Friday, April 28, 2017

3 Weeks

Week three brought us poor weather, which is particularly delightful if you're snuggling a baby.

And, lucky momma that I am, I spent a great deal of time doing just that.  He's a really, really good baby, too.

I am doing better this week.  We were even able to get out to the Columbine memorial after the anniversary last Thursday.  A legal adult separates me from the terrified 14 year old kid who fled the school on a sunny April morning.  It's pretty amazing.

My current struggle is that moving still takes its toll on me.  I made a huge leap forward this week.  No progress for two solid weeks, and finally - finally! - I have some of my mobility back, and I'm weaning off of the heavy pain meds.  If I just stay in bed and don't do much, I can take only Ibuprofen.  If I get ambitious and attempt to actually get up and about... well, I'm really slow, I can't keep it up for very long, and it always ends with me back on the hard stuff.

I don't think I talked about this (really, who can keep track?  Thank you, Percocet for the blurry memories!), but one of the things I've experienced in the aftermath of surgery is some serious temperature swings.  I cannot regulate my temperature.  When my pain gets too high, I'll have chills.  The kind that shake my body until I'm sore and make me fear that my teeth are actually going to break from chattering.  I have to turn on the heating pad and get under all the blankets, or get in the shower when it's running hot to even begin to keep myself warm. This is my definitive cue to reach for the meds, and afterward they kick in, I sweat.  As in, buckets and buckets.  It's disgusting.

The doctor tells me that she's never heard of this as a side effect of a c-section - words every girl loves to hear from a doctor.  Again, though, she reminded me of our crazy spring and the stress my body was under before I was cut open and had a baby.  I suppose I'll be talking about this one for a while.  Although it didn't worry her, she wants me to come in for another appointment soon and keep her posted.

So the good news is: the crazy temperature swings seem to be on the outs.  This has been happening at least twice a day since the surgery, and just this week they've begun to ease in terms of both frequency and strength. As I'm writing this, it has been something like 30 hours since I've ridden that roller coaster.


Otherwise... I'm just enjoying having my little man here!

I know it sounds crazy when I'm talking about how hard my recovery has been, but I still wouldn't do things differently.  I'm just so happy to have him here, safe and well.  I feel certain things would have gone badly if we'd tried to do this another way!  He is so, so worth it.  

And, I won't lie: even this has not been as difficult as delivering and recovering after Logan's birth!

Friday, April 21, 2017

2 weeks

Two weeks have passed in a bit of a haze.  I can't believe how fast time goes once they are here!

Luke is such a good baby.  I know I'm not supposed to brag, but (character flaw!) I'm going to anyway: He sleeps!  SO WELL!!!  He goes 4-5 hours between feedings through the night, and although he does like to get up between 4 and 5 a.m., I will take the win.

He never cries.  Seriously.  He gives a few little whimpers here and there, and is otherwise entirely sweet and content.  We've dubbed him the World's Best Baby.

We got some half-hearted little smiles this week, which are adorable.  And you can see in his response that he likes the reaction he gets when he smiles.  I've watched his little face as he tries to manipulate his muscles to recreate the smile, tiny as he is.  They are amazing little creatures.

On the healing front: well, I'm still not.  I'm not even close.  My biggest accomplishment this week was showering and putting on clothes by myself.  In fact, I may have had a little melt down in the doctor's office when I had to admit that I needed more pain medication, because I'm no further along down the healing road than I was the day I left the hospital.  It was hard to hear the words out loud.  I can't come close to keeping up with all my people; in fact, I can hardly even walk.  The doctor reminded me that, after the year spring we've had and all the physical and emotional stress, it is okay to give myself lots of grace, and to expect extra time to heal.  All of that, she reminded me kindly, has taken its toll on my body.

Casey is doing an awesome job of holding down the fort.  The four kids are a lot of work!  I've been so blessed and lucky to have him home... Luke and I have made a cozy home for the past two weeks in the master bedroom - and literally nowhere else!  It is such a delight to have the time to watch his expressions and stroke his little face.  My last tiny precious one - what a tiny blessing!

Friday, April 14, 2017

The one with all the details

The hospital is quiet in the dark of the morning.  When you're coming in for a scheduled c-section you wake up early.  There is an incredible sense of anticipation and excitement, so you smile a lot, and enjoy.

