Mommy Unexpected

Well, hello there Tumblr. How sorry I am that it has been so long. Most days I do not have time to pee, let alone Blog. But have no fear, I have time today, and oh do I miss writing. 

I'm sitting here, feet up, electric fireplace a blazing (because it's freaking cold!), reruns of America's Next Top Model on, thinking over the past year. What a wonderful year it has been.

Some of my favorite moments include being able to stay home with my boys for 9 months, watching them play and grow. Waking up knowing that I got to spend my day just admiring their sweet little faces. 

FINALLY being able to share my little Finn with the world last Spring, there was no better feeling than being able to take him out of the house and let him see the world. I loved taking him to the Library with Bentley, and visiting our family and friends, the occasional trip to a restaurant and lots of time spent outside at the park. 

Speaking of outside, our summer ROCKED. Full of visits to our family cabins, and celebrating my twin nieces one year birthday. Sun, and sand and swimming. Man do I miss summer! I'm sitting here in my freezing house, it's in the low "teens" outside, I'm cold from the tip of my nose to my frozen little ice brick for toes. Ooops, Meggie, back to the point. Summer 2014. 

You know what else was fun this summer? Going to Zhender's Splash Village to celebrate our one year anniversary of being a forever family. I was so worried. About everything. About taking a 3 year old and 10 month old (7 month adjusted) to a hotel overnight. About lots of people around Finn and possible germs. About taking a kiddo with a sensory disorder into a giant, chlorine smelling, loud room with a million people. Why would we do this? What's wrong with us? Absolutely nothing. Even with a few hiccups that were out of control, we had a blast. Bentley listened SO well in the pool room, he didn't have a single melt down, and only accidentally walked off the side of the pool into the deep end once. He went down the two story tall slide more times than I can count, and just had a blast. Finn loved the water and seemed to enjoy himself too. Aunt Ali even came along for a day and hung out with us, such awesome memories to have. 

Can't forget the boys birthdays. I was worried I would have some issues related to Finn's birthday, some sadness or anxiety, but I was just filled with joy. I will admit, I was struggling with germ-o-phobia on he day of his party, but it was fun to see him interact with all of those who love him so deeply. Thinking back to the days where we didn't know what tomorrow would bring with Finn, to being able to celebrate his first birthday. How awesome, how incredible. Such a strong little man who after all of his struggles, got to kick back and eat some cake.

Bentley's birthday was a whirlwind. Four little boys, two little girls, running and jumping and being nutty. Bentley had so much fun. He was hilarious with the pinata. He opened his gifts in the blink of an eye, tearing through each one before I could even process the last. He felt loved and special, those are my favorite days, because he is so special to us. My sister in law texted me after the party to tell me how grateful she is that we have Bentley in our lives, and it still makes me tear up thinking about it. I hate when people tell me how lucky he is. It's not Bentley who is lucky, it's us. It's all of the people who get to be around him, get to soak in his joy and energy. A million people could have been chosen to be his parents, but we are the lucky ones who get to. 

Something else that I loved in 2014? Being able to finally take Finn to a few holidays! We still had to refrain from a couple, but he was able to attend a Thanksgiving party and 3 Christmas parties, and he did awesome! He used to struggle being around a lot of people, he would get nervous and clingy, but definitely not anymore! He is a social butterfly! He's full of it. And when I say "it", I  mean piss and vinegar. He's a sweet little devil though. 

Which brings me to today, the last holiday of 2014. So, I thank you 2014, for a year of love, happiness and memories. 2015, I have big plans for you. I want to enjoy everyday and let the little things go. I want to continue to heal and work on the anxiety that likes to creep up and drag me down when I least expect it. I want to reduce the amount of migraines that I am dealing with. Most importantly, I want to be the best me. I want to be the best wife to Ty and the best Mommy to my beautiful boys. 

Today, is World Prematurity Awareness Day, and I would like to honor my Preemie Hero. 

Finnley Ryan proved that he was fighter even before he was born. At 26 weeks along in my pregnancy, I was sitting with my sister and her friends when I felt like I had peed my pants. Embarrassed, I went upstairs to the bathroom to find that I had not peed, but I was bleeding. I panicked. My sister took me to the nearest ER where they determined that baby and I were stable. They kept me there until the bleeding slowed, then called an ambulance to transport me to the nearest hospital with a NICU. I continued to bleed, but the doctors were content with Finn's steady heart rate and size and let me go home under strict supervision and bed rest. What we didn't know was that his placenta was tearing away from my uterine wall, and it was also tearing down the middle, causing it to become unhealthy and die in parts. On my third hospital stay, we encountered two Code Pinks, where we lost Finn's heartbeat for several minutes at a time. My little fighter was suffocating, without a healthy placenta to keep him alive. Miracle boy. Little miracle boy.

He was taken via CSection after the 2nd Code Pink, at 28 weeks and 3 days into my pregnancy. He weighed in at 2 lbs and 13 oz. Pretty good for a 28 weeker! Unfortunately, he dropped down to 2 lbs and 5 oz before he started gaining weight at about one week old. I was so scared for him. I did not know what a strong child I had. After 8 hours, he fought his way off of the ventilator, and by 5 days old, he had managed to surpass and Si-Pap, and CPap and was on a nasal cannula. Amazing boy.

By a week old, he was starting to become weak. He was moved back to the Si-Pap, he was becoming less active and was struggling to keep up his sats. On day 8, we got a call from the NICU, stating that Finn was really struggling and had to be intubated again. He was increasingly more weak and labile and hardly moved in his little isolete. Little did we know that he was developing a staph infection in his knee, which later spiraled out of control, causing him to become septic. He was in critical condition, and was so sick that he did not have the energy to move for two weeks. He just laid in his isolete and fought for his life. Brave boy.

