Let it snow!
Kurt came home from work early on Friday, knowing we were about to get pounded by the same storm that dumped snow on Las Vegas. I'm glad he did. He needed some time playing in the snow.
The kids had a wonderful time too.
Even Quinn seemed okay with it.
Here's a fun shot. This is that same picnic table this afternoon, after the Friday storm and today's storm.
This is the pond. Dorian and Faith seem to think they will be going skating soon.
We have a walkway under that snow somewhere.

I love the single icicle hanging from the lamppost.

I'm excited today is the solstice. I'm not thinking of it as the first day of winter this year. I'm thinking of it as the shortest day of the year, and therefore we'll be getting more sun from here on out. We need some sun.

The kids are excited for Christmas and ask daily if it's time to open presents. Not very long now. Then we'll have to think of something else to look forward to, besides spring. We always look forward to spring.

The storms of life. We're living in a winter wonderland. Those of you blessed not to live in the northeast may have heard we had a significant ice storm this week. It coated trees and power lines with ice, which was very pretty when the moon came out on Friday night. But it also meant some of those trees and lines came down, and lots of people are without power. We never lost power, though we did lose our cable connection, which meant no phone or internet. But that's a minor annoyance compared to having no power for heating. The local high schools and colleges have become temporary shelters for people without heat. And there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to the power losses. As I said, we never lost power, but a mile down the road from us is a traffic signal at a major intersection that hasn't worked since Thursday. Do you remember learning in driver's ed that if you come to a signal that is out, you should treat it like a four-way stop? Yeah, that isn't happening down there. I don't know how many accidents have occurred because of it. But the good news is the roads are well plowed and salted to taste, so as long as wherever we're going has power, we're fine. I had a dentist appointment on Friday, but when I got there, there was a hand written note on the door about their power loss, and they couldn't call some people (like me) because of the phone lines being out. It's been quite an adventure for some.

The storm hasn't dampened the spirit of the season. We got Secret Santa-ed last night. Just as we were finishing dinner, the doorbell rang. On our doorstep, we found a gift with a note about its being the first day of Christmas. We got a Pepperidge Farm tree, made of several packages of Goldfish and Milanos. Dorian and Faith were very excited. So if you're reading this, thank you very much, and I really hope you didn't biff it on our unsalted front walk. That's a bad habit we get into when we only go in and out of the garage.

We're doing well other than the storm adventures. I'm knocking on wood as I say that I think all illness has been squashed in our house. And may it last. No one wants to be sick for Christmas, which is just over a week away. How did that happen?

Just a little classic 80's movie to mark the day.

Yes, it's my birthday. I was born on the 39th anniversary of the Pearl Harbor bombing, and the day before John Lennon was murdered. Just a couple of iffy signs to start life with. This is my 6th birthday in a row where I've been either pregnant or breastfeeding. For the record, I'm making no prediction as to my status next year. If I've learned anything this year, it's that the best laid plans can all turn to crap.

We sort of had our celebration yesterday, just because things are generally easier on Saturday than Sunday. Here I caught Faith making my cake.
And the kids' favorite part, blowing out the candles.
Kurt made me my favorite chicken and feta dinner, and we watched a lot of football. After all the football games were over, we watched The Two Towers. And then this morning we woke up to snow. And another year passes.

In other news, Quinn weighed in at 13 lbs 4 oz this week, up nearly a pound from last month. He's growing! I think (knock on wood) the illness is on it's way out. And this week's word appears to be favorite. Both older kids are starting to grasp the concept of favorites. Many times in the last few days, I've heard Faith say "You're my favorite mommy." Okay, I admit, that one got to me.

Tis the season to be jolly again, and our year of the unexpected is almost over. May it never repeat.

We had a great Thanksgiving. The cousins loved playing with each other in the added space in the basement. We had lots of good food and good company, and it was so good for me to have some more adult conversations. Only 4 months to go.

I went to the other ward's sacrament meeting on Sunday morning. I don't know if this will be a long term solution, since we'll trade times with them after the new year, but for now, it works. It was good to take the sacrament, and just be there. And things didn't fall apart in my absence.

We've had snow, but then Monday the sun came out, and it got up to 50, so we went outside to play. We did that again today. I'm all for winter delaying it's real appearance.

