A Field Trip ...

"Mommy says we need to get out of the house. I say, no one asked me!"

"What exactly did they find in Grandma's Attic?"

"We're finally here. The Mercer Mansion. The home of a large collection of junk, from the eccentric Henry Mercer ... I know some people who can rival him in his collection!"

His vision

The Key to the Front Door

A Stagecoach

A Rocking Horse from the late 1800's

Same rocking horse, only suffering under the weight of a 100 pound boy

I just don't know!?!

A boat hanging from the ceiling

A Noose

??????

Mail Call!

Your guess is as good as mine!

An "ancient relic" according to my son - same phone we had when I was a kid!

Sweet Potato Raspberries ...

There is a span of 17 years between baby #1 and baby #6 - with numbers 2 through 5 born very close together. When baby #1 was six, he had no front teeth, and he adored his little sister. Baby #5 is now six, he too is sans front teeth, and he also dotes on his baby sister. Life is very similar to those younger years, except there are four other children, many more responsibilities, I am not as young, and I am solely responsible for my children's education.

But, with all of that, there is a calm, a sense of peace, a desire to live in the moment when I am with Emma. Surely I have lived most of these moments before - the night-time feedings, the numerous diaper changes, the baths, the innumerable chores and duties and obligations punctuated by milestones, and sprinkled with enjoyable moments that, when added up, equals a childhood. However, never before was a child of mine so close to no longer being - so close to death. Never before had I had to face the possibility of losing a life that had just become mine to have.

In almost losing Emma I learned to value life. I have learned to slow down and enjoy those moments which once seemed so ordinary and mundane. That which might have irritated me once - the raspberries she was blowing tonight, through a mouth-full of sweet potatoes, for example - does not bother me now. I am thrilled she can blow raspberries, and that she can eat sweet potatoes.

I watch her watch her hand - open and close, open and close - or I watch as she tries to catch her foot in the tub - not so easy when it is attached to you, and, with each move you make, it slithers away - and I am in awe. This little girl very nearly died - I was right there, right next to her, as her platelets dropped, and her lungs were being crushed by the air inside of her. What could have happened would have been horrific to have witnessed - I know that now. Thank God I did not know it then. And thank God for what I am able to bear witness to now - a miracle of triumph over illness, the blessing of be able to experience with greater understanding and appreciation the wonder of the development of the child ... and the remnants of sweet potato raspberries all over my dining room rug.

From There to Here ...

Emma October 2009 5 months old
6 pounds

Emma (Home) April 2010 11 months old

13 pounds

Emma has been home for four months now. Four months of little sleep (for either one of us), lots of crying (both of us), tons of laughter (all of us), and some tough moments. She has grown a bit (see that belly!), and she has come quite far in her development. Emma receives occupational and speech therapy every week. She is now eating solids. She loves to play, demands attention from her siblings, and absolutely owns her momma!!! The children constantly remark, "I can not remember our life before we had Emma." If that is not a testament to their love and devotion, I do not know what is.

The Grinch Stole My Christmas ... and is trying to ruin my New Year

A doctor who just doesn't understand that Emma is not critically ill, but has chronic conditions imposed an awful sentence on us on Christmas Eve - Christmas in the hospital. It was a devastating blow, considering the other hospital did its best to ensure my family would be together this holiday season. This was the first year I have spent away from my little ones. It was hard on all of us. Emma was fine, according to the hospital staff, but the pediatrician's office closed early for the day, and we were caught between checking out AMA, or behaving like good patients and enduring an interminable night and day in a room with a crib that looked remarkably like a cage, unable to leave said room because the RSV virus was lurking right next door. Very wise decision, if you ask me, to put an at-risk infant in a room just one door away from the very virus that threatens to put her back in the hospital.

My goal for the New Year is to find a doctor who truly "gets" micro-preemies. I appreciate the effort this doctor is putting in to trying to understand Emma and what she needs, but I would have appreciated it more if, upon our intake, he had admitted his lack of experience with these babies, and referred us elsewhere. That would have served all of us better.

7 months, Plus One Week ...

Emma has been home for a full week. We have yet to find our groove - she has not completely settled into a schedule, and she is still fragile in my eyes. I cannot comfortably allow her to eat as she pleases, or sleep as she wants. The ugly spectre of NEC is still looming over us, as a relapse is always a possibility. We cannot leave the house because it is too great a risk for her diseased lungs. She remains terribly jaundiced, though, in time, the damage the TPN did to her liver should resolve itself. I remain hyper vigilant about the number and consistency of stools she produces each day, as any change could indicate intestinal woes of a serious nature. Her sleep is light and, at times, troubled. I, myself, feel a bit woozy with fatigue. But, I believe I speak for my children as well as for myself when I say, we would not have it any other way. We were well aware of the conditions we would have to live under if Emma made it through her trials. The children knew about the freedoms we would have to sacrifice as we enter "lock-down" mode. And they are doing well. There have not been any complaints - perhaps a grumble or two as we are in close quarters with one another day after day. Emma makes it all worthwhile with her beautiful smile in response to our interactions with her. She is as feisty as ever, screaming with displeasure when her feeds are delayed the slightest bit. She is a wonder, I am in awe of her presence, and I am ... blessed.

At Home With Emma ...

The Academic Portion of the Day ...

Followed by Lunch ...

Can Really Tire a Babe ...

Shhhh ....

We don't want to wake ...

Emma!!!

She's home!!! Exactly seven months later, she is finally home. No machines, no medications - just Emma. Tonight she sleeps in her own cradle, in her own home, surrounded by her own family. We are truly blessed.