Monday, November 5, 2012


I am a NICU mom, a twin mom, and an AMA mom.  (that last one is Advanced Maternal age).   I was 39 when I was blessed with my twin pregnancy.  I am also an adoptive mom to my 14 year old son.  I did have complications.  Gestational diabetes, a SCH (Sub chorionic hematoma), bleeding, cramping, and throwing up for the first 27 weeks. :/

My sweet girls were born preemie at 32 weeks on the dot.  I am a former NICU nurse, and I never, ever thought I would be a NICU mama. 

I felt cramps, and ignored them.  I would later find out, it was PTL, Preterm Labor.
I am angry at myself for my girls’ early delivery.  I should clarify and say, I hated my body on that day.  It failed my girls and it failed me.  I didn’t want to have babies in the NICU…I was trained to take care of preemies …not at all prepared to be a mom on the other side of the fence.

Lauren was born vaginally and Kate was born via c-section on July 20, 2010.  I recovered on a GYN floor.  Found out later, I was on that floor instead of regular Mother/Baby unit so I would not hear babies crying.  It was too quiet and I didn’t like it at all.  I even asked why I was not on the regular mother/baby unit, and a nurse said, “we do that so you won’t get sad hearing the babies cry.”  I wanted to hear babies cry.  I was a Mom just like those “term” moms.  My babies were in the NICU, but I still was a mom.  Being on that floor away from all the other moms and babies was awful. It was hard enough being in a completely separate building from them.  And to be on a floor with a ton of old geezers in for GYN stuff was depressing.

My girls were in the hospital for 2 months.  And it was NICU hell.

I think knowing all that I did about preemies was good and not so good.  I knew too much.  And it was hard for me to be Mom, because I was used to being the nurse in the room.

I’m going to be honest:  I was not a fan of pumping breast milk.   I did it for my girls.  I knew their bowels were premature, and BM would be the best nutrition for them.  I only pumped for a total of 3 months.  I had to stop, as it was making me a stress case.  I never got much milk and I tried just about every piece of advice I was given to produce more milk.  My body was failing me again, and failing my girls. 




Lauren, my baby A was a chunk.  She was close to 5 pounds.  Kate, my baby B, had IUGR (intrauterine growth retardation) and she was 3 pounds.  Everyone always thinks the chunky babies are healthy, but Lauren was very, very sick.  She was in PPHN (persistent pulmonary hypertension) caused from her PDA and ASD.  I was forbidden to touch her or talk to her for 10 days.  It was the hardest 10 days of my life.  She never opened her eyes until the evening of day 10.  She was moments away from being placed on ECMO and they kept telling me they were doing all they could.  She was a 2:1.  (Two to one).  That means, 2 nurses to 1 baby.  She had so many things hooked to her sweet little body, she needed the care of 2 nurses and 1 respiratory therapist. 



She was on the Oscillator (high frequency ventilator)  for a long time.  Lauren also came home on oxygen, a pulse ox (pulse oximeter), and a cardiac monitor.  She needed oxygen for 3 months.  Thank God above I pushed to get her home, because I would not have survived an additional 3 months in the hospital.  I just wanted my girls at home.
In the 2 months the girls were in the NICU, I only spent 7 hours at home away from them.  My husband insisted I sleep at home, in our bed, so I would “feel better”.
 It was awful being away from them, and I just worried and could not sleep.  From that moment on, I stayed in the hospital with the girls.  I rarely saw the sun.  And I did try and take walks around the hospital and thru the courtyards to get fresh air…but honestly, I just didn’t want to be outside when my girls were sick in the hospital.  I didn’t care at that time if it was sunny and flowers blooming…

I wished I had made a journal entry about the girls shortly after they were born.  I think I was on too much overload to think about a journal.  I know I would have included more details of our NICU time.  I did learn a few things about NICU, that as a nurse, I had never experienced before.  I experienced emotions as a NICU mom, and everyone in our family seemed to not fully understand what I was going thru.  That is how I found this Preemie group on the Bump, and later, I joined them on Facebook.

