Well, it has been three months, I think it is about time for an update.
We started off January with lots of house guests. The first was my good friend Laurie Lough who used to live here. Her and the kids came down while Jeremy (Dad) had a rotation for his ENT residency away from home. Miles is five and a half and was a huge help in healing my heart after Ethan died. He was about 11 months old and was 'my little boy' for about a year until Nathan was born. Lily and Nathan wew born 27 days apart, and man is she a doll! These were taken on January 13, 2009.
Next are just some pictures of the boys hangin' out before bedtime. Jan. 20, 2009
We got the privilege of helping out our friends the Ben and Alisha Loveridge as they prepared to move. They used our house as a base of operations, and ended up staying the night their last night in town. Now they have moved on to bigger and better things in Colorado Springs, Colorado. And I can't wait to come for a visit!!! Jan. 24, 2009
At different intervals throughout the day this is what you will see at our house. Two boys sitting at the window watching cars go by. Seriously, this is one of their favorite past times. It is so funny. Feb. 16, 2009
So, I do have a good excuse for not being on top of my blog. This semester I have started back at college. I am just taking two classes, Psychology and British Literature I. I am really enjoying it. My Mom watches the boys for me. Thanks again Mom!!! Feb. 26, 2009
Here is Dad and the boys rough housing. I don't always like to watch. But Scott hasn't seriously injured them yet, knock on wood, and they love it. Mar. 1, 2009
These next picture were taken of our bedtime routine. We line up the boys to change diapers and put on pull ups. They aren't always very cooperative. I can't believe how big Nathan is getting. He is such a kid now, his baby fat is all gone :( . Mar. 2, 2009
This is a picture of all of the preschool kids together. They have so much fun together now. Mar. 3, 2003
From left to right is: Haden Burstedt, Parker Clawson, Hannah Sears, Rebeccah Burr, Alex Spencer, and Nathan Nelson.
So, just a quick update, we have been so sick. I am going to try and give a list of all the things we have had the last month. Nathan had strep throat, a bacterial ear infection, and pink eye. Caden had a virus (probably just a cold, but I thought he might have been getting strep, but of course not, it had to be something completely different), he had a low grade fever for six days. Then a week later (no fever) we found he had a double ear infection. He also has had pink eye.
Now, let me describe a little incedent that happened on Feb. 20, 2009. Caden was in the midst of his low grade fever when he got mad at me for not giving him my cup of water. All my kids do this no breathing cry when they get hurt or are really upset. He proceeded to do this, but after I thought he should have started breathing again, I realized something was wrong. He looked at me terrified with his mouth wide open, head back, like he was in the midst of his crying, but couldn't take a breath. I thought he was having an allergic reaction and his throat was closing up. I started screaming at him to breath and his eyes rolled back into his head and he went blue. I had him in my arms and ran to the kitchen to get a phone when he started having what I thought was a siezure. His back was arched, I couldn't move him and his arms and hands were taut and curled into his body. I had been sitting next to a friend when her son had had a still siezure from hitting his head. It looked just like he had. Caden still wasn't breathing as I called 911 and I checked for a pulse, which he had, and laid him down on the floor. I put my hand on his chest and stomach to feel for breathing and there was none. I gave him a rescue breath and then had to tell the operator what was going on. After I gave her my address Caden started breathing again in short shallow gasps. I smacked his cheek and he opened his eyes, but just laid there. After a couple of minutes he started crying and it was one of the best sounds I have ever heard. The paramedics came and checked him out. His fever was 100.3, but they thought it was still probably a febrial siezure. About an hour later he was playing fine, still pale, but acting normal.
I took him to his pediatrician on monday and she said it sounded like a breath holding episode, but just to be safe we were sending him to a pediatric neurologist. I was really upset, no one seemed to believe me.
At the neurologists office they did an EEG, but nothing showed up on it. Then I spoke to the Neurologist. He had me describe exactly what happened in great detail. Then he said, "What you just described is a text book example of a breath holding episode." I was upset again, but he told me to just let him explain what a breath holding episode is.