I also took Quinn to our pediatrician on Monday. He never did shake whatever he picked up at the hospital, and the last few days, it worsened into serious congestion with yellow snot, and coughing. Turns out he has a sinus infection. Poor kid. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I feel like a first time parent again. I remember being pretty anxious when Dorian got sick for the first time. I took him in because he was getting dehydrated with all the throwing up. I was much more relaxed with Faith, and knock on wood, I've yet to take her to the doctor for an illness. Then along came Quinn. I'm sure we'll both grow out of it, but in the mean time, we'll probably know about every bug that works its way through our neighborhood and our church. And the older kids will continue their course. Dorian's gotten into the habit of using a word he just learned in every context, appropriate or not. This week's word is important. Example: "Dorian, it's time to get dressed. " "It's not important, Mommy." or "What do you want for lunch?" "It's not important, Mommy." Alrighty then. Nevermind that I think he's going through a growth spurt and has become a bottomless pit. He ate three bowls of pasta last night, two of his own, and then he finished off Faith's. But that's okay. It's not important.

What can I say? Holidays throw everything off, even if we haven't actually had that holiday yet. We are very much looking forward to Thanksgiving in a couple of days, and having cousin time for the kids. Kurt's brother and family will be joining us for the occasion. We've been working frantically on our basement in the meanwhile, a work in progress. Eventually, we want to have a play room, laundry/bathroom, spare bedroom, storage room, and workshop down there. It sounds like a lot, but the basement is the whole area of the house, minus the garage. I dream of having a 2 car garage, but I think I'll have to admit that that will be a different house. But I'm happy with the results of the basement so far. We have shelves sectioning off the different "rooms," and a foam rubber floor on what will be the play room. I moved all the toys downstairs, so yay, no more clutter in the kids' bedroom! There is also a TV and DVD player and bean bag chairs. As I said, a work in progress, but so far, Dorian and Faith love it. And I think the cousins will too. And eventually, Quinn will join in the play down there. First he has to master other things. Here's one thing he's got a pretty good handle on. He hates being on his stomach.
So he takes care of that.
and rolls over within seconds of being put down.
He doesn't got from his belly to his back yet. Why would he? He doesn't like that view. But he's getting pretty mobile, and he'll also now reach for toys. So I think we're making progress overall.
He also loves his swing. Good thing too, otherwise I don't think I'd ever get dinner done.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I haven't slept much this week. It's been a transition for Quinn to get used to sleeping without covers. I tried layers with long sleeved onsie, socks, pajamas, and a sleep sack, with the space heater going, and then a few days later added a cap to the whole ensemble, and he still woke up around midnight freezing. I finally broke down and added a crocheted afghan, as in, lots of holes for ventilation, but that seemed to help quite a bit, and now he isn't so cold anymore.

The whole ER experience seems a bit surreal now. Did I really go into Quinn's room and find him unresponsive? Did we really have 10 emergency responders in our living room working on him? Did I really sit outside the CAT scan room at the hospital and picture the worst? Unfortunately, the answer is yes to all of them. We do what we can to prevent such things, but they do happen sometimes.

And now Quinn appears to be sick. I don't know whether he got it at the hospital or from something the older kids brought home from church, but he's congested and coughing. I'd asked our doctor at what point I should call her, since I'm not used to bringing sick kids to the doctor, I'm used to treating them at home. She said if he looks like he's having trouble breathing, then call, and he definitely isn't so far. Let's pray it stays that way.

In other news, Dorian had his first teeth cleaning this week. That was exciting. I was worried how that would go, since we've tried in the past and he wouldn't open his mouth. But he did fine this time, and his teeth look good. Yay! Maybe he didn't get his parents' perpetually weak teeth. Today was also his debut in the Primary program. I of course missed it, being home with Quinn, but Kurt reports he delivered his line on cue, and he wasn't the most distracting four-year-old on the podium. And Faith was very sad not to be up there performing as well, surprise surprise. I'm glad it went well, but I'm really sad I missed it. I hope I don't have too many more instances like this. I feel like I'm choosing between my kids, and it's an awful feeling. I felt like that through most of Quinn's NICU stay, where I wanted to be with him, but my older kids needed me as well. I'm hoping the winter goes by quickly. And we know it's coming. This morning, there were three deer in the trees behind our house. We only see them when it gets cold, so winter must be setting in. I'm getting cold just thinking about it.

