Behind Bars

Well, it’s finally happened.

After several somewhat luxurious months of Alexander moving at a snail’s pace, our little man has taken off! When we’ve been asked what the greatest challenge is so far in raising Alexander, our usual answer is the speed at which he’s changing. Yes, all kids grow and change quickly, but it’s eye-opening to watch a little boy go from being unable to sit up to cruising (look at that mommy word!) in three months. He’s catching up physically incredibly quickly, and his teeth are coming in like crazy– it’s almost as if his entire body is suddenly going into overdrive to make up for lost time.

So after a lot of makeshift barriers and trying to keep our kid contained, Brian went out one night early this week on a mission for a baby gate.  Though I initially felt a little guilty gating Alexander out of our kitchen (and subsequently, our stairs), it’s provided a great deal of relief. It almost felt as though Alexander changed from a slow crawl to a super-speedy

The only one in our home enjoying the new baby gate more than me is Benny!

Benny endorses this baby gate.

little man overnight! It was late last week that under supervision, he did a full ascent of our stairs, sat at the top, and clapped for himself. Luckily, he’s not so thrilled with trying to get back down, so he usually just sits at the top and waits to be carried back down.  In any case though, the stairs and the kitchen are by far the most interesting places in our home now. I can’t even begin to explain how great it was to unload the dishwasher without a little boy drooling on all the clean silverware. I know this is just me dipping my big toe in the ocean of parenthood, but an empty dishwasher (even if just for a second) is a thing of beauty.

Aside from Alexander’s significant physical developmental strides (quite literally!), we’re noticing him increasing his communication with us, especially through mimicry and signing. I just about broke down into tears during breakfast once this week when he signed “kiss” to me; after a quick kiss on the nose, he smiled and clapped. Considering the  coordination needed for this sign, I was more than surprised that he picked up on that one before some of the simpler ones (like “eat” and “ball”). Now, his favorite signs are “kiss,” “baby,” and “cat.” While he can’t say his name, he can make out an “Ahh-lahhh” when we practice saying things. We’ve started saying grace with him before his (five!) meals, and he gives an emphatic “La!” after we say “Amen.” I know that his brain is still developing as far as content and context is concerned, but we are definitely noticing more repetitive responses from him, which is really heartening.

Alexander checking out the Toys R Us ad-- yet another incredible unstaged photo!

Alexander checking out the Toys R Us ad– yet another incredible unstaged photo!

This week, we have someone from the county coming out to discuss the early intervention program and to get Alexander set up with initial assessments. Although we continue to struggle with lots of parenting issues, I feel as though we’ve been spared up to now from the nightmarish “child development” charts. Talk to a new parent, and by their third pediatric appointment, all you hear about is percentiles.  For Alexander, we cheered when his head finally made it on the chart, but we’ve never really put much thought into where he compared to other kids his age. For the first time though, we’ll be getting a full assessment to see what programs he qualifies for and which ones might benefit him before he starts school a few years down the line. Even with the assessments though, each one of his successive surgeries will change his physical and developmental stages so much, that everything to us is just a sliding scale and a work in progress.

I’ll end with what I consider a fairly comical paranoid parent story. After watching Alexander interact with a classic stacking ring tower at the children’s hospital, we decided it was a good addition to our home. We picked one up, and for several days, I played with him using the toy, encouraging him to try stacking the rings on the tower rather than banging them together or sucking on them (two of his favorite forms of play).  The few times he attempted stacking them, he usually tired of it within seconds and soon was back to his books.

One day last week during Alexander’s playtime, I was fooling around with my new jade bracelet, slipping it on and off my wrist. Alexander looked at me and my wrist, and after a loud “la!” he began pulling the rings off the stacking tower, and slowly threading them all onto both of his arms. I handed him two additional rattles, which he happily added to his full arms. Soon, he was smiling and clapping with his plastic ring-laden arms. And to think that I was worried about his hand-eye coordination. It just goes to serve that most of the time, we just need to relax and let them figure things out!

Alexander demonstrating how his prefers to use his stacking rings.

Alexander demonstrating how he prefers to use his stacking rings.

 

 

 

In the System

You would think that by this time, they’d have mug shots of Alexander and I up at our favorite home and garden store. No, no, we have never committed a crime, but we are forcefully pleasant when it comes to following up on poor plant stock organization. Today’s awesome bargain was a beautiful variegated rhododendron that was apparently mismarked. After speaking to a sales associate back in the plant section and having the great price confirmed, I went to check out and inevitably was told that it was full price. As Alexander proceeded to work it with smiling and waving, I implored the cashier to go back and check the display and talk to her fellow employee. If there’s one thing that irritates me to no end, it’s improperly labeled sales where the only thing actually applicable for a sale is “between the ashtrays and the thimble, anything in this three inches right here, that includes the chicklets but not the erasers.” (Two points if you get the movie reference!)

