My babies are 7 weeks old now. I can't believe how time flies! They are both over 8-1/2 pounds, and healthy and growing like little piggies. Aidan is in love with them, calls both of them "We-bett-ee". If I say, "that's not Rebekah!" He'll say, "Gracie!!!" only it sounds like "Ricie!!" He wants to kiss and love on them all the time. All. The. Time. I prayed that he would love them, and that them being in his life would be a good, positive thing, and so far, it seems as if that prayer has been answered. He doesn't quite "get it" yet, that we let sleeping babies sleep... but, I would rather him love them too much, than to resent them.
My little boy will be 3 years old in five days. It doesn't even seem possible, he should still be tiny like the girls!! He's so into firetrucks right now. EVERYTHING that is either red or a big truck, is a firetruck to him. I want to try to find a Wilton's firetruck cake pan, for his birthday cake. Either that, or I'll freehand one on a sheet cake. Ack! The thought of all that red icing! My hands will stay red for a year!
From Aidan's birthday until July 6th, will be a sad time for me. Starting the day after Aidan's birthday, I'll be in the time period where, two years ago, I still thought all was perfect in my world. Exactly 3 weeks after Aidan turned 1, my whole world turned upside down. Landon was born, and it was bad. That's not the way a baby's birth day should be. That was almost a mantra I repeated over and over through that time, "It's not supposed to be like this. Being a Mommy of 2 isn't supposed to be like this." But, it was like that. That was my reality. My baby was born dying. I got to be the mommy of 2 for exactly 2 weeks. I was still a mommy of 2, after Landon died, but, how do you mother a dead baby? I can't take care of him. I can't buy him toys. I can't do things for him. In fact, the only thing I can do is remember him, and live my life so that I will see him again. I thank God for that. Part of wanting to write this blog, was my desire to keep him from being forgotten.
Now on to the hips. Rebekah was breech throughout the entire pregnancy. My pediatrician ordered an ultrasound of her hips to be done at 6 weeks of age. I took her last Friday (a week ago). I hadn't even been home a full hour when the ped's office was calling. The nurse I talked to said that the scan showed issues with both hips that needed immediate treatment. She had already made Bekah an appointment with the orthpedic specialist on Monday. I freaked out. She wouldn't answer any questions, just kept saying, "you'll have to wait til Monday." I love my pediatrician, but his support staff sucks. No compassion.
Monday came and we took my tiny little baby. The office was at Miami Valley South. Thank God there's the south campus, I really don't think I could have taken another of my babies to Miami Valley main campus. So, I was so nervous I was shaking. My knees didn't want to work, to get me onto the elevator. I was picturing casts, surgery, wheelchairs.... Here's the reality of it:
She has a mild case of dysplasia. Her hips are NOT dislocated. Her socket is just a bit shallow, and this harness will help deepen it, and get the ball joint back where it needs to be. She has to wear that thing 24 hours a day, only off for diaper changes, dressing, bathing, and "OCCASIONALLY" washing it. He stressed occasionally, because the more time she spends in it, the sooner her hip will be better, and she won't have to wear it any more. I take her back for an ultrasound in 2 weeks. If it has resolved, then she'll only wear it at night, and that will last 6 weeks, then she'll be done. If it isn't resolved, then we'll repeat again in 2 more weeks, and so on.
The PA who treated her, asked why Gracie wasn't scanned. I said because she wasn't breech? He told us that was only one risk factor, and she meets all the same ones as Bekah, except for being breech. So, I take Gracie this afternoon for her scan. I pray her hips are normal. This harness is breaking my heart. Nobody wants to be told there's something wrong with their kids, but after you've lost one, then everything seems much worse. On the other hand, after what I saw Landon live through, I keep telling myself, "at least it's just a hip. It could be her brain. Or lungs. Or heart. Or brain." (it was Landon's brain, you see.)
Losing my little boy has definitely tinted how I view the world. I'm so appreciative of every minute I have here with my babies. I am so tolerant of their cries, they don't bother me a bit. I see mom's on a baby board I belong to, griping about their babies crying. It hurts, because I had one that couldn't cry. I'm so thankful that they CAN cry, and I wish everyone could be grateful when they hear their babies cry, that's a sign that the baby is most likely fine.
A double *Rainbow*
My life is good.