I would read peoples “siggys” on the Bump to have HOPE.  When I would see other Preemie moms had survived the NICU, and they had a preemie pic next to a current pic of their baby at age 1, I had HOPE.  It got me thru some of the hardest days in the NICU.  Having a support group of other NICU/Preemie Moms is a very healing place to go and share about all things Preemie.  I can say and share things that most full term moms will never understand.  I am so grateful for the women in the FB group. 

Here is my gripe list ;)

1.     My babies are preemie.  They are in the NICU.  They need peace and quiet.  They should still be on the inside.  Please don’t ask a NICU mom if you can come and visit.  Support her thru meals, gift cards to places that offer a carry out menu, and send her text messages.  Even a card.  But give her space and time.

2.    I hate hospitals.  (and I am a nurse) 

3.    My 1 year olds are not doing the same thing your 1 year old is doing.  Don’t point it out.  I know my little ones are delayed. 

4.    If you are carrying a baby, be grateful for every ache and pain you have.  My friends and I would give anything to have those aches and pains.  We would go thru anything to keep our babies cooking and not be in the NICU.

5.    Wash your hands.  Our preemies are more vulnerable to colds, flu’s, and any type of illness.  If you even think your throat is scratchy, STAY HOME.  And a week after you thought your throat was scratchy…I’m still going to ask you to put on a mask. 


If you are on bed rest, I wish you as much cooking time as is possible.  Remember, being on bed rest is truly a full time job.  You are growing a little human, and that is an amazing job.  Every day your LO (little one) can stay on the inside~ is less NICU time.  So do not get discouraged.  Online shop, shop, shop.  J   

If you are a preemie/Nicu mom, I wish you an uneventful stay in the NICU.  And I hope you and your sweet baby are home very, very soon.  ::Hugs for you::





Thursday, October 11, 2012


I wish I had written this sooner as I worry now that some of the details are getting a little too fuzzy, but looking back a year later it all still seems so surreal. I wasn’t strong enough till now to do this, so it just had to wait.

A little background about me, ever since I found out as a child that tiny preemies could be kept alive in safe plastic boxes, I was fascinated. I went to the library and checked out every book I could find, I poured over newspaper and People stories about every set of multiples featured and longed for more details of these mysterious NICU stays. I decided I was going to be a Neonatologist.

18 years later my dreams had almost come true. I was in my last year of Pediatric Residency, married to the man of my dreams, and finally expecting my own baby. My experiences had led me away from planning for a career in Neonatology (I had found my calling as a General Pediatrician instead), but I had loved every minute in the NICU in residency. I loved saving the day by helping a baby take those first precious breaths. I found meaning in those early am hours writing pages of medication and transfusion orders diligently trying to save a tiny patient. But nothing was better than months later when I found out they had gone home. I also witnessed loss first hand. Gut wrenching, heart breaking, sob inducing, loss. Way more loss than I knew I could handle on a daily basis. Neonatology was amazing, but not the career for me.




These experiences armed me with information but also fear of the unknown as I faced my own pregnancy knowing all too well the things that could go wrong. I put on a brave face and told my colleagues, friends, and family that I was staying positive and focusing on how well it was all going, but having faced an early loss with my first pregnancy I was not in denial about the possibility of complications.

Weeks 16-19 were blissful. Morning sickness had finally abated, my belly was growing, and my face was beaming. Residency was drawing to a close and I felt on top of the world. I began noticing tightening of my belly periodically which I attributed to early movements. Over the next few days these sensations got more rhythmic, and I started to worry. I spoke with the OB triage nurse and she sent me in for lab work. It looked like I had a UTI. A week of antibiotics later and the contractions had not abated, so I went in again. My midwife told me that she thought my cervix was shortened so they sent me over to L&D, I was about 22 weeks along.

