sunday still life

 

Sunday Still Life is an evolving photo project started by Erin. It’s an invitation to explore the beauty and depth of life through traditional still life composition and / or photos and words to evoke inner stillness and reflection. If you feel so inspired, join in!

This shot right here, well I’m mighty proud of this sprite! That lolly she is holding is her first. She got it as a prize for her first week of potty training at school! Lil bit is holding her own in the 2 year old classroom at school. One of the many reasons we love the school our girls go to is they do potty training in the 2 year old classroom. Ms. Chrystal is the best!  When Zuzu wen through this class I remember after the first few weeks she showed me a potty chart covered in pink star stickers and proclaimed it as hers. I pointed out it belonged to another little girl and which one was actually hers- the one with only 3 stickers. She was upset. But then the next week went to town and rarely looked back.

About a year ago Lovey wanted to get out the little potty so that the Quail could start getting used to the idea. I balked. I reasoned that she wouldn’t be in Ms. Chrystal’s until next fall. But we went ahead and got it out anyway. And I’m so glad we did. Going into the class and her official training she was able to let others know she had to go, to pee and poop in the potty, flush her potty and throw her old diaper away. She’s got a ways to go, she still struggles with not falling over when she tries to undress or redress for it. But I know she’ll get there- and in a fairly compatible timetable as her classmates.

After the first week of “official” training she left friday afternoon with a good dozen stars on her chart and her first “prize”. Way to fly little bird!

Quailday: Make some noise!

 

She’s working on it. I swear she’s gotta be about the only kid in the history of this planet whose parents voluntarily hand her a horn multiple times a day and crow, “More! Louder! Again!” and clap and hug and dance around their child’s joyful noise. You may remember a couple of months ago, when I posted the last update on how the Quail is doing developmentally. The illustrious vocal guru, Sara Rosenfeld Johnson had declared that the Quail had strengthened up 3 of the 4 necessary componants for speech but was sorely lacking in one main area- volitional airflow. Those that see the Quail regularly would probably beg to differ. She’s not quiet. No ma’am. But the sounds she routinely vocalizes are sounds that she can open her mouth and let fly. When she has to manipulate the muscles in her mouth in a specific pattern AND force air out on purpose- we’re met with a quiet bird. This has become even more apparant as we try to track the actual words she routinely says clearly. A year ago I had made this list and when I shared it with Sara she was pretty concerned at the exponential rate that her signing was outpacing her saying. We had worked hard and her strength was now good. It’s that darn volitional airflow. What is volitional airflow? The simplest example is this, bubbles. Can you blow them? Either chewing gum or soap bubbles? The Quail can’t. On an everyday example, what this means for her is that when she is able to actually speak a word clearly and work through the difficulty of motor planning by trying again and again, it comes out in a whisper. A tiny, tiny breath of a word. You have to be holding her and listening for it or you would miss it.

So to help with this we look for fun activities that she has to learn to blow to do. Things where she has to round her lips and that she’ll then get a response with her tiny, soft breath. A few weeks ago she managed to make a few bubbles. We learned that the smaller wand openings are easier because they require less air for the bubble to form. Right now, it’s on accident that the bubble forms. It’s on her exhale if the wand is still there that a tiny little pearl of air will deligtedly make it’s way in front of her.

And now this horn you see above. It’s a pre-heirarchy horn. It takes very little air to make a toot. Which shows what a challenge this is for our girl. Even the soft exhale isn’t enough to make a sound. But in the last two weeks, she’s gotten it, this tiny, soft TWEET! when she’s super excited and riled up and we hand her the horn. It’s not the order we were supposed to go in. We followed the packet directions and got stuck for weeks on getting a specific “heh” sound out of her. She says the word, but doesn’t breathe it. So we backed up and clapped and cheered when the “heh” sound naturally came out during her bounce-tastic Rody rides. And just started handing her the horn whenever she was riled up.

Tweet-Tweet!!!!! It’s a birthday party daily here folks! Bring your party horn and join in!

Quailday: Quailie, Quailie, quite contrary, how do you grow?

