MIri's procedure, Part III (or "The end?")

I'm happy to report that Miriam is alive and well ... um, at least in the process of getting well from her surgery yesterday. I was much calmer this time around since we had already had the dress rehearsal. The anesthesiologist gave her lungs a green light, so the nurses took her back to the operating room as scheduled at 7 a.m.

Miriam hanging out on the baby hospital bed. We kept her entertained with her book and monkey before the surgery.

She also did a bit of exploring before being taken back.

When the doctor was finished, he came out to talk to us. Apparently our kid is even more screwed up than we thought. They couldn't put the tubes in the upper and lower ducts to make a loop because her upper ducts are obstructed by bone that never opened up the way it was supposed to. So, as far as I understand it, the doctor was able to probe through the bone on the right eye in the upper duct, and we put a tube and plug through the lower duct on the left eye.

After that, I don't know anything the doctor said. Miriam had woken up in recovery, and the nurse handed her to me so I could comfort her. I heard something about her possibly needing more surgery later to correct the left eye, but maybe not because some people live whole and happy lives with their upper duct(s) obstructed. I wasn't trying to ignore the man, but I was too wrapped up in caring for my baby.

She was inconsolable and incredibly doped up at first, which is a weird combination. She would squirm and cry, then snooze on my shoulder only to wake up again to squirm and cry some more. After the nurse gave her two different forms of painkiller (IV and oral), she settled down.

Miriam sad and hurting after surgery. She had a drippy, bloody nose for the rest of the day.

Miriam dozing after surgery. Since she hadn't eaten anything that morning, I tried nursing her after surgery; her nose was too stuffy to stay latched on, so we had the nurse fill her sippy cup with apple juice. During her non-dozing moments, she would take a drink from the cup before falling asleep again.

I brought her home, and she slept until about 3 p.m. Then she acted more or less like her cute little self. I could tell she was getting tired after dinner, but I didn't want her napping that late, so we kept her up until 7 p.m., fed her, and put her down for the night.

She woke up this morning at 5:30 crying and with a little bit of a fever. With more ibuprofen and some cuddling and Cosby, she settled down but didn't go back to sleep until her regular morning nap time.

Today was an ordinary day except for the looks I got from people in Winco (I swear, people ... I don't beat my 1-year-old) and Miri falling asleep in my arms while I was visiting teaching.

We'll go back to the ophthalmologist's office to remove the tube in the left eye's lower duct in 6-8 weeks. This time, I won't be too preoccupied to ask the doctor some questions about what happened and what happens next.

Miri, one day post-op. She's swollen and bruised, but she's still smiling (and eating, if any of those crumbs did, in fact, make it into her mouth).

Miriam is 1

Yesterday we celebrated Miriam's first birthday with an ocean-themed party. We wanted to make sure that we made it a night to remember, so we flew out to the coast and rented a yacht big enough to accommodate all 100 of our closest friends and family members. The glass-blowing classes I've taken turned out to be very useful since I wanted to have custom-made centerpieces that reflect different types of oceanic life. The sea turtles proved to be the most difficult to create. I also made a seafood buffet complete with caviar. Miri delved into the seven-tier cake (one tier for each of the seas). The trained dolphins did a marvelous job of using bike horns to play "Happy Birthday" so that we could sing along.

All right, so the above paragraph is all one huge lie. Wait ... that last sentence is a lie. Because the first six words were true.

We did, in fact, celebrate Miriam's birthday yesterday by going to church, letting her take a nap when we got home, eating dinner together and then having the grandparents over for presents and cupcakes. Behold!

Analee and Rebekah help Miriam open her presents while Grandma Susan and Grandpa Dennis watch. (Grandpa had shoulder surgery two weeks ago, hence the sling.) I had to keep retrieving Miri and putting her back in front of the presents; she was too interested in saying hello to everybody.

Analee helping Miriam try on her princess bath towel that Grandma Scott made. Miriam wasn't too interested in wearing the towel. Ana, on the other hand, pranced and swayed in it all night.

Miriam sucking on the bottom of her cupcake. She held this pose for five minutes. Notice the big smear of frosting on her tray along with the drops of dried wax from her candle. Seth had to yank it out of the way when she reached for the flame.

The face of a happy one-year-old who loved her cupcake.

Grandma Scott holding a now clean and undressed Miriam while she plays with the English/Spanish radio she got from Seth and me.

