Max playing quietly in the pediatric waiting room

Taking a wagon ride around the surgery center

Coming off the anethesia in daddy's arms

Sleepy boy proving that purple isn't just for girls

Max’s surgery (circumcision correction and penis straightening) was a success!  A success in every sense of the word.  Success #1 is that our little guy was a total rockstar during the over two hours that he had to wait for the actual surgery to take place (with no food or water).  Success #2 is that I followed through with going back into the OR with him as he was getting his anesthesia.  I held him as they gave him a little bit of grape “laughing gas”, which made him really trippy and loopy, and as they started giving him the real stuff.  He started dozing off in my arms, and then I laid him on the operating table while he drifted off.  I will admit that this part was pretty hard on me, but I held it together and gave him a kiss before they led me out of the operating room.  Success #3 is that the surgery went off without a hitch.  Thankfully Max had enough extra skin under all of the scar tissue from his original circumcision that Dr. Furness was able to form a “beautiful sleeve” around the head of his penis.  All of the extra skin that had adhered to the tip of his penis was removed and reattached, which helped to straighten his little weenie up so that it now looks like a “normal” 17 month old’s penis.  Success #4 is that Max’s recovery went better than expected.  The nurse that was with him in recovery (before we were allowed in) said that he gradually woke up, blinking slowly, and drifting back to sleep, until he was a little more aware, which is when we came in.  He cried a little bit, but I think he was just frustrated at the IV in his arm, which was promptly removed.  His oxygen saturation (which is what we were most worried about since he was born prematurely) was great, and he even drank a little bit of diluted apple juice right off the bat.  We sat with him in recovery until he woke up a little more and ate a little bit of applesauce, and then we were on our way!  Success #5 just came an hour, or so, ago when he had a wet diaper.  That’s important because if he didn’t have one by 8 o’clock tonight, we would have to take him in – whew!

The timeline of the surgery went like this:

6:45 a.m. – Checked into the day surgery center at Presbyterian St. Luke’s Hospital.

7:15 a.m. – Max underwent a little “physical” of sorts – measuring weight, height, temp, O2 saturation, etc.

8:45 a.m. – This was the scheduled surgery time, but the previous surgery took a little longer than expected.

9:10 a.m. – Max went into the operating room for anesthesia – he had nitrous oxide to “relax” him a little bit, followed by a general anesthesia administered through a face mask.  They then put in a breathing tube (I’m soo glad I didn’t see this), and gave him a “baby” epidural to numb his private area.

10:00 a.m. – Dr. Furness came into the waiting area to tell us that the surgery was a success!

10:15 a.m. – We were able to go into the recovery room with our little dude – we just sat and rocked him and held him as he would wake up, fall asleep, repeat.

12:00 p.m. - The nurse showed us the damage, which was nearly as bad as I expected.  She told us how to care for it, how to keep him on an alternated med schedule of Tylenol and Motrin for several days, and then they sent us on our way.  We were given two sippy cups, two pairs of hospital socks (we couldn’t leave Wes out!), and a beach ball and Max’s face mask as a “souvenir”. 

We came home and Max slept for about 4 hours.  He’s up and (kind of) running around now, happy to see his brother and be at home.  It was such a great experience, and I’m so glad we finally got it over with!

:::dry heave:::

My, how times have changed.  In the last month, or so, I have been exposed to more poo than I ever would have dreamed.  And by “exposed”, I mean EXPOSED. 

The first “incident” was on Father’s Day evening.  I was giving Max and Wes a bath while Jeff and his parents were finishing up their dinner.  Art, my father-in-law, was in the bathroom with me when we saw a few bubbles sneak out of Wes’s bum.  He giggled, we giggled, and then Wes got really red-faced.  I immediately knew what was going to happen, and then everything just kind of switched to slow motion.

Before we knew it, Wes had unloaded a huge log of poo in the tub – right after I got done scrubbing them down, of course.  Art and I’s first reaction was to get Max out of the tub as soon as possible, but we both just sat (stood) there, laughing.  Real mature, huh?  Meanwhile, Wes is laughing too, and Max is crying (probably thinking, “get me the hell out of here you crazy people!!!”).  By the time Art scoops him out of the tub, Wes has “relaxed” a bit more, and unleashed a little more fury.  And by “fury”, I mean poop.  And by “a little”, I mean kind of a lot.  And it wasn’t a solid mass, if you know what I mean. 