The end of this story is that the cashier didn’t want to fact-check me (which I wish she would have), and Alexander and I walked out with our fantastic rhododendron.  Call me a nitpicker or a customer service nightmare, but let me tell you– after continuing to survive the red tape of multiple levels of several governments as recent as 5 minutes before our plant purchase, I can say with confidence that technicalities are my specialty.

And you probably thought that we were finished with jumping through hoops and cutting through red tape!

Though Alexander was officially a US Citizen as soon as DHS handed him back his stamped passport, we knew his road to being a full-fledged, card-carrying (quite literally) American was still fairly long. Luckily, our adoption agency gave us a heads-up as to what we needed to apply for, what to remind people to send us, and how patient we should be with Our Government.

In order for Alexander to apply for a social security number and become eligible for credit cards, political mailings, and of course, identity theft, we would need to provide proof that he is a US Citizen. Because of recent laws changing the way internationally-adopted children can become citizens, Our Government needed to create a physical document certifying that yes, Alexander is officially a citizen. We were informed while in China by the US Consulate that these would be mailed out to us within 60 days of our return home, at which point we should then apply for his social security number.

As most things tend to go when it comes to standard paperwork windows, I patiently waited our 60 days.   On day 61, I fired an email out to USCIS inquiring about our little guy’s Certificate of Citizenship (sounds official, no?). I received a most polite and apologetic email within the hour! Apparently, USCIS is way behind in issuing these, and the estimated turn-around (had we not contacted them) was upwards of 4 months. Since we had directly inquired about his paperwork status, my case was expedited, and I was promised that his forms would be mailed out within the week.

True to their word, I received two emails days later with both a UPS tracking code, and a personal email from a USCIS officer thanking us for our patience and for following up. Our Government continues to surprise me with how efficient it can be when it’s on a person-to-person level. Sure, the levels of bureaucracy aren’t completely gone (ie- read our entire adoption blog A Wide Sea for confirmation) in addition to Alexander getting to help me spend 20 minutes on-hold with the IRS just last week. Which, by the way, for those of you with little kids who love phones, they’re not only excited to get to hold the phone, but it plays music! Although I’m photo-documenting just about every second of this kid’s life, I wish I would have snapped a photo of him totally jazzed to be on hold with the IRS. Seriously, it made his afternoon! May we all be so happy about this!

But back to the COC (Yes! One more acronym!) It arrived on– get this– Constitution Day! We did manage a photo of Alexander with his certificate, but it contains so much sensitive information, that it would basically look like a blank sheet once we fuzzed out all the important stuff. It does have a photo of him taken before his medical appointment in China; it just hit me that his official photograph for USCIS is a slightly wrinkled maroon pocket t-shirt and madras shorts. Since this is practically his father’s summer uniform, it seems only appropriate that it’s now on record in perpetuity as “like father, like son.”

Now that we have Alexander’s proof of citizenship, we were able to file for his social. We had a thrilling trip this morning to our local SSA, and within 15 minutes, we were in and out. It took longer to unfold the stroller and sign in than it did to take care of paperwork.

We rounded out our day post-government with our rhodendron purchase and stopping at the library to get his library card and check out his first book. He was his normal chatty, perky self, and soon we had several fellow toddlers and their moms around us sharing drool, random vocalizations, and what board books looked tastiest to teethe on. Alexander left with a Sandra Boynton book about dinosaurs.  True, I gave him a choice of only Boynton books because: 1. they’re colorful, 2. they rhyme, 3. they’re small books, and 4. they’re short! Just like his mom would do, he selected the largest book with the most words. Reading the pages to him before he turns the page is like training to be an auctioneer. Still, he continues to be thrilled with his selection when he’s willing to take a 30 second break from doing laps around our coffee table.

Read faster! Read faster!

Read faster! Read faster!

Aside from getting the rest of our new little citizen’s paperwork in the mail, we still need to initiate readoption for the State of Illinois, which will provide him with a state-issued record of foreign birth (as opposed to trying to use a Chinese provincial document with location of “unknown”). If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, Our Government doesn’t like the word “unknown.”  For all of the drama we’ve encountered so far though, all of Alexander’s medical paperwork has been a much-needed breeze.

Now, I just need to get this rhododendron’s roots established before we’re diverted again with Alexander’s next surgery, which is schedule for Oct 23rd. I can’t believe September is more than half over, but I feel as though we’re really settling into our family routine. I’ve always loved fall for the pumpkins, the apples, the mums, the cool weather, and the warm sweaters. Now that we’ve finally gotten our little guy in the System, we can sit back a little and enjoy autumnal bliss.

Tiny quarter-zip sweaters are reason alone to raise a son!

Tiny quarter-zip sweaters are reason alone to raise a son!

