Tie Game Baby

Yesterday was a hard day. It hasn't been the best week, and yesterday was just exhausting. He has missed one of his naps, and was pretty irritated when I got home. Why I thought today was the day to work on weaning of that bedtime bottle, I'll never know.

It seems that nothing infuriates my child more than me saying "no" and moving him away from said "no no" item/behavior. Lack of sleep makes him prone to his fits. He goes nuts - screaming, throwing himself on the ground, and thrashing about wildly. If I make the mistake of holding him, he will scratch and smack me in the face. He has also been known to try and bite too. It sounds horrible, but the fit lasts about 30 seconds. He then goes about his business, seemingly content having expressed himself in such a dramatic fashion.

Yesterday, he did this about 15 times in 2 hours, including in the bathtub, while changing his diaper, while trying to feed him, and while trying to get him dressed for bed. I felt like somebody kidnapped my angel and left me his demon twin, and I wanted my kid back. Things had really gotten bad when I was trying to him into his PJ's. He was thrashing about naked - screaming until he gagged himself. I just sat on the ground with him and started to cry. I don't know why I expected empathy from a one year old. I couldn't really have thought he'd crawl over, pat me on the back, and settle down? He did however, stop going nuts - but only to laugh at me. Awesome.

I guess this where you'd expect me to stop crying and laugh with him, and everyone goes to bed happy. Wrong. I tried to grab him in his moment of happiness to get a diaper on. The tantrum continued, complete with kicking, scratching, and ear piercing screams. Eventually I wrestle him into clothes, and get him into the crib. He threw his sippy cup and his stuffed monkey over the edge of the crib and then cried about it.

I gave up. 2 hours of this was enough. I gave him his bottle. He wrong. I guess we start bottle weaning next time.

PS-I don't know what magic I had tonight, but we had a peaceful bath, pj, and bedtime routine - no bottle...only a sippy cup with a few sips of milk!

Baby's First Boo Boo

I can't believe it has been so long since I have been able to post. My laptop has gone on to computer heaven - that place where there power button does NOTHING and no one thinks the hard drive is recoverable. Oh well, it was old, and led a good life. This post is happening thanks to Scott and Dani and Cancun and my convenient location to the airport ;-) No worries Scott, I only used Firefox and I tuck it away safely each night in its little case, far away from the reach of the cats and/or baby!

For those of you who are close to me, you know that both the baby and I have Type I Osteogenesis Imperfect. That's "OI" for short.... I won't bore you with the details. Basically, our bones are fragile. If you have the time, go to www.oif.org and check out the basic facts. I will continue on assuming you know what I'm talking about!!

From the moment I came to really grasp my pregnancy, I had a good vibe. I was never sick, I had minimal cravings, and I escaped a lot of those pregnant lady things. I always called him "he". In fact, when discussing my unborn child, I used to say things like, "What if HE's a girl?!?!?" I had intuition that he was a boy. I had a feeling I would have a good delivery. I thought I'd have an easy pregnancy. I thought he may beat those 50/50 odds of having OI. I was 3 for 4. In July, x rays confirmed he had OI. It was bittersweet. I was, of course, a little sad knowing the physical pain he may have to endure, the possible surgeries, as well as the mental challenges he would face. But, I also knew that he would develop the incredible strength required to live with this condition. Having OI shaped me in many positive ways - it steered my interest towards music (leading to my career) and fostered my outgoing, "i can do anything" attitude - my patience and empathy. Some positive would come of it for Daniel as well. I also knew it was I bond that only we could share - knowing how it felt to lug around that fiberglass cast in the sweltering July heat and to shrug off a broken toe or two as "not that bad".

As we approached his first birthday, I made follow up appointments with his genetics specialist and his pediatrician, both of whom were excited that we had made it one year without a break. Almost...

When I picked Peanut up from daycare on Thursday, his sitter said he was a little fussy and was sort of chill - not real interested in standing or crawling. I felt heat rise from my feet, I saw spots in my vision, and my ears rang. I knew this was it. I woke him up from his nap, and kissed him all over his head, and tried to get him to stand. He refused. My mind went a mile a minute - looking for which foot he favored, what looked swollen, what didn't. What was tender to the touch, what wasn't. I ran through the day in mind, and realized he didn't stand or craw for me this morning - but I attributed it to it being an early wake up and him being mellow. I was mad. I had missed something. Me, his mother! His wonderful sitter was distraught when I told her I was taking him for x-rays. She couldn't imagine he could be hurt, and not cry all day.

Here's where I have a major lapse in judgement. Luckily, it led only to some laughs after the fact instead of a lawsuit. I went to the doctors...at the mall. Yes, that's right. We have an after hours pediatrics clinic right next the JC Penney's catalog pick-up, and I was dumb enough to think that was a good idea! My friend Jenny met us there with milk and cherrios. I was sitting in the car, dabbing my tears, waiting for them to let us back in. They didn't open for 5 minutes and asked us to wait outside while she opened. The doctor quickly made his way to my bad side as he let us sit there for an hour while he wiped snotty noses and looked a rash. Thats right, Doc, boogers and spots before the kid with a rare genetic condition and possible fracture. He asked if I was "sure" we had OI, cause my eyes really aren't blue. I said I'm sure, and that I was 3rd generation, and if he continued to watch, the more angry I get, the more my eyes turn purple. I also assured him that not only was I sure but so was the genetic specialist that diagnosed him!

Fast forward an hour (where I help with the xrays, and he uses google as part of the exam) and he says nothing looks broken, but said if it got worse to bring him back. He then suggested I try to get into a specialist. He recommended a colleauge (who's contact info he had to Google). He also recommended I lie to them and say his leg is broken to see if I could get in faster because they have a long wait list for new patients.

Fast forward to Monday (first day of Spring Break). My angel is crawling, but will not bear weight. He has gotten better, and is standing, but I don't like the way he dangles his right leg in the air. I got an appointment with his pediatrician who says xrays are a good idea. Xrays confirm that he broke the top part of tibia on his right leg. My poor little man! Our Pediatrician, (who is FABULOUS!) was amazed at how he carried on with his leg. He crawled all over her floor and tried to pull himself up on her pants to get a hug.

None of the local orthopedics wanted to take Daniel - that pesky genetic conditon. The amazing office staff jumped into action, calling through the doctors in my insurance plan, aksing to speak with a doctor before sending us to someone who may not be comfortable with OI patients. They even offered to hold Daniel so I could pee (for the first time in 5 hours!) We ended up going 70 miles from his pediatrician to a really great pediatric orthopedic group-ironically the one the quack doctor had recomended.

He was so good all day - even slept the entire way to the orthopedics! Never crying or fussing - just going about his day playing and enjoying his new favorite snack - cheese. We picked out dinosaurs for his first cast. Daniel played physicians assistant and held the gauze and fiberglass rolls.

I have to give my little man credit - he was kind enough to ease me into this whole thing. Everyone if my family got a chuckle out MY kid going 5 days with a broken leg. EVERYONE had to bring up the splinter incident (circa 1988) where I screamed bloody murder and swore I would die if they dug it out. Whatever - it hurt!

(written 4/8, posted late!)