Back when I updated this blog daily, I found myself composing that night's entry throughout the day. It got revised based on different events that happened, but by the time I sat down to write, I had pretty much mapped out in my mind what I wanted to say. When I shifted to weekly updates, I did the same thing, only the entry got revised over the course of a whole week. This week's entry probably went through the most drastic revision yet. I had planned to talk about Quinn being weighed this week at 12 lbs 7 oz, and having a physical therapy session, and how much more personable he is becoming day by day, but Friday night changed all that. And just to "spoil" the ending, he's fine, and we are pretty sure it was an accident and won't have any lasting effects, but it was nothing short of terrifying.

Friday evening, I put Quinn down for a nap. I didn't cover him at all, but there was a down comforter at the other end of the crib. About an hour later, as Kurt and I were getting Dorian and Faith ready for bed, I needed to get something out of Quinn's room. He had turned himself completely around in the crib and gotten the comforter over his head. I pulled it off, and he was still breathing, but completely limp and unresponsive. I picked him up, called his name, brought him into the light of the hall and the noise of the other kids, and there was no change. I called 911, and within minutes volunteer EMT's were at our door. Fire stations are plentiful in our heavily wooded area, and we have one just down the street from us. They gave him oxygen and tried to stimulate him until the paramedics came. When they came, they did a heel stick to test his blood sugar, which he didn't even react to. But by the time we'd decided to head to the hospital, he had opened his eyes and was attempting to focus, and his hands and feet weren't quite so blue. Our neighbors saw the lights and came over and stayed with the older kids while Kurt and I went to the ER. By the time we were there, Quinn was starting to move around by himself again. Three or four doctors and as many nurses surrounded him and fired questions at us about his medical history and the night's events (They also complimented us for using cloth diapers. Yay.) Since he was awake and aware, it wasn't as dire as it could have been and things were done pretty methodically. They took blood and urine, looking for infections, and sent him to have a chest x-ray and a CAT scan. He complained about the blood sample, which gave us a lot of hope. It had been frightening to see him so inert earlier. By about 1 a.m. we had the results from the x-ray and the CAT scan, both of which were normal. At that point, they recommended he stay overnight for observation, but everyone was pretty sure it was a one-time event, related to suffocating under the heavy blanket, and that he would be okay. The main doctor we saw was named Fred, and totally reminded me of my uncle Fred. When I asked him what happened, he said "What happened is you got the bejesus scared out of you, but he's going to be fine and dandy." He then commented we must have done something like this before, Quinn being our third child. We said no, and he was incredulous. I described for him the only event remotely similar, which was when Dorian, at two and a half, fell and gashed his scalp open, and we went to urgent care for stitches. He just shook his head and said we were overdue in that case. I'm not sure how I feel about that, whether it's comforting, or foreboding. But we were assured life would resume, as long as we quit using blankets in the crib. That will be a big change. It's cold here, and layering clothing just isn't enough. Hopefully a space heater will take up the slack, but I'm worried about keeping Quinn warm this winter. And as we've already discussed, this didn't happen with my other kids, and I hadn't realized how mobile Quinn had become. To go from relatively stationary to capable of moving two feet away is a big step for him.

After things started to settle, and it was clear that Quinn would be fine, Kurt and I began to comment that this was shaping up to be the most positive experience we'd had at a hospital. That we weren't annoyed with anyone would have been good enough. But everyone was uniformly pleasant to work with. And they were all sure we would go home in the morning. Morning came, and the attending pediatrician came through on his rounds. He was a perfectly affable guy, and Quinn smiled and giggled at him, which was music to my ears. He said Quinn looked great and would get ready for us to be discharged. I called Kurt, who had gone home at about 2 to sleep, so that he could come get us. But here's where the story gets revised a bit. We thought, "This is great. We've had good people to work with, we've identified the problem and how to avoid it in the future, and we're on our way home." But the ensuing 5 hours isn't accounted for in the general slowness of a hospital's pace.

The pediatric resident needed to sign Quinn's discharge form. I had mistakenly thought that seeing the attending doc would bypass all that, but I guess I'm still unfamiliar with the medical feudal system. When the resident came in, he said we needed to repeat the blood sample, because they had too many anomalies in it. It had been taken through an IV in the ER, and that apparently messes with the chemistry enough to account for the problems they saw. Either way, it didn't do good things for my confidence in the ER staff's ability to do things right.