 

Saturday Scramble

As I stood staring into my fridge this Saturday morning, I couldn’t help but laugh at how much Brian and I had accomplished before 9 am on a weekend. Furthermore, I was emptying out plastic tubs of leftovers into a breakfast scramble. Before Alexander, Saturday and Sunday were both two meal days, with breakfast usually just consisting of enough coffee to get us jittery. We’d sit around and figure out our plans, and if we were feeling ambitious, we’d be showered and on our route of errands by noon at the earliest.

I’m certain all you parents out there are laughing hysterically. With Alexander in our life, weekends take on a completely different meaning.  Now, with our little man’s 5 meals a day, the moment we rouse Alexander from his snarly slumber, the countdown clock starts until his next meal.  I have to say though, that I love having Brian home on the weekends to help with feeding Alexander and general kid control (aka saying “No, no!” a lot to a curious little boy).  We multi-task and have our game plan, and hopefully, if we can get one thing on our to-do list crossed off, it’s a victory.  Our little man has definitely made me slow down my normal frantic pace of life in order to read “Moo Baa La La La” over and over (and over and over) again.  Our coffee for breakfast and lunch at 2 pm just doesn’t cut it anymore. Laundry and dishes have taken a more prominent role in my life, and evening gatherings out rage on only as late as is reasonable for your average 18 month old.  Life has changed, that is certain.

Even with all the significant changes to our daily routines, some of our favorite traditions have remained. We still enjoy making dinner and having our occasional wine and cheese night (now with free additional toddler whine!) We enjoy going out for sushi and hunting down new great beer spots. Just this Friday, we hustled out the door with the kid as soon as Brian came home in search of a rather elusive seasonal pumpkin beer at one of our favorite taverns.  We owe our flexibility in frequenting restaurants much to our easy-going son, but we also are committed to not locking ourselves in our home.  I’m sure we get some looks as we’re enjoying a beer with our son in tow, but he’s always well-behaved and seems to enjoy all the attention from the waitstaff.

Errands are still plentiful. Thank goodness, Alexander loves shopping carts– I think it has something to do with the motion of the cart, but he’s usually all smiles and waves as we’re pushing him through our local warehouse club.  This Saturday, our morning adventure was to try and find in two hours or less…. wait for it…. less dusty cat litter. I know, I know, we Kellys know how to have a good weekend! In any case, Alexander seems thrilled to be a part of our weekend errands as long as we get back in time for his lunch… and teatime… and dinner… and dessert.  He even attended his second wine tasting this Saturday at a friend’s home- no wine for him, of course, but plenty of attention from our friends in addition to successfully trying guacamole for the first time.

Let's get this show on the road! We've got errands to run!

Let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got errands to run!

Alexander testing out his friend Mr. Razka's new truck at our monthly wine tasting

Alexander testing out his friend Mr. Razka’s new truck at our monthly wine tasting

So yes, parenthood has definitely had its share of new challenges and lifestyle changes. Lots more laundry. Lots more sniffing of clothing to see if it’s “cleanish.” Everyone eating breakfast regularly.  Fewer lunches out.  But it’s also included so many new joys– brightly colored shopping carts, functional toddler swings at playgrounds, getting tiny enthusiastic waves and applause when you enter a room, and watching our child experience enough firsts to make your head explode.

I’m sure all of the highs and lows will eventually mellow out, and we’ll be left with your standard angsty teenager someday. But for now, we’ll enjoy all the crazy pre- and post-nap running around with a perpetually happy toddler. And hey, at least my fridge leftovers get cleaned out with these breakfast scrambles!

 

 

18 Months and Counting

In the midst of another understandably solemn and reflective September 11th, there is great joy in the Kelly house. Our little Alexander is 18 months old today.

This kid loves books!

I can’t help but wonder where he was 18 months ago– who and where his birthparents are, and how he was brought to the safety of the welfare institute. These are all big questions that will likely never be answered.  What we do know, through discussions with his caretakers, photo documentation, and most importantly, getting to know him, is that he is a joyful little boy with a lot of spirit who adapts to new environments with an uncanny ease (and loves having his photo taken!).

I’ve mentioned this in previous posts, but I really am amazed at just how fast he is developing. I know, I know, when it’s your own kid, it seems as though they are the cat’s meow; it’s only a matter of time until Harvard is knocking on your door to recruit your toddler! The thing is, when we first met Alexander, even with preparation, his frail state was frightening. He was pale, tiny, and too weak to hold a rattle. My aunt commented when watching the video of our first meeting that we looked fairly terrified holding him– ecstatic, but terrified.

Slowly but surely, we’ve watched him gain weight and meet developmental milestones with alarming speed.   He’s expanding his palate, and he’s gained over 4 pounds in a few months.  Sure, if you put him next to a healthy 18-month old, he’s comically small. He’s still in 6-month clothing, and there’s one 3-month old button down that still is a little roomy on him; similarly, his 6-month pants are still big. His hair is coming in much thicker now, and his head is finally on the WHO scale for his age, which makes finding shirts that can fit over his head an adventure. We’ve also seen him go from not being able to sit up to by himself… to scooting and crawling… to pulling up… and now to standing and attempting to walk by himself with support, all in the span of a little over 2 months!