To see more pictures, click here.

Miriam is scheduled to have her one-year checkup this Wednesday, but I have to reschedule it because she's also scheduled to have her tear duct intubation the same day. So I'll post her weight and height later.

Miriam knows how to say "bye" (and wave), "oo ah" (what a monkey says), "getcha" (which is accompanied by her opening and closing her fists to demonstrate that she wants you to tickle her) and "mom" (which she says if she wants anybody, not just me). She cruises all along the furniture, and she has taken a few steps on her own, but usually she chickens out when we encourage her to walk and crawls instead. She has been able to climb up the stairs for some time now, but in the last few days she has figured out how to go down the stairs as well. She has the most incredibly ticklish feet. Miriam loves to tell people what a fish says (done by pushing the lips together and pulling them apart quickly to make a popping sound) and amuses herself by clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

She's a sweet, mellow little girl who loves her sisters, parents, grandparents and other family members. She also loves her jungle animal blankie and sleeps with it every night; we often find corners of it wet from where she has sucked on it.

The cutest albuterol treatment you'll ever witness

How to keep your kid from screaming through a whole treatment: Hold both her hands in your own. Turn on some Baby Einsteins for her to watch. The end.

Getting my craft on

Lately I've been inspired by some craft blogs to pull out some of my scrap fabric and create ... stuff. Here's what happened:

Ana in a twirly circle skirt (instructions found here) made with the leftover fabric from her shirt. That's right. I made all three girls matching shirts months ago, and just now I used the rest of it for a skirt for Ana.

The skirt in all its twirly glory.

Bekah in a pillowcase dress (instructions found on various websites after I Googled "pillowcase dress") made from ... no, not a pillowcase. Made from fabric that Grandma Hendricks gave me. The red fabric is leftover from Miriam's stocking.

Another pillowcase dress made from Bekah's leftover quilt fabrics.

I must say, it's been very satisfying making these cute clothes, but nothing else has been done around the house today. Oops! Well, nothing besides taking Miri to the surgical center, followed by the pediatrician's office followed by the pharmacy. Okay. Maybe I deserved a little creative time.

Miri's procedure, Part II UPDATE

I took Miriam to the pediatrician, and we found out that NOT ONLY does she have another ear infection, but she ALSO has bronchiolitis. She endured a 10-minute albuterol treatment with the nebulizer (which she screamed through) and an antibiotic shot that I was promised would be beefier than the amoxicillin she received for her other two ear infections.

We're hoping this will clear things up for her so she can have her surgery in a week or two.

Miri's procedure, Part II (or "Psych!")

The tear duct probe didn't work. Less than two weeks after the experience, Miriam's eyes were tearing up again. But rather than calling the ophthalmologist's office right away to schedule the intubation, I held off hoping that the problem would take care of itself.

In the meantime, Miriam suffered from several ear infections. We realized that her recurring illness was probably linked to her blocked ducts, so I finally bit the bullet and called the office. Monday morning, Miri saw Dr. Affleck again, and he explained the surgery to us and helped us schedule a time at the surgical center.

Today was the day. Since we had to be to the center by 6:10 a.m., my dad came over to be with the big girls as they woke up. Miri didn't like waking up before 6; she complained the whole time Seth changed her diaper and strapped her in her car seat.

Then we had the usual pre-surgical experience: signing papers, having our insurance card copied, answering questions, changing the patient into mini hospital gown and waiting.

An awesome cell phone shot of Miri in her hospital gown at the Idaho Falls Surgical Center.

Seth keeping Miri entertained by allowing her to play with his watch.

When the anesthesiologist came into our room, he did the typical pre-op check. But after listening to her lungs, repositioning the stethoscope and listening again, I could tell that something was up.

Following a thorough explanation of the whole anesthetic process involved with the surgery, he told us what I thought he'd been leading up to all along: he didn't want Miri to go under today. She's had a runny nose and junky cough for days now, and he could hear the nastiness in her lungs. He was afraid the anesthesia could pose a risk with her body already weakened from the sickness.

So no tubes for now. Instead, we're making a trip to the pediatrician's office to see if they can prescribe something to clear her up so we can try again in a week or two. It's a vicious circle--her sickness is caused by the blocked ducts that we were trying to have fixed but can't because she's sick.