For some reason, it took the phlebotomist more than an hour to come take Quinn's blood. And then we had to wait for it to come back. Kurt and I asked the resident if the results would change whether or not we went home, as in, could they call us with the results and we'll deal with them, whatever they are, through our own pediatrician? But he kept assuring us that it wouldn't be much longer. And then he came back and said the urine sample also had too many anomalies in it, and that needed to be redone. Now I really didn't have any confidence in the ER. Maybe they just aren't used to patients Quinn's size. Let's hope. The resident said what they were seeing was consistent with type I diabetes, and that didn't make sense, given Quinn's age, and a lack of family history, therefore, we needed to do them all again. The urine sample involved taping a bag to Quinn and waiting for him to fill it. Fortunately, that didn't take to long, and by the time it was sent off, the blood work had come back and was normal, so we were released, and told we'd be called with the other results. Thank heaven.

I can't quite describe how we're feeling about it all at this point. I don't think the shock has entirely worn off, so if I seem like I'm describing it with some disconnect, that's probably why. But no mistake, this is the stuff parents' nightmares are made of, and we're feeling blessed that Quinn is fine. We're also feeling better knowing that it isn't because he was a preemie, that this could have happened to any baby. That may seem like cold comfort, but considering what we've all been through this year, knowing that he has normal tendencies as well is oddly comforting. And I'll need that during our long cold winter, where I don't expect to get much sleep.

On a completely different and much lighter note, among my earlier iterations of this entry, before Friday's nightmare, I included this story, for those who enjoyed my pumpkin story last week. Be warned: the f-bomb is dropped at least once. Despite that, I just about busted a gut when I first read it last year. Now of course, I empathize. Where do these vegetarian dogs come from anyway?

Faith called this a princess cheerleader outfit. She must be a princess, no matter what. And that's not a pom-pon. It's a magic wand. Alrighty then.
Dorian got pretty hot in this outfit. Despite the snow earlier this week, we had a pretty mild day.
And here's baby bee.
The whole crew.
We went to our immediate neighbors and that's as far as we could really go in our spread out neighborhood. Then Kurt took the two older kids to the mall, which was packed, from what I hear. They loved it though. They've asked a few times since when we're going trick or treating again.

We tried to get into a few more of the Halloween traditions which we hadn't done in past years. This is the first year we carved a pumpkin with our kids, and it obviously wasn't meant to be. Kurt sat down with the kids in the kitchen and carved your standard jack o'lantern. Then we made the mistake of leaving it there. We put the kids to bed, and Kurt got in the shower. Then I heard this odd noise, like wood being ground up. It wasn't wood, however. It was our obnoxious hound eating the face off our jack o'lantern. We were thoroughly unimpressed. Kurt thought maybe it looked scarier afterward, sort of like a Phantom of the Opera jack o'lantern. So we stuck it on the porch and lit it. Then some creature of the night came along and ate its other eye and made off with the top, so by morning we had about one-third the pumpkin we'd started out with. Not to worry, the neighbor's dog came over and finished the job. I might just take that as a sign and not do it again next year.

We enjoyed some nice fall weather this week. It doesn't take long to make a huge leaf pile around here.
And Faith "helped."
Quinn is getting more and more talkative.
We've begun our isolation. So those of you who know us in real life, we'll see you next spring. I told Kurt I wanted to make a paper chain, but he said "Until when?" and therein lies the problem. Just how long will winter be? Who knows. We'll find things to keep us occupied, but it won't be the same, that's for sure.

Quinn had an appointment this week with an ophthalmologist. Despite being clear of ROP, he had another check up. I was really annoyed that we were doing it, given that it's late October, and we spent an hour in a standing-room-only waiting room where about one third of the people were coughing. And Quinn wasn't the only baby being checked out that day. That night, I lost sleep listening to Quinn snore through his sudden congestion. He still has it, but he doesn't have any other symptoms to go along with it. No runny nose, no coughing, no fever, just a rattle in his airway. Very annoying. But his eyes were declared fine, just like they were last time, and the doctor said bring him back when he's 3 and we'll see how he is then. Great. Now we really aren't going anywhere until spring, least of all to a doctor's office when we're healthy.

I realized that we've crossed a milestone this week. Quinn has now spent more time at home than in a hospital. How time flies. And today he rolled over, and I think it was for real this time. Previous times he did that, he was already on a slanted surface. But this time, he was up on his elbows looking around, and rolled onto his back. Yay for progress!

Quinn is doing his physical therapy exercises. He's getting much better as lifting his head and it's only been 2 weeks since his evaluation.

We spent part of yesterday at the pumpkin patch. It was a gorgeous day to spend outside.
Dorian and Faith have claimed their pumpkins.