I called my husband on the walk over. I calmly explained in greater detail what I had hinted about in our discussions over the last few weeks. Our baby was pre-viable, if I went into labor now, there was little that could be done. Forever my rock, he assured me that things would be fine but that he would leave work in case. It was the longest elevator ride of my life. My thoughts raced thinking about the little wiggly being inside of me and the what-ifs. My heart was heavy thinking of all the internet friends whose stories started like this and ended in loss and heartbreak. I was one of the lucky ones. The exam had been wrong. My cervix was long and closed. They told me that this was my “new normal.” They said that if things changed with my contractions I would know and should come in.

The next few weeks were full of excitement. My belly seemed to grow by the day, my pregnancy passed that precious viability milestone, and I started a new job. I was again on top of the world. Then one afternoon the contractions picked up. I started timing them and was having them every 3-8 minutes and at least 6-7 times in an hour. I called my husband at work. He left immediately and we drove in to L&D in the city. They checked me and confirmed the regularity of my contractions. This time I was 1cm dilated. They admitted me even though I wasn’t changing my cervix to be careful.  I received steroids to help with lung maturity. They ordered the standard NICU consult. When two of my favorite neonatologists walked in I almost lost it. It was so surreal. They were sweet and supportive and told me to get back home ASAP. They went through things in detail for my husband, I wanted to make sure he heard the full talk. They tried many different meds but nothing consistently worked. I continued to contract but stayed a 1cm. Because my tracings also looked good they felt reassured and sent me home after 2 days.

I stayed on bedrest for about a week, only leaving the house one time a day for less than an hour each time. Friends covered shifts at work sending worried email encouraging me to do everything possible to keep my baby inside. I busied myself ordering things online for the nursery and using my precious daily excursion to buy things for the “Preterm Labor” bag I was getting packed, just in case. My contractions continued unchanged. At my follow up appointment we discussed the risks and benefits of bedrest and decided that going back to work while limiting standing and drinking lots of water was the plan that made the most sense. I went back to work and felt great to be moving again. My contractions remained unchanged and I was relieved. I was so exhausted from the sleepless nights and days of worrying that working again was a welcomed distraction.

On September 9th I slept in late. I slowly got ready for my afternoon shift, pausing to take a bump picture to post to my board on The Bump as I had many weeks before. Work was a little busy, but I managed to finish early. At home I changed into comfy clothes, ate dinner on the couch with my husband and turned on some mindless TV. Soon after dinner I had 3 contractions in a row that seemed different. I was breathing though each one and they were concentrated lower than any of my contractions before.  I told my husband to start timing them. After an hour of contracting every five minutes I got up to go to the bathroom and get myself ready to possibly go in. I was bleeding… a lot. I screamed for James to grab the bag and camera and threw on clothes.

The drive in felt like it took hours. I was cursing every red light and praying for my little guy to move and let me know he was ok. We rushed in to triage and they seemed a lot less concerned this time. They confirmed my contraction pattern and did an ultrasound. My cervix was long and my little man was moving like crazy. They said they were going to send me home. Just before I started to get ready to put my clothes back on the resident returned and said, “I want to do a pelvic exam just to confirm, is that ok.” She lingered a while and finally looked at me and said, “You’re 3 cm dilated. I think we’re going to keep you.” After a long discussion that I could last many weeks at 3 cm they transferred me to an antepartum room. They started magnesium, which they never had with my first admission since I was never in labor.

The contractions got steadily stronger and closer together. They checked me again and I was still 3cm but more effaced. This confirmed labor, but the team was still hopeful. The NICU attending came and talked with us, reassuring us that 29 weeks was much better than 27 weeks but still prepared us for a rocky start and lifetime risks of cerebral palsy, learning disabilities, and other problems. My husband stayed by my side squeezing my wrist to try to distract me from my contractions. I wanted to walk, scream, move, anything to make the contractions bearable but I was chained to my bed by the monitors and web of IV tubing. They flooded me with fluids and I dreaded to get up to go to the bathroom because every time there was more blood. I passed huge clots and panicked, my nurses tried to be reassuring.