You know... while you still can.  Because, let's face it --'re tired.  It's early.  There's no such thing as a flattering photo, because you're super pregnant and hospital lighting isn't helpful. And, oh yeah...'re about to be cut open while still awake. So there's that.

I felt pretty calm all morning.  My sense of confidence that I was making the right decision outweighed the nerves over having the actual surgery.  The hard part was that this time, I knew exactly what I was walking into.  I remembered how I felt the day Leah was delivered, and how long recovery really does take.  So there was definitely a little more of an underlying edge, but also greater steel in my resolve.  I felt the anxiety, but I also had to let it go.  This is how we meet our baby, and whatever happens to me, he'll be safe.

Although, just to put my resolve to the test, right as I got up to walk into surgery, my water broke.

Ha!  Because, of course it did!

And in a really, comically big way.  Exactly like in the movies.  You could almost hear a pop! and there it was, all over the floor.  Go figure, right?

But I wasn't in any kind of serious labor, although I had a few contractions here and there, and the fact that my water had broken changed nothing in the way of how high up and how big a baby we were expecting.

Casey didn't get to go in while they were putting in the spinal block, which was news we hadn't expected.  Seven years ago in Boulder, he was able to be with me during that part, which is scary and sterile, particularly when you're alone.

They got me situated on the table, brought Casey in, and it was off to the races.

I am absolutely amazed at how quickly they can get those babies out.

His little cry undid me.  I couldn't see him, but I could hear that beautiful sound.  It is the very best sound in the whole world.  It seemed to take forever while they checked him out and cleaned him off, but I'm sure it was really just moments.  He pinked up so quickly, a nurse made a comment that it was concerning.  I'm not sure whether she was serious.

Then, they did something which they didn't do seven years ago - they brought him to me.  8 pounds 10 oz of naked baby boy, and let me have skin to skin time while I was open on the other side of the curtain.

It was heaven.  I remember thinking with Leah, this is heaven, right here in the middle of hell.  I so feared that surgery all those years ago - it was absolutely my worst case scenario short of endangering Leah's life.  As they laid him on my chest, that same thought came back to me.

The love of a mother is so powerful.  So, so very fierce and strong.  I am always overwhelmed.  When you hear the cry, when you look into their eyes and feel the beautiful weight of their little bodies on the outside for the first time, even the fact that your own body is literally open - things that should be on the inside aren't - cannot hold a candle to the overpowering joy they bring with them.

As they finished stitching me back together, they bundled up my special little bundle, and Casey got a chance to hold him.

And then it was over.  They wheeled us back to recovery, and that was that.

The surgery went well.  The only hiccup was that I had a really good spinal block.  Which, on the surface, doesn't sound like a problem, but I was numb all the way through my chest and arms.  That made it difficult to hold and touch my little guy, and it also created a lot of pressure on my lungs.

I brought this up to the doctors, only because, well, it seemed like it might be important.  Pressure on my chest while still open on the table?  I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay.  I was reassured that it was normal.  But it didn't resolve itself, and so I told them again that I still had pressure.  I'm not sure exactly how or why, but they ended up giving me a good dose of morphine, interpreting my concern as pain.

Whew.  Morphine.

I would make a lousy drug addict, because the morphine was really a shot to the gut.  I was nauseous, out of sorts, and the rest of the day looked a lot like this:

I was pretty foggy until sometime after midnight.  I was even worried about having the kids visit, because I didn't want to scare them.  My speech wasn't particularly clear, and the morphine made me sooooo groggy.  It was bad.

But even so...

he is worth every second. 

Friday, April 7, 2017

He's Here!

Our precious Luke Eli arrived at 8:39 am.  
8 pounds, 10 oz.  20 inches long
15 inch head

He is so, so loved.  You can't see all the tears I've just finished shedding having heard that precious, strong cry for the first time. 

Look at that tiny bundle of wonderful!

And how does the crew feel about him? 

We think they're pretty smitten.  

The best days are always when babies arrive.  This has been perhaps the best day of all.  All my sweethearts, together in one place.  