In 10 days, Finn endured the reintubation, four blood transfusions, five platelet transfusions, an echocardiogram, countless chest, abdominal and leg xrays, ultrasounds, and a lumbar puncture. His veins were so thin and weak that they would rupture almost immediately after having an IV placed in them. In only a few short days, he went through over a dozen IVs in his feet, legs, hands, arms and head. Once his infection was under control, they were able to surgically place a Broviac line in his thigh where they could administer his medications and IV nutrition rather than having to poke him over and over with failed IV starts. The surgeon also opened up and drained the abscess on his knee, which was so infected that his left leg was swollen to three times the size of his other leg. Strong boy.

When he was finally over his infections, he had to learn how to breathe all over again. He had to keep up his heart rate, respiration rates and O2 saturation. He had to learn to tolerate being held, and spoken to. He had to learn to "suck, swallow and breathe". He could eat just fine, but would regularly forget to breathe while doing so, turning blue on me more than once. He had to be able to keep his temperature up while in a regular crib, as well as tolerate all of the lights and sounds that came with spending time outside of his isolete. He had to pass his carseat test and go a period of time without having any respiratory issues. Sweet boy.

Since he's been home, there's not a moment that has passed where he has not amazed his dad and me. He's huge. Like 27 lbs, huge. He's sassy and feisty and hilarious. He's strong and sweet, and such a trouble maker. He's my Preemie Hero. 

One year ago today, I was recently home from my first hospitalizations, sent home on strict bed rest, like limit pee breaks and only shower every few days, kind of bed rest. I was trying to enjoy having an excuse to lay around all day, while ignoring the nagging feeling that something could go terribly wrong with me and my baby. I was enjoying my time with Bentley before he became a big brother, and we became a family of four. I was disappointed that I could not return to work, or do anything else I had planned for. Pumpkin farms, trick or treating, Thanksgiving dinner, or even getting the house ready for the baby. I was wearing these terrible pressure stockings that itched in the summer heat and had set up a plethora of activities on my craft table in the corner. My brother in law and sister in law had so generously cleaned my house, and my sister and friend Beth bought a ridiculous amount of food and prepared me dozens of frozen meals to throw in the crock pot and oven when I needed to. Within days I would be back in the hospital again, scared, worried, but still in denial. By hospital stay #3, I had my baby. 12 weeks early. Too soon. Too little. 

Skip ahead a year. I have healed enough to be confident in my return to work, plus add a part time position as an ASL instructor on the side. I have hired a nanny to watch the boys, and I have to admit, I'm terrified to leave them. I am worried that she won't see Finn choking on the acid in his throat, or she won't notice when he needs albuterol. I'm afraid that she won't be patient enough with Bentley's sometimes... challenging personality. I'm afraid she won't love them like I do. But I know I'm being silly. She's a Medical Assistant and a CNA, with plenty of childcare experience. I've seen how warm and nurturing she is with her own children, and let's be honest, my boys are charmers. Everybody loves them.  I no longer sit in a hospital wondering if I'll every stop bleeding, if they'll ever figure out what's wrong with me, or if my baby will be okay. Or. If I will ever get to eat again.

Now, I'm planning a Wild birthday party for the wildest baby I know. I'm no longer feeling guilty for not being able to get on the floor and play with Bentley, rather I'm enjoying my summer with him an preparing to send him off to his first "official" year of Preschool. 

Tired ramblings of an over-tired Mom. But oh, what difference a year makes. So, to my mommas out there on bed rest. Or the mommas who've just had a baby too soon. Try your best to enjoy the moment in front of you, because time flies. The bad memories will fade from a sharp, stabbing pain to a dull throb. The anxiety will ease, and you'll find a way back to yourself again. Your baby will grow, at amazing speeds, and they'll show you how amazing they are. It will be okay. It's been a year, and we're okay.

Many of my friends have either just had a baby, or are about to have a baby any day now. I am so incredibly happy for them, but I have to admit, it stirs up some mixed emotions for me.  Sometimes I feel jealous when I see women who are beautifully, gigantically, pregnant. I often hear, "I just want this baby out of me!" and while I understand that they are uncomfortable and want to meet their precious little ones, it makes me want to cry. I would have given anything to be able to carry Finn to term, or at least to a point where he could have survived without the life saving equipment and support of a NICU. I would trade every heel prick and failed attempt to start an IV for a stretch mark. I would trade feeding tubes, TPN and Lipids for back pain. I would happily take a hemorrhoid or two in lue of ventilators, NIVs and CPAPs.  I am jealous of your labor and delivery. I started bleeding at 26 weeks. Just before 28 weeks, after my second hospital stay, I stood up in my living room and felt a giant gush. In the five minutes it took my dad to get to my house to pick me up, I was light headed due to the amount of blood I had lost. I wanted to go to the closest hospital, the one in my city, but my OB-GYN told me over the phone, if there was any hope for the baby to live we had to get to Saginaw, approximately 20 minutes away. I was told I had about 10 minutes before we lost the baby and 20 minutes before my life was in danger. Luckily, by the time we arrived at the hospital, the bleeding had slowed and the baby's heart rate was steady. The contractions started that evening, my body's response to having blood in my uterus. Every 2 minutes. They couldn't stop them because the medicine would cause me to bleed out. They were cautious about giving me narcotics because they were unsure how long we could hold off delivery and, well... I suppose they didn't want to create a junkie mom with an addicted baby. The next day, we had our first code pink. They lost Finn's heart rate, and even after having me change positions multiple times, they could not find it. I was rushed down to the OR, where I was met by a team of doctors to care for both me, and my son. As they were prepping me for surgery, Finn's heart rate came back up. I had a panic attack. I couldn't pull myself together. I lay on the table trying to calm my mind, and someone turned on the radio. The song "Hold On" by Phillip Phillips came on the radio and I sang it while I pulled myself back together. I still cry when I hear this song. Content with the baby's now steady heart rate, the doctors dispersed and the nurses wheeled me back to my room. I wasn't allowed to eat anymore because they were sure the baby was coming soon. The next day was spent starving and having non-stop contractions. The next morning was the scariest day of my life.  I'm sure you would say your child's birth was the happiest day of your life. It breaks my heart to say, the birth of Finn was one of the scariest, I would hate to say, worst, days of my life. A million nurses and doctors rushed into my room. "Megan. Lay on your left side." "Ok, let's try your right side", "can you roll to your back again?" I handed my phone and glasses to Ty and I was on my way to the OR again. I closed my eyes, clamped my hands together, and prayed. My nursed brushed my hair into a net, and said, "keep praying, honey, it will be okay". I was prepped, and they began my C-Section. Unfortunately, they were in such a hurry to get my distressed baby out, that I wasn't even fully numbed from the spinal block. A few moments later, I heard "it's a boy!" followed by the faintest, most beautiful cry that I could ever imagine. The anesthesiologist gave me some medication for pain, and everything is a bit fuzzy from there. I remember hearing the NICU team counting, and assessing Finn. I remember Ty holding my hand and I remember them wheeling Finn by in a little isolete. They stopped and let me look at him for a moment before taking him upstairs. He was wrapped in plastic to keep him warm, and they took the mask off of his face so I could see him better.