One of the most entertaining developments as of late is that Alexander absolutely loves books. If Brian or I sit down with a book, especially one of Alexander’s books, he squeals and starts charging towards us and will happily sit in our lap and turn pages as we read.

Our little man reading with his dad

Our little man reading with his dad

Happy 18 months, little guy! You’ve given so much joy to us in just a few months and we are incredibly blessed to have you in our lives!

Whine and Cheese

This year’s anniversary was memorable.

During previous years, we’ve gone out to dinner, even taken the day off to enjoy some laziness at home or a local jaunt. This year, we were up bright and early and off to yet another surgical appointment for our little guy.

We were really relieved to hear from our surgeon that Alexander’s repaired soft palate seems to be holding. He’s hopeful that the repaired soft palate will gently pull the hard palate in, and in early 2014, that Alexander will be all set for his hard palate reconstruction.  As for his lip, we’re letting everything heal a bit before going back for attempt #2; in the meantime, we’re using some surgical tape during evening hours to slowly pull together his upper lip. As you might imagine, taping an 18 month old’s upper lip before bed isn’t the easiest thing in the world.

All in all though, we had so much to celebrate this year. We decided our anniversary and Alexander’s good post-op surgery news was reason enough to make a trip to Goose Island Brewpub, one of our favorite spots in the city. Alexander seemed to enjoy the place, and he walked out with quite a few complementary coasters.

Two tiny thumbs up for Goose Island! Bring me more coasters!

Two tiny thumbs up for Goose Island! Bring me more coasters!

We capped the evening with opening one of our cellared bottles of wine from Italy. We purchased enough bottles to last from our 5th anniversary to our 10th– when it’s time to go back! (ha!) Alexander had experienced enough for one day, he provided a little additional whine for us. Nothing says celebration in the Kelly house like one of my famous cheese platters.

Perhaps the best thing that has happened to us as of late though, is that Alexander’s strength and development is really taking off.  He’s crawling like there’s no tomorrow, and he’s now started to stand and move around the room with support. Seeing our little boy standing up and clapping with enthusiasm, even if just for a minute, almost makes me want to tear up a bit.  Similarly, I have been slowly introducing signs to Alexander, and he can recognize mama, daddy, and cat; most recently, he’s started signing back– first with “baby.” Seeing how much he’s changed in the last two months leaves us in awe, and we can’t wait to watch him continue to grow.

 

Showing off his walking skills while Valentine the cat observes in terror

Showing off his walking skills while Valentine the cat observes in terror

Little Fish

The second our car backed out of the driveway at grandpa and grandma’s house in Peoria, we could hear snoring coming from the backseat. Alexander didn’t even wake up when we stopped at Sonic for a roadtrip cherry lime-ade, but he was all smiles and claps when we unbuckled him at home. As the number of yawns and whines increased throughout the night before bed, we knew this kid was exhausted. And true to our predictions, he was out the second his head hit the pillow. There’s really only one reasonable explanation for this:

He survived his first Kelly wedding extravaganza.

Before we met Alexander, we were a little concerned about how our son would handle social situations and large crowds– and we both come from extremely large extended families. We had read that it was fairly common for children in institutionalized care to have difficulty with this; sadly, we were prepared to have to slowly introduce Alexander to his new and incredibly large family. We wondered how long it would take for him to feel comfortable with such a loving, and to be frank– intensely loving– family.  After a few small gatherings close to home with friends, we realized that our little man was not only ready for social situations, but that he was ready to meet The Family.

This kid is ready to party, Kelly style.

This kid is ready to party, Kelly style.

Sadly, we weren’t able to attend the wedding proper because of logistics, but after a night of rest, Alexander got to meet some of his uncles and aunts (Brian’s siblings) and his cousin Will. We made a trip to visit Brian’s cousin Dianne, who hosted a lovely brunch for us, and Alexander got to meet yet more of his family.

If you’d ask Alexander what the highlight of his weekend was, he’d have one answer– the pool! We brought his tiny trunks to the post-wedding pool party, and after much glad-handing and clapping, Brian introduced our little fish to the water!

And into the water!

And into the pool!

He would have spent the entire afternoon in the pool if we let him.  This kid LOVES the water!

He would have spent the entire afternoon in the pool if we let him. This kid LOVES the water!

 

After a wardrobe change (and surgical cuffs replaced) and yet more family greetings, Alexander decided it was time to get the real skinny on the family by catching up with his generation:

"Lou, help a cousin out and get these cuffs off me!"

“Lou, help a cousin out and get these cuffs off me!”