We are so, so blessed. <3 p="">

Thursday, April 6, 2017

On the last day I'll ever be pregnant

There is something kind of special about knowing that this is the last day I will ever spend housing another human inside my body.

March 10, 2010

I've often wondered, through the years, how I would feel on reaching this milestone.

Because, though intellectually I've always known this day was coming - let's face it, I'm not a Duggar, and 6 or 10 or 19 children are definitely not in our future - I've had a hard time imagining that a day would come when I would ever truly feel that sense of closure over growing our family.  Babies are a blessing, and I was pretty confident that a I would ever feel done.

Well, that was before adopting.  Before regularly single parenting four children for large stretches of the year.  Before having a pregnancy that has taken me off my feet for literally months.  Before having two with special needs at completely different ends of the spectrum.  One with trauma, one who is incredibly gifted.  Plus, you know: soon-to-be three more.

This morning?  I awoke with only a sense of joy and finality.  I'm so ready to meet this boy.  So ready to let him complete our family.  I know that it is time to focus on the big job of turning really fantastic little people into kind, compassionate, awesome adults.  I also recognize that this is no small task.

Eaaaarly, early morning, August 28, 2012

We had rather a lot to do before this baby arrives, and because of all our hospital fun, there is only one week between bringing Livvy home and embarking on our own hospital adventure.  So we had to prioritize.

I took Leah on a date to see Beauty and the Beast yesterday, something I've been wanting to do since before the hospital.

We also needed to to stock the freezer, knowing that I'll have to be off my feet after surgery.  Casey and I spent about three hours yesterday stockpiling food.  We made 9 big meals - hopefully enough to feed even our big crew and still have left overs.

Because of the way our house is situated, the baby will have to share our room for the foreseeable future.  Eventually, we'll have to finish the basement so Jake can move down there.  Livvy will move out of the nursery and into Jake's room, and then the baby can move to the nursery.  Hopefully (ideally... maybe) sometime this summer (HA!  We'll see!).  For now, though, there was significant cleaning and organizing that had to happen in the Master bedroom.  Baby items that needed to come up from the basement, take a spin in the wash and get set up and ready to use.  Just general readiness, particularly since I'll be spending more time in that room with the baby after tomorrow.

I'd also been wanting to get a pedicure since.... I don't know.  Last year?  I was going to do it when Casey initially got home, but then the world got crazy.

Luckily, Jess offered to have one last best friend outing before this baby is born, so we took this afternoon to do that.

August 4, 2014

Which is when all the BIG fun really began.  Because, at about 2:30 this afternoon, I had a HUGE contraction.  Or, you know, a contraction that felt huge to me, because I've only just come to grips with the idea of NOT having any.  I was SO not in a space to have to have contractions!

I got through it.  One contraction... no big deal.

And then, before too long, another big contraction.

And before I knew it, we were tracking them.  10 minutes apart, solid and decently heavy labor contractions.  OY.

There was nothing left to do.  They were either going to go ahead, or stop (remember days and weeks of prodromal labor with Olivia?  Because... I DO!), so we went and did our toes.  And I am pretty sure my best friend was on the edge of a heart attack the entire time as the contractions went from 10 minutes, to 9, 8, 6, and 5 minutes apart.

She is so much smarter than I am, because I would have been yelling, "YOU'RE IN LABOR, YOU CRAZY FOOL!!!"  She kept her mouth shut until I actually asked for her opinion.  It was both scary and reassuring to watch her eyes well up with tears when she told me how much she didn't want me to repeat Logan's delivery.  She's been to all of mine.  She knows what I've been through.  I scared her four years ago when I couldn't get him out.  I scared her even more in the aftermath, when I was hemorrhaging and they were talking about doing a blood transfusion or taking me to surgery.  Luckily, neither of those came to pass, but she clearly remembers.

Yeah.  If I had any doubts about taking him C-section, there was no greater confirmation than in my best friend's face.

I came home and Casey convinced me to get in the bath.  I didn't know what to do.  Call the hospital and tell them I needed to do a c-section tonight?  Let it progress, wait and see?  

My water hadn't broken, and I hadn't yet crossed the great divide into what I would consider to be true labor, so I decided to lay down and take a nap.  I was still having some light contractions when I woke up, but they were noticeably less intense, although still coming about 6 minutes apart.  By 8:00, they had disappeared altogether.