Around 2am my husband hit his breaking point. He could no longer keep pressure on my wrist to distract me because his fingers were numb. He knew that my contractions were more frequent and lasting longer and he was worried. “They’re not doing anything. How long do they expect us to go on like this. I can’t take it.” We spoke to my nurse and she sent the team in. “You’re 6 cm dilated now” they told us, “there’s nothing we can do. Your baby is going to be born today.” I decided to get some pain meds and eventually an epidural so we could rest. They transferred me from antepartum to LDR. Reality hit.

We cried. We called our parents and asked for prayers. My dad and his wife promised to be on a plane within the next 24 hours. We slept.

I woke up with increasing pressure around 12:30pm. They checked me and I was 8cm. I cried some more. As I calmed I realized there was no changing the moment, no going back to the bliss of thinking this could all be stopped, that this wouldn’t be our story. I became resolved. I told my husband that we needed to cheer up and focus on our baby, this was his birthday after all. We talked to him, telling that he had to come out and be a NICU rockstar not a wimpy white boy (white males in the NICU have the worst outcomes). We told him how excited we were to meet him even though it was earlier than we had planned.

I stayed at 9-9.5cm for several hours. My water hadn’t broken and that was slowing my labor. I had lots of pressure and was freaked out that the delivery might happen quickly without the right people assembled. I had been to emergencies in the LDR rooms before and knew that they never went as well as when sick babies were greeted by a fully assembled NICU team in the safety of the resuscitation room that adjoined the ORs. My doctors agreed to move me into the OR and break my water there.
As they wheeled me down the hall, I yelled, “let’s go have a birthday party” and joked with the nurses about my “birth plan.” “I want immediate skin to skin, no bath for 24 hours, and exclusive rooming in. This ugly surgical cap was NOT part of the plan!” I knew if I wasn’t laughing I would be crying. As we settled into the OR, my thoughts raced to crash c-section I knew they were preparing for. I eyed the surgical tech in the corner of the room and willed her to stay put. They broke my water and his heartrate stayed up!

The pediatric team came in to say hi. The senior resident, who had been the year behind me in residency and the fellow, who had been my classmate, looked worried. “It’s ok guys!” I reassured them, “This little guy is going to be a rockstar!” The OBs told them to go and they would call them when delivery was more imminent, “We’re not going anywhere!” The senior resident said. I was immensely grateful. I knew how the minutes could drag by standing around waiting for a delivery while your mind raced to all the orders and notes waiting for you in the NICU, but their presence was reassuring. I trusted them.





The shrill ring of monitor alarms brought the OBs to their feet. My little guy’s heartrate had dropped as he was pushed further down the birth canal by my contractions.  “Time to push!” the high risk OB told me. As I pushed, the alarms sounded again, I backed off. “Harder” they yelled, and the contraction passed. This repeated 3 more times. Then they asked, “is there some reason you’re not pushing very hard? He’s very little, you should be able to get him out easily. He needs to come out now.” “But his heartrate keeps dropping” my voice quivered, “I feel like I’m going to kill him.” A look of recognition spread across their faces, they were treating a fellow healthcare professional who knew all too well what those alarms meant. “We’ll turn the sound off. We won’t let you kill him. Push with all your might and we’ll tell you when to back off.”

A few pushes later I felt his tiny body slip from mine. I looked down and my son, Henry Oliver, stared right back at me and then let out a scream. “Oh my God,” I cried, “He’s beautiful.” He let out one more tiny cry and was passed off through a window to the waiting NICU team.

