~2007~

P.S. Is there white stuff there, where [...]]]>

We’re back here again.

I’ve grown quite used to the signs at this point. Short, shallow breaths, coughing, wheezing, and watching what looks like his tiny heart try to leap out [...]]]> It’s dark. It’s quiet. The alarms have finally shut off and the only sound in the room is the hollow echo of my sweet boy’s painful breaths.

We’re back here again.

I’ve grown quite used to the signs at this point. Short, shallow breaths, coughing, wheezing, and watching what looks like his tiny heart try to leap out from his chest.

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I thought it would get easier. Each time he slips his finger into the pulse oximeter, I get a tiny knot inside my throat. I pray quietly to myself, trying hard not to show signs of my fear.

But after two back to back Nebulizer treatments and a dose of oral steroids, the inevitable was at hand and here we are.

Day three.

As I hear myself say those words, I can’t help but feel exhausted. And what a selfish feeling to possess at this point.

Zachary has been fighting for his life the past four days and I have the nerve to make this about me. But sitting here in the blackness and reflecting on the days progressions and setbacks, I feel so alone.

His last attack that lead to Hospitalization was back in December. At four, he was having nothing to do with the tubing that delivers his oxygen. All night long, he would fight me and the nurses by ripping out his tubes. Which, then would lead to loud, obnoxious alarms from his drop in blood oxygen.

This time around, my little guy is a Pro. He understands fully now the importance the oxygen plays, the difference it makes in his breathing.

He has grown independent and brave. He’s been forced to. Since he was 18 months, this is what he’s known.

I don’t know awfully too many 5 year olds who can tell you what Bronchial tubes are.
Or what Pulsox is.

And through it all, he never complains. Granted, we all get the pleasure of witnessing his wild mood swings. But it’s a small price. He puts up with the helpless and scary feelings that no mother would wish upon her child.

And I think that’s what scares me the most. I don’t want him to feel “comfortable” with feeling uncomfortable.

A mother wants to know her childs fears, his hurts and she wants to make them better. Even when she knows that she can’t.

I’m not one to ask for help. I tend to sit idly by, waiting for it to arrive on it’s own.
But right now, I think I feel the most helpless that I have ever felt. I can talk and I can talk. But everyone around me has already heard it.
I feel like I’m playing tennis all by myself. I keep serving but nothing is ever returned.

I’m scared. Beyond belief.
A feeling that, as a Self-professed Anal Retentive Control Freak, does not appeal to me nor does it come naturally.

For the time being, Zach cannot leave the hospital because without his oxygen, his levels just drop too low to be safely sent home.

Just shallow breathes for now.

So, please send some healthy and thoughtful deep breathes of fresh air our way. We could certainly use them.

Me: “Yes…..”

Zach: “Who killed him, mommy?”

Me: “Nobody killed him sweetie, he had cancer.”

Zach: (in deep thought) “Beau [...]]]> Zach: “Mommy! That doggie’s name is Beau! We had a doggie named Beau, remember? But he died.”

Me: “Yes…..”

Zach: “Who killed him, mommy?”

Me: “Nobody killed him sweetie, he had cancer.”

Zach: (in deep thought) “Beau didn’t smoke!”

Since Zoe was a baby, I have always taken the kids photos myself. I really see no point in paying someone else, who doesn’t really know my child, to capture them on film.I would much rather have the job, myself.

Each picture reveals their own special personality.

for the past couple weeks, our little 2 year old man has been taking a wack at the potty-training gig.aside from the daily [...]]]>
this is the new “view” from our tribunal throne.
just outside the frame, is a laundry basket where all the accidents and near misses are contained. (didn’t think y’all would appreciate a picture of that.)

for the past couple weeks, our little 2 year old man has been taking a wack at the potty-training gig.
aside from the daily drawbacks, it is going well. especially, considering his 4 year old predecessor just flat-out refused to do his “dooties” in the toilet when he was training.
for a month, straight, cleaning underwear was a daily ritual. but we soldiered on and persevered.
keeping that in mind, this current potty training stint is a breeze.

Zander has mastered #1 on the list but #2, however, is a work in progress.
today was actually the very first day he had NO accidents.
I am ecstatic! I would be absolutely thrilled to pieces if we never had to buy a box of diapers again in our life!

the sad thing is, Jason pointed out to me the other day that, this will be the very first time in over six years that we won’t have to buy diapers!
I can’t decide yet, whether that’s wonderful or just plain scary.
my dear husband has already pointed out the fact that by the time I delivered our third child, I had been pregnant almost half the time we had known each other.
(I did consider having my name legally changed to Fertile Myrtle.)

I promised Zander that once he has used the potty for a solid week without many accidents, we will have a potty party. which, he has informed me, will include ice cream and gum.
Zachary had a potty party, so I think it only fair that Zander also get one.

let’s all keep our finger’s crossed that he can keep up to par for the next few weeks.
I would even settle for a Bogey.

pssst…..here’s a sneaky peaky of [...]]]> “while they play Etsy shop opening soon!”

pssst…..here’s a sneaky peaky of some items….