Heart Ache

Last week we handed Jackson over and let them shove cameras down his throat, and a drill up his nose, all in an effort to gain some knowledge that would help him.  Information the doctors could use to fix his troubles.  Wisdom to understand why he throws up every morning.  Pieces to the puzzle of why, 10 months post Glenn, he's still on oxygen.  And what did we gain?  We gained a vest that will shake our child.  Wow.  Seriously?!?!?  I'm in a bit of a fowl mood about last week.

I'm an envious green headed monster.  I have heart momma's with heart kids running circles around Jackson.  They aren't on oxygen and their sats stay in the 80's.  They are having their feeding tubes pulled.  They are up and moving.  Well meaning friends who ask if Jackson is walking yet are like a knife to my back.  Their genuine questions sting like a thousand bees.  I am tired and frustrated and burnt out and scared.

Adel wants to have a cath this spring.

I can sense another "big picture" talk coming.  And now that Chris is back to work, I will likely face that conversation by myself.  Fuck.

Jackson isn't a "thriving" Glenn, and deep down we all know it.  Adel has been patient.  We've all been patient.  But at what point do we start asking those uncomfortable questions?  I have searched for a post Fontan CHARGE kid.  And I haven't found one.  I've found a few CHARGE kids who made it through their Glenn, but aren't Fontan candidates.  They are 4 and 5 and 6 years old, and are just sorta struggling to hold their own, much like Jackson.

It makes me wonder if the other CHARGE kids got heart (and maybe also lung) transplants?  Adel has said that we might fight an up hill battle to get Jackson on a transplant list.  And while I can understand that, is it fair to refuse to him a heart just because he's not in tip top shape?  And please don't mis-understand me, I am not ready to give up on Jackson's heart and jump on the transplant band wagon just yet.  Transplants are scary and come with their own list of issues and meds and worries.  They aren't perfect.  You trade one set of life long problems for another.  But, I don't like the idea of it being outside his reach either.

What I do know is that pre Glenn, when his half a heart was doing a whole heart's job, he wasn't on diuretics.  He wasn't on inhalers.  He wasn't on heart meds.  Yes was tired and he slept a lot.  He was blue.  His oxygen levels weren't fantastic, but he wasn't attached to an oxygen concentrator 24/7.

What I also know is that post Glenn, he's happier.  He's more interactive.  He lights up when Mason walks into the room.  He has fight and spunk and spirit in him.

Do we have enough forward progress to keep going?  Are we just torturing him (and us) by prolonging the inevitable - whatever that may be?

The doctors told us that being a single ventricle patient was a hard road.  Add in his CHARGE and there are days it seems too daunting of a task to give to a sweet 16 month old boy.  My heart aches for him.  It aches with worry and fear that we're making the wrong choices.  It aches from sleepless nights spent with feeding tubes.  It aches from grief over the healthy son we were supposed to have.  It aches with envy.  It aches from feeling alone on this journey.  It aches from frustration that I have no control, no say, no magic wand.  It just plain aches.

Jackson's REALLY Long Birth Story - from the begenning

My desire for a second child had been burning bright well before Mason turned 2.  I felt like our family wasn’t quite complete.  I was sure there was a soul out there that belonged with us.  I feared Mason being an only child, and not having a sibling to lean on when Chris and I were gone.  So I bugged and I begged and finally in October of 2012, Chris agreed.

We got pregnant in January.  I was set to take a pregnancy test on February 4^th, which is my best friend’s birthday.  But I was sure I wasn’t pregnant and so I waited until the 5^th.  I didn’t want a bad memory on her special day.  But, sure enough, there were two lines.  Those two pink lines, staring back at me, knowing our world would forever be changed, but not yet knowing the full extent.  It was a Sunday morning.  We called our parents and then I went to church with Mason.  I could hardly contain my excitement as I told our pastor about it.

My pregnancy was pretty uneventful.  I have heard more than once that I do pregnant well, with no real complications.  We had skipped all of the testing with Mason, but this time, decided to have it done.  Our results came back with a slightly higher risk for Downs Syndrome.  My OB was sure it was nothing to worry about.  We pushed it to the back of our minds and carried on.  In early June, we found out that the baby was a boy, and we decided to name him Jackson.

After a routine ultra sound, my OB came to me and said that there were some issues with his heart, and she wanted us to see a perinatologist.  She said they could check everything out.  Some of our Downs risks were a little higher based on some of the things the ultra sound tech saw.  And she couldn’t quite see all four chambers of the heart.  And she thought his stomach was empty, which might mean he had swallowing issues.  So I called and set an appointment for June 13^th.