The next few hours were some of the longest of my life. The NICU team worked to stabilize Henry.  He needed to be intubated and his blood pressures were low. James went to see him and came back with pictures. I was jealous. I went down to the NICU as soon as I was physically able, but the team was putting in umbilical lines so Henry was draped. I sat in my wheelchair for a while watching the numbers on his monitor go up and down, listenting to the familiar whoosh of the ventilator breaths, willing something, someone to tell me he was going to be alright. Heartbroken, I asked to be taken back to my room. I got there and broke down sobbing. He didn’t feel like mine, my baby. It felt like I was watching over another tiny patient.

Pumping became my solace, the one thing I could do, but even that was mostly discouraging. The next morning brought good news. Henry was doing better and would be extubated. Hours after being extubated his nurse lifted his tiny fragile body out of the protection of his isolette and placed him on my bare chest. As he wiggled into a position of comfort, I cradled his tiny bottom in my hand. Our heartrates both slowed and I knew it, he was mine. These were the tiny feet that kicked my ribs and this tiny bum was unmistakably the one that had been dancing inside me for months. I was his mom.

Update: After 38 days in the NICU, Henry came home. He has grown and thrived since and our lives couldn’t be better. Tomorrow we will celebrate his 1st birthday.



Wednesday, September 26, 2012
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Every year, as we head into the fall, parents being gearing up for the upcoming cold and flu season.  Parents of preemies and other babies with chronic diseases have another virus they need to be concerned about: RSV.

Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) is an infection that can cause bronchiolitis and pneumonia in very young infants, particularly those under the age of 1.  Preemies, babies under the age of 2 who have congenital heart disease or chronic lung disease, and children with compromised immune systems are at the highest risk for severe illness.  As a result, it’s important to protect your preemie as much as possible so they do not become infected with RSV.

RSV is transmitted through similar ways as a cold.  When someone coughs or sneezes, airborne droplets can infect someone who inhales them or comes in direct contact with them another way, via the eyes, nose, or mouth.  You can also become infected with the virus through indirect contact with a contaminated surface, such as a doorknob, and then touching your eyes, nose, or mouth with your hand.

Preventative measures are similar to measures used to avoid infection from colds and influenza.  Good hand hygiene should be practiced: wash thoroughly for a minimum of 15-20 seconds with soap and water, or use alcohol-based hand sanitizers before handling your preemie, especially after blowing your nose or coughing into your hands.  Avoid those who are sick, and ask people who are ill to avoid visits until they are no longer contagious.  If you need to take your preemie out in public, baby wearing, either in a carrier or wrap, can help deter the general public from trying to touch your child, or you can purchase a small stop sign to hang on the handle of your infant seat (or attach to your stroller) that says “Please wash your hands before touching mine.”  You can purchase a sign at My Tiny Hands or Its a Preemie Thing 

Some preemies will qualify for an antibody shot (Synagis) to help protect them from RSV infection.  Synagis works like the flu shot in that it will help lessen the severity of symptoms if RSV infection occurs, but it will not completely prevent infection from happening.  Synagis is given monthly throughout the duration of RSV season for your area.
 
The CDC website is a fabulous source of information on RSV.  The following are links to specific pages that may be helpful to you as you journey through the season:








Wednesday, September 19, 2012

I cannot stress enough the importance of being your child's advocate.

It takes strength and courage to stand up and do what's right not only for yourself but for your child. They look to you as their parent to make choices for them when they can't. I can promise you that this will not be easy. I can't promise that your choices won't be questioned, challenged or judged; because sadly someone somewhere will do this.

Several times during both my pregnancy and the twins NICU stay, I had to make tough choices. Choices I wouldn't have been able to make on my own without the support of my husband because they effected us both. I will forever be thankful that he and I are on the same page on many things.

