed he did not have hydrocephalus. His ventricles are stable, not growing. He won't need brain surgery for a shunt. The neurosurgeon renamed his brain as exhibiting "mild ventriculomegaly," a close cousin to hydrocephalus, a term which (like "mild hydrocephalus") also means "mildly large ventricles." Doctors seem to give fancy terms for things that could be said in normal ways. Lovely. He suggested a reason for the enlarged ventricles, which was confirmed when we met with the neurologist a few days later.

The neurologist confirmed the neurosurgeon's suspicions and gave Jonathan a new sticker for his charts. His ventriculomegaly is caused by periventricular leukomalacia (PVL). DON'T look it up.  If you ran across this blog looking for info on PVL, then go ahead and look it up. But everyone else, here's what it means for JAM:

Nothing much new. Actually, yes, really. I'm not being sarcastic. It's not degenerative, it's not going to change for the worse over time, and we've already seen the signs of it and know he can overcome it. We just didn't know that it had a term or that we could see a picture of it in his brain.

Since that's not a very satisfactory answer, here's a better explanation. His brain MRI shows that some of his white matter (a part of the central nervous system, a neurotransmitter of sorts) is gone, making room for a larger than usual area for the spinal fluid (that's the ventricles - it's where the spinal fluid hangs out). Perhaps the white matter weakened and disappeared as a result of blood oxygen levels going low (desaturations). That happened a lot in his early life. Or perhaps the PVL is a result of the same intrauterine infection that caused him to be born 17 weeks early. Either way, the grey matter, the thinking part, is unchanged. His central processing unit is still intact.

Rather than raising questions, this explains everything we've observed for over a year. The best part is that now that we know more about the "why" for what we've seen, we can better address his particular issues.

Jonathan is a strong kid who shows none of the classic signs of cerebral palsy** -- no low muscle tone or spasticity. And yet he has had issues with motor development. Sometimes he did fine. He figured out a pincer grasp really early on,  he could feed himself cheerios, and he taught himself how to point and grab his feet and all sorts of things. That said, for some things he can't just do skills that other kids just "get." We had to explicitly teach him how to bend, how to catch himself, how to move his legs to walk and crawl, how to clap and hold a bottle.  For some of these things, we could see he was strong enough and that he wanted to do these things long before he could do them. The motor planning just wasn't there. He couldn't watch-and-repeat. He had to have us retrain his brain.

Think of it like learning to ride a bike or whistle. People show you and tell you how to do it, and yet you can't just do it. It takes practice. We show the brain what we want it to do until one day it just comes. A little more practice and it is perfected. Once the skill is perfected, it stopped taking so much thought. We can just do it. The same is true with JAM.

I've been telling friends for months about how I learned to vibrato or perform complex fingerings on my viola -- about how I knew how to do it, I was strong enough to do it, and yet getting the message from my brain to my fingers took so-much-effort. And then one day, it just all started to click, and after months and months of practice, it started coming more easily. A switch had turned on in my brain. Apparently that switch is in the white brain matter. Within another week, the task could be done without much thought at all. We all rewire. JAM just has to do this for more skills.

In a nut shell, this is what PVL means for Jonathan. It's not every skill that's affected, but it effects some skills unexpectedly, and as he grows and learns new skills, PVL will likely continue to trip him up. He couldn't clap his hands until just last month, at 22 months old. He could pat his legs, but he couldn't translate that to clapping until we worked with him on it for a solid one to two weeks.

Now, to the post title. This new diagnosis means J won't outgrow his prematurity by next month. It means he has a life-long disability as a result of his prematurity. Sort of. Let me explain.

We made a new friend a week before the diagnosis. Her elementary school aged child also has PVL. His response to J's diagnosis echoed our response, "That's so.. AWES... ... I mean, that's really sad."  No, little boy, that IS so awesome. We are not alone. In fact, right in front of us is a thriving boy who is showing us life down the road. His parents call PVL a hidden disability. He still gets help for his PVL, still has some therapy, but you don't know when you meet him that there's anything different about the way his brain works. His parents have no doubt that he will be able to do nearly anything he sets his mind to - it just may take a little more effort than the average person.

All in all, this is fantastic news. No brain surgery needed. We will just work hard,  and we will overcome. This is not a disability, this is him daily proving his ability.

Here's a song that JAM jammed out to today (he is quite a good dancer). It echos my thoughts on all this.

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**Side note on the CP comment above: Cerebral palsy often comes with PVL, the two are not mutually exclusive. A child with PVL is at higher risk for both CP and seizures. My comments here are not meant to confuse. It just appears at this point that J's issues are nearly all PVL related, and not CP related. We doubt he will be diagnosed with CP, but he is still too young to know for sure.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Yesterday was fun, tomorrow is big

This has been a crazy month -- full of packing and cleaning one house, unpacking in a new home, packing up my office at work and preparing to train my replacement, all peppered with neurology, ophthalmology, and neurosurgery appointments. In the midst of all this, J battled an ear infection, we coordinated new early intervention services, I spent hours on the phone with various specialists, we talked about possible seizures and sleep apnea, J lost weight (again), we transferred records, and I've been attending weekly training sessions at the NICU learning how to be a good parent-to-parent volunteer.

Yesterday was a fun break from it all. We got to say "thank you" to all the anonymous blood donors that helped save J's life. See? We got to be on TV.

As exciting as that is, tomorrow will be a bigger day. Tomorrow is a day I've been waiting for for months.

Tomorrow J is finally scoped. From both ends. Biopsies will be taken. His gut will be analyzed. In the end, this means that we might start to have answers. 

