An explosion of words

The babies have discovered speech, and I think they’re liking it. 

Veronica has been ramping up her vocabulary for a while now, and is getting quite a nice collection of words, which she often remembers to use. Her pronunciation is quite good when she’s repeating things we say, although when she’s speaking on her own, it sounds much more like a beginning talker. 

Our biggest “problem” with Veronica is convincing her to use the words she has when she wants something, rather than just reverting to grunting or crying.

Veronica: Unghhh!

Me: What do you want?

Veronica: UNGHHH!

Me: Veronica, what do you want? 

Veronica: UNGHHHH!!!!!

Me: Veronica, use your words. Tell me what you want. 

Veronica: Cheese.

Me, handing her some cheese: See how much easier that was?

I mean, I’m often confused with a psychic (okay, really I’m just often confused), but it’s a whole lot easier to figure out and fulfill the wish for “cheese” than for “Unghhh.” Wouldn’t you agree? 

Until recently, Colin has been less interested in learning words. He know several useful signs (including please and thank you, more, all done and bath — all crucial in our house) and can say a few things, like bye and baby. But his focus has been on his gross motor skills and [most recently] learning to walk.

Suddenly, however, a couple of days ago, his language skills have just taken off. I have heard him using words more, and more words. Yesterday he said at least four new words (which, of course, I didn’t write down and can’t remember any more), including asking for cheese at snack. Even his physical therapist commented at his session yesterday about how much he suddenly is speaking. 

It is interesting, though, to see the difference in how Colin and Veronica pronounce things. Veronica’s vowel sounds are very drawn out and emphasized. Colin puts much more emphasis on the consonants at the beginning of his words. I’m sure that means something … but I don’t care enough to figure out what.

And they're off

Colin’s bandages are off (except for the one covering the catheter port) and everything looks pretty good. He is far less bruised and swollen than the surgeon led me to expect, so that’s a nice surprise. He’s still covered in adhesive (how exactly do you get that off baby skin without rubbing raw spots?), but eventually I’m sure that will wear off. 

So now the countdown is on until we can get the catheter out and (I hope) go back to normal.

Every other day

Colin seems to be following an every other day type of recovery pattern. After his great first night, he had that horrible day and night, followed by another great day (and okay night). He did good yesterday, for the most part, but last night was another bad one, compounded by my shooting his antibiotics down his windpipe when giving them to him  last night. (How was I supposed to know he was inhaling right as I was squirting the stuff? I thought I was aiming at his cheek too. Guess not so much.)

That set off a bout of inconsolable crying that lasted for the better part of an hour, followed by another hour of tossing, whimpering and climbing all over Mommy in an attempt to get comfortable. I don’t think he slept more than an hour at a stretch until now. 

He gets his bandages off today (but the catheter stays in for another week, so I am not expecting anything to change), and we’ll talk to the nurse about the amount of blood in his urine. It was getting better for a while, but now it’s back to being very bloody. John thinks it’s because Colin’s been more active. He’s probably right. 

Veronica has been very sweet to Colin through much of this. Yesterday afternoon, as he was starting to get fussy again, she tried to feed him snack (he wasn’t interested in eating). After he refused her third or fourth offering, she went and found his favorite teething toy (his Q) and gave it to him (he threw it at me). Then she brought him a book to look at. 

Of course, yesterday morning, she spent a half an hour fighting with him over who got to sit on my lap. When I pulled them both on my lap, she then started hitting him until I had to set them both down to separate them. So don’t go worrying that she’s not a normal toddler. She is.

So I am hoping that we’ll have a better day today, that the bandage removal will go well, and — most importantly — that tonight will not be a repeat of last night.

Rough ride

As promised by the surgeon, the recovery from this surgery has been much more difficult for Colin. He has been plagued by bladder spasms, despite being on anti-spasm medication. Not only are they very painful for him, but they also force urine out everywhere, which means he ends up soaked every time. 

He had two big ones last night, which kept him awake basically from about 10:30 until 4:00 this morning. And nothing I did would make it better. I finally went and got John from Veronica’s room (where he was still up with her — more on that in a minute) to see if he would have better luck. I was at my wits end. 

For whatever reason, Veronica was a pill all day yesterday, and absolutely refused to sleep at all. But she was so tired, everything made her cry. I even tried pushing the stroller through the ever-growing mounds of unshoveled snow to see if she would fall asleep that way. No luck. And, of course, that complete lack of sleep meant that she too had trouble sleeping last night. She was up for more or less the same stretch — I think she got about an hour in the middle. 