Overall, our little man did wonderfully considering all the new faces and friendly cuddles.  We were truly overwhelmed by the excitement for our little man, and he shared their enthusiasm!

Though Alexander really enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the weekend, I think he enjoyed getting to meet his aunts and uncles the most.

Alexander with his Aunt Julia

Alexander with his Aunt Julia–both famous for their smile and laughter!

Uncle Jon teaching Alexander the fine art of stacking cups (I know the contrast isn't great in this photo, but I love their silhouettes!)

Uncle Jon teaching Alexander the fine art of stacking cups (I know the contrast isn’t great in this photo, but I love their silhouettes!)

This weekend was a great reminder of how great technology can be. We are grateful that so many friends and family continue to follow along with our adventures through our blogging; it was heartwarming to see so many people delight with us in how much our little man has changed since late June. Although we have a long road ahead of us (and many more trips to the hospital!), the joy of being surrounded by those who love us makes everything easier.

Two Steps Forward, One Stent Back

Today was a rough day.

As I’m typing, Alexander is happily playing away with a musical toy– mostly oblivious to the rather stressful day his parents had. I continue to feel fairly relieved that he won’t remember too much, if anything, about the details of our many, many drives to the children’s hospital.  So while he continues to hit a switch that plays the alphabet song again and again and again, I’ll share what happened to us today.

Though our Monday was supposed to be a quiet day with a visit from a museum friend, we ended up spending most of it at the children’s hospital ER hearing the phrase “sedation team” repeated over and over.  Though we have been a little concerned with how Alexander’s lip has been healing over the past few days, today was a turning point. During our little man’s morning bottle, Brian noticed that Alexander’s nasal stent (ie the little tube keeping his new nostril in place) seemed to be moving. After a few squirts met by an angry child, we saw that the plastic tube had completely dislodged and was hanging in his mouth, held by a few sutures. Insert us promptly freaking out.

Alexander just seemed annoyed, but we jumped into action– me cancelling my morning plans, Brian calling off work, and us contacting our surgical team and trying to not sound too panicked. They asked us if we felt comfortable trying to reinsert the stent on our own at home, or if it looked pretty bad. Brian and I looked our our son, with the equivalent of a bendy straw hanging from his nostril, and started to laugh.  Our response  was to pack things up and get ourselves downtown during morning rush hour. Though we were both fairly stressed out, we gathered up a few things, stopped at the nearest Dunkin for some parental rocket fuel, and hustled down to the Comer ER.

Though I’d happily erase today’s events in a heartbeat, we got to meet a lot of really friendly and compassionate medical staff today. The ER folks were awesome, and frankly, the ER was pretty darn comfortable in the grand scheme of ER triage rooms. The plastic surgery team (who operated on Alexander) either doesn’t get many ER calls or was really eager, because we were told they were stalking the ER admissions all morning. We were in our room for just a minute or so, when the plastics team and the head of the ER stopped by. The news was the unpleasant one we were expecting– that Alexander’s nasal stent had to be removed/replaced, and that his lip adhesion had failed.

Brian and I were pretty bummed that all the stress and pain Alexander had gone through for the lip work was for naught, but we tried to stay positive. He did have his ear work done, his lip has been drawn in a tiny bit, and we’re still assuming that the palate work has held.  In order to try and fix the stent problem, the plastics team first suggested that Alexander be sedated for the procedure.

The rest of our morning was somewhat of a haze, as we were moved to the hospital sedation unit (who knew that existed??), where I heard the word “sedation” mentioned once at least every sentence. We signed a ton of releases, watched a bit of Food Network while waiting for the sedation and plastics team to assemble (doesn’t that sound official?)  Alexander was angry because he wasn’t allowed to eat, but the nurses and physicians in the team were really friendly, and Alexander gave out high-fives amid a few whimpers.  We tried to put on a brave face for Alexander and prepared mentally for our little man to go through the equivalent of outpatient surgery under anesthesia.

At the eleventh hour (which was really around lunchtime), the Attending of the plastics team on duty arrived, who we thankfully knew from last week’s surgery. He advised just to remove the stent and not replace it, which would eliminate the need for any sedation. He was frank with us about the lip adhesion fail, but he was also optimistic about allowing Alexander to heal before trying something again. The whole trip down, I think Brian and I were worried about our little guy going into surgery again pronto.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but we were able to cut all of Alexander’s sutures without sedation, and soon we were able to feed him lunch and get discharged. We were more than exhausted after our stressful day and a little let down that Alexander’s second nostril is only a fond memory until his next surgery. Alexander doesn’t seem any worse for wear, and frankly, he’s a lot happier now, even with the surgical problem.

As I wrap this up, our little guy is sliding a switch on his toy that actives a sad trombone sound. Over, and over, and over.  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

My thoughts exactly, little man.