I have decided to write a "What to Expect" toddler guide, for those of you who may have a baby nearing toddler-hood. I hope you find it informative, helpful and not at all riddled with sarcasm. 

1.) The number one rule of parenting a toddler. Silence is NOT golden. Silence is the opposite of golden. Silence is bad. Silence means that someone is coloring on the wall, peeing down a heating duct, or sneakily committing a rug rat felony.  

2.) As much as I love seeing my 3 year old learn new skills, there are days where independence is a bitch. It' s not every day that your tot will feel the need to dig their toes in and exert their independence, but it's on the days where you were supposed to be at an appointment 10 minutes ago, you've just changed the baby for the third time and you have your foot out the door, it's then that they insist on tying their own shoes. Son. You are three, you do not have the dexterity to scoop a macaroni noodle onto a spoon without flinging it across the room, let alone tie a shoe. There are days where I can barely tie a shoe. Give it up. Let me help you. Which brings me to...

3.) The screaming, kicking, toy throwing tantrums. Generally conducted at the worst possible time, over the C.R.A.Z.I.E.S.T things. LIke the color of the spoon you so happened to retrieve at dinner, or that you won't let them play with the nobs on the gas stove. Bentley used to throw fits if people dared to call him by his real name and not "Bentley Drawbridge". 

4.) Be prepared to be grossed out at dinner time. Some of Bentley's personal faves? Cheese slices dipped in peanut butter and bananas with ketchup. I cannot watch him eat. It's nauseating. But hey, at least he's eating something!

5.) Speaking of dinner time... they don't eat. Oh, you just spent an hour on making your sweet kiddo's favorite meal? It's not their favorite any more. Today, it's revolting. In my household, if it doesn't contain processed cheese, then it is disgusting and may be vomited back onto the plate.

6.) They ask SO many questions. Now. I absolutely do not mind answering legitimate inquiries about life. Those are not the questions I am referring to. It's more along the lines of, "But WHY can't I poke the baby in the eyes?",  "Can I stick my finger in the fan?","Can I eat this stick of butter?", after your initial response to the question, be prepared for 439,607,405 'whys', accompanied with a sassy smirk on their face.  

7.) They are SO embarrassing, whether they are hilariously announcing that they "tooted" to the entire waiting room at a doctor's office, dropping their pants in a McDonald's play place because they have to pee, or ((very loudly)) announcing that every older person they see, "looks like Great Grandma", you can rely on the fact that they will embarrass you. Many times. 

8.) They are weird, and they will do stuff that you'll never be able to quite figure out. Like eating so much dirt that they have to be taken to Urgent Care, smearing Vasoline all over their bodies when you're not looking, putting an Iron-Man mask on their rump and calling themselves, "Superhero Butt", or my son's infatuation with my breastfeeding book. 

Or counting for hide and seek like this..

9.) They are a hazard to themselves and others. In any given day, prepare to have at least 4 faux-heart attacks. They climb on everything, jump on everything, fall off of everything, trip over everything, get stuck inside of everything, just make so many bad decisions in general. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion and doing your best to prevent any catastrophic injuries. 

10.) Last but not least, they cannot control their emotions. There are days that I feel like I'm living with a possessed monkey infested with rabies. Either one of my boys can go from the happiest, sweetest, friendliest kids on earth to a "hangry" version of The Incredible Hulk waiting for his beans. BUT as soon as you share with someone how terrible your little Hulk has been that day, they immediately smile, coo and bat their lashes just to make you look like a nut job, 

Basically. Toddlerhood is.... unexpected. Wonderfully, delightfully, unexpected. Even on the worst days, days where you feel like you are the crappiest mother ever, they do this..

and this...

I was taking a stroll down memory lane a few days ago, thumbing through the pictures on my phone when I came across this one...

I've seen this picture hundreds of times, and I love it. But for some reason, it just hit a heart string. I think it was the first time I've seen this picture since starting to come to terms with our NICU journey. I was able to look at this picture with pride and sadness all at once. It was one of the happiest and scariest moments of my life. 