"Look Mommy! It's a little baby pumpkin! I have a little baby pumpkin! Where's the mommy pumpkin?"
I have a picture like this from last fall, and yes, they've grown!
The drive home. The northeast is gorgeous this time of year, no question.
I love fall, but we're looking into a lot winter of isolation. It doesn't help that Dorian has learned about seasons and now asks almost daily if it's spring yet. I'll never survive if he doesn't give that up!

The fall also brings election time. I have to say I'm sick of politics and wouldn't mind if the elections were over already. Kurt says that's just because I'm sorry I'm not running for anything. Ha! After hearing my sister Erin's stories about her campaign, I don't think I'll be running for office. She's running for school board in southern California, www.kutnick4kids.com. I'm sure all candidates on all levels are ready for it to be over.

It's generally well known that when attempting to take pictures, you take several shots and hope one of them will turn out well. The probability of one good shot decreases with the number of subjects. It plummets if any of those subjects are children or animals, both because they are less likely to behave, and because they have less patience and so fewer shots are taken. So without further ado, this is my favorite shot from our family's attempt to take pictures yesterday. It's such a day-in-the-life shot.
This one's a little tamer. I just need to play with the brightness and exposure level a bit. It would have been almost perfect if we could have convinced Monty to look at the camera, rather than trying to follow whatever scent he caught, but that's who he is.
And we are a happy family.

11 lbs 9 oz, which is off the charts low for a 6 month old, but somewhere around 30th percentile for a 3 month old. I was holding out hope for 12 lbs, but this was pretty close. And he looks great in general and got a clean bill of health, whatever that means. So did the other kids. Dorian got to look at an eye chart for the first time. Thankfully, he got his dad's good eye sight. And Faith told the doctor that she eats cookies for lunch. Dream on! One more thing to check off the list for this week.

I don't know exactly what Dorian is victorious over, but he looks happy anyway. And why not? Life is good. This picture is from last week. We watched General Conference on the internet today, so no one went to church. Dorian and Faith loved watching the children's chorus sing. Dorian even sang along. Maybe something is sinking in while he wiggles his way through church.

Quinn saw the developmental pediatrician on Friday. The doctor put Quinn through his paces to see if he's on track for a normal 3 month old baby. It's hard to believe Quinn was 6 months old yesterday. How things have changed. Anyway, overall, Quinn performed well. He didn't reach for the toys, although it was obvious he was interested in them. And the doctor commented that it's obvious Quinn doesn't spend much time on his belly, because he doesn't lift his head completely off the table. But that's just a matter of building up muscle. Other than that, he's doing fantastically. He has no signs so far of cerebral palsy, and the doctor seemed surprised that he hasn't been rehospitalized for illness. Apparently that's pretty common. Let's hope it lasts.

Tomorrow I have a three-ring circus scheduled. All three kids are going to have a check up with our regular doctor. Should be fun. I'm anxious to see how much Quinn weighs. It's been more than a month since we've done that, and he's much bigger. I'm even contemplating putting away the 0-3 month sized clothes. Yay for progress!

Kurt has been upgrading our computers. Like most things, it's a slower process than we anticipated. Consequently, I have no photos this week, and I might have to make the camera and the computer apologize to each other. They currently aren't speaking.

In other news, well, there really isn't other news. Quinn is getting bigger, and we're heading into fall, and looking at holing up for the winter against the sick season. We'll be seeing a developmental pediatrician later this week, to make sure Quinn looks and acts like a three month old baby, but other than that, we're on cruise control. I can't believe the worst day of my life was very nearly 6 months ago. How times have changed.

I suppose it's kind of flattering to be fought over.

I didn't have much to report this week. After last week, it seemed so boring. And truthfully, I'm more than okay with that. I want some boredom in my life for a little while. Just routine life. That's our aim for now.

Quinn is recovering well. I wonder if he'll even have very visible scars from the surgery. He's still growing, and still becoming more interactive with us. We don't have anything major going on this week, and we're going to enjoy that. Just life.

Thursday morning at 6:50, I stopped nursing Quinn, beginning the four hour fast required for anesthesia. A little while later, we all got up and began the whirlwind preparations to get out the door. I packed my breast pump and Kurt and I packed books and a laptop. We were still counting on taking him home afterward and so packed nothing else. We dropped the older kids off at a friend's house and headed downtown. Within minutes, I remembered my breast pump was sitting in it's usual spot at home. Oh well. I'd figure something else out. We were going to be just on time as it was, so I didn't want to go back for it.