From that ultrasound on that cold January day where doctors confirmed our fear. My water had broken and both babies were in jepordy. This was the ultrasound that also revealed that Addison "elegedly" had an ASD (whole in her heart) and Micrognathia (recesed chin to put it simply). The same ultrasound that brought one of the High Risk Specialists to the conclusion that we should terminate Addison, deliver her and attempt to put in a cerclage to save Blake. First Jake declined before I could even speak and stood firm that we would fight as long as Addison's heart kept beating and in no way would we chose to terminate her. That doctor had no problem telling us how much she disagreed and though it was foolish to put myself and Blake at risk. Second, I thought my OB was going to go off the deep end on the specialist and told us there was no way he would do what she was suggesting because that in itself was risking to me and Blake, and was even greater risk to loose Blake. He did warn us though that we could still loose Addiosn "naturually" and may have a stillborn baby. Our hearts broke. All we could do at this point was start antibiotics and then I would be sent home because we hadn't even reached viablity.

Fast forward to 24 weeks, I was admitted to the hospital one more time for steriod shots for their lungs in hopes that IF they should come early they would be better off from a respitory standpoint.  I had several doctors, friends and family telling me that now I needed to stay until I delivered. But I couldn't there was just no way, I couldn't handle it. I had 5 weeks to wrap my head around it and prepare myself but I knew in my heart that the stress of being "alone" in the hospital would cause me to go into labor. Jake understood my fears and we listened to each doctor give their reasons. While none of them could give me "the ok" to go home, one of them was brutally honest and told me that I was also right in thinking I was more at risk for infection by staying in the hospital and that going home could give us the best chance at survival. But legally he had to tell me to stay. We dissappointed a lot of people when we made the call to come home. Do I regret it... not really. Would I do it the same way all over again? I can't honestly say. But I do believe that staying home is what helped me get to 26 weeks. Had they kept me at 20 weeks, I do believe I wouldn't have made it that far.

In the NICU, most choices were not up to us. It was all about survival. Our first choice was "How far to go." Our answer was simple, do all you medically can and leave the rest to God. After that things were out of our hands again until it was time to think of alternate options for Addison who struggled to come off the vent. Our first MAJOR choice was did we want to give our daughter steriods to help get her over the hump. This came with the possiblity of increasing her risk for CP and developmental delays, the alternative was a Trach, increased lung damage and death. We opted for steriods.

After that, we were faced with the G-tube and Nissin surgery. Yes, No, Maybe, Give it more time? I armed myself with knowledge of it all and asked a million questions. Peds Surgery wanted to do one more test "just to be sure" because ofcourse the fact that formula oozing out her nose and mouth constantly wasn't enough, that was one test we refused. Why? Because it posed a huge risk for aspiration which could damage her already fragile lungs or worse. Surgery went well but recovery didn't.

Again Addison was struggling to be extubated. Her NEO at the time did not want to hear what I had to say about it and told me that her "45 years of medical expeirence as a doctor would not let me make decisions like that." I pushed back and so did she. This NEO was hell bent on Trach-ing her no matter how we, her parents, felt about the matter. (Keep in mind this NEO had only known Addison for 2 weeks and was not one of her "regular" NEO's. IMO, those 2 weeks didn't over rule the 4 months I had been her mother and watched all she went through.) I made phone calls, had the other NEO's consult, and made myself clear that this was not a button she wanted to push or a decison she wanted to make without our permission. If it meant I had to pay out of pocket for a transfer to another hospital I would do it. In the midst of this Addison had a MRSA flare up and this infection was raging through her body. I knew in my gut that if they cut another hole, in her airway at that, we'd loose her. And we felt like she had been through enough and if this was really the end she would give up. We were making peace with that, but we wouldn't torture her anymore, she suffered enough and had been in enough pain. Also worth noting that Addison was in a room with a handful of other babies, that all had Trachs...something didn't sit right about this. (Disclaimer..... this is just our situation and our story, I am not saying other's should make the same choice. This was the best choice for us.) At the same time they also wanted to surgically place an ART line (similar to a PICC line) to finish out a few short doses of antibotics, because she kept loosing veins. Nope, not happening, find another alternative it was too risky for us at this point.