It was September 13, 2013 and I had a deep tug in my heart to see Finn. I had spent most of the day at the NICU, but leaving him there was such a challenge. I knew he was in the best hands, being cared for by the most amazing nurses and doctors, but I wanted him with me. I wanted him nestled safe in my womb, floating in a sea of happy bliss, not laying in an isolete, all senses being bombarded, being poked and prodded. I was in tears during dinner, just missing him. It was Ty's turn to go see him while I stayed home with Bentley, but he knew that I needed to go. I called my mom and we made the trip up to the NICU. When we got there he was awake, I stuck my hand in one of the portholes of his little home and held his hand. His nurse that night was Mary, she came over and gave me a run down of Finn's last few hours and explained to me that he was doing well. She then asked me if I had held him yet. I explained to her that I had not had the chance to because he still had his central line in his belly button and his previous nurses wanted to wait until that was removed before moving him around too much. Nurse Mary told me that she had a plan, and she was confident that he would be okay. She taped the line down to his skin so we couldn't accidentally pull it out. She picked him up, arranged all of his wires and cords into a neat bundle, wrapped him in three warmed blankets and handed him to me. 

For the first time in my life, I was speechless. I had a million worried thoughts running through my head, but at the same time, time was standing still. Here I was holding my 5 day old baby. His head rested in the crook of my elbow and his feet ended at my wrist. Weighing a measly 2 pounds and 5 ounces, I think the blankets were heavier than him. I know that I was only a shadow to him, but he looked into my eyes the entire time I held him, right into my soul. His nurse apologized when she had to put him back into his isolete because he was getting cold. She felt that she had only given me a few minutes with him, but I felt like she had just given me the best 5 minutes of my life. 

My sweet Bentley,

One year ago today was one of the happiest days of my entire existence. We gathered in a small court room, Mommy, Daddy and Bentley, as well as about 20 people who love you dearly, while Judge Tighe declared you our own. After 1 year, 11 months and 17 days, you were officially ours, forever and an eternity. No more uncomfortable visits, no more fear of losing you, no more crying every time I sang "You Are My Sunshine". Nobody was going to take my sunshine away. I got to chose when to get your haircut, I got to chose which doctor to take you to, and I didn't have to invite anyone to any procedures or therapies you might have. 

From the moment I laid eyes on your sweet little face in DHS, July 1, 2011, I knew that you were special. You looked scared, tired and a bit sickly. I took you into my arms and never wanted to let you go. Unfortunately, you were wiggling out of my arms and into your (future) daddy's. 

The first days were a blur. Honestly, the first year or so was a blur. It was hard, it was hard for all of us. Different therapists told us that you had a severe sensory deficit and an attachment disorder. What they didn't know, but soon learned, was that you are Superman. You graduated therapy from three different centers, and worked your way through an infant mental health program, graduating with flying colors. Within a year you went from hours and hours of self-harming tantrums to being a sweet, sometimes reserved, little boy. Almost three years later, you are the most intelligent, kind, polite, outgoing kid I've ever met. Not to mention, hilarious. You know exactly what to say to brighten my mood. You're also an amazing big brother. I was a little worried about how you might react to Finn, but from the moment you laid eyes upon each other, you've been inseparable. 

Bentley, I thank you. I thank you for every challenging moment and every wonderful moment. You have made me into a mom. Your mom. You've brought your dad and I closer together. You've brought our entire family closer together. YOU did that. Because you are awesome. You make me happy. You make me crazy, but you mostly make me happy. Your hugs melt my heart. Your smile is contagious. All you have to do is look at me and say, "Mommy, I love you" and I have tears trickling down my cheeks. I have nothing but pure, unconditional love for you. 

You are my son. My amazing, special, ridiculously smart son. Nothing can ever change that, or break our bond. I will love you until the end of time, and will always do everything in my power to make you happy. 

With Father's Day soon approaching, I want to take the time to thank the best father I know (other than my own of course). My husband. I have so many words and thoughts jumping around my head and giving me warm fuzzies in my heart that I hope I can gracefully compose a post that expresses them all. 

Tyler. You have been quite literally thrown into fatherhood, not once, but twice, and you have handled it with the most amazing grace and spirit.

The first time you were thrown into daddy-hood, was on July 1, 2011. We had just met with Donna, our Social Worker, on Thursday, June 30, 2011, only a day prior. We had discussed taking in Bentley as a foster child with her and we had two weeks to prepare our hearts and our home to love this little boy as our own, while his life was in limbo. Not even 24 hours later, Donna called us to say that his current foster family had just dropped him off to DHS, and he needed a place to go. Wait. What?... Like today? Yes. Today by 3:00.  INITIATE PANIC MODE! I called you in a frenzy and asked you to meet my Mom and me at Meijer where we were buying emergency baby supplies in a blind frenzy. You showed up, my rock, and we made our way to DHS, where Bentley's previous foster father handed him over to us. Congratulations Ty, you are now a father. I remember, I excitedly took Bentley but he didn't want me. He immediately wanted you. And that night, when I couldn't soothe the poor, confused, upset little boy... you did. He laid in your lap and rubbed your beard while you rocked him to sleep. You had been a father for six hours, and you were already amazing.

Life with Bentley was hard. You remained calm and steady through head banging fits, countless hours of uncontrollable screaming, and occasional melt downs from your frazzled wife. You were optimistic and strong through home visits, court dates, visits with Bentley's birth father and through the most ridiculous family drama we could have ever fathomed (relative foster care/adoptions are rough!). You took Bentley to therapy when I needed you to, attended meetings and never once complained. And since that first day with Bentley, the two of you have been inseparable. You're the best of buddies, you have the silliest inside jokes together and you are his everything. I cannot imagine a better role model for him to idolize. 

The second time around, we were doing a little better. We knew there was a baby growing inside of me, and we knew we had nine months to do our best to prepare. Haha. Just kidding, because that's not life. I started having complications while I was in Livonia visiting my sister. She rushed me to the hospital when I started bleeding pretty heavily. I didn't want her to call you because I thought we had lost our baby. I didn't want her to have to call you and break your heart. After my ultrasound, I gave her the go ahead to let you know what was going on. I am so sorry that I wasn't the one to call, but I was trying really hard to keep it together. I knew that as soon as I heard your sweet voice on the other end of the line, I was lose it. Luckily, you arrived just as I was being transferred via ambulance to Ann Arbor, once there, you never left my side.