We got to the hospital and I tried to stop being melodramatic, and force the image of bringing sacrificial lambs into the temple from my mind. We checked in and were told they would take us in soon, because Quinn's time was near. We were keeping him occupied with a pacifier, which he normally doesn't have. He was unhappy with us. I didn't blame him. About half an hour later, we were called into the pre-anesthesia area and given a tiny hospital gown and socks for Quinn.

Over the course of the next hour, about 10 people came over and introduced themselves to us as various members of the surgical team. One nurse anesthetist went over some questions with us, mainly about Quinn's NICU stay, and how his needs there might affect his care that day. She mentioned he was slated to stay overnight. I told her no one had said that definitely, that we wouldn't know until afterward. She left to consult a calendar and returned to say that their policy was that babies be 50 weeks gestation, and Quinn was 49. (If we want to be picky, he was 49 and 3 days. Four more days, and he would have been at the magic 50 number.) Anyway, Kurt and I simultaneously made comments on the convenience of the number 50 and of our skepticism that that was the true number. The nurse was defensive, as well she may have been, and said she was sure the anesthesiologist had data to back up that number. Kurt took over the explanation and said he had no doubt that there was data, but it was unlikely the data pointed exactly to the number 50, that more likely the number was 49, 48.5, or something like that, and had been rounded. Easy numbers like 50 rarely exist in nature. She looked between the two of us, and said, "You two must be mathematicians." She must have said it jokingly, because she was sort of shocked when we told her in a sense we were. Kurt is an engineer, which is applied math, and my background in population genetics and statistics is another form of applied math. She sort of shook her head and said the decision would be up to the anesthesiologist.

We met the anesthesiologist, and expressed our concern about Quinn's previous experience with anesthesia. When he was a week old, he had surgery to insert a central IV line, and hadn't tolerated the anesthesia well. He needed blood pressure stabilization, and what exactly happened varied by who described it to us. The NICU staff used the term "overdose." But one doctor had said the anesthesiologists insisted it was an appropriate dose. We didn't really care. What it came down to was that it was too much for Quinn. If that isn't an overdose, I don't know what is. Anyway, this anesthesiologist said she was familiar with the case, that she had helped review it, and insisted it was an appropriate dose. We repeated, whatever their data said, it was too much for Quinn, and we were worried the same thing would happen. Overall, it was a pretty circular argument, as she insisted it was okay by their data, and we insisted we were still concerned. I honestly don't remember how it got resolved, if at all. It's beginning to blur.

Another nurse anesthetist came to introduce herself and say that she would be taking Quinn back to the OR. I asked if I could go with him, and she said no, they don't do that for babies. I asked why, and she thought for a minute and then shrugged and said "Policy." I fought back a laugh. That was the best she could do? She then said that parents distract the staff from the patient, and they allow it for older children because of stranger anxiety. But babies haven't gone through separation anxiety yet. "I have." was my response. Without any more argument, she left and returned with a set of scrubs, a hair cover, and a mask, as well as a waiver to sign in case I fainted. So much for policy.

By this point, Quinn had been sleeping on and off, and in between times was a little frantic to eat. But he seemed calm as I carried him into the OR. He lay on the table looking around, and it was good for me to see him okay with what was happening to him. Then they put the mask on his face and he fought it and cried. That was hard. I had been told he would take just a couple of breaths and be out, but it took nearly a minute. Then he was asleep and I was escorted from the room. Whoever it was tried to take me by the arm, but I walked out under my own steam. Did I look that fragile?

Kurt and I took up a post in the surgical waiting area. the surgery was an hour late, which wasn't surprising, just disappointing. About two hours later, the surgeon came to talk to us and told us he had been successsful, and Quinn seemed to handle it all very well. He said the hernia on the left side had been humongous and he'd had to do an adult-sized repair job. But everything else looked okay. We asked about taking him home, and he said he didn't have a problem with it, but his wasn't the final say. That was anesthesia's job. He said they probably would have allowed it if we still had an apnea monitor at home, but since we didn't, we had a weaker argument. I guaranteed him no matter where Quinn was that night, I wouldnt' be sleeping. He laughed, but reiterated it wasn't his call. I love buck passing.

