Dear Dr. Quaegebeur,

 {pronounced Qua-zha-bur}

Seventeen years ago today, Grace received her life saving surgery.

Seventeen years ago today, I had to listen to her muted cry of hunger and could do nothing about it, because there was an emergency surgery that pushed hers back a few hours.

Seventeen years ago today, I held it together until the nurse practitioner very gently went over the obligatory risk run down with us.  And then she touched my arm.  And then she hugged me.  And I was grateful for that.

Seventeen years ago today, I had to see what the inside of the OR looked like as they wheeled her little bed in.

Seventeen years ago today, I handed my six-week-old baby, that I had barely been able to hold myself, into the hands of a gifted team led by my hero Dr. Jan Quaegebeur.

Seventeen years ago today, I held it together until the door swung closed and then fell into Harland and lost it again.  And again.

Seventeen years ago today, that surgery took much longer than they said it would.

Seventeen years ago today we waited to find out if we were in for one, or in for many surgeries.

Seventeen years ago today, I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing for a while.

Seventeen years ago today, I tried to let myself be fascinated by the Orthodox Jewish customs being played out before me by another NICU family, to keep myself from going insane.

Seventeen years ago today, I commiserated with another surgery day family that would most likely lose their battle for their son.

Seventeen years ago today, I knew Abby was home being loved and cared for by my Aunt, and I didn't have to worry about her.

Seventeen years ago today, my parents gave us their support and encouragement or sat quietly with us while we waited.  So much love in all that quiet.

Seventeen years ago today, Dr. Q's team was successful, and the seed of hope was planted that this would be the only time we would have to go through this.

Seventeen years ago today, we found out that the next 72 hours would be scarier than the actual surgery was.

Seventeen years ago today, I never imagined that just 14 days later, Grace would be home for good.

{All photos are from surgery day}



Dear Dr. Quaegebeur,

Thank you for becoming the gifted surgeon you are.  Thank you for pushing the limits of pediatric surgery when you did, and not giving in to those who thought what you were doing was unethical.  Thank you for inventing the procedures that would save my Grace.  Thank you for accepting the piddly $3,500 we paid you (via insurance), to do it.  We would have given you everything, and you asked very little.  Thank you for being the one to fix her little heart. 

Forever grateful,

Amy Pond

{ps: There is a good article about Dr. Q written in 2003, here, if you're interested}

good morning...

I woke up to this happy guy.  I love waking up to this face.

you know how it is...

I have plenty I want to add to the blog, but between a husband with pneumonia, a daughter with strep, designing something for a certain event coming up at a future time that shall not be named at the moment, making signs and sign up sheets for a church activity, taking a photography class that started this week and is kicking my brain's hind end, and oh yeah, being a mom, I'm a smidge swamped at the moment.

You know how it is.

james on...

...smiles.

When considering smiling at your family, take caution.  Smiles are something that your family will wait for anxiously, and you don't want to give them up too soon.  They are your first bargaining chip.  Your family will stand on their heads to get you to smile, so enjoy the show.

In the beginning, just pull up on a corner of your mouth a little.  See the reaction you get.  Just trust me on this one.  It'll be worth it, but be prepared for this box to be in your face that goes click-click and sometimes blinds you with a quick bright light.  The big people have some need to put this box in your face constantly and smiles are a big trigger.

Another personal favorite of mine is the fake out smile.  First, act like you're asleep, but be careful not to actually fall asleep, or it won't work.  Then smile at them.  Do the half smile and then a full open mouth smile.  Your family will call this "gas", which is just insulting, but we know the truth.  It will get them more excited and more anxious for some awake smiles from you.

Eventually, you will have to start giving up some smiles.  It's part of the baby contract.  Ease the big people into it.  Just smile here and there, and be sure you stop before they have a chance to grab the click-click box thing. Or do it in the middle of the night when it's too dark.  That will get them frustrated, but also they'll dance for you trying to get you to do it again.  Fun times.

