Tummy Troubles

It's not up to us, of course.
What we will find tomorrow has already been decided. It's already there. It won't change on our word or it would already be gone.
Nevertheless, Dave and I sat over dinner and discussed what we would like them to find. The worst game of "Would you rather?".

"Would you rather they found something that was surgically fixable or something that requires long term medicine?"

Nathan has his upper GI tomorrow. After almost 6 months of minimal weight gain. After literally plummeting off the height and weight curves. After a trial of antacid, a visit to a GI specialist, an ordeal of a blood draw, and a small fortune in Pediasure.

Tomorrow we just want them to find something. Something to tell us why our little boy eats a little less each day. Something to tell us why he often vomits up what he ate 6-10 hours before. Something to tell us why his meal sheets from day care are coming home empty and at home he refuses the food he has just asked for.

He's an absolute delight. A 1000 watt smile. Big hugs. Happy songs and clapping. Many words (which at least mommy and daddy can distinguish) and a cadre of rather unconventional animal sounds. Though he doesn't yet walk, he can and does get into anything he wants. If he were a less pleasant little boy, we may have realized sooner that something was wrong. Perhaps we would have been pushier with the "wait and see" outlook of our pediatrician if he had been fussy or if his cognitive development had slowed.

But here we are, with a 14 1/2 month old sweetness who is average size for a 7 month old. With the sympathetic looks of other parents on the playground when we tell them his age. With knots in our stomachs trying to decide if we want our son to need surgery or medicine.

Tomorrow morning Nathan will most likely refuse to drink the barium and they will put a tube down his nose to get it in. Then, he'll cry and beseechingly hold out his arms, and I will ignore his plea and hold him still so they can photograph the barium moving through his intestine. Dave will probably be standing outside the room listening to the screaming. We'll probably cry as well. I'll tell him it's to make him better. He won't understand. Hopefully when he is done we'll all stop crying and only Dave and I will remember it.

Hopefully we'll get an answer.
Hopefully we'll know how to fix it.
Hopefully our sweet, sweet boy's tummy will feel better, his food will stay down, he'll absorb calories, and he'll be too big for me to carry in no time.

Transformation

Today, a week after his first birthday, my baby came to look like a little boy.

He was born with hair and it has just kept growing. For the last 2 months, or so, it has hung in his eyes. I have developed a habit of pushing it aside just so he can see. A week ago I put a barette in his hair and Nathan looked a lot more like a Natalie. We wanted to wait until he was 3 to cut his hair, but it has just become impractical. So today we gave him a little trim.

Before, in the bathtub, with long baby hair.

Shampoo mohawk

During, being distracted by Daddy and a good book.

After, a big boy eats his noodles.

A Collection of Firsts

We have been busy. Work mostly but of course some family adventures.. It's been a long time since I've had a chance to sit down with the computer but I wanted to give you an update of some of the things we have been up to.

Nathan took his first plane trip. After a long snow delay in Pittsburgh we made it to California without further incident. Nathan was a great little traveler.

Very exciting for me was that my little boy Nathan got to meet by big boy Noah for the first time. They got along well and it was a lot of fun for me to have them playing together.

Nathan celebrated his first Christmas in California. Christmas morning was with Grandpa Ken and Grandma Nancy. For some Nathan reason I do not understand he had no interest in the tree. He didn't try to climb it, pull it over (though it did almost fall on me . . . ), or remove any low lying ornaments. He did like the gifts and had a good time munching on wrappings and waving ribbons around. Christmas afternoon was with the other side of the family at Aunt Eileen's house.Nathan celebrated his first birthday with a train cake, a ton of friends and a tasty chocolate cupcake.

A week after his birthday we had the 4th biggest snowstorm in Pittsburgh history. 21 inches of snow fell in 16 hours between Friday afternoon and late Saturday morning. In a rare stroke of luck I didn't have to go to work which gave Dave the several hours he needed to dig out our cars. Nathan got to have his first snow encounter.

He wasn't a huge fan of the snow though if Mommy and Daddy had enough sense to put gloves on him it might have gone better . . .

A Captive Audience

After his epic afternoon nap, with only 9 ounces of formula in him for the day, I succumbed to the electronic babysitter. I put Nathan in my lap, held him in thrall with the "Wonder Pets" and syringed Pedialyte down his throat. For the 15 minutes, or so, that TV is able to engage him, it actually worked. Then, of course, he wanted to get down and crawl around and be a baby.
His last 2 diapers have been only wet and we are encouraged.