She slept well from 3:30 or so until 5:30, at which point she woke up screaming (and the girl can project that wail like an opera star), which woke everyone else in the house up. 

I ended up putting Colin back down for a nap by 7:30 (in Roni’s crib, because John was sleeping in Colin’s room). He slept more or less from 7:45 until 1:00 when, finally, our old mostly cheerful boy was back. That first laugh was the sweetest sound I’ve heard since the first time he cried. 

He has had a lot of blood in his urine (an expected result), but that is starting to diminish now. He seems to have only had one spasm this afternoon, which is good. His fever, which spiked yesterday afternoon at 100.5, is basically gone. So I’m feeling a little less worried now. I am, however, dreading tonight because I fear a repeat of last night. 

I am not at all sure how we’re going to survive 10 days of this (two down, eight to go) before he gets the catheter out. But I guess we don’t really have a choice. With luck, as the surgery site heals, he’ll be better able to deal with the spasms, and things will go better. 

And then we have to do this all again in six months. Ugh!

Recovery

Yesterday Colin had his third surgery in 18 months. That seems like a lot to me, but I now know that for many kiddos, that’s nothing. However, Colin isn’t “many kiddos,” he’s my baby. And it’s hard to see your baby going through painful things (even, I suspect, if your baby is all grown up). 

We were lucky enough to get scheduled for the first surgery of the day at 7:30. This works out well because Colin doesn’t usually eat breakfast until close to 7:00, so we minimize the “I’m cranky because I haven’t eaten” period before going in. He obviously knew something was coming, because he did not sleep for more than about 25 minutes at a stretch the night before — with the exception of the nice hour and 20 minute stretch I had to wake him up from when it was time to leave. 

Being whisked out of bed and into his jacket right away really threw Colin for a loop this time, and he was very fussy as we got started. But he settled down pretty quickly, and had fun exploring the lobby after we got to Children’s. In fact, he did great until about 20 minutes before they took him off for anesthesia, when he realized he was hungry. 

The surgery went well. They expected him to be in for four hours, but were able to complete everything in about three and a half. He didn’t need a transfusion this time around, and the anesthesiologists didn’t see any reason to keep him in for observation since he had no problems with the last two surgeries. [Yeah!] So we had a “normal” outpatient experience this time around.

The surgeon was happy with the results. They were able to get five layers of tissue over the “tube” they constructed to house the urethra. This minimizes the chances of the entire construction breaking down as it heals. This is our biggest risk (not to his health so much, but to the success of the surgery). It is a very long graft, and so has a higher risk of not holding. But the surgeon didn’t see anything during surgery that led him to believe Colin faced a high risk for problems — this is just a potential issue anyone having this surgery would face. 

After the worst of the anesthesia wore off, I was able to go back to recovery to hold him. He perked up as soon as he heard my voice, and was happy to be handed over into my arms (although he seemed quite content with the nurse before that). The nurse brought me a bottle of apple juice to give him, and he started in on it right away. 

Unfortunately, 4 ounces into the bottle, the post-op nausea kicked in, and up came the contents of the bottle (and a lot of phlegm) all over him and me. Luckily, I had shifted him upright when he started coughing, so the blankets caught most of the mess and he was able to get it all out without problem. He ended up throwing up two more times, at which point the doctors approved an anti-nausea medication for him. 

He did need one nebulizer treatment to open up his lungs — his blood oxygen levels were hovering just a bit too low without it. But after that kicked in, he seemed to perk up considerably. And by 2:30, we had our prescriptions in hand (love the in-house pharmacy option — they deliver to your room), a package of Goldfish crackers for the hungry boy, and were waiting for the valet to bring our car around (totally worth the extra dollar). We were home by 3:00, and Colin and I were beat.

Colin took a nice two-hour nap, despite Veronica enjoying the attention that comes from being an only child for the day (she LOVED having Grandma and Grandpa and the house to herself all day). She was dancing and singing and running around and throwing shoes (it’s a form of recreation in our house these days — a tossing game more than throwing, really). He woke up in time for dinner, which he had quite an appetite for.

Although John had to lay in the room with him to get him to sleep, Colin slept through the night and didn’t even wake up when his pain medication wore off. He woke up at his usual 5:00 time, and is upstairs enjoying a bottle in his crib. I still haven’t given him more pain medication, because he didn’t seem overly uncomfortable and his fever is very minor. 

