Jubilee’s Tenth Birthday {and Thanksgiving Babies}

My sweet Jubilee was born ten years ago exactly one week before Thanksgiving (though her birthday was on a Tuesday this year). She was our seventh child, born in our seventh year of marriage at exactly  seven pm weighing in at exactly seven pounds! She was born with a head full of dark hair and one dimple. Such a sweet blessing to our family.

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And she was born seven weeks after Mordecai joined our family through adoption.

To read the full story of Mordecai’s adoption and Jubilee’s birth: Part I and Part II.

Ben and Aaron Wrap Up

Well, our time with Ben and Aaron, our favorite New Zealanders, is over. We had a blast while they were here. Hiking, extreme trampolining, hot air ballooning (just Ben and Adalia), swimming, the beach, ice skating, tie dying, a bonfire…it was pretty much non-stop fun.

As I mentioned before, Ben and Adalia met last summer on their missions trip to Honduras. They have spent the last year corresponding by mail, email, facebook, skype and phone. They have clearly formed quite an attachment with each other. It was so nice to meet  Ben and see that he is indeed just as nice in person as Adalia described.

And now life shall return to the mundane…you know, just average life with eleven kids at home, homeschooling, a photography business, a teen at the community college,  a tube-fed toddler with a rare heart defect facing repeat heart surgery, five kids in elementary school, two with special needs…Hopefully I’ll be around here blogging a bit more now. I’ve missed you all.

Oh the Things they Say {Mama’s Sister and the Fulgurites}

Judah (14) and Apollo (19 mo). Photo by littleearthling on Instagram.

I’ve mentioned before what a big talker Apollo is. Well, several times recently I’ve asked him, “are you Mama’s boy?” and “are you Mama’s baby?” Usually he’ll repeat “Mama’s boy” or “Mama’s baby” to me. So cute.

Well the other day he asked for “hot chocolate” his name for the dark chocolate he eats (one of the few dairy free sweets he can have). The name is a bit ironic in and of itself since  we keep in the fridge, so it’s technically “cold chocolate”. But I digress.

Adalia gave him a piece of chocolate and I said, “Is Adalia your favorite sister?” and he answered, “No, Mama’s sister!” and snuggled up with me. So for the last few days he’s been snuggling with me and saying, “Mama’s sister”.

I told Adalia I’ve always wanted a sister…I just hoped she’d be female…and not my son.

Photo by littleearthling @ Instagram

A week or so ago Tucker was playing in the living room and hollered, Mo-om, Avi’s using her magic powers to knock my tower down!

*sigh*

And speaking of arguing…yesterday I heard Hezekiah yell, “Stop calling us fulgurites!”

And in other news, I finally got a Waldorf doll assembled for Apollo. We’ve been gently talking to him about going to hospital, how the doctors are going to fix his heart so he can eat and breathe. So while he was snuggling with his new “baby” I asked him, “Are you going to take your baby with you when you go to the hospital?” to which he responded, “No! Baby wa-wa park!” Poor little guy, any time we mention the hospital he insists he’s going back to Great Wolf Lodge.

And yes, I did just  tell Avi not to put knitting needles in her nose…

In Which I Whine Instead of Being Forever Positive and Grateful

This stuff always happens to me. No, really.

Remember the other day when I took Apollo to Dr. O for his cough (because our marvelous Dr, Dr H was out?) well, I never did tell you about the rest of the day. Why? Because I was worried about my son and worried about the medicine prescribed. So here is the rest of  the story.

We left the doctor’s office and headed to the grocery store where our pharmacy is. I went and checked on the prescription (which the doctor had faxed over) and was told it would take about fifteen minutes. So I wandered around the grocery store with a sick, fussy, coughing baby (garnering many, many dirty looks), a wild six-year-old named Tucker, a mellow seven-year old named Hezkekiah, nine-year old Jubilee and ten-year old Kalina. We wandered around the store and picked up a few essentials (hummus, baby food, doughnuts). After fifteen loooong minutes (it was lunch time, Apollo was tired, the kids were  hungry) I headed over and our prescription was ready. Thank God for small favors.

When I went to pay for the prescription, it wasn’t the cough medicine, but more lansoprozole, Apollo’s reflux medicine. I had told Dr. O that the pulmonologist wanted him to take it twice a day until his surgery, so we’d need a prescription for more or we’d run out too soon. She assured me she could change the prescription. And here it was.

“Okay,” I said “I’ll take this, but it isn’t the prescription I’m here to pick up. I’m here to pick up cough medicine.”

So the pharmacist goes to check and there is no prescription for cough medicine. “I’m sorry” she says. “You’ll have to go check over at the other counter”.

*sigh*

So I get in a new line, at a new counter and wait my turned. All the while my kids are getting hungrier and my coughing baby more tired. I get to the front and am told there is no other prescription for Apollo. So they call the doctor’s office and after several minutes I’m told, “They’re going to fax the prescription over, but they’re just waiting for the doctor’s signature”.

Doctor’s signature? I was in her office half an hour ago….Having no idea how long it would take, I headed home, prescriptionless and decided to return later in the day. It’s fifteen minutes to the store from our house, so later that afternoon I left my kids at home again, drove half an hour (round trip) to pick up a prescription that ultimately I decided not to give to Apollo. gggggggrrrrrrrrr.

Fast forward several days to when Apollo is our of his current prescription for reflux meds so I open the new bottle. And find to my surprise that Dr. O simply changed his prescription to 30 mg instead of writing a prescription for twice as many 15 mg capsules. This meant opening a capsule of medicine and literally trying to pour half of the little while balls out for him to take in the morning and saving the other half for his evening dose. And of course this happened on the weekend, so I couldn’t call the doctor and get the prescription straightened out until Monday morning. I suppose you could blame me for not checking the bottle as soon as I brought home, but really, he’s been on the medicine for ten months, it never crossed my  mind I needed to “make sure”  it was right. And did I mention his regular dose totals $190 a month? And we just doubled that. Thank God for health insurance and $15 copays.

So, we get through the weekend splitting and spilling white reflux balls (which must cost about a buck a piece) all over and trying to get the right amount in Apollo’s mouth. Monday  Chuck picks up the 15 mg capsules.

Saturday night, I notice Apollo doesn’t cry though dinner. He always cries through dinner. Always. Sunday we get through our meals without tears. And again yesterday. It suddenly dawns on me…we just doubled his reflux medicine and he is no longer screaming through meals?! You mean, we very  possibly could have given him more before and not suffered through Every. Single. Meal? He’s suffered. I’ve suffered. The whole family has suffered (it’s a bit difficult to have a family meal with a screaming/thrashing baby or toddler), day after day.

Yes, I’m thankful his mealtime crying seems to have diminished (but afraid to get my hopes up too high- this has been a major stressor for the past year)…but really, to make him suffer another 10 months because his dose was too low? That’s half his life. In the beginning I didn’t think he had reflux, in small part because putting him on it didn’t help his eating or mealtime crying (though I admitted he must have reflux when after two months we took him off and he arched his back and screamed like a banshee during the day).

Yes, I could just be thankful and look at this through rose colored glasses aren’t-we-happy-he-has-some-relief-now…but really, I’m  tired of him getting the short end of the stick when it comes to people in the medical field really listening and following up on him. He has suffered every day of his life and lot of it could have been avoided or lessened.

I know I’ve blogged about his mealtime tears at least three different times. Here he is in: January 2011 and April 2011. I know I posted photos of him recently crying during a meal as Jubilee tried to hold him, but I couldn’t find it.

Why didn’t anyone raise his does earlier when he wasn’t getting any relief? Why?