Jonathan hasn't gained a pound since I stopped giving him breast milk in late October/early November. He hasn't kept even a half a pound extra on him since then. About six weeks ago, after a few fantastic weeks where he consumed more calories than necessary for a kid his size and age, wasn't sick (for a change) and was on a new med to help with bacterial overgrowth in his gut, I was actually excited for his weigh-in. I was sure he'd FINALLY be 17 pounds. But instead? He'd lost weight. Back to 16 pounds 2 ounces. And I crumpled. A few weeks later, after the aforementioned ear infection and accompanying nausea, he was back down to 16 pounds even.

He's gained many inches, but no weight. His energy level during the day bounces about and causes me worry. I can count his ribs. We don't want this for him any more. We want answers. Tomorrow we might get a few. We want our kiddo to be a thriving child.

I am holding my breath in part because I know how this goes, and I know that despite the best intentions of everyone on Team JAM, this month may come and go and we may be no closer to actionable answers. And I know that if that happens, I will crumple into a heap in the corner. It's so hard to see him like this.

Jonathan 4 months ago.
(We won't share a picture of now, it's worse.)

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Grow Johnny Grow

We met with the developmental pediatrician's nurse again today.  The one we normally see wasn't in, so this nurse was filling in. JAM had lost half a pound since his last weigh-in. He still hasn't gained since November.

She sat and looked at us for a long time, thought out loud, and was in essence fantastic.  We re-explored together all sorts of options. Pancreatic insufficiency. Celiacs. Nephrological issues. During the visit Jonathan lustily ate 8 oz of high calorie toddler formula, proving to her that he really WAS taking in food and really DID have hunger cues (something that isn't a given for micropreemies).

She is as baffled as our previous nurse. She pulled in the developmental doctor. They discussed JAM's case. She discussed what GI was doing with him. We rejoiced that he continues to grow vertically and his head is on the curve, but we mourned at how his BMI has utterly tanked since last fall.  At this rate he'll be at olympic athlete status for BMI by next fall -- only without the muscles.  Not right for a toddler.

We discussed absorption issues -- our best guess at this point. He's borderline in some areas. She confirmed that he didn't lose enough of his gut during his bout of NEC to qualify for short gut issues.  She also confirmed that he was adorable.  We knew that one.  We left with a new formula and no real answers. She is on the case, though, and really wants to get to the bottom of this. We're grateful. We want this mystery solved, too.

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In other news, changes are in the air. The weather is warmer, I begin training for NICU volunteering tomorrow, and we move within the week. So much is happening. I cannot wait until we are settled and I can start writing in a more disciplined fashion again.

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In other-other news, even if I haven't managed writing, I have kept reading, and now that I've gotten feedly to work on my phone, much of that reading has been other blogs.. I guess I've used commenting on other people's blogs as a stand-in for writing on my own during this busy season, especially when the post hits home, like this one. Jack's mom liked my comment on this blog post so much that she turned it into a stand-alone blog post. Thank you. (Life with Jack is one of my favorite micro-preemie blogs. If you haven't checked it out, do. He's a few years older than JAM which has always helped me see the path forward.)

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Speaking of following people, if you're not following me on facebook yet, "like" my author's page, here. (www.facebook.com/momofa23weeker)

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Welcome April? - A peek at life now.

I cannot believe March is over. In many ways this year it was nasty and gross, the sort of month you are ready to shake off. The showers of spring have finally hit and are washing away the ugly grime.

We are moving. We think we've sold our house. We were sick with bronchitis and pneumonia basically all month. This was scarier for JAM than for the rest of us. We were close to hospitalization and oxygen, but we dodged it, gratefully. His albuterol inhaler was well-used this past month. And then, as if the weather were commiserating with us, winter seemed to refuse to end.

April has made a huge difference. We are all a bit more optimistic. Days have been spent out of doors, and while we still have sniffles and are still in transition, the world just looks brighter.

In March we visited the GI doctor. She gave us some magic juice that was specially designed to realign the delicate flora of his GI. She called the juice an antibiotic. She also asked us to give him probiotic. We did so faithfully. Some of the pain went away. The overall problems abated for about a week and then returned. Less pain, but same symptoms.

So this week I contacted his GI doctor and his nutritionist again. Since hitting the screw with a hammer didn't seem to nail anything in last time, we're going to try again, only hit harder. More antibiotic - but for a full month instead of a few weeks. His gut will heal, gosh darn it. We will make it so.

The nutritionist offered a variety of really yummy looking high-calorie smoothies. I told her I'd be sure to try the recipes "to make sure they tasted okay" before handing them over to him. She has been in conversation with an NP and a developmental pediatrician, all of whom are stumped about my little guy. Keep up with the zinc supplements. Keep up with the high calorie foods. And maybe, maybe he might someday grow.

Warm weather finally allowed us to get out. Here's JAM
with his sister at a sculpture garden, shoeing a gigantic horse
with great effort.
See, I told ya he was still so small.
He's been hanging out at 15-16 pounds since October.  He's still comfortable in his 9 month clothing. (Yep, he's 20 months old. Yes, that means kids a full year younger than him are in the same size clothing as him.)

Just because he's little, though, doesn't mean he doesn't LOOK his age. Over the past month he's decided that he's a toddler now.

He's crawling and climbing and giggling and exploring. He talks, though we don't often understand him, and he has a will that is showing more and more each day with insistent whines that we don't always know how to interpret. He loves to hold our hands and walk around the living room. We did this in a waiting room one day, and someone commented that he looked too little to be walking around like that. He's actually behind in gross-motor by about six months. Had he been a "normal" size for his age, they'd be wondering why he wasn't walking on his own yet.  I guess there are benefits to being little. You look brilliant for your size. Brilliance. That's what April will be about. Sunshine.

Welcome, spring.