Crisis averted.

So we went back to it: packing hospital bags, finalizing schedules, writing notes to the kids and organizing the few little gifts we'd bought for them to wake up to in the morning when Mommy and Daddy are gone.  

We're leaving for the hospital at 5:45... and there will be a baby very soon thereafter.  And I am so, so exited I can hardly stand it!

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Decision Tuesday

Oh, my sweet little son.

I am so happy you are in there.  So, so happy that you are safe, healthy and strong.

And... big.

I had another doctor appointment today.  Last week, during all the craziness and worries of hospitals and sick everybody, we had a glimmer of hope and good news: I was measuring - for the very first time pretty much this entire pregnancy - on schedule!  37 weeks exactly.  Waaahoo!!!

And, for the first time since week 33, I hadn't had any pre-labor scariness.  Very few contractions.  Less pressure on my downstairs.  No more weird discharge or losing of my mucus plug.  Despite the stress that was happening all around me, pregnancy-wise?  I felt better than I have in months.

But this week, well... I measured 41 weeks even though I'm 38.  This week, we did a size ultrasound that estimates he is 8lbs 13 oz.  His head was over the 100th percentile, estimated at 15 inches.  The ultrasound tech said that sometimes the estimates are wrong, but even allowing for that, she's confident he wouldn't be less than 8 and a half pounds if he were born today.

His ultrasound photo - which looked pretty good at 35 and a half weeks when it was clear and precise - looked unrecognizable today at 38 weeks.  She couldn't get a shot because he's so smashed in there.  He literally looks like he doesn't have a nose, it's that flat against his face, and his hand is inseparable from his head.  His ear is sticking out of his shoulder.  It was comical to watch her try to get any good photos.

Obviously there are women out there who can carry 9 or 10 pound babies; I am not those women!

After this news, the doctor asked me about  my preferences moving forward.  I answered immediately that we'd like to proceed as planned, and give natural a shot.  I wanted to do a membrane sweep to see if we could help give him a jump start so that he doesn't get too big, and she was willing to honor all of those requests.

However, now that we're definitely in the category of "big" baby, there were a few things she had to warn me about: 1) I would have to go into labor spontaneously prior to 41 weeks, and women with big babies can struggle to do that because the babies are so big, they don't engage in the pelvis. 2) The number one risk associated with birthing a big baby is shoulder dysplasia, which is one of the more dangerous complications on the delivery table.  Shoulder dysplasia is when the head has been born, but the shoulders are too large or get stuck behind the pelvis and significant intervention is called for to dislodge them.  There are a number of things they can try, but she had to warn me that if nothing works, they will break baby's arm and collar bone in order to get him out in those critical moments.

I talked to my husband.  I called my mom.  Both of them were pretty clear that I am crazy.  Why? they asked after I'd laid out the pro's and con's, Why are we even having this conversation?

And the more I thought rationally about it, the more it became obvious to me.  I've written here that I know my body, my pregnancies and my labors better than ever before.  Wanting with all my heart to change the rules of the game doesn't mean that suddenly my body will respond differently.

1) I already struggle - can't, in fact, to date do it on my own - to get baby's head to engage in the pelvis.  Now I have a baby whose physiology makes it extra difficult.

2) I vividly remember that desperate, hopeless feeling of having Logan stuck, and knowing with everything in me that I would not be able to get him out on my own.  It was one of the most awful feelings I have ever experienced in my entire life.  It was downright dangerous, and I swore I would never again put another child of mine in that position.

3) Shoulder dysplasia.  I mean, really?  I would never - could never - knowingly take a risk like that.  Not ever.  I understand that so much of hospital speak is CYA, that they have to inform me of this even if the risk is minuscule.  But, really?  It was over from those words.  I'd never knowingly put my baby in harm's way if I had it in me to control the outcome.

4) The very last straw was my own, dysfunctional body.  When the doctor attempted to sweep my membranes, my cervix was sitting so high that she couldn't reach it.  A combination of very uncomfortable shoving and  actually pushing down on the top of my uterus to bring it into range was the only way we finally accomplished it.  The lesson?  When I say "high up," I really, really mean it.  In fact, things were lower at 33 and 35 weeks and have progressed up rather than down.  Cool.