Poor Max.  Nobody deserves to have a nice, relaxing bath – just to be crapped on immediately after by his brother.  But that was that.  I was too freaked out about the amount of poo in the tub to worry about re-bathing Max.  And when I hollered into the hallway for Jeff to come help, his response was a muffled, “sorry, it’s Father’s Day!“.  WTF?!?!?  I guess he was right.  That was by far, one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever done – clean out the tub,  wondering how on earth there was that much corn in that amount of poop…disinfect all of the tub toys in a water/bleach solution, and scrub and scrub my hands – until they were virtually raw – to get that poo smell/feeling off of them.

*****

The second “incident” was a couple of weeks ago.  I’m at work when I get a call from our nanny, Jessie.  That’s never good.  When something is cute or funny or non-serious, Jessie sends me a text.  When something is a little more “serious”, I get a call.  This time the call was to ask me if I minded that she run the washing machine.

Ummmmm…

Me – “Sure…is everything okay???”

Jessie (in her supersweet, calm voice) - “Oh yeah…it is now.  Max had a little accident, and there’s poop everywhere, but I’ll take care of it.”

Ummmmm…what? 

I come home to an almost-naked Max, and a just-awoken Wes.  And poor Jessie looks like she’s been run ragged.  Right before she leaves, I run downstairs to assess the damage.  Ah.Mah.Gah.  It was NASTY.  There was shit EVERYWHERE.  I mean ev-er-ee-where.  I run back upstairs, shoo-ing Jess out of the house, telling her she doesn’t get paid enough for this, begging her to come back the next day, etc.  Then I turned on some Gabba for the boys to watch while I grabbed the anti-bacterial wipes, the bleach/water mix, and about a dozen old rags, and ran back downstairs.

There was poo where there was expected to be poo.  It was all over Max’s crib – on the bedding, the blankets, the pillow, his lovey, his PACI (ewww), the crib slats, etc.  The unexpected places there was poo included Wes’s crib – the slats, the sheets, his blankets, his pillow, his lovey, his PACI (ewww).  Then it was on the wall, on the carpet below the cribs, on the blinds, on the MATTRESS PAD – how in the Sam hell does it get on the mattress pad when there are sheets covering the entire pad?!?!  And how on EARTH does poo get to all of those places in such a small amount of time?!? 

If you’re picturing gorillas at the zoo, flinging poo at each other, don’t worry – so am I.

*****

The whole point of this post is to make you laugh.  And to make me laugh.  The truth is, I’m crazy nervous about tomorrow.  Our little Max is having surgery at 8:45 tomorrow morning to correct, or fix, his circumcision.  Without going into too much detail, particularly since you just endured all of the shit-talking (pun-intended) above, his little penis was just so…little…when he was circumcised before he was discharged from the NICU.  There was no way to know that the skin would re-attach and form weird blobs of scar tissue around the head of his penis, but it happened, so we’re having it corrected.  We were referred to a pediatric urologist by our pediatrician, and thought we were “fixing” it for aesthetic purposes only – we didn’t want our little guy being teased for having a funny-looking penis, when his brother’s penis looked normal.  Thankfully, the urologist not only wanted to perform surgery so that Max could join the “Perfect Penis Club” (his words, not mine), but he also said that removing some of the scar tissue, and moving around some of the skin was a medical necessity. 

Whew.  I have to admit that made me feel tons better.

So that’s that.  My boy is going in for surgery tomorrow - and being put under, which is the main reason for me being so nervous, so I needed the laugh just as much as you all probably did.  Wish us luck, and I promise to update as soon as I can.

Max 7.4.09

Max 7.4.10

Wes 7.4.09

Wes 7.4.10

July 4, 2009

July 2010

Thanks to our friend, Kari, for getting some cute photos of our boys!

It seems like such an insignificant word for what I feel right now.  Can you imagine being the parent or the sister or the grandparent of a 20 month old boy who lost his life far too early?  I can’t even fathom what they must be feeling at this very moment…the moment they lay their sweet baby boy to rest.  Forever. 

http://blakeybabies.blogspot.com/

Justice Wayne was born 12 1/2 weeks early back in September of 2008, weighing a little over 2 pounds.  After spending nearly 100 days in the NICU, he was released the day before Christmas.  After contracting what they thought was H1N1 last December, he spent last Christmas at The Children’s Hospital here in Denver, and was released again this January.  Because of his early birth, his lungs were never healthy – he lived the 20 months of his short life on oxygen.  He never knew what it was like to take a big, deep breath of fresh mountain air without the aide of his nasal canula. 

On May 10th, he was admitted to the hospital again for what seemed to be a cold, and last Thursday afternoon – just a day after my friend went to visit he and his mom – he passed away in his mother’s arms.

Guilt.