Fortunatly the other NEO's were able to give a better history for Addison and educate this NEO. A few days later she informed me that she "just didn't know all that had to be done to extubate her before". I couldn't be kind at that point and I told her point blank, "There is a reason Addison was transferred with a chart and you at the very least could have read the cliff notes. Not to mention I told you this, not once but twice. I am sorry but I don't take well to being told what to do or that you will just do it anyway. That doesn't work for me and I honestly hope the next time you have an expeirence with a sitaution like this, you handle it a little better and professionally." Yes I was THAT MOM. And guess what, a week later Addison was off all oxygen, she went from the ventilator to a low flow cannula in less then an hour and she was being discharged a week and a half after that. The NEO was baffled. NEVER UNDER ESTIMATE THE POWER OF A PREEMIE. Just sayin'.

The day of discharge she wouldn't even enter the room to have me sign the paperwork. She had one of the residents to it and she must have thought she escaped me, but we met in the hallway on the way out. And had the nerve to tell me "Well mom WE made it." I kept quiet and kept walking with my baby in her stroller, on our way to freedom. I later found out this doctor was notorious for making parents cry and walking all over them. It's sad it really is. And I can't imagine where we'd be today if we had given in and just let her do what she wanted. I know that things could have ended totally differently even with the choices we made, but the fact of the matter is that things are the way they are for a reason.

I don't regret advocating for either of my children and we have always done what we thought was best for our children and our family.


Read more about Melissa and her twins at http://ourvalentinesdaysurprise.blogspot.com/.
Friday, September 14, 2012

At lunch yesterday I met a grandmother and a beautiful baby girl. As most women typically do I got the "Are they twins? How old?" and tells me her baby was 14 months old. We watched the grandmother sign "more" and play games with her etc. Until she told me she was the grandmother I would have swore she was her mom.

After a few minutes came "Who was bigger? How much did they weigh?" and that's when the Preemie-ness appeared. She told me "What miracles I had." And then as she was feeding the baby girl a bottle she paused and explained, the little girl has severe food allergies. Has to have special formula ($75 a CAN) and special made purees. And as a result they were struggling to get her to drop the bottle. But that was the only way she would drink her special formula, so they had no choice.

You could absolutely see the relief on her face when I told her about Addison.... Like "Finally someone else gets it."  As it turns out the baby girl was too a preemie, by about a month. Funny how that almost instantly bonds us preemie families. She told me that her granddaughter had some mild delays too and sung the praises if our county's Early Intervention Program. 

Take a minute to think about this, especially if your are a parent as well. Have you ever had to think twice about what you were feeding you little one. Did every meal take careful planning because they might choke or have an allergic reaction? Have you ever had to be cautious yourself because of an allergy or something else? For most people it's mindless and second nature, for those of us effected it's not. I think sometimes people assume because Addison is eating, she can have whatever. That's not entirely true. Too much milk/juice etc, at once will make her gag or choke and she tolerates so much less then Blake does. Food that is too thick, thin, hard, soft, chewy, the list goes on, can cause the same thing. and guess what, the minute she gags or chokes you can almost bet she is done and won't try again. Would you? You would be scared too. 


Seeing this baby made me thankful that Addison doesn't have any major food allergies (other then cake icing) that we know of (knock on wood). Because that would complicate things so much more in this process. It gave me a dose of perspective and made me realize once again, that we are not alone. It also made me thankful for this miracle that the other baby girl was too. Looking at her she looked like the perfect picture of health. Like Addison she wasn't letting this "hiccup" hold her down. Babies amaze me. Their fight and will to overcome. God bless them and the families that love and support/encourage them. It takes some extra special people to be blessed with such challenges. 
Precious and priceless so lovable too, the world’s sweetest littlest miracle is, a baby like you.

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