You helped me remain optimistic, and you ever so graciously cared for me. My third hospital stay, I was on full bed rest. You cared for me in ways a husband should never have to care for his wife, somehow without stealing an ounce of my dignity. Our sweet little Finn came to us 11 weeks and 4 days early. I was a wreck, sad and confused. I felt incomplete without Finn safe and warm in my womb. You somehow managed to give yourself 100% to me, our 2 pound miracle and our sweet Bentley, all of whom needed you so much. You loved Finnley wholeheartedly from the moment you saw him in the O.R. You beamed with pride when you heard his tiny little cry. His NICU journey was not an easy one, yet you were incredibly optimistic, always providing me with comfort. You visited him every night, after a long day of work and helping to care for Bentley, most days not even getting home until 10:00 or 11:00 in the evening.

Not that I am surprised, you are the most amazing father to Finn as well, waking up with him at ridiculous hours of the night, patiently calming him through moment of colic and painful acid reflux. As soon as he sees you in his line of vision, a big gooey smile creeps across his face. He knows that time with you is play time, time to laugh and be silly. 

So, I thank you this Father's Day for not only being an amazing father to our boys, but the best friend and husband that I could wish for. We love you so much.

Well. It has been a very long time since I have been able to write! I miss putting my thoughts down in words, so I do so solemnly swear to make a better effort in finding time to do what I love to do... write! Unfortunately for me to do this I have to leave my house looking like this... 

Do not judge. 

Now. Back to the point. I swear, the weirdest things happen to me. The most recent irritating event has been our family pictures. I will withhold the name of the business I used, but if you are looking for someone to photograph you or your loved ones in the Tri-City or Mid-Michigan area and would like a recommendation as who NOT to use, please privately contact me. 

I was incredibly excited to see an advertisement on my Facebook feed for some great deals on family and children's photographs. I followed the link to this local business, checked out their work and decided to contact the photographer. I shall call him "Mr. A", "Mr. A. Hole". (Ok Meg, not appropriate...get it together) So Mr. A directed me to join his Parent Group on Facebook where I would then be eligible for a $50 mini sitting and 40% off any prints we would like to order. I called to book the session with his coworker who seemed beyond clueless. I had to repeat everything I said to him multiple times, and by the time I hung up I was confused as to what I had even booked. This should have been my first clue. But I just paid my $50 down payment... there's not turning back now. 

Apparently, I had thought I booked family photos, but I did not. I guess I had booked a children's session. Trying to remain optimistic, I told myself that this way Ty and I could join forces and make the boys smile, getting some amazing shots. 

Our appointment was on a Friday at 5:00. We arrived to our session at Dow Gardens around 4:50 and walked into the reception area at the same time as our photographer and crew. Keep in mind Mr. A had yet to scope out the gardens, pick a spot that he wanted to shoot, test the lighting, set up, ect.... Now that we have arrived at the same time, he does not have time to do any of these things. We wander around until he finds a spot of his choosing, and gets set up. The session goes fairly well, I did not like that he never told us when he was snapping pictures, just snapped away. So half of the pictures the boys or Ty and I are looking like dorks, as we didn't know what was going on. He also never talked to the boys, nor did he make any effort in getting them to smile or look at the camera. BUT, I still had hope. In my ever hopeful heart of rainbows and bubblegum, I decided that Mr. A was the expert and he knew what he was doing. As the session ended, Mr. A reminded us that because we were a part of his parent group, we would get 40% off of our prints and they should be ready within 24 hours. 

I loved the idea that the proofs were available so quickly and was thrilled to look at them. There were around 20 photos available, and I really liked about 5 of them. There was one issue though. Every photo that I wanted to order was only available in black and white. The only good individual photos of the boys, two excellent ones of the boys together, and one of all 4 of us that I enjoyed.... all in black and white. I messaged Mr. A and asked if it were possible to have these photos in color. At first he told me no. That he could not offer them in color. He used his best creative insight in editing my photos. In expressing my disappointment, he then said that he could re-edit them, but it would cost me $5.00 a picture. Say what?! You're going to charge me to have my photo in color from a Dow Gardens photo shoot (because everyone might assume I would love my favorite photos in black and white in a garden setting?!). Go to your memory card, put the photo on your computer and upload it. If you're such and amazing photographer, it should not need any edits. At very most it might need a crop and slight adjustment to the color. I told him that I was not willing to pay to have my photos in color. I could understand being charged had I wanted them desaturated, or if I was requesting a blemish edited out, but I wanted my original photos. Well, how dare I! I "offended" Mr. A. Hole to the point of him blocking me on Facebook and kicking me off of his Parent Group. - _- Seriously Mr. Hole? Are you kidding me? I did not realize I was dealing with a four year old. Guess what, I don't want to be friends anymore either. I don't want to be in your stupid club anyway, so there! 

In honor of nurses week, I would like to take some time to thank Finnley's nurses. The problem is, I do not even know where to start. I do not know how to put into words what you mean to me, to my family. Here's my best effort...

Thank you, for speaking to me with compassion and a sense of normalcy, whilst I was visibly falling apart in front of your eyes. I suspect that you knew that in those first days, I was looking at you, but not hearing a word you said, but you took the time to explain my sweet little boy to me anyway, and pretended not to notice when I asked the same questions multiple times.

At the same time, thank you for not overwhelming me with information. For letting me take my terrifying new "home" at my own pace. There were days that the only information I could process was "is he stable?", knowing anything else may have thrown me over the edge, and you seemed to know this.

Thank you for knowing when I needed to talk, and knowing when I just needed to sit quietly, staring at my baby. Your ability to read parent's body language is astounding.

Thank you for taking the time to translate what the doctor's words meant for me. For making sure that I understood what was happening without making me feel dumb. 