This past weekend it was time again for one of my favorite bittersweet mommies activities. Time to put up the clothes the girls have outgrown and pull out the next size up. Zuzu was a quick little wildflower. She shot up so fast that she’s been in a few of her 5Ts since sometime shortly after her 3rd birthday. The first time I took her newborn clothes from the wooden, floral-patterned drawer and nestled them into a clear tub it gave me a pang in my heart. She would never be this size again.No matter how many pictures and videos I took, this time was fleeting and I knew I needed to try to soak it in no matter how tired I was. Zuzu being the little fashionista, took to these quarterly bundling of her clothes in great stride though, and it was usually a cheerful Sunday afternoon that we would spend sorting the clothes and marching her well-loved but outgrown rainbow of a wardrobe up to the attic.

Then I along came a positive pregnancy test announcing the Quail’s decent into our hearts. Over the next 9 months I rummaged through my favorites, while Zuzu did her best to wiggle back into them. It became fairly common to find the 2-year-old squeezed back into the newborn and 3-6 months baby clothes. Drawers were set aside for the Quail and we happily filled them with her newborn bundling. We were a lucky little family.  While we had our dears a little later in life than most, we reaped the benefit of our friends favorites memories as their tidings came wrapped in brown paper to fill our dressers. We were so grateful.

When I was 8 months pregnant with the Quail, the more frank OB of the practice we used stopped beating around the bush and announced that I needed a level 2 ultrasound because he was concerned that the soft markers we had seen in both of  my pregnancies might mean Down syndrome this time. Judging by the serious look on his face, I quickly agreed and scheduled the appointment. I didn’t take Lovey with me. We had been through this all before and it had turned out just fine. As I sat down with Dr. Grieg after the lengthy ultrasound, he asked after my husband, surprised I hadn’t brought him along. I listened to his discussion of the technical details they were able to discern this time; the shortened femurs and tibia, the hydronephrosis and the key that hadn’t been noted earlier- the absent nasal bone. He then ran through the list of other markers they had been looking for, but due to her size were unable to see in-utero. He cautioned that there would be a need for a thorough examination once she was born and formal chromosomal testing as he couldn’t really tell from what he had been able to see. He said that odds were in our favor because she was a girl, and Ds was less common in girls, her heart and brain looked anatomically correct and that she could just be a genetic match for our Zuzu- and worst case scenario- she may just be short like her sister. At that, my tears dried up and I chuckled out loud. No one had ever called Zuzu short. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I called Lovey and my mom on the way home and I could hear the tears in my voice as I passed on the warning. Later as I opened an email from dear Renee that was sent in response to my news, I teared up again as I read her sweet vote of confidence that Lovey and I would be just the parents this child needed, no matter how she came packaged.

A few weeks later she came bursting into our world, 8 lbs, 12 ozs, just a few shy of the 9 lbs 1 oz predicted two days earlier on ultrasound. She was a soft sack of sugar, but certainly not a small one. The pediatricians looked her over and pronounced their confusion. A karyotype would be ordered but they weren’t really sure what it would say. They gave us literature on Down syndrome that told us again and again how small this person of ours was predicted to be. At her first pediatrician’s check-up they shared the Down syndrome growth charts with us so we would no what to expect in terms of size. They told us she wouldn’t grow very much. While she was on the standard charts now, we should expect her to fall of them shortly. 

And she grew. We visited the cardiologist. He told us she had a ventricular septal defect, but he couldn’t predict if she would need open-heart surgery to repair it, or if it might close on its own. He said we would know the need for surgery; because she wouldn’t grow.

As the first year passed and her weight slowly climbed, she stretched into her sister’s old clothes and we marked the passing of the newborn and infant size clothes. We packed them up and toted them to our attic just like before.

Shortly after her first birthday, our occupational therapist mentioned that another therapist on the team that had been at the last staffing had recommended she get a swallow study and Upper GI done. They wanted to know why it hadn’t been done already since she threw up daily. We answered simply, our doctor wasn’t concerned because she was growing. The Upper GI showed that she had an obstruction in her duodenum. She had an opening only the size of the tip of a pen through which to push her food through. Somehow though, she managed it, and she grew.