 

 

 

A Post about Poo

Yes, you read the title correctly, this post is all about poo. After several heartstring-pulling entries about our son’s surgery, the least I can do is lighten things up a bit. That and the fact that a good friend of mine triple-dog-dared me to post about what I texted her this morning. So there is that as well…

Poo. I love the word because it’s such a cutesy version of what is certainly NOT adorable. For all you parents out there and everyone who has changed more than their fair share of diapers, we all know while your child may be cute, things tend to get very, very ugly at the most inopportune times.  “Been there, done that” parents always share their tales of woe and discuss ruined clothing and furniture like battle scars. “They were brand new white capri pants!” “We had JUST changed him five minutes ago, and he was fine!” As an only child growing up in a house where the only diapers changed were mine, I was understandably naive to just how central all things poo-related would come to rule my life. A few parents even laughed and warned us how quickly defecation would end up front and center in Brian and my discussions. We laughed… then, of course, it happened to us.

Brian and I were more than prepared for China. I had read horror stories of adoptive moms, who three hours in to the 15-hr return flight, realized their little bundle of joy soiled not only themselves but the lap they were sitting on as well. We wondered, cautiously, every time we either got into the van for the day or strapped our little man into our carrier whether this would be “the time.” Lucky us, we  survived the entire trip to and from China poo-free (aside from normal and unremarkable kind).

Somehow, we even survived (mostly) a major parental fail when shortly after we returned from China we fed Alexander an entire packet of baby food called “Just Prunes.” (no joke, that’s what it’s called!) Of course, Alexander ate it all happily– and we’re all excited because he’s eating food rather than formula, until it hit us. We fed our child an entire package of prunes. No good can come of this. We eventually paid for our error in judgement, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as it could be. Now, prunes are reserved for “special occasions.”

So, of course, this post is leading up to what caused me to text my friend and be the cause of the triple-dog-dare. That, my friends, is what we refer to retroactively as a “blowout.” (At the time of occurrence, we call it “Good ^*&@&! Get him in the tub! It’s everywhere! Don’t touch that! Ackkkkk!”)

The true irony of my story is that we had a new washer and dryer delivered today. After I all but confirmed that our appliances were original to the structure of our home, we realized that baby laundry would kill our practically hamster-driver machines. In true Kathleen fashion, I immediately prepared for the worst-case scenario and began washing everything in sight this week “just in case our delivery gets mangled or they can’t install the machines.” I felt prepared, and as needless as ever, our machines were delivered and installed without a hitch.

As if on cue, Alexander sensed the presence of new laundry machines.  I saw on the baby monitor that he was awake from his mid-day nap, and so I went in to greet my happy and well-rested son. He was sitting up, and bouncing a little.

Then he handed me a poo-covered sheep blanket.

Chaos ensued. I tried to start piling “affected” items in his crib while gingerly lifting my confused son out to safety. With his little arm cuffs  keeping him from grabbing at his face, I realized that trying to clean this boy would be difficult. I howled down to Brian for backup, and immediately started stripping down my kid while trying to keep him from sticking a thumb in his mouth and/or spreading the filth any further. I can’t even do the emotion justice– but anyone who has been through this understands the panic, desperation, and adrenaline that runs through your body. As I continued to defrock the boy, Brian followed behind me cleaning up what I tossed in his direction;  soon, I could hear new beeps and boops from our laundry room. Meanwhile, I grabbed our laundry bin, tossed it into the bathtub, put the kid in, and started the water while trying to keep the kid from moving his arms.

Within a fifteen minute span, our kid went from one outfit to another. Anyone not privy to the chaos in that time would just see a kid who needed a new outfit. But to a knowing party, it was survival of a blowout. We now have our first “real” battle story to tell, and Alexander’s sheep blanket will never look quite the same to me.  So what have I learned? Make sure you know to operate a new appliance the second it arrives, and always, always pass on the prunes.

A Boy and His Clam

“Kathleen, there’s no seventh floor.”

This is what started out one day that will live forever tucked away in our hearts.  As many of you reading this have already experienced or will someday, taking a family member to the hospital can be a stressful and overwhelming experience. In the case of taking your child to the hospital, a whole new set of worries come into mind. We knew that once we brought Alexander home in July, that we had many, many trips to the hospital in our future. We’ve tried to stay lighthearted through everything so far, and *knock on wood* it has seemed to help ease our little man’s stress levels as well.

So back to mystery of the seventh floor. When it’s 5:59 AM, and you’re told to report by 6 AM for pre-op with a kid who doesn’t understand why he didn’t get breakfast, the last thing you want to experience is getting lost. In our case, it was not even being able to find the right floor, let alone office. This was not the first, nor will it be the last of my Mega Mommy Fails. In the chaos of handling logistics, precertifications, and whatnot, my handwritten notes from the surgical office mentioned 6 am, 7:30 and a few acronyms. I didn’t pay that closely to the location, I just knew it was on the 7th floor.