So, you've probably gotten there by now too...

We're going back for one more!  Which also means that we are having a baby on Friday!  Quite the nice way to bookend all these pregnancies, really.

It would be easy to feel a little sad that I am never going to have that natural labor I've sought for more than 7 years.  Instead, I'm feeling really happy.  He's going to come out.  He's going to be safe.  I have four beautiful, healthy children when 100 years ago - or perhaps even as little as 50 or 60 - I would almost certainly have lost them or died myself.  I'd never have gotten Leah out safely.  Game over right there.

We are so blessed - so very, very blessed - to welcome our beautiful man into the world.  I can't wait to see you on Friday, Baby Boy!

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

Some trials in life leave you beaten.  Broken.  Unable to endure the heavy weight of what you've had to carry, usually after a day or a moment so defining, the world simply looks different on the other side.

Other trials are softer.  Not so traumatic on the surface, yet the daily grind of walking through them  day by day, sometimes minute by minute, steals the joy and energy out of life and makes it feel... wearying.

Our family has been walking through the second kind.

It seems, in some ways, like we are continually waiting to get our feet back underneath us.  It is a slow process, like facing a never-ending hike through the desert.  We keep pushing, putting one foot in front of the other, but it is a slow trudge through unfriendly territory and we're all pretty desperate to soothe our blisters, find respite from the hot sun and have a drink of cool water.

These last few months have been a lot like that, as I've slowly watched my body become more and more overwhelmed and it became clear that I could do less and less.  With my mom here in these last few weeks, we were kind of in survival mode until Casey could come home and help relieve us.

He got home on Monday night (3/13) , and we all breathed a sigh of relief.  We had one great day on Tuesday, getting doctors appointments and long-standing baby errands out of the way.  We started the process of getting our feet underneath us.  We had a little girl's seventh birthday coming up over the weekend, and 9 months of baby stuff that all needed tending to over the next four or five weeks.  But it was do-able with two of us there to tackle it.

And then the coughing started.

By Wednesday night (3/15), it was clear that we were in for something else.  Casey and I took turns pulling nursing duty.  Leah skipped school on Friday, and we made the tough decision to cancel her birthday party as she was looking pretty bad.  By Saturday, both Leah and Logan had it, and I spent most of Saturday and Sunday night nursing two kids whose hacking coughs had them up literally all night long.

Monday morning (3/20), we took our little sickies to the pediatrician, where it was quickly determined that there was a bigger problem: Leah's oxygen was only at 86.  In other words, dangerously low.  The pediatrician finally convinced me how low when she told me that if it was her child, she wouldn't let her be in the car without oxygen even for the length of time it takes to get to the hospital.

So, an ambulance was called.  My baby was loaded into it. Off we went to Children's Hospital.

I am so lucky that we have worked hard to normalize doctors, police officers, firemen and ambulances.  We take them cookies several times a year, yell "THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE!" as they go by with their sirens blaring and regularly stop them at the grocery store to thank them as well.  It pays off, people, because Leah was not remotely scared of being in the ambulance.  Sick as she was, she lay there quietly and calmly and had sweet discussions with the firemen.  Mom, you see, was not allowed to sit in the back with her.

I didn't take any pictures of all the scary stuff - I didn't get my wits about me enough to take pictures until the third morning, by which she was mercifully looking much better.  Her O2 was low for the first 36 hours or so, and she required about 3 liters to keep her numbers north of 90.

It became clear very quickly that she was turning a corner.  She was still sick - viral pneumonia was the final diagnosis - but her numbers rebounded after 2 nights on oxygen and we were discharged on Wednesday afternoon (3/22).

We went home, exhausted (the hospital is not a place for anybody in their 36th week of pregnancy.  You can't sit.  You definitely can't lay.  You can't sleep.  Everything in me was sore and full of worry until she turned that corner) but so thankful that what she had was so easily treatable.  One of the respiratory therapists had passed on a list of classes and resources which also included "End of Life Transition" and "Sibling Therapy for End of Life"... it was humbling reminder of how easily we were taking our baby home.