Once that was repaired, we entered into a larger spacing out of her cardiology checks. They said it was fine to go longer between because she was growing so well. She was on the low end of the standard charts, but still on there. A year ago; the cardiologist took a lesson from our frank OB and told us that the most likely path for us was that we would come back in a year for a check, and assuming everything was the same, we would schedule open-heart surgery for 2012.

We went home with heavy hearts, picturing our little bird being handed over to the surgeon in such a short time. The next year when we went back, we were shocked to realize we had misunderstood him. He meant literally- if she was the same- same height, same weight- we would schedule surgery. But she wasn’t- once again she had grown.

Inspite all of the predictions for what she was capable of- our Quail grew.

So this past weekend, I grinned a wide grin as I trudged up to our hot attic to spy the box of 3T shirts and shorts and size 6 shoes that it was time to bring down for our 2 year old. Sure her femurs are still a little small, and the size 6 shoes were stored in the 18-24 month box of Zuzu’s clothes. But they were there, waiting for her, and it makes my heart sing when Zuzu sees her old clothes and announces, “Momma, I remember those, those were mine when I was just a little bit smaller? The Quail- she’s just like me but a little bit smaller, right Momma?”

Right Zuzu. Right, indeed.

sunday still life

Sunday Still Life is an attempt to capture the beauty and the depth of busy days in a slow and simple way. If you feel inspired, join Erin,  here. Keep it slow. Keep it simple.

We just had figured out that the Quail was big enough to ride this little trike. Not only did she stay on for the ride, she managed to climb off and then strut proudly off to a “Stayin Alive” style toddle as her biggest fans cheered her on. Way to go Quail-ee!

Quailday: Best. News. Ever.

Bless her dear heart as we head to the pediatric cardiologist this morning…

Updates:

If I could add our grinning mugs to this post I would do so! We had the best news possible; truly a gift, a blessing, a new lease on life.

No, the hole has not closed. But, it’s smaller. Her heart remains perfectly symmetrical. There is no leakage, no congestion, no decline in her growth and development. In other words no congestive heart failure. No effect on her little body from this tiny hole.

I’ve never been tickled to have a doctor start a sentence with, “I’m not entirely confident…” except when that sentence ends with my new favorite phrase, “…that intervention will even be necessary.”

Last year at this appointment, he told us that if she still had a hole this summer, the plan would be to schedule our pre-op with MUSC to have the VSD closed. This year he said, that he honestly hadn’t expected her to grow at all. She remains in the middle of her growth charts. Her color is good. Her breathing is even. Her energy is high. He said there isn’t a pediatric cardio-thoracic surgeon around that he could convince to intervene right now.

Best. News. Ever.

The plan is to continue annual follow-ups and when she is 5 we will re-assess if intervention may be necessary. He said when he met us he couldn’t foresee a future where we wouldn’t be intervening. He thought we would have had to by now. Now, he can see the glimmer of that possible future. He said, and this is speculation; but last fall, when she suddenly became a full-force toddler: smarter, faster, stronger, energetic and motivated; that she probably had crossed a threshold where the impact of the VSD on her system went from significant, to not so much. We didn’t imagine it.

This little bird started flying.

And we’re going to soar with her.

Fly, Quail-ee Fly!

Oh- and Bless Dora the Explorer and her pal Boots along with the folks at General Mills Cheerio factory for keeping our bird still long enough to let us get a good picture of her pretty, pumping heart.

We’re eternally grateful.

And thank you dear Dr. Lucas.

Quailday

Apparently in my world, soon means about 3 months!  This bird has had a lot of change in the last few months. Good and perplexing. The history of photos shows that since the day after her birthday she has taken to two-leggedness! We are thrilled and have our haz-mat gear at the ready to undo what this child can do in a matter of minutes. Need your cupboard unpacked? Done. Need your trashcan full of dirty diapers bathed? Done. Need your basket of snacks set out for the cat? Done. You get the picture. She is mobile and in. to. everything. Lovey had a good explanation recently to one of our friends, Zuzu is rambunctious. The Quail is mischievous. If you don’t believe me, just squat down to her eye level and make a request. It will be met with a glimmer in her eye before she does an about face and runs away, or she’ll simply smack you. Of course if the latter is the case, no worries- she’s the first to notice someone’s tears, from across the house, sign sad and go running to hug them. She’s all about the feelings this girl.