Thank you for pushing me, for encouraging me to take the steps that I was too scared to do on my own. You convinced me it was okay to touch Finn, to work through the isolete portholes in changing his diaper and taking his temperature, to hold Finn, to get him out of his isolete myself (although this one took a little convincing), and eventually to providing him with most of his care while you so wonderfully supported me. 

Thank you for being there for Finn's many test and procedures. It was hard to not be at his side when I knew that he needed me, but I thank God that he had his angels with him to make sure that he was safe and comfortable. 

Thank you for not judging me. Most days I came in my sweatpants, barely ran a brush through my hair and my face had not seen makeup in weeks. I cried a lot, sometimes I rushed out of the room and didn't come back for a while, and some days I just sat silently, not wanting to be bothered. Thank you so much for your support on the roller coaster ride that is the NICU, and for carrying on like normal when I was ready to deal with the world again. 

Thank you for holding my sweet boy during the moments that I could not. For knowing how to comfort him, for taking such special care of him, for loving him. It was so much easier to leave his side knowing that he was going to be in such loving hands. 

Thank you for always answering my calls, all times of the day or night, no matter how busy you may have been. For providing me with his current stats, offering me comfort, or telling me to get some sleep.

Thank you for making my boobs feel normal. This one may sound silly, but when you're a new mom, pumping every two to three hours behind a cloth screen, in a room full of nurses, doctors and other families, it's hard to feel normal. I appreciate your efforts to give me privacy, make me feel comfortable, and to help me in my breastfeeding journey.

Thank you for celebrating in all of Finn's milestones. If I told anyone else, "Finn had a bowel movement on his own today!" they would have looked at me like I was crazy. You were right along side of me cheering him on, even if he had just shot poop to the top of the isolete. I remember the days you surprised me by putting a shirt on him, or holding back your excitement that he was off of respiratory support so that I could notice on my own.Thanks for being just as excited as I was when he drank 15 cc from a bottle, or got down to room air for an hour. These things seemed so small to others, it was great having someone to celebrate with. 

Most importantly, thank for advocating for my son. You knew him better than anyone else. You kept him alive. You noticed when he wasn't behaving like "himself" and brought it to the doctor's attention immediately. Like when he developed the staph infection in his leg. You noticed the change in his behavior, which allowed for him to begin antibiotics before we knew what was wrong. Had this not happened, I fear for what his outcome would have been. You made sure he had everything he needed, you made sure that he was comfortable and you helped him to achieve his milestones with your advocacy. 

To all of our Covenant RNICU nurses, thank you for being a NICU nurse, for excelling at your job. I cannot imagine how hard your job is. From trying to start IV's on the smallest veins fathomable, and having to handle your patients with such care because their tiny bones are not completely hardened yet, to watching these sweet little babies struggle. You not only care for these little miracles, but their families too. It takes a special kind of person to be a NICU nurse and I'm so glad we had the opportunity to get to know you all. You will forever be a part of our memories, of our stories.

A big thank you to Nicole, for being FInn's daytime Primary nurse. You would change your schedule to accommodate the days I was running late, get just as excited as me when Finn showed improvement, loved him for me during times I couldn't be there, and made me feel like a normal human being. I looked forward to the days that you were his nurse, as I always enjoyed chatting with you! 

Amy- I swear you were with Finn almost every night. I cannot even tell you how comforting this was. You knew him so well, and I knew that he was very well cared for in your hands. You were a friendly, soothing voice to speak with at all hours of the night, and always knew just what to say to ease my heavy heart. You were with Finn right from the beginning all the way up to the night before he came home, and I thank you so much for all of the care your provided for not only Finn, but all of us. 

I am so proud of myself! Today, I tackled two of my fears. Taking Finn out into public, and taking both boys out together. After feeding the boys, putting them down for naps, getting myself ready, feeding them again, coats, shoes, oh wait... another potty break, looking for my wallet, changing Finn's clothes after he barfed everywhere again, we were ready to go. I excitedly opened the door, ushered Bentley out, and I swear, the minute I stepped outside it started down pouring. I don't mean like a few drops here and there, I mean "when the heck did we move to Florida, where did this hurricane come from?!" kind of rain. We were past the point of no return, so I threw a blanket over Finn's head, ran around to Bentley's side of the car, tossed him in (sorry buddy, you're hardy though), ran around to Finn's side, buckled him in, back to Bentley, buckled him in, and by the time I got myself in the car I was probably carrying about 17 extra pounds of water in my drenched clothes. We drove around pointlessly until the rain let up and then went to visit the Library, Bentley was so excited! When I was little the Library had a kids section, but it was hidden away in a dark basement and you were expected to be quiet. The new Library rocks! It's bright and fun, has lots of different areas for imaginative play, a giant boat to sit in while you're reading, Legos, DVDs and CDs to rent, and lots and lots of fun books! Bentley was such a good boy, he had lots of fun. I was nervous about Finn as he doesn't always adjust to new settings well, but he sat for a long time in his stroller squealing away, smiling and enjoying the change of scenery.  We came home and holy cow. Bentley was out of his gourd. Running around like a mad man, jumping off of the furniture and literally climbing the walls. Finn was whiny and clingy, and really didn't want to be put down. By the time Ty was home and available to take over, I was over it. I was up all night with a migraine, I've been stressed with all of this insurance stuff, Bentley and Finn had been screaming in my ear all afternoon and I needed a break. 

