Eat, Poop, Grow, Repeat

Sam is now 14 months old and he is doing well. Through much vigilance (read: obsessiveness and fretting), I have him consistently pooping well. I've never taken so much responsibility for someone else's bowel movements and I hope I never do again.

Sam is generally a great eater but it has been work to get enough into his wee body so that he can grow and build back his reserves. His formula is concentrated for more calories without extra volume. His food is fortified with flaxseed oil, hemp or chia seed for extra protein, calories and omega-3s. If he can't take enough on his own, we top him up via NG tube. Every few days, the NG tube finds its way out through one circumstance or another so we give him a day or two "break" from it, then put it in again. Eventually, he will be strong enough not to need it at all but that hasn't happened yet.

So happy to be NG tube free. And that Mom found me a comb. And that I am wearing cozy dinosaur jammies.

With NG tube. (I know. I know. He needs a haircut. This time last year, Sam was shaved bald except for a strip down the back of his head and an island on his fontanel. Several times a day people would comment on his bad NICU 'do. I'm having trouble letting go of what he's grown since then.)

Putting an NG tube in your own kid is not fun. It has been a point of mama-pride that I have been able to consistently do it, sometimes even without assistance. Sam has gotten stronger though, and now screams until I am about half-way down his esophagus and then gives a good hard cough and pops the tube up and out of his mouth. Clearly, a tube going in the nose and coming out the mouth is inefficient for feeds. And inconvenient generally. So we try again. Sometimes it ends with him having an NG tube and sometimes it ends with both of us crying. It's a crap-shoot.

Sam is growing. I take him to the hospital to be weighed weekly and our dietician is on the case. A "normal" baby should be gaining 5-10 grams a week at his age and, at last weigh, he is gaining about 25 grams a week. So that's awesome. He rocks.

What's more, he has gotten a hideous cold with a deep cough, just the kind of thing that we would expect to land him in the hospital. But he's been able to clear the cough on his own - or on his own PLUS the obviously helpful intervention of one of his parents diving at him to stare in expectant horror until he clears the cough. He chokes and gags and it's nasty. But he's managing it and now he seems to be getting better. Sam ONE. Hospital ZERO.

Sam also has more teeth coming through, which is just mean. I think babies in his position should have teeth appear fully and painlessly overnight. When it comes to giant incisors having to make their way sloooowly through tiny blistered-up gums, I think he should have a free pass. But no.

For a while after surgery, Samuel was "deeply committed to stillness and stability." (Thank you for that reframe, Amanda, so that I didn't have to worry so much that he just wasn't all that interested in moving.) Then one day, he just started rolling and sitting and reaching with renewed vigour. He likes being bounced and tossed around. A little too much, really, given that he just had a muscle relocated and guts repositioned and a rib removed. He's also becoming very talkative, which will be key in him finding a place in this family, and he responds to our requests for him to clap or blow kisses.

Boys loving up our wonderful friend, Marijan.

Last week was Spring Break here and all of my kids were home. I confess that I was a little afraid. At one point all the children were in the same room and I paused from wiping the kitchen table to do a head count. There are FOUR of them!!! Okay, I know many people have more than four kids but I am old and wimpy. So thank you, people out there who knew I had four boys, for not reminding me too often. I think not counting them is part of my coping.

It does remind me of this passage from my favourite blog, momastery.com.

"I have far too many children. Every time one of them says, "Mom," I bristle like it's an act of aggression. One or two will have to go. In an effort to avoid playing favourites, I will get rid of the next two who ask for water. I am done getting water. Forever."

Hee hee. Makes me laugh every time. Really. Super funny. I don't *actually* ever feel that way though. Much.

But really, my boys are awesome and I didn't need to be afraid of Spring Break. Chris even took off a couple of days of work to hang out with us. And I went for a massage and got my hair done. And then I worked my now-typical Saturday because I still have a professional brain in there. It turns out that I survived this whole thing. I am still me, even if I'm packing hospital pounds and my runner self feels like a foggy memory and I miss my awesome friends who I had to check out on and I'm not sure who this other grown-up is in the house but he's cute and I'll keep him.

My non-Mommy identity is a bit in tatters but she's there. And I thank her for taking a patient back seat while every last scrap of my Mommy self was in high gear. People would say to me "make sure you take care of yourself" and I would think, what does that even mean?! In those circumstances, taking care of my family IS taking care of myself. That's what it looks like.

I'm coming back. There really were times when I was so scared and depleted and forever changed that I truly didn't think I was ever coming back. But I am. I'm just different. For one thing, I know a lot more about poop now.