Also she is the proud owner of a full set of pearly chompers now. During the teething process she developed a thumb chewing habit, that has left it’s battlescars. You can hear her moaning along with the rhythmic chewing from anywhere in the house. We try to intercede and offer somewhat tastier options. If we forget to offer an alternative and simply state, “No chew!” She responds with a big grin, the aforementioned twinkle in her eye, and proceeds to stuff her whole hand in her mouth. Nice. But the teeth are hear now, she loves to brush them and we’re hopeful she’ll make it through this phase with all 10 fingers attached, if a little worse for the wear.

Oral motor wise she is sailing along. She had her most recent program plan update in early May with the famed Sara Rosenfeld Johnson; who incidentally moved her practice from across the country to within 4 hours of us! It went swimmingly and the Quail has made amazing progress since last fall. The thing that is missing at this point for speech is volitional airflow. She definitely tries to talk now, and she rounds her lips and she has recently started responding when we ask her to say something on command and her signing vocabulary is awesome. But it is still extremely challenging to get her to repeat a sound consistently the more she thinks about it.

She knows what’s in front of her. The girl does excellent identifying everyday items, foods, colors, different sizes, clothes, body parts, animals and people. And she can tell you what she wants. But she can’t blow- she can’t force air from her body. She now has the strength to talk. She’s chomped her way through the oral motor strengthening exercises. She does well holding her tongue in her mouth. When it’s out it’s because she means it to be, rest assured. She cognitively understands what you want her to do. And she gets furious when it’s hard for her. But she’s determined and we’ve added some new  apraxia tricks to our repertoire including the illustrious Renee Roy Hill; apraxia bilabial shapes to add a kinesthetic approach to sound. During the meeting with Sara we broke out the shape for M sounds and were thrilled when we got an immediate mmmmmmm from the Quail. We had not been able to get her to consistently make this sound with either visual or auditory prompts. Needless to say we bought the full kit and are getting ready to move on through the alphabet. We are also working on our huh and hoo sounds. While Sara’s approach would thrill any physical therapist, Lovey has also had slightly more, um, musical approaches to encouraging her speech including a little Sam Cooke  for the huh and hah sounds and a little Chicken Payback for the ooo-ooo-ooo lip rounding exercises. Sara has a pre-heirarchy we are working through to get to the pre-horn! We’re pre-pre! Fortunately Zuzu thinks it’s all neat and is tickled to model any and all activities asked.

Now for the concerning update. She got sick a lot her first winter as you know (RSV, pneumonia, in daycare so regular colds) and she refluxes a lot- a happy spitter though- no pain cries. We eventually got her on zantac. That didn’t fix it so then prevacid. We found out when she was 15 mos with a swallow study and upper GI that she had a duodenal stenosis and she had surgery to repair it last year at this time. She also went on thickened liquids a month pre-surgery. At that time nectar thick.

She did well for a number of months and then last October we went to get a new swallow study in preparation for a Sara update to see if we could stop the thickened liquids. We were told that whereas in the first swallow study they saw penetration (liquid going near the air tubes but not in), this time they saw aspiration and we needed to move up to honey thick. They explained it that as her anatomy grew it would start a learning curve of using her muscles again and again with each growth spurt and that we couldn’t do any active “swallowing exercises” tills she was developmentally 10-12 years old. The SRJ oral-motor strengthening stuff would help the mouth but not the swallow delay and weak peristalsis that pushes the food down.

So she does well and then a couple of months ago she started refluxing more frequently. Probably about 3-4 times a week she would come home with a change in clothes and school would average about 2-3 Tbsp came up.

So we went back to the Ped GI a couple of weeks ago and they ordered a new Upper Gi, Swallow study (which is next week) and upped her prevacid to 1 melt tab in the am. and 1/2 in the evening.