I am in it up to my eyeballs and I don't know what to do anymore. I skirt dozens of phone calls a day from bill collectors, I have a folder the size of the Harry Potter series in my ottoman with numbers that my brain cannot fathom and a stress level that has reached beyond any reasoning. (My phone is ringing as I type this, of course) Finn has two insurances and neither is willing to pay anything. We ((literally)) used up all of our "talk" minutes on our cell phone plan last month being on hold with Aetna and Medicaid, in which we got absolutely no where. We're caught up in a world of medical jargon that we do not understand and being sent on wild goose chases that result in nothing but frustration. Add the two new nights spent in the hospital and it has thrown me over the edge. I have spent the last two days either crying or trying not to cry, feeling like I'm stuck in a pool of quick sand, the more I struggle, the more I fight, the deeper I sink. I desperately need one day without a single phone call, without the dread of opening my mail box, just one day without $500,000 looming over my head. Now it's gotten to the point of interfering with Finn's care. We could not get him his Synagis shot for the month of April (the injection that protects him from RSV), he has yet to receive the booster to his flu shot, and we cannot get insurance approval for a different type of medicine to control his reflux- the poor kid cannot eat more than 4 ounces at a time without getting sick, he cannot eat baby cereal or baby food yet as he can't keep it down. And here I am, stuck. Not knowing what to do to remedy the situation. My mom, Ty and I are going to try one more calling spree on Friday to see if we can make any headway, and if we cannot it seems my options are to hire an attorney, which I am not sure how we are going to afford, or to file bankruptcy. I promised my parents that I would write a letter to our senator, but I cannot help but to feel that it's not going to get me anywhere. Of the thousands of people he has to deal with, what would inspire him to read my letter? To help us? So hopefully I can take inspiration from Finn to keep fighting even though I feel discouraged. To "keep my trunk up" and force someone to help us settle this. 

As I was packing up the Nebulizer tonight, pondering our first "at home illness", it hit me how far my little Finn has come. And not only Finn, but his mom too. I was able to handle him being sick with only a few phone calls begging my dad to bring a stethoscope over to listen to his lungs, and when I did, my dad confirmed that I am not crazy, Finn was indeed wheezing. I was thinking how catastrophic Bronchiolitis would have been to Finn 6 months ago, or even 3 months ago. Sure, we went to the hospital twice. Yes, he was having some respiratory distress, and it was absolutely terrifying. But he was a rock star! He never required respiratory support, or oxygen, and he got over it in a reasonable time-frame. I am a firm believer in the power of jinxing, and Lordy I hope that I haven't just jinxed the little bugger. I hope that next time he gets sick his body will be able to handle it like a champ once again. For that matter I hope he doesn't get sick for a long, long time! With that being said, I hope not to offend anyone, but I need to keep this baby healthy, it is one of my top priorities, and I have been strict, but too nice. So. IF. YOU. ARE. SICK. STAY. OUT. OF. MY. HOUSE. If you are a person who visits me, then I can guarantee that I love you, and I want to see you (I get lonely in "isolation" and could use some adult interactions), but if you have a sniffly nose... stay away from us! If you have a cough...stay away from us! If you feel like you're coming down with something...stay away from us. If you're on antibiotics, if you just returned home from the doctor's office, if your kids are sick, heck...if your hamster is sick...stay away! We'll see you soon and we'll keep Finn safe this way. While I'm complaining and likely pissing people off... until Finn is approximately 9 years old and his lungs have completely healed (okay maybe just for the next couple years) I need you to wash your hands when you come into my house! Every time! If you touch your face, I have hand sanitizer... EVERYWHERE, use a squirt! If you sneeze or cough (I'll probably be mean mugging you), but take a squirt! If you touch your phone, take a squirt! Do not touch the baby until your hands have been cleaned, I beg of you! This is why my hands look like this:

Maybe it seems crazy to you, maybe it seems obsessive, but I promise it is so incredibly important for Finn. You weren't with him when his oxygen was dropping to 78 or when the triage nurse in the ER rushed him back to a room where we were met by a medical team because he looked and sounded so bad. You didn't lose sleep for a week because you woke every few minutes to make sure Finn was still breathing, and not struggling. All from a simple cold. There really is no "simple cold" to a child who was born very prematurely. To learn more about the development of a Preemie's Immune System, I found this article informative: 

http://www.safebabybmt.com/blog/delicateBalance.htm

Please remove your shoes. Finn plays on the floor and your shoes have been in some pretty gross places, so leave your kicks at the door.  If you can help it (I know it's near impossible), please don't let Finn chew on you or your belongings. I wash his toys every few days just to be safe, I feel very uneasy and out of control when he's chewing on your hoodie string. I had to stop a Resident in the ER from letting Finn chew on his stethoscope-gah! That's a special kind of gross... a doc from a Pediatric ICU's stethoscope! That's the stuff a Preemie Mom's nightmares are made from! Really though, ask my husband, I have nightmares of Finn being exposed to or catching bugs. I really do understand how neurotic this makes me sound, and it's embarrassing, but this is how much it is on my mind. It's a struggle to let him be normal, but do everything I can to protect him. Germs give me anxiety, it's silly and essential all at once. I went to the movies with Ty and had a near melt down at my lack of hand sanitizer. He gave me his debit card and sent me on my way to Bath and Body works for some PocketBac while he saved seats. I'm pretty sure I need therapy, lots and lots of therapy. I would go, but there's too many germs there.  Like I said. I love you. I MISS you. I want to see you. Please help my anxiety and Finn's health by "playing it safe". He's too cute for those hospital gowns.

Today I want to share a story that touches my heart. One day I was browsing my Facebook and saw a post by a friend Jammie Davis. She was taking her sweet little 4 month old to his pediatrician because he wasn't moving his legs much. A few days later she shared with the world that little Jackson has Type 1 Spinal Muscle Atrophy, a devastating diagnosis. It's a degenerative disorder that no family, or precious baby, should have to deal with. All I could think about was how unfair life was. My heart just ached, and continues to ache for the Davis Family. I cannot imagine receiving such a diagnosis, but the way they are handling it is just amazing. Jammie often posts pictures of Jackson and in every picture he has this big, gooey smile. Which made me realize, Jackson doesn't want me to feel sorry for him, he doesn't want my heart to ache, he wants to teach me about life.