About half an hour later, we were led into the post-op area, where a nurse was holding Quinn, and holding blow-by oxygen near his face. He looked bright eyed but a little dazed. She handed him to me, and said he'd come out of anesthesia quite well. He was hooked up to a monitor that showed his oxygen saturation, and it was a little low without the supplement. But other than that, he was okay. She said I could nurse him if I wanted. Of course I wanted. I hadn't pumped at all during the surgery and it had been about 7 hours since Quinn had last nursed. He was sluggish, but still, it was better than nothing. Then the anesthesiologist came over and told us she wanted him to stay overnight and be on an apnea monitor for 18 hours. She said the 50 week mark is really the beginning of a gray area that lasted until 55 weeks, and Quinn definitely didn't qualify because of his prematurity. We get tired of fighting, though I'm sure she could sense my disdain of her data. I said I would be staying with him, and she didn't have a problem with that. Of course she didn't. That wasn't for her to decide. That was up to the pediatric floor, 7 floors above us. More buck passing.

About an hour later, the nurse was going over Quinn's chart with the nurse upstairs who would be taking care of him. She noticed that the urologist had ordered Toradol for his pain medication, and was confused about that because it was related to ibuprofen. I said I had thought ibuprofen wasn't given to babies younger than six months, and she agreed. One of the surgical team standing nearby heard us and said "It's like ibuprofen, but it isn't, so it's okay. We prescribe it all the time." Trust us, we're doctors.

It took about an hour, all told, to get Quinn upstairs to his new room for the night. Kurt saw us settled and left to collect our other kids, who by all accounts had a wonderful time, didn't want to go home, and the kids they played with didn't want them to go home. It was very nice not to have to worry about them during the day.

I asked Quinn's nurse about his pain meds, whether he would have Toradol in his IV. She shook her head and said "You know, those surgeons down there aren't really used to dealing with kids this size. We don't give Toradol to babies under 6 months because it's related to ibuprofen." I would have felt vindicated, but I was too annoyed at my treatment downstairs. How dare I have a valid point. Quinn was given Tylenol instead. I felt sorry for him. My own experience with Tylenol is that it's worthless, but maybe it helped him. He seemed like he was in distress most of the afternoon. When he wasn't sleeping, he would wake up screaming. It was enough to make me swear off ever bringing him back to the hospital.

Within a very short period of time, it was obvious that the apnea monitor was too sensitive. It said he wasn't breathing frequently enough when that clearly wasn't the case. I watched him breathe and counted about 50 breaths per minute, while the machine counted 15. And that thing is loud. After about 2 hours of it's going off every few minutes, the nurse came back and said "I've had it!" and replaced it with an oximeter. If Quinn quit breathing, it would show up in his oxygen saturation. By this time, he didn't need the supplement anymore and was breathing fine on his own. But that monitor was also was too sensitive, as well as extremely loud. We ended up turning it off at about 11 pm and it never came back on. I was pretty thoroughly annoyed. The whole point in our staying over night was for a piece of malfunctioning machinery that everyone admitted was more trouble than it was worth. See if I ever make that mistake again.

We got a roommate at midnight, a baby about 2 months old. She needed an IV, and the nurses repeatedly failed, blowing each vein they tried. For an hour, we listened to this baby being tormented, before they decided to give her a rest and try again later. I slept for about an hour and a half before that happened. Then I slept for another hour before the urology resident came into our room, knocked on my head, and said "Hello! Good morning! We're here to look at Quinn!" It was 6:30 and I'd had less than 3 hours' sleep. I was too groggy to be very annoyed with this person though. As long as he got our discharge papers ready, I was beyond caring. He said they'd be ready whenever we wanted. I called Kurt at 7 and told him to come get us. It took another hour and a half, getting the other kids ready, and travel time, but we walked out of there. Quinn was in much less pain, it seemed. He had been lying on his back and kicking his legs happily that morning. You don't do that if your abs are in serious pain. So we went home, and he and I both took a nap. And I am further settled in my opinion that hospitals are no place to heal. If you must go, get out as soon as humanly possible. You'll do much better at home. And so we have. Three days later, Quinn looks pretty good today. We took his dressing off this morning. He's still bruised, but healing nicely. Let's just hope we don't have to do that again. For all our sakes.

"Hi folks! It's me again!"
This is quite a complacent look, I think.
Yes, we're getting ready for church here. This may be our last hurrah for warm weather clothes.