The Uppper GI brought up a whole new round of concerns. I wanted it to look at the surgical site and make sure that there was no new blockage or problem with the surgical site. That was fine.This time he focused on lower and started to express concern about potential intestinal malrotation. He called the surgeon to ask what they saw when they went in last year and the result was, “her intestinal anatomy is just a little different”. The GI said that if it was intestinal malrotation we would have been sent to surgery like the previous year so not to worry. That since there weren’t any significant complications from it we wouldn’t go back in to surgery. They said there was also a mild gastric emptying delay and they felt that this was responsible for her bad reflux. They said that the food sitting longer in the stomach was causing gastric irritation and thus bad reflux. They said after she has been on the increased Prevacid dose for a couple of weeks we would evaluate to see if we need to add a low dose of erythromyacin to speed up the stomach emptying. They had also said to be certain that she has the prevacid 20-30 minutes prior to eating.

I talked to the nurse again last week and she clarified that it has to be no throwing up in order to be considered successful and not move on to a new treatment. I also found out I’ve also been giving it to her wrong- I’ve been letting her chomp it. The throwing up is better but it still happens and in almost 3 weeks she’s come home with having thrown up 4 times. I’ve also just heard her reflux 5 times. So better- but not gone. Still 2-3 TBS of throw up each time. We’ve also switched to us thickening her liquid at home and sending it in that way so that there is no question of if the liquid was too thin and she just can’t control where it goes. Last week I got some advice that has made the prevacid super easy. Now we put the melttab in a spoon, add a drop of water, wait a second or two then let her eat it off the spoon. It melts and she gets all of it. Since that change last week she’s only thrown up once and refluxed twice. So I’m hopeful we’re on the right track.

I also just don’t know how to be sure we’re getting adequate care. I can’t believe she’s this old and we’re still finding out stuff this basic- that her anatomy just isn’t organized normally!

At the last GI visit 2 weeks ago they said that she now has a slightly enlarged liver and they felt it was due to the pressure differential from her VSD and once that was repaired the liver should return to normal without long-standing side effects. Well her next echo is scheduled for 7/7. I called the ped card to ask if we need to move up that visit. It’s at this one that if she still had a VSD (which she obviously still does) that we were planning to schedule her pre-op visit for next spring and open-heart surgery for the repair. I’m wondering if this is reason to move up that timeline and also if the VSD can be related to the sluggish intestinal track and if any of that will improve when she gets a repair. The GI nurse thought it wasn’t related. I thought I had heard people on here talking about open heart surgery and its effect on reflux- but I need to go back search for those posts.

I tell ya- the Ds, is nothing. I get it. I can work with it. It’s this other anatomy stuff that scares me and makes me feel helpless to know what to do for her. But the main thing is we’re working on it, and we’ll figure it out.

We’re just lucky she’s so dang charming- see for yourself!

Mommaday: those tenderhearted milestones

You know the ones I’m talking about. The first time you see your child, the first time they look into your eyes, the first time they tell you they love you. Well imagine the overwhelming pride and love you feel when that happens coupled by the genetic similarity of both of your children reaching it in the same way. As the parent of a child with special needs you often hear up and coming parents lamenting their fear that their child won’t know them. Will never call them Momma, won’t care for them anymore than anyone else. Well folks. I’ve said it before and I get to say it again. Your child will know you. You will have those tender moments in one form or another. And when you see your children reach it in a similar way, you’ll smile at your unexpected genetic prowess.

The milestone here I couldn’t have predicted, read about in a baby development book or dreamt of involves the first time my dears verbally recognized me as their Momma and a separate entity from them. When Zuzu was about 9 months old and dreadfully sick with an ear infection her fever shot up, as they tend too in the middle of the night. She snuffled quietly as we ran the cool tub hoping it would drop the raising temperature. The moment we set her hot little self in the cool water she shreaked out her very first “MOMMMMMAAAAAAA!” in pure unadulterated anger.

This past friday the Quail and I sat on the kitchen floor with an informal dinner that she was nearing the end of. I had a baggie that contained the 3 left-over chicken nuggets from a previous dinner. She had finished her first and I was reaching in to get the next when Zuzu sidled up and helped herself to the third nugget. The Quail hath no fury, like a woman whose stomach has been betrayed. She bellowed her newly acquired “TOPPPPPP!!!!!” and held out her palm ala crossing guard. When that ceased to make her sister return the nugget, she looked furiously at me chuckling at her outrage and turned the wrath of her palm on me and bellowed clear as day:

 “YOU!!!!! TOPPPPP!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes. your children will know you. And despise you.