If Jackson could talk I wonder if he would remind me that I am blessed, for this very morning I woke up to a family who loves me. I have a roof over my head, food on my table, love in my heart. I have so much to be appreciative of. 

He might remind me that the Lord does not want us to worry about tomorrow, he wants us to live for today. Today is beautiful. Today is as perfect as you make it. Which reminds me of the quote that helped get me through Finn's NICU stay..."Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength".- Corrie Ten Boom

Jackson might remind me to see the beauty in the world around me, to not take for granted the things I might normally pass by. The extra snuggles with the people I love, the sun shining down on my face, the laughs I had with Bentley...

He would tell me to love. To love endlessly and unconditionally. To love without fear or limits. To love the people around me, to love the things that make me happy, to love life. 

He might remind me of the power of prayer. Prayer is an amazing force. It comforts the soul, quiets the worried mind, wraps you up in the Lord's warmth and comfort. 

And I am sure he would tell me to have Hope. Because if we have nothing else, we can always have hope. No one can take our hope away, it's ours to keep in our hearts, to relish in, in days of darkness or days of joy. 

So, I thank you Jackson. For being so wonderfully perfect. For teaching me your life lessons. You are strong, you are special, you give people Hope. I do not know what tomorrow will hold for you, for me, or for anyone else. But I do know that today is a wonderful place to be. 

Friends, I ask of you, please lift Jackson and the Davis family in prayer. Also, please consider donating to the Davis family to help offset the costs of Jackson's medical care, trips to Specialists, and perhaps we can raise enough money to be used to some family fun, to create some memories. Below are the links to Jackson's GoFundMe page, if you would like to donate, and to his Prayer Page if you would like to follow along on his Journey. 

http://www.gofundme.com/8absd4

So the post I had originally started to write was about overreacting to Finn being ill. He started with a runny nose and cough on Wednesday and it took everything in me to just "treat the symptoms" rather than go into a panic. The more he coughed, the more images I had of him back in the hospital laying in a bed with a tube down his throat. I tried my best to ignore these thoughts, but it's not easy to do. When you've seen your child go through hell and back, it's difficult to not go to the worst possible scenario in your mind. I heard him wheezing on Thursday and his cough was getting worse. Preemies tend to have bad lungs and narrower airways, and with Finn being on a ventilator for so long, it's terrifying for him to contract any kind of respiratory illness. His pediatrician listened to his lungs and said they sounded clear, and sent us on our way with directions to call if he got any worse. On Friday night after Ty got home from work Finn's cough was awful. He was coughing so hard it was causing him to vomit. He was grunting with every breath and just generally seemed to be struggling. We called in a babysitter and rushed him to the worst possible place for any baby, let alone a preemie, to be. The ER.

Nurses wheeled one woman by, just feet from us, with her head in a bucket. Another man was wheeled by, hand covering his face, with the white, sweaty look of someone very sickly. I did my best to once again, just act like a normal person and not let my catastrophic thinking take over. Couldn't do it. One look at the waiting room filled with people suffering in the misery of their illnesses, coughing and spewing germs about and I demanded to wait in a room. The nurse was not very hospitable, but I was not going to give in. If you do not understand why an infant born at 28 weeks should not be sitting in a waiting room full of every illness we've worked our asses off to avoid, than you should not be a nurse. After a thorough exam from the ER doctor, he was tested for RSV and the Flu, thankfully they came back negative. He was also tested for Pertussis, but the results take days to come back. He had a chest X-Ray, which was one of the harder things I have had to watch Finnley go though. They placed him in this mid-evil torture device, strapped his hands up by his face, and the weight of his head being held by a chin strap, and dangled him in the air while taking pictures of his lungs.

This is something like what they used on Finn. (that's not Finn, just a picture I found online when I typed "infant torture device used for chest xrays" into Google)

It was horrible. The way he looked at me, crying, with such fear in his eyes, while I helplessly watched, it sucked. They found some new damage in his lungs, along with the damage remaining from being a preemie and being on the ventilator, but they said his new x-rays look drastically better than his old. They said that by age 9 his lungs should be fully healed, and he's likely to have asthma in the meantime. He was still coughing and he was grunting with every breath. The ER doc wanted him admitted but the resident from the Pediatric floor wanted him sent home. After five, long hours, he was sent up to the Pediatric floor for observation. What an amazing little trooper. It was 2:00 in the morning, every time he fell asleep, someone else came in with a new test to poke at him with yet he smiled at every single nurse or doctor who made eye contact. Everyone fell in love instantly with my sweet little boy. Finally, around 4:00 am, I soothed Finn to sleep, and curled up in the tacky, plastic recliner next to his bed. I only slept for about 30 minutes, as I was worried about the baby laying next to me, coughing and choking as he tried to sleep. I was trying to relax but frustrated that no one seemed as concerned as I felt.

Finally, at 10:00 this morning, the Pediatrician came in to see us. He listened to Finn's chest and sent us home. I'm trying to juggle the hospital's lack of concern with the uncontrollable fear boiling inside of me and find someplace less stressful to rest on. I know that Finn has damaged lungs, I know that Finn's airway is smaller than the average 7 month old's, knowing that it is full of phlegm and mucus makes it hard to focus on anything except the all-consuming thought that Finnley could be in trouble. It's going to be a long night of watching and listening.

I feel so, incredibly guilty, perhaps it's unrealistic to think I could have kept Finn healthy this entire cold season. But maybe if I had kept Bentley from daycare Finn wouldn't have gotten sick. Or if I had been more strict with people touching and visiting him. Perhaps if I would have continued to breastfeed him, rather than switching him to Soy. Did we not wash our hands enough? Should I have been washing his toys more often? My job was to keep him healthy and I failed him.