more news on the little man

Hey friends. How 'bout a brief, and hopefully, final, update on Zane's recovery? I say "final," because if all goes as planned, his mouth surgery will soon be old news. And can I just say…with his terrorist plots in full swing, this little mouth thing NEEDS to be old news. Ain't nobody got time for that. Yes, I just went there. 

Little man and I made another trek up to the U, roughly 10 days ago. Dr. K wanted to check on the scarring and that pesky hole in the mouth. We'd already gone to soft foods but were counting down the days to normality…as if. 

Let me just say…somebody slap me next time I get lofty ideas of taking Zane anywhere by myself. Seriously…SLAP me. I set expectations of a short dr visit, followed by a yummy trip to Chick-fil-A (because the restaurant gods continue to frown upon SE Iowa), and then a fun time at the children's museum in the mall. DOES THAT SOUND SO WRONG?!? Call me crazy. Instead I spent my time full-blown RESTRAINING this cute little hoodlum. If you've ever been at an event and saw Z sitting in my lap (his least favorite family member) with my arms completely encircling his sweet self, then you know what's going on. One moment, he's entertaining the masses with his enchanting charm and astounding wit. The next, he has flipped the switch into full terrorist mode. Then you better hide your wife, hide your kids…you get it.

That's exactly what happened the morning of our adventure into the city. Switch was flipped. So with my dreams…and soul, apparently…crushed, Zane and I got some precious cuddle time at the U! :) (How's that for your daily dose of sarcasm?!?)

I'll give you one small example. Every now and again, big Z will twist the truth. (Sounds better than lying, right?) The downward spiral started when he insisted that he had to go potty on the way up to the hospital. After my own demands that he would have to wait until we finished our hour+ drive, I shifted into "save the van" mode and desperately began looking for a handy toilet, amidst the back seat panicking about having to go NOW…and me yelling from the front, "YOU HAVE TO WAIT!" You get the picture. Even though it was going to make us late, I finally found a gas station, jumped through car seat hoops to get him inside, accomplishing what could only be classified as an Olympic event. You can see where this is headed. Plop him down…nothing. "I was just kidding. I no have to go potty." Somebody hold me. 

This was at 9 am. We have a flag on the play. 15 yard penalty. This dude plays dirty, and the refs aren't calling a fair game.

This little smoke screen happened 3 more times…before we ever saw the doctor. I'm sure the hospital security had been called by the last time we were in the coveted bathroom, and the words, "So help me…pee better be coming out of you in the next 2 seconds," came out of my momma-humiliating mouth. Zane added to our joy by attempting to destroy the doctor's room like a little tornado. So you can imagine both of our state of minds by the time the doctor got into our room. I want my mommy.

Best news of the day…the hole inside the mouth had closed. Sweet molasses…that was awesome. (Of course, given the above information, imagine what had to happen for us to figure this out! Yea.)

The scars at the mouth itself looked really nice. Remember I mentioned before that he was going to have a pretty sweet initial tattoo at the corner of his mouth. The envy of the playground.

Unfortunately, the scar where they removed the pit was looking pretty angry…so they fought back with a needle-less steroid injection. I didn't tell you about his demeanor for nothing. Just try to imagine with me, the team of medical professionals it took to accomplish this little pop of an injection on his tender face, especially on a day such as this. For real. I will admit that I told the doctors this must be karma. But I was kissing his sweet head and comforting him in my best Julie Andrews. Does that count for some mothering points? Maybe 1…2? I'm pretty confident it doesn't outweigh the rest of that debacle of a morning. Say it with me…MOTHER OF THE YEAR! (I'm a shoe-in this time.)

Of course, the morning wouldn't be complete without several follow-up visits added to the books…something to look forward to! :) 

Because of the scarring issues, we will have to return the beginning of May to see if he needs another injection. That should be fun since he now knows what that means. Super. We will also meet with the hearing aid peeps to discuss a soft band hearing aid (Baha). That would mean he'd have a band going front side to side with his glasses and another going top to bottom with the Baha. I did ask if there was such a thing as a clip-on Baha that could attach to his glasses. They looked at me like I'd broken the 11th commandment. I did cancel the endo appointment they'd set to check on his slow weight gain. He's fine. I need a sedative. 

Any wonder why I waited 10 days to share this update with you, my fine friends?!? Let's all go eat some peanut butter and forget this happened…except the part where we have our amazing little Asian that we adore and couldn't imagine a day without…yea, except that part.

news on the home front

Hey there, old buddy…old pal!

Just wanted to let you in on a little secret. There are a several blog posts in the works right now…some to make you laugh, some to share a tear, and some to keep you updated. But those posts are not for today. 

Today I'm just telling you that there is no specific post for today. 

Keep 'em wanting more…that's my motto. I'm aware at some point, you'll want to collect, but for now, we'll just roll with it.

Nope, this post is to simply tell you that new things are on the horizon. A new look, some new content, a new vibe…the suspense is palpable. Keep on eye out for the nail-biting unveiling! You can cut the tension with a knife. 

Yea. That's all I got. 

woulda…shoulda…coulda…

It's April. 

I should've been planning a birthday party…instead I took Zoe's name off the bedroom wall.

I could've been picking out princess party favors…instead I put away the rest of all traces of princesses at the house.

I would've been finding a puffy party dress for our sweet Zoe to wear…instead we took her bed out of the room she'd once shared with Zane.

Please don't confuse these actions with the much-awaited "moving on" that keeps floating around my ears. They needed to be done…whether I wanted to do them or not. Moving on, however, is way overrated. As much as you wish the grieving parents would move on, please stop suggesting that they do so. This is not helpful in any way…for you or them. It implies that there is a magical moment when this won't be the most awful thing a parent could ever experience. It also adds insult to injury by adding guilt to their already full plate of disappointment, anger, heartache, inadequacy, depression, and more.

In a few days, we will mark 10 months since Zoe's death. In the amount of time a tiny human grows inside its mommy, we've had to get adjusted to the loss of another tiny human…our human. It doesn't get worse than that…until somebody says, "Enough already. Get over it." 

We have to stop trying to push people past their pain and heartache. It's part of who they are now, and you're letting them know they're not good enough anymore…not if they have the nerve to bring their baggage with them. You're basically saying, "I'm good with part of you…the part that doesn't make me uncomfortable…but I don't really want to be around that other part. It makes me too sad. I don't like not knowing what to say, so could you stop talking about your sadness. I'll feel better then." 

Yea. That's the message you're throwing down, hoping they'll be strong enough to pick it up and swallow it…for your sake. Cut it out. For real. 

It's April. I should be planning a birthday party for our miracle baby. Instead…I'm spring-cleaning. In case you're wondering, I'm more of a party-planner than a cleaner. 

The hubs says Zoe will have the best birthday party she's ever had this year. I believe that to be true…100%…I just wish we could celebrate with her and all her heavenly homies. That's a party I could get into…