However, when we got to the hospital, there was no 7th floor. I panicked and figured that I misremembered, so we went up to the top floor (6 for those of you keeping track) which was identified as Waiting- General Surgery. It was a ghost town. Seriously, there was NO ONE stationed at any desk, waiting around, or anything on an entire floor of a huge city hospital. Alexander and I continued to orbit the top floor, while Brian headed downstairs in search of someone, anyone really, who might know what was going on.

Luckily, Brian quickly found out downstairs that we were in the wrong building, and soon we were shuttling our little guy off to the new wing. As we were one of the first surgeries of the morning, the patient reception desk was more than a little eager for our arrival. The 7th floor “sky lobby” was incredibly dramatic. I joked that it looked the lobby of a really swanky hotel– the entire floor was floor to ceiling windows with a beautiful view of Hyde Park and the Loop, and a player grand piano.

All all-time high/low: our surgical waiting room. Seriously, it was just stunning and a great place to stress out!

All all-time high/low: photographing our surgical waiting room. Seriously, it was just stunning and a great place to stress out!

Our “pre-op concierge” (yes, I just said that) whisked us off to check-in, where the intake nurses cooed over our little man. Apparently, very few pediatric surgeries are done in the main hospital (most are done next door at the children’s hospital), so getting short patients is quite the treat. They managed to find a tiny hospital gown and those nasty hospital socks, and soon it was revenge of the koalas in spaceships all over again.  We began the grand procession of specialists, as the various medical teams stopped by to introduce themselves and get us to sign off on lots of forms. The highlight was Alexander clapping on cue for the Anesthesia team after their spiel– the look on those doctors’ faces was priceless. It was a much-need lighthearted moment before the inevitable. Pretty soon though, we bid goodbye and good luck to our little boy, and one of the Anesthesiologists carried him away into the OR. I might have wept just a little after they took him away, and Brian’s eyes looked a little misty too.

Convincing his mama that he'll be fine, as long as she takes care of Mr Clam and Kokkonisto

Convincing his mama that he’ll be fine, as long as she takes care of Mr Clam and Kokkonisto

Without getting into too many details (too late!), the overall surgery went great. What wasn’t so great was dealing with the pager they gave us to keep track of our man. With the idea of giving families more freedom, they issued everyone restaurant-style beeping/vibrating pagers; they’d use these if any news came in from the OR regarding the status of a patient. We were grateful to be able to leave the building and get a coffee and some air, but it felt as though that blasted pager went off every 15 minutes. I think you all know how jarring those restaurant pagers can be, so you can imagine how our nerves were shot by the third page (most of which were just messages like “Alexander’s doing great!”) The funniest surgery-related anecdote is that as we were returning from Starbucks with some much-needed caffeine, we ran into our anesthesiologist with coffee and a donut. Yes, the one that introduced himself as the person who’d be taking care of Alexander! As soon as we made eye contact and he saw my jaw drop, he ran up explaining that Alexander was doing well and that his team had just rotated him into a few minute break. It made sense, but it definitely freaked me out when  first saw him.

Mr Clam waiting not so patiently for his friend in surgery

Mr Clam waiting not so patiently for his friend in surgery

Little man got all of his anticipated surgical work done for #1 (of about 4 or 5 total) in addition to some auditory repair. All the surgeons seemed really happy, and we were back in the recovery room ahead of schedule. Unfortunately though, we ended up spending close to 6 hours in recovery with some fantastic post-op nurses and anesthesiologists; Alexander didn’t want to wake up but did finally thanks mostly to Mr Clam and Kokkonisto, the sheep blanket from Grandma Amy.  Unfortunately, his hungry raging threw his heart rate monitors into a frenzy. I was touched how kind the staff was and also how ingenious the nurses were in figuring out how to comfort a patient much smaller than they were used to (which included creating a makeshift cleft feeder out of various medical supplies!)

And now for a quick aside– I take back anything bad I’ve ever said about anesthesiologists before (not that I’ve said much).  I was truly surprised at how caring the entire anesthesiology team was long after the surgery was over. The Attending (aka donut man) checked in on us every 20 minutes or so, and ended up calling over to the children’s hospital and insisting on our placement in a higher-care unit (as opposed to a general floor). I also caught him looking from a distance at Alexander’s monitor, and saw him give a little fist-pump when our little man started to calm down. The doctor totally lost his composure when I called him out that I saw him relieved. He admitted that he was really worried for our little guy, and seeing that level of compassion in a doctor who normally never sees the patient awake was refreshing and somewhat redeeming.