However, I am extremely grateful to the anesthesiologist for suggesting that we wait. On Monday evening, Seth and Grandpa Hendricks gave Miriam a priesthood blessing during which Seth said that the doctors would be blessed with the skills and knowledge necessary to perform the procedure. I know that this morning's experience is a result of that doctor's knowledge. I would much rather wake up at 5:20 another morning (which is saying a lot) than do something now that could hurt my baby.

You're older than you've ever been, and now you're even older ...

I'm getting old. I know, I know ... everyone is thinking, "What?! Andrea, how is that even possible? You're a spry 28!" But I feel it comin'. The terrible march of time does not stop for any woman ... even a woman who is only in her upper mid-twenties.

Case in point #1: My eyes. I got glasses my senior year of high school, which some may think would put a crimp in my superior-senior ego. However, I was a Grade A nerd, so the glasses just exemplified that. I was down with glasses. I wore them in class and to drive, but I didn't need to wear them at home or when I shot photos (I hated the frames butting up against the viewfinder).

Fast forward four years. Seth and I were newlyweds, and I was shooting a wedding reception. I confided in Seth that my camera lens must not be working properly: I could get everyone NEARLY in focus, but not entirely. He suggested that I wear my glasses to shoot. I told him my eyesight didn't warrant that. But, considering the fact that it costs nothing to put glasses on but mucho dinero to ship a lens off to get fixed, I put them on. Magically, my lens was working! Since then, I always shoot pictures with my glasses on. (And my lens always works.)

Fast forward seven more years. Now I find that I have to wear my glasses when I'm reading at night. And when I watch TV at night. And when I'm on the computer in the morning. And when I'm grocery shopping during the day. And when I'm reading and eating breakfast in the morning ... which drives me crazy because (for some dumb reason) I HATE wearing glasses while I eat, but unless I put them on, I find myself squinting at Joel Stein's column and eating a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats.

Case in point #2: The rest of me. Back in the day, I played a lot of volleyball. I was on the school team. I was on the club team. After high school, I took a wallyball class, participated on several intramural volleyball and wallyball teams and played once a week during open gym time in the fieldhouse. But since getting married, teaching school, having babies and the like, I quit playing for many-a-year.

Until a few months ago when a beloved high school friend invited me to participate in her stake's volleyball nights. The first time I came home from our pickup volleyball game, I was SORE. So sore I couldn't go up and down the stairs without moaning. So sore it hurt to laugh. So sore I would have cried if I thought it wouldn't have hurt.

I'm happy to say that my body doesn't scream in pain after volleyball night any more. But the other night, I had to dive/kneel to receive a floating serve that had dropped suddenly. I landed hard on my right knee--the one I had injured in high school and had to have surgically repaired. After passing the ball, I knew my knee was going to hurt. And it did. Even though it didn't hinder my playing for the rest of the night, I was careful with that leg.

The next day, my knee just didn't feel right. I couldn't explain it. I knew I hadn't blown a ligament or torn cartilage like the last time I'd hurt it, because I could at least WALK. But I felt uneasy about it.

When I explained it to Seth, he had the answer: "You're getting old."

And ain't that the sad truth. Even though I feel like I finished high school yesterday, the kids currently attending Bonneville still had most their baby teeth when I graduated. They consider Green Day's "Time of Your Life"--a song that played pretty much nonstop on the radio throughout my high school experience and was featured on every slide show--to be an oldie.

So for now I'll wear my glasses. And I'll try to take care of myself while I'm being active (my knee is fine now, by the way). And I'll try to remember that I'm no longer a spring chicken.

As for you, you just wasted two minutes of your life reading about my aging woes. Those are two minutes you'll never get back. In the words of the ever-wise They Might Be Giants, "And now you're older still."

Ana-ism #11

At Primary today, Ana was asked to give the opening prayer. Before she bowed her head and closed her eyes, however, she had to take advantage of the microphone to give a little impromptu speech.

Ana: I remembered to bring my CTR ring to Primary today. Isn't that so good?

(Side note: Seth had found the CTR ring on the floor of the chapel before church started, and since it had been left there for a week, he thought it would be okay to give it to Ana.)

Bekahism #38

While driving in the van one day, Bekah and Ana were busy playing with their Slinkys. Bekah's Slinky was the daddy, and Ana's Slinky was the mommy.

Bekah: Hi, baby.
Analee: No, my Slinky is the MOMMY, not the baby.
Bekah: Sometimes husbands call their wives "baby" because husbands love babies. And their wives are like babies to them.