Pick someone to receive the first full blown smiles.  This might be an aunt, grandparent, the family cat.  Just be sure it's not the mama or daddy.  You have to make them work the hardest.

Then one day, when the daddy is out of town for 10 days, and the mama is really, really tired from handling all the night feedings on her own, wake up and give her a show.  A real marathon of smiles.  She will reward you with lots of that high pitched mumbo-jumbo we all hate to admit we love.  She'll caress your face and she'll give you the biggest reward of all; some huge smiles of her own and if you've done your  job right, some tears too.  Unfortunately, you'll get the click-click box again, but it's worth it:

yay for happy mail!...

I got happy mail yesterday in the form of my new favorite photo printed on a gallery wrap canvas.  It's now hanging on my living room wall, and I have to stop and admire it every time I walk by.  I love how it came out and now I'll have to restrain myself from ordering more and more of these.  I only have so much wall space!

dear james...

Dear James,

You've had tummy troubles from about day three of your little life.  The first picture was taken about two days after we switched you to a gentler on your tummy formula and you were a happy camper within two feedings, other than a little fussy period before we go to bed.  But as the month has gone on, the second picture taken of you on the 19th, is much more accurate.  You have become one fussy slice of bacon!  You are becoming a baby that does not like to be put down, and I just want you to know that you have about two more weeks of being somewhat indulged in that department, and then you'll get put down to work it out yourself a bit more.  You might not like it, and we might not like having to listen to you cry it out a bit, but it's got to be done.  Unfortunately for you, your parents have a track record showing we are able to listen to a crying baby, as long as you are fed, burped, changed and not to the shrieking point.  Of course, you may have other ideas, and we'll have to adjust, but that's the plan for now.  Are you ready?  I sure am.

Love,

Mama

a second newborn attempt...

Soooo, maybe these pictures were taken well over a month ago.  Maybe, just maybe, they were actually taken the day after my first newborn attempt.  Maybe I caught a cold two weeks before Bacon made his grand entrance and have just slowly plugged along at getting these photos ready.  And maybe I just finished and delivered them yesterday to a very understanding friend.  I did manage to finish up their birth announcement and get that off to them right before leaving for the hospital when I was in labor though.  I think I get some brownie points for that.

So here's a taste of William at one week:

it's an official grin!...

I know this is a blurry picture, but Dad got his cell phone out as fast as he could to catch James' first smiles!  I mean, the real deal smiles, and they were all for Pop Pop.  Dad came over to help me get the girls out to the bus in case James was eating or something (which, he was) when they needed to go (Thanks Dad!).  His reward was James giving him smile after smile for a brief moment.  I think I've got a couple "on purpose" smiles from him recently, but I can't be sure.  There is no question that the smiles he was giving were real.

He's either just starting or finishing up a smile in this picture, but they were full blown toothless grins, I promise!  Oh, and please ignore the giant polka dotted robe I'm wearing.  I'm not usually a robe kinda girl, but getting out of my down comforter and electric blanket in the middle of the night requires more layers and this robe is warm!

james on...

...waiting for the bus.

Waiting for your sisters' bus means that your mom will, in fact, interrupt your afternoon meal to get outside in time.  I thought that was just an old babies tale, but I tell you it is true!  Watch out for that one babies, because it sure comes as a shock to realize that you are not always numero uno in your household.  Your mom will bundle you up in a bunch of bulky blankets and a hat that is only going to fit for a couple more days.  This is one reason to consider being born in the spring or summer, because it is NOT warm out in December.

Sure, she'll bring the bottle out with you, but who wants to eat under those conditions?  Here I am threatening to eat her finger if she doesn't take me back inside right. this. instant.  I don't think she took me very seriously.  Don't I look threatening?

Then she dares to pour salt in the wound by pulling out her cell phone and taking pictures of your misery!  Mothers!  Sheesh.

cocoa...

Our elf, Cocoa, is up to some new shenanigans this year...