It seems like such an insignificant word for what I feel right now.  Feeling like this because we were some of the lucky ones.  The ones who also had premature babies who are seemingly healthy and happy and thriving and perfect in every single way.  During the 43 and 51 days Max and Wes were in the NICU, I witnessed a lot of heartache.  I felt a lot of guilt.  Over soooo many things.  I saw mothers and fathers and siblings and grandparents mourn the loss of their babies, brothers and sisters, grandbabies.  There were times I felt overwhelming, tremendous guilt over the fact that our boys were still alive.  I think this is normal, particularly for the parent(s) of a preemie or preemies…and the shitty thing is that the feeling never really leaves you.  It resurfaces at the most random times, or in the most prevalent times (like today).

I’ll take a quick moment to reiterate how very important it is to take the concerns and feelings of the parent of a premature baby extremely seriously.  Sometimes you cannot shelter or protect your baby enough to prevent something like this from happening, but knowing you did everything humanly possible to protect the health of your baby is important to every parent – and particularly to every preemie parent. 

May the Blakey family find comfort knowing that their sweet JW is at peace now.  Forever missing his twin sisters, parents, and extended family, but running and playing without the machines, the oxygen, the discomfort…and taking big, deep breaths of air through his healthy lungs.

If anyone would like to make a donation in memory of JW, please send it to:

St. Francis Medical Center, 6001 East Woodmen Road, Colorado Springs, CO, 80923

http://www.penrosestfrancis.org/index.php/1012/St.-Francis-Medical-Center

I should add that while I was super bummed that Weston decided to start full-on walking while I was out of the country, I was super excited that little Max decided not to let his “little” brother show him up on the walking front.  Two days after I got back from PR, Max not only started to stand on his own – but he also started walking!  What a trip!  My mom was there to witness his first steps, and it was just about the cutest thing in the world.  =)  Now, both boys are just walking everywhere, although Max is a little more apprehensive than his “little” brother.

I put “little” in quotations because even though Wes is technically the younger brother (by a whole whopping minute), he most certainly isn’t the “little” one.  The boys had their 15 month appointment last Friday, and holy cow – I knew Wes was a little more “solid”, but sheesh!

Max @ 15 months – 19 lbs, 11 oz, 30 1/2 inches long

Wes @ 15 months – 22 lbs, 9 oz, also 30 1/2 inches long

If I’m being honest, going into their appointment I was a little concerned with both of the boys’ growth (since their 12 month appointment), but Dr. B put my mind at ease when he kindly reminded me that they are technically only 12.5 months old if we’re going by their “adjusted” age.  He was also completely floored that both of them were not only just taking steps, but full-on walking – I was beaming with pride as he was gushing about how “advanced” our little 30-weekers are.  They were being little hams – making their pediatrician laugh…and they were big troopers when they got their shots – probably because their Aunt Kristy and I promised them ice cream if they were “big boys”.  =)

And more pictures, because I don’t have much free time today (or any day really)…

Max and Wes’s first experience with “dipping” their food…

"I LOVE HUMMUS!!!!"

Their new sand and water table…

"Sooooo, what exactly would happen if I ate the sand?"

"Yeah...totally not worth it."

Max just wanted to dunk his face in the water

Some outside photos taken Mother’s Day weekend…

Max and his "little" brother

Mommy's little sweetheart

Wes, always smiling

Mommy and Max - "yaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!"

In beautiful Puerto Rico with my sis…

Sisterly love

Picture perfect view

Great ending to an amazing day

 And finally, our little Weston, making his first “walk” around the living room…

After the (coooold) walk, we headed over to Steve’s Snappin’ Dogs to celebrate and hang out with friends.  If I’m being honest, I was pretty disappointed in the turnout – a lot of people who had said they would come (at least stop by) never did.  We were there until a little after 2, so if we missed anyone, I apologize.  It was great to see the people who did show up – (Grandpa) Art, Janet, Eric, Meghan and her kiddos, Tiff, Rich, and baby Kendall, and our (Mon/Wed) nanny, Hailey, and her husband, Dan.  Meghan was going to do the walk with us, but because she has three kiddos (two of which are identical monoamniotic twin girls born at 27 weeks), and the weather was craptastic, she just met us afterward.

The "tattoo" on my cheek

The dedication wall

We walk for Max

We walk for Wes

About halfway through the walk

With Apol after the 5 mile walk

Apol and I

Steve's Snappin' Dogs

Welcome Team Weemmax!

Mmmmmmm, hot dogs

Wes eating his second Steve's Snappin' Dog ever

Max stuffing his face - he loves food!