A breath holding episode does not mean the child is holding their breath. 27% of children do some sort of breath holding when they cry. 4.6% have severe breath holding spells where they lose consciousness and sometimes exhibit siezure like activity. Children have no control over this, and it is believed to be genetic. Breath holding episodes are as controlable as a siezure is to someone with epilepsy. Breath holding episodes do not hurt the child, even the severe ones. If they start happening very often there are medications, but they have only a 50-50 chance of helping. Once a child has had one severe one he is more likely to have another. The neurologist just told me to be prepared for more. Most children out grow this by age three and at the latest age eight. There are different studies that are looking at the benefit of giving a rescue breath to a child who is having a severe episode.
So basically the Doc said this didn't hurt Caden, it will happen again, count to 20 and if he still isn't breathing call 911 and give him rescue breaths, but don't hurt him by doing so. I was so relieved to have an answer, but I am so scared of it happening again. I kept saying, "Oh my gosh, he looks just like Ethan." It was a horrible event, and one I am still trying to find meaning in. But at least Caden is okay.
Five days after that happened, Nathan woke up from a nap with blood coming out of his ear. He said it didn't hurt and he hadn't complained about his ear at all. I took him in to see the pediatrian. She couldn't see anything because of the amount of blood and wax. She took a sample and sent him home on antibiotics and ear drops that I had to administer twice a day along with the the eye drops for the kids pink eye, three times a day. They got the results back that it was a bacterial ear infection resistant to the antibiotics he was on. So we switched and have not seen any blood since, thank goodness.
Scott got pink eye as well, but thankfully nothing more serious than that. I think after all of my scares, my immune system was down, and I ended up with Laryngitis this week. I couldn't talk more than a whisper on Wednesday, and since Thursday have a really bad smoker/pubesent boys voice. On top of that I am coughing like crazy.
Anyway, we have been busy, but hope things will get better as we get into the warmer months. We'll see. Wish us luck!!!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Happy Birthday Ethan Scott!
So I know you all want pictures, but you will have to wait a little bit longer. Today my family and I are going to go and celebrate Ethan's birthday. We go to a little park next to the cemetary for about an hour and then head to the cemetary for a few minutes. After that we go to Rudy's for some fabulous BBQ. He would have been five years old on Wednesday!!! Man I'm old. I was trying to think of what to write, when my cousin sent me the following email that she had received from a friend of hers. I thought it described want I wanted to say perfectly.
We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions
that she and her husband are thinking of 'starting a family.' 'We're
taking a survey,' she says half-joking. 'Do you think I should have a baby?'
'It will change your life,' I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
'I know,' she says, 'no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.'
But that is not what I meant at all.
I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will
heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper
without asking, 'What if that had been MY child?' That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if
anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that
no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to
the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of
'Mom!' will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments
hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has
invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by
motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be
routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself
constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually
she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same
about herself.
That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she
has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her
offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor.
My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the
way she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is
careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.
I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for
reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women
throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child
learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the
soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. 'You'll never regret it,' I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
Happy Birthday Ethan, you still have my heart.
Love,
Mom
******************************************
Being a MOM...
We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions
that she and her husband are thinking of 'starting a family.' 'We're
taking a survey,' she says half-joking. 'Do you think I should have a baby?'
'It will change your life,' I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
'I know,' she says, 'no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.'
But that is not what I meant at all.
I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will
heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper
without asking, 'What if that had been MY child?' That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if
anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that
no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to
the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of
'Mom!' will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments
hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has
invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by
motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be
routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself
constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually
she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same
about herself.
That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she
has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her
offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor.
My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the
way she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is
careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.
I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for
reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women
throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child
learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the
soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. 'You'll never regret it,' I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
*************************************************
Happy Birthday Ethan, you still have my heart.
Love,
Mom
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