Leah, Logan, and by this time, Casey and Olivia too were all in bad shape.  I spent Wednesday night going back and forth between the bedrooms, nursing children, giving breathing treatments, changing cold rags and trying to give Casey a chance to sleep and recoup.  I know that night, I didn't sleep at all until sometime after six a.m.

They all had a follow up appointment at the pediatrician the next morning, which Casey took them to so that I could sleep.

But it wasn't long before my phone was buzzing.  Livvy's O2 levels were at 83, and they needed me to pack a bag and come to the office.  We were about to repeat what we had just been through with Leah.

So off I went, watched her be taken out by stretcher and loaded onto an ambulance and we went to Children's North, supposedly for the same process big sister had just undergone.

It quickly became obvious that things were not going to be quite so neat and tidy.  She stayed Thursday night at Children's North, on three liters of oxygen as sister had been, and she was getting worse, not better.  The decision was made to transport her to the main campus, and off we went in an ambulance again.

Poor little pumpkin.  When she got there, we climbed the intervention ladder quickly.  First, they upped her 02 from three to eight.  That didn't work.  They put her on the next level intervention: heated high flow at 8.  That didn't work.  Next, they went to a pressurized oxygen mask called a Bi PAP.  The next step was a breathing tube... fortunately, by the time they got the BiPAP turned all the way up, she was getting some relief.

Meanwhile, I was taking a turn for the worse.  This was Friday - 37 weeks pregnant, coming down with whatever nastiness the kids had, and having slept something like 12 hours in six days.

It was determined that Livvy would be going to the ICU, and if I thought the regular hospital was inhospitable to pregnant ladies, the ICU was even worse.  No in-room bathrooms.  Constant monitoring.  A crib instead of a bed, so I had to be on my feet even to support her.  I was done.  And terrified.  What if Baby Boy should happen to make his appearance in the middle of this mess?  What would happen to him?  I was sick.  Dad was sick.  All his siblings were sick - enough to end up in the ICU!  I couldn't even begin to think of how awful it would be.

Thankfully, my mom stepped in to give us some relief.  She bought a box of masks and came - again - to run my house and care for my kids so that Casey could go to the hospital and take ICU duty and I could come home and attempt to rest and care for myself and the baby.

God bless that husband of mine.  God bless that mother of mine.

I came home late Friday night.  In tears.  I cannot describe how deeply it hurt me to leave my precious baby behind me, inside that hospital because mommy wasn't strong enough to keep going.  I knew my body was beyond what it could handle.  I knew I was getting sick and had to stop and care for myself.  I knew I was 37 weeks pregnant.  I knew Casey would take excellent care of her.  AND... it broke my heart to be leaving my sweetheart in her time of need.

It was awful.  

She had already been given an IV.  We were already on a regular deep suctioning schedule.  They would add to that fun a feeding tube, continual EKG monitoring, blood pressure cuff, pulse-ox sensor and the full-time BiPAP mask.  Poor little sweetheart.

Meanwhile, Leah had started an antibiotic that turned things around miraculously for her.  She'd had no improvement in her symptoms for nearly 10 days; she started on an antibiotic and in 24 hours she was showing significant signs of improvement.

Logan was still coughing much of the way through the night and unable to find relief.  I was getting worse all the time.  And had given myself pinkeye in both eyes, because I am absolutely stupid.  I had been wearing masks all week at the hospital with the girls, but it never occurred to me to seal those babies up along the nose and cheek line.  So all week, as I was getting sick, I was breathing those germs directly up and into my own eyes.  Say it with me people: DUH.

Sunday morning, I went to the doctor.  And, mercifully, was given a good regimen: antibiotic for pink eye and sinus infection, steroid for bronchitis.  If this baby was coming, I HAD to get well.  I had to have some peace of mind that at least he would be safe in the arms of his own mother.  I didn't know where we would go or how we would figure out any of the next steps, but I couldn't risk giving my little guy something with his first breaths that could literally kill him.

On Sunday, my sister showed up unexpectedly as I was getting ready to go to the doctor.

My cavalry.

In the absolute kindest, most generous and wonderful act of service anyone has ever done for me... she cleaned my house. 