Meghan and her girls, Avery & Kyla

Meghan's son, Lukas, and his balloon sword

Max sitting (soooo sleepy) on Grandpa Art's lap

Miss KJ stopped by to see her little friends

Hailey and Dan with Wes

Max sacked out on the ride home

Wes sleeping on the way home

Thank you SO INCREDIBLY MUCH to all who came out in the crap weather to support us, and a HUGE THANKS to those who made donations in Team Weemmax’s name!  We couldn’t have done it without you (especially you, Sock!)!

And just because it’s hilarious, a photo taken after bathtime tonight.  Both Max and Wes have HORRIBLE cradle cap, so I lubed up their heads with some ointment, hoping it does the trick.  I don’t know about helping the dry scalp, but oh my gosh, could our boy BE any more adorable?!?! 

Yeah, I wasn’t “fine”.  I wasn’t “just really tired”.  And I certainly wasn’t “feeling a lot better”.

I don’t really think I know what exactly it was that I was feeling.  It was such a complex combination of emotions that I couldn’t even talk to my own husband about it.  To this day, Jeff still doesn’t know a lot of what I was really feeling for weeks and months on end after our sweet boys were born.  The only people that really know are my amazing therapist and I, and now that I’m “all better”, I’d kind of like to keep it like that.  I will say last fall/winter I was in a bad, dark, lonely place, and there were times when I seriously contemplated ending my life – whether that meant walking out on my family and my marriage, or literally ending my life. 

Things got a lot worse for me at the beginning of the year when I got a call from my sister, my best friend in the whole wide world, at four o’clock in the morning.  A phone call that early in the morning is never good.  And it wasn’t good…at all.  After 7 1/2 years of marriage (and 10 years together), my sister had just got the news that her husband, the man who swore to me that he would never ever ever hurt my baby sister, had been unfaithful.  I realize that it is ridiculously selfish of me to admit that this was a huge blow for me, but oh my gosh.  I was literally (physically) sick when I got off the phone.  I mean, if Joel could cheat on Kristy, what was to stop Jeff from doing it to me?? 

That’s the time when I decided that I simply had to get mental help, or the deep sense of dispair I had been feeling wasn’t going to get any better.  I got a recommendation from my friend, Liz, who had heard of this therapist who specialized in EMDR, and I made an appointment that week.  I had weekly therapy sessions that included me reliving some really horrifying moments… 

The moment Jeff and I signed paperwork stating that both of our boys may not make it through the surgery

that I might not make it through the surgery

the days and weeks I spent alone and afraid when I was on bed rest

desperate for someone to talk to, but not knowing that it was okay to talk about what I was afraid of

the moment we were told that my water had broken

and our babies were coming

the first sight of “Baby A”

 and a minute later, “Baby B”

and the sight of them being whisked away…Jeff following closely behind.

The days and weeks I spent alone and afraid when our boys were in the NICU

desperate to believe everyone

the doctors, the nurses, the social worker, our friends

when they said everything was going to be okay

the moment they told us that our babies were coming home

first Maxwell

then Weston

and the sight of them at home where they were meant to be…perfection.

The days and weeks and months following where I felt alone and afraid

all over again

desperate to be the mom that I knew I could be

the wife I used to be

the visions of dead babies and everything that could have gone wrong

but hadn’t

haunted me…for so long.

These moments were replaced with thoughts of what I wished had happened, what really happened, and what was going to happen with our future – our family’s future.  EMDR therapy is intense and it’s so.damn.hard to go through at times (especially when you’re suffering from PTSD), but it saved my life.  It saved my marriage.  And without sounding overly dramatic, it saved me from a darkness that I was afraid was going to take over my life.  Those who know me know that I am not a religious person – not in the least – but there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since “graduating” from my therapist where I haven’t silently given thanks to God for seeing me through this time in my life.  Knowing that I’m okay, that my family is going to be okay, and that it’s okay to feel the way I did is so reassuring – it keeps me going when life gets hard.

If you’ve made it through this novel, thank you so much for taking the time to read my ramblings – it really means a lot to me.  And if you think you or someone you know could benefit from EMDR and want to know more, you can shoot me an email and I’d be happy to answer any and all questions you may have – kerry@ourstorkgotlost.com.

Now…April 4th, 2010.  Max and Wes are two weeks away from being 14 months old, and boy have things changed!  They are soooo much fun right now, and were VERY excited to tear into their Easter baskets.  I can’t believe that they actually fit into their Easter baskets last year…it’s crazy how fast time has gone, and how much they’ve grown up in less than a year.   

Happy Easter everyone!