Otitis Media + Gastroenteritis = Misery

Nate's had ear infections and a sinus infections, but Dave and I agree that until now, he's never really been sick.

I think he's finally getting better.

It started on Thursday with a fever of 102F at day care. Fever came 2 days into a course of antibiotics for a yicky sinus infection that Dave and I finally got tired of wiping off our own clothes and hands. Back to the pediatrician for shiny new antibiotics for his not-so-shiny new ear infection (his fifth in 6 months and the final clue that myrigotomy tubes are in his future). He started to throw up Thursday night. We first attributed it to choking/gagging on the copious snot in his head, but the diarrhea started Friday morning, blowing away that fantasy. He had a fever of 102F or higher from Thursday afternoon to Saturday evening. Tylenol. Motrin. Tylenol. Motrin. Tylenol. Stopped the Motrin 'cause he wasn't peeing and Dr. Mom wanted to save his kidneys.

I'd be ashamed to write down how little he drank, how little he kept in, how few times he peed, and how much came out of every other opening between Friday and Sunday.

On Friday night we were woken by a pitiful mewling. My sweet baby was laying in a little pool of vomit, clothes wet with diarrhea, and nearly smoking with fever. The thermometer confirmed eminent spontaneous combustion - 104.6F. When I did the conversion to Celsius the next morning (40.3C) I realized I had never taken care of someone with a higher fever. I sat in the rocker tired, sweaty, with a naked, stinky, nearly limp baby on my chest and murmured, like a mantra, the "fever talk" I had given to so many other parents in the Emergency Room. It is less reassuring when the child is your own. The fever dropped to 102F and he dropped into restful sleep right before I dropped into panic.

He kept drinking just enough to stay above my IV fluid threshold but never enough that I felt 100% comfortable.

Last night he seemed a lot better. He had no fever. He drank a whole 6 ounces at once and ate his first solid food in days. He motored around the living room smiling and babbling like normal. Still, his ongoing poops made him a day care pariah.

Today, instead of being at the hospital with a floor full of sick oncology patients, I am at home with a borderline febrile, gagging, pooping, fluid refusing, whining baby with the saddest butt in creation. He cries when he poops and he cries when I clean his butt. He cries 'cause he's thirsty and cries when he swallows things into his roiling stomach. He cries when we wipe his wet Rudolph nose. Being at the hospital would be easier.

Still, I do think he's getting better. His last temperature was normal. His last poop stayed in his diaper. he ate and retained a graham cracker and some yogurt.

The drinking and the peeing?

I still don't want to talk about it.

I WILL persevere and he WILL take some liquid. - One teaspoon at a time.

End of an Era

I took a ticker off the bottom of my page tonight. Likely no one will notice but it makes me a little sad. Before I deleted it, it said "Proud Mommy, Happy Baby - I've been breastfeeding for 9 months, 4 weeks and 2 days". That wasn't completely true. I just deleted it tonight, but Nathan hasn't nursed in about 2 weeks. His teeth were the deciding factor. He stopped biting almost as quick as he started, but those little top teeth just kept causing inadvertent damage. Plus, the supply was way, way down.
He finally started taking formula without much of a fight, but I stubbornly kept pumping my 4-6 ounces per day until his nine month birthday. Then, with a huge sigh of relief, I left the pump behind. I loved feeding my baby but I never loved the pump. I don't believe anyone who says they do.
I gave up the pump and kept the bedtime feedings until he seemed to want volume more than comfort and then, even bedtime became bottle time.
Now, he's learning how to drink out of a cup and he's stopped pulling my shirt down when he's tired or thirsty. Big steps forward in my little man's life. I honestly miss my tiny baby curled up on my chest but I my active explorer doesn't give me much time to look backwards. Gotta keep looking one step ahead of him to keep him out of harms way.

Thanksgiving #2

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving I finally had the day off and got a chance to cook the traditional holiday feast. Dave's parents were there as were our friend Emily and Dave and their baby Samone, but somehow with the cooking, the baby carrying, the Bellini drinking, and the eating 'til our buttons popped I only managed to get pictures of Dave with his turkey.


Before it went on the grill.


And after. (Try a grilled turkey sometime. It was delicious, and I didn't have to do anything with it!)