Our biggest challenges will be keeping him (and Veronica) from pulling out the catheter, which is through a port in his stomach, directly to the bladder (those tubes are just so convenient to tug on), surviving the removal of the bandages on Monday, and hoping that the bladder spasms aren’t too horrible. (He is on medication to help control those too.)

So I’m hoping my little fighter bounces back as quickly from this surgery as he has from everything else he’s been through. He is one tough kid, and seems to heal well.

Surgery blues

Tomorrow Colin has surgery — again. This is the next (but probably not last) stage of his hypospadias repair. Right now I am alternating between a state of nonchalance and fear. This is the third time he’s had surgery in his little life. We’ve been there, done that. And his surgeon is the head of urology at Children’s — so he's no slouch. In fact, this type of surgery is his specialty. 

But on the other hand, it’s surgery. What if something goes wrong? What if Colin doesn’t bounce back as quickly as the last two times? How on Earth am I going to keep the kid from pulling out the catheter? He never holds still.

Taking care of all the pre-surgery details has been much more time-consuming than I remember from before as well. Maybe it’s because I’m so busy at work. I barely make it home for the twins’ bedtime most nights. I don’t have time to figure all of this stuff out. 

And then there was the little glitch of us failing to schedule Colin’s follow-up appointment with his pulmonologist, which should have been today. That made the anesthesiology department nervous, and they weren’t sure they were going to allow him to go under. But a quickly scheduled appointment for early February (out in the suburbs, because we couldn’t get in here in the city until April) seems to have addressed their concerns. 

So now, I believe, we have all of our i’s dotted and our t’s crossed. We’ll find out this evening what time we have to arrive at the hospital tomorrow morning. And, more importantly, when Colin has to stop eating. 

Although this is technically outpatient surgery, we’ve had to stay in for “observation” for 23 hours each time he’s had surgery in the past. This means spending the night in the recovery ward, which has bays with three walls and a curtain, rather than in a room with a door. And it means having a nurse check his vitals every few hours, all night long. And it means one of us has to sleep in a chair (it does fold out into a bed of sorts) in a noisy ward. John took the last two shifts because I was still nursing Veronica. This one is going to be mine. 

So I’m preparing for the worst, and hoping for the best. With luck, the surgery will be less complicated than the surgeon expects (not likely, since he has a pretty good idea of what he’s dealing with from the last surgery), Colin won’t need a transfusion (again, unlikely, given the expected level of complication/length of surgery), and the anesthesiologist won’t have any concerns about him having an adverse reaction to the anesthesia (again, probably not going to happen, given his lung disease). 

I wish I could say after this that we’re done with surgery. But in all likelihood, Colin will need at least one more surgery this year, and possibly another after that. But we’re getting through the worst of it here. And being at the hospital tomorrow will put this all back in perspective for me, as I listen to parents in consultation with their surgeons about problems far more serious for their children in surgeries that are much more complicated and dangerous. And I will again thank God that despite the long odds facing the babies when they were born, we have come through this experience relatively unscathed.

Like Mount Vesuvius

We’ve rung in the new year with a house full of crabby kids. Poor Ethan ended 2011 with a migraine (or at least a headache that seemed much like one) and was still out of sorts in the morning. Colin is all congested, again. So he’s crabby. And poor Veronica has four molars waiting to erupt — they look like little mountains on her gums. She is miserable (and therefore, so are the rest of us). 

The twins turned 18 months old today. A year and a half. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long already. Who knew a person could survive a year and a half of sleep deprivation. (I don’t know how parents of triplets or quads do it.) 

Colin has started growing again, I think. He seems longer, and when I weighed him on our scale the other day, he was 19 pounds (compared to the 18 he’s been stuck at forever). I’m sure some of the gain is from the Pediasure, and probably also from having a whole month where he was healthy. It’s another reason I hope this doesn’t get worse, and that it passes quickly. 

Unfortunately, neither baby is sleeping well (again) right now. Last night, Veronica had her insomnia thing going again — she was awake for a couple of hours; not crying, not playing … just sitting there. She didn’t nap well either today, and yet here it is nearly 7:30 and she’s still fussing in her crib. She’s been in bed since a little after 6:00. (Baby girl is stubborn. Especially when she’s tired.)

So, I can’t say that 2012 is starting off any different than 2011 did. I am hoping, really, really hoping, that at some point, we’ll get beyond this lack of sleep thing. It would be nice to be able to get the twins into the same room, so that John and I can have a bedroom again. But until then … well, I won’t be giving up coffee again any time soon.

Happy new year everyone! Thanks again for all of your love and support.