Cleaned it from top to bottom.  She put toys in the washing machine and in the dishwasher to sterilize them.  She sprayed and scrubbed every single hard surface: banisters, cabinet fronts, every piece of furniture, baseboards, in between banister railings, window tracks and as many of the walls as she could reach.  She wiped every fan blade and ran all the curtains on a hot cycle in the dryer. She washed all the sheets and every blanket and pillow in our entire house. That woman was determined that I have peace of mind and know that - whatever else might happen - at least my house was safe and germ free for the little guy of ours.

Holy moly.

It's hard to explain in words, but she literally brought light and life back into our home.  Walking by Livvy's empty room hurt my heart.  But after Kelsey got her hands on it?  Suddenly it felt like we were anticipating her return instead of mourning her absence.  Instead of feeling sad and overwhelmed, I felt hopeful again for the first time in days.  That clean, fresh house said: everything is going to be okay.

Livvy was still dicey, but by Monday morning she began showing signs of improvement. They disconnected a few of the bigger items (IV, feeding tube) and began weaning her down from the high level interventions to lower ones.  On Tuesday, they moved her out of ICU and into a regular hospital room.

We petitioned our pediatrician to give us the same antibiotic for Logan that had worked so well for Leah.  I was showing signs of improvement, and went to relieve Casey so that he could go to the doctor and have a full night's rest at home.  My mom continued to man the fort, and somehow, everyone was getting through.

I have to mention: I am so humbled by the responses of my children through this whole ordeal.  We've worked really hard with them to help them practice self-control from a young age; to understand that sometimes in life we have to do painful and hard things, but throwing fits, screaming and crying just doesn't help.  They are not usually squeamish about things like getting shots, they love the dentist and their doctor and they all take the attitude that there isn't anything to be afraid of.  Logan literally had his tooth extracted and shed only one single, silent tear.  They're tough.

Our kids were absolute champions in the hospital.  Both of them, but particularly Olivia.  Every single nurse we had commented, in genuine awe, about the fact that she is so obedient, strong and willing to sit still and allow them to do those awful things to her.  She would cry, and she would tell them how much she didn't want them to do it.  And as long as the doctors and nurses would go slowly, validate her protests and tell her what they were about to do, we almost never had to forcibly hold her down for any of the procedures she had to endure.  She would willingly lie down, squeeze my hand and look in my eyes, and be comforted through these awful procedures.  It was truly amazing.  And so humbling that such a tiny girl is even capable of that kind of poise and self control.

They were both amazing in the hospital, and everyone did just as well at home.  There was serious disruption to every single aspect of their lives, and they not only got through it but did so with flying colors.  I could not have been more proud of the way this family pulled together.  We needed so much support, but our village rallied around us in a really huge way: meals, house cleaning, cards and messages and prayers, my mom giving up everything - her entire week and everything she had planned - to help us when we needed it most.

It was a really difficult experience.  Some of the most difficult, uncertain, scary and emotional weeks of my adult life.  But there were also so, so many tender mercies.  Starting with the fact that Casey was home to begin with - this was the trip he cancelled because the baby was measuring so huge.  I didn't go into labor (thank goodness), but it was worth all that uncertainty from the previous weeks to have him here with me.  We absolutely couldn't have done it without him.

And, on Friday (3/31) - 9 days after she left - we got to welcome our little Olivia home.  We were all back under the same roof for the first time, really in two weeks.

I could not have been happier, more relieved or more grateful.  I cried all day that day.  Tears of joy and gratitude.  There is such great peace in having all the little duckies back in the nest; in knowing that we were all safe, healthy (for the most part) and together.

Liv is still on oxygen through the night and at nap times, but it is only a quarter of a liter.  She has a follow up appointment on Monday, and we'll see if she gets the same antibiotic that has been so helpful for everybody else in this house.

And now... after literally months of waiting, of marking time, of overcoming obstacles... we can begin to go forward.  I am 38 weeks pregnant, so how far we'll get remains to be seen.  But I'll get to sleep in the same bed as my husband for the first time in almost three months.  We'll get to enjoy our family, together.  And, we'll get to do a few of those things that will help us choose joy and celebrate the little person who is joining our family.

It has been a wild ride.  One we're thankful to say we can put behind us.

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