We had a busy week, a double header of specialist appointments. First, we met with the urologist, who thought we were there to talk about hypospadias. But I was there to talk about the hernia, which changed everything. Quinn is scheduled for surgery to repair it this coming Thursday, Sep 11. I thought that was a rather ominous date to schedule anything, but maybe I'm just paranoid. There's a good chance he won't have to stay overnight, and that it might only take spinal anesthesia, not general. Let's hope for both those things. I did ask the urologist when he thought a good time to do they hypospadias surgery would be. In Quinn's case, he said at least 5 or 6 more months. So I have that much time to seek a second opinion.

Our next specialist was the pulmonologist. We aged in his waiting room, but it was worth it for how well the appointment went. We got a glowing report. It probably helped that Quinn was perfectly bright-eyed and personable for the doctor, who said he looks fantastic, his lungs sound great, he's obviously thriving, and unless something drastic happens, he doesn't need to see him again at all. Woohoo! One more thing to cross off the list. Oh, and we got to weigh Quinn too. Ten pounds even on Thursday. We're watching him grow before our very eyes. We've been very blessed in his recovery. I hope and pray that continues this week, especially for his surgery.

Looking more animated by the day.

We love football season, and this was Quinn's first time watching a game. Go Trojans!
Summer is quickly coming to an end. We've traded fireflies for mosquitoes, much to our dismay. We're also adjusting to life now that four people need to use our one bathroom. And life goes on.

Quinn had a weight check this week. We wanted to check one more time after he had been exclusively breastfed for awhile. In the two weeks between checks, he gained nearly a full pound. He went from 8 lbs 7 oz to 9 lbs 6 oz. I was so excited! Exclusive breastfeeding is definitely a go. Now we just need to survive two specialist appointments this week. I find myself wishing away these early days, and wanting to fast forward a couple of years, or at least know the outcome. It's hard to be anxious. But we'll get through it. I do love the little baby stage, and my little baby is growing pretty fast. I'd better enjoy that while it lasts.

Just a warning, it's hard to capture the moment at such close range. Hence, the top of Quinn's head appears to be missing. But I caught his first smile, and that's what counts. He smiled and giggled at me.

And Faith decided he needed some encouragement. He didn't seem to mind. And you can see that Faith had a relatively active week. She face-planted on the dining room floor, giving her that lovely bruise on her forehead and skinning her nose.


Another first this week: we had no appointments of any kind. That's probably the last week like that for awhile, but it was nice while it lasted.

Another first, though I'm not sure if it really counts. Quinn rolled over. He was in the co-sleeper, which doesn't have a totally level mattress, and he used it to his advantage. He rolled from his belly to his back, both directions. So I think things are going okay for him. We'll check his weight this week, but he is visibly bigger, and so I'm not worried about it. Then next week is the dreaded urologist appointment, where we'll talk about his hernia. He'll need to go back to the hospital to have it repaired, and I'm just dreading giving him back, so to speak. It seems like I just got him. Well, I'll worry about that when it comes.

We have to enjoy what little summer we have here. I swear it only lasts 6 weeks, while winter lasts 5 months. You can imagine how jarring that is to someone born and raised in southern California. But it is pretty here, I'll give it that. And these two enjoy themselves.

Little brother is unimpressed.

They did switch places eventually, but as you can imagine, Faith isn't as efficient as Dorian.
A few days later, Quinn is still uninterested in his siblings' antics.
They don't seem to mind. They still manage to have a good time, especially if Faith has a "princess dress" to play with.
And drumroll please, we went to church today. And yes, I did get him further into the wrap. We were just on our way out the door and I put him in too quickly.
Dorian, and probably at least 2 cousins wore this outfit.
"Smile for the camera!" still means nothing.
Quinn had a checkup on Tuesday. He was 8 lbs 7 oz. That's a good gain from last week, but not such a good gain from the previous time we were at the doctor's office. She wants to check his weight in two weeks, but we'll have the home health nurse do that. He's now officially exclusively breastfed. I honestly wondered if it would happen, if such a thing were possible for a case like his, but he's gaining, without a doubt. I asked our pediatrician what she thought of taking Quinn to church. She said this time of year, as long as I don't put him down and avoid people in general, it should be okay. She said avoid the nursery, which isn't an issue, since our church doesn't do that for kids under 18 months. But I decided based on that to stay away from it entirely, and have Kurt continue to do the dropoffs. So we went today, and I came home after sacrament meeting, while everyone else went to their other meetings. It was nice to be there, and to sing the hymns, and wrestle my other two kids into reverence, which is a losing battle, but at least it's a familiar one. Quinn stayed in my wrap the whole time, and it seemed to go well. We might even do it again sometime. We're feeling more normal by the day.