Alexander’s transfer and stay at the children’s hospital was exactly what we expected– a lot of primary colors, whimsical nursing scrubs, and friendly staff. We attempted to sleep a little last night, but it’s hard to sleep when your kid is howling in pain.  Luckily, we were able to wean our guy off the heavy meds last night. After eating breakfast this morning, he threw his cuffed arms into the air demanding freedom for him and his stuffed animal entourage– which included a stuffed sheep blanket, a calico cat, and of course, Mr Clam. Because of his facial surgery and that fact that he’s 17 months, we have to use little stiff cuffs that cover his elbows and restrict his movement. This way, Alexander can still move around but won’t be able to rip out his stitches or try sticking toys/anything into his mouth. He absolutely HATES it, but he’s adapted well so far. Brian and I worried that he’d be limited in movement, but as soon as we got home, he took off crawling across the living room floor.

We were out as soon as we got clearance, and the three of us made it home safely by early afternoon today. We celebrated in true Illinois fashion by getting an emissions test on my car and running a few errands  (which was mostly to try and keep awake and not take a too-late nap). Now, our little man is sleeping somewhat peacefully as we finally unwind from a pretty big parental experience. Our surgeon would like to schedule the next round of work for about three months from now, assuming Alexander continues to recover well; though I’m sure each surgery will be an adventure unto itself, I can promise you one thing–

I’ll be able to find the seventh floor!

A formal post-op portrait with Mr Clam. This photo was immediately followed by a loud "La!"

A formal, rather serious post-op portrait with Mr Clam. This photo was immediately followed by a loud “La!”

And for those of you wondering, Alexander hasn’t lost his smiles or la’s! We think it hurts him to smile a little now, because he does still smile, but the stitches do impact how long he can hold it. He’s still figuring out how to use an upper lip, but after hearing several la’s and watching him eat, he’ll get the hang of it in no time!

Waiting

I write this post with an optimistic but slightly wistful tone. Tomorrow morning, my little boy will be going into surgery.  Although I’m certain the sight of him with a little IV and hairnet will make me well up with tears (I’m getting sniffly now just typing it), he will perhaps surpass his current maximum cuteness potential.  Packing for his hospital stay, I’ve tried to think of things that will soothe and comfort him– and as of now, most of what I have packed is stuffed animals and his beloved sheep blanket, Kokkonisto.  Having taken great pains to rid him of his pacifier, he’s been struggling the past few days to latch onto something for comfort aside from our presence and the ubiquitous Mr. Clam.  I just hope that seeing us as he’s wheeled out of recovery will be a hint of stability for our little man.

When I corresponded with a fellow adoptive cleft palate mom before we brought Alexander home, she told me that you experience a form of loss when your child first goes through surgery.  Her words didn’t quite resonate until now. When I think of Alexander, I first imagine that big, wide grin that was so heart-warming and comforting when we wondered in China whether we had the stamina to be his parents.  I think of his signature “La” and how it will be impacted and altered by the trauma of his surgeries.  Then I take a moment and think about everything he experienced in life before meeting us, and yet even with the huge change in being handed over to complete strangers from a different continent who smelled and sounded different, he adapted. I know, I know, everyone says kids are resilient and bounce back quickly, but let’s face it.  No one would volunteer their child for surgery unless it was absolutely necessary. (Heck, I know most people evaluate the minor bumps and bruises of their children in hopes that a bandaid and ointment will do in place of an 8-hour trip to the local ER. I mean, they didn’t lose THAT much blood, did they?!?).

For months, I had printed photos of Alexander on my dresser in our bedroom. One of the first things I’d see in the morning and last things before bed was the smile of our future son. I’ve tried not to think about it too much, but I do wonder how his face will change, his voice, his smile… While I am absolutely ecstatic about his surgeries in light of their long-term impact, I will freely admit that I’m not looking forward to the immediate future when he’s home, scared, and most likely in some form of discomfort and not in any mood to be his jovial self.  I also feel a little saddened knowing that his name for me (“La La”, as a response to my coaching of “mama”) will most likely change. Although I know that all kids change and grow, I’ll always keep his first enthusiastic “La La” in response my to hand signing of mama in my heart long after he’s more articulate and trying to convince me why his curfew needs to be later.

And so I don’t end on a sad note, I’ll leave you with some photos from this past weekend, when my Aunt Carla came to visit and meet with Alexander. There was a lot of smiling and clapping, and Alexander even had his first experience on a swing set and slide. It was quite the weekend.

Once again, proving that it'snext to impossible to photograph this kid without him smiling. Look Mama! No pacifier!

Once again, proving that it’s next to impossible to photograph this kid without him smiling. Look Mama! No pacifier!

I think they get along.

I think they get along  — posing with his Great Aunt Carla (emphasis on the great!)

This kid is going to LOVE Six Flags.

This kid is going to LOVE Six Flags.

Alexander inquires as to whether Mr. Clam can also ride on the tractor from Great Aunt Carla.

Alexander inquires as to whether Mr. Clam can also ride on the tractor from Great Aunt Carla.

 

 

I ask you, dear friends and loyal readers, to keep Alexander and his parents in your thoughts and prayers tomorrow morning. We could certainly use them.