That morning as I drove to the appointment, I called my mom.  I was scared and trying not to worry.  She said to me that things would be fine, and to call with the good news later that afternoon.  Chris met me there and we went inside.  The doctor came out to meet us and lead us into an ultrasound room.  I laid on the table and we talked.  He said he would start with the fun stuff first.  He confirmed we were having a boy.  He scanned and we talked and joked.  And then he got very quiet.  Eerily quiet.  And focused.  And serious.  I started to cry.  I knew something was wrong.  I held Chris’ hand and wiped away tears.  He turned to us and said “I think you can tell from my silence that something is wrong.  Your baby has a heart condition, called Double Outlet Right Ventricle.  Basically part of his heart didn’t develop”.  There were many more words said after that.  I don’t remember most of them.  He was so kind, he even said we would not hear most of what he was telling us, and so he wrote his cell phone number on the back of a card and told us to call anytime.

He stepped out of the room and made a call to Children’s Hospital and got us a same day appointment with the cardiologist.  Chris and I had driven separate.  Chris had come in his work truck and so he had to go back to the shop and drop it off.  He was going to meet me there.  I called my dad as I drove, and I cried.  I was so scared.  I didn’t know what any of this meant.  But my worst fears were playing out in my mind as I drove.  Walking into the front doors of Children’s, I looked around and saw kids everywhere.   Some were in wheelchairs.  Some in walkers.  Some in cute little red wagons.  Some walking.  Some sleeping in their mother’s arms.  But, what I noticed most, was they were all smiling.  Even the really sick ones.

I headed up to the 3^rd floor and waited for Chris.  I tried not to cry.  Finally a sweet nurse named Keri came out and introduced herself and we walked back to another ultrasound room.  They scanned and talked and scanned some more.  Jackson wasn’t in a very good position and so they sent me down to the cafeteria.  Told me to get some food, walk around a little, and come back.  I called my mom and cried.  We came back up and they scanned some more, and then they sent us to a family counseling room.  It was not the last time we’d sit in that room.  The doctor came in and she drew pictures and she talked in words we didn’t understand.  We sat there, listening, but not really hearing.  Not processing.  She told us that we had three choices.  Once he was born, we could send him for a set of 3 open heart surgeries, we could terminate the pregnancy, or we could do comfort care and let him pass once he was born.  The only option we immediately turned down was comfort care.  We both said that either we were doing this, or we weren’t.  But watching him die was not an option.  We left with our drawings, still completely numb.  We drove home separate from each other.  I called my mom and cried some more.  When I picked up Mason from daycare, I hugged him and did my best not to cry.  Seeing him, and worrying about what his future would look like, was overwhelming.

Over the next forty eight hours, Chris and I cried.  We talked.  We mourned  We sat in silence together.  We were angry together.  We did our best to parent Mason and to go to work.  Our minds a million miles away from either task.  I flip flopped a hundred times a minute on my choice.  I could justify either option in my mind.  I checked out of my pregnancy.  I stopped noticing when he moved and kicked.  I stopped touching my belly.  I couldn’t handle acknowledging him when I wasn’t sure we’d ever get to meet him.  I begged Chris to end it immediately.  I couldn’t go on for days with him inside of me if we weren’t going to move forward.  I researched abortions and clinics in Denver that would do one this late into my pregnancy.

On June 15^th, we made the decision to get an amnio done.  The same perinatologist met us at the office and performed the test.  He was kind, and tried his best to make the mood light.  He said he would send out a “fish” which would test for the 4 biggest risk factor issues we could have that would cause a heart defect.  He was honest and told us that if any of the 4 came back, he would encourage us to terminate.

June 16^th was a Saturday, and he was on vacation, but he called us anyways.  He said that our “fish” had come back clean.  Chris and I were deflated, we were looking for an easy out.  We didn’t get the free pass we had wanted.  And now we were faced with making a choice.  An awful choice.

June 17^th was Father’s Day.  I started the day determined not to talk about this.  The giant elephant sitting in the middle of our lives.  But we found ourselves talking and crying.  We both agreed that we would terminate the pregnancy.  We just couldn’t do this.  And then we called our parents.  Chris called his mom and I stepped outside and called mine.  My mother is strong and brave.  She’s also a nurse, and so she could make sense of all of this.  She had talked to the perinatologist and the cardiologist and she made it all sound ok.  It was do-able.  We could have him and he could have the surgeries and he could be ok.  They would come and be here and help with Mason.  I confessed to her that I didn’t think I could make myself walk into a room, and kill my own child.  And I that instant, I knew what my choice was.  God had given us this baby.  And if he was going to die, it was going to be God’s choice.  Not mine.  Through all of my flip flopping and mind changing, Chris had made his decision as well.  He wanted to move forward and give this little guy a chance.

We started making plans to move forward with the pregnancy.  The rest of our amnio came back clean and we breathed a sigh of relief.  We went back to Children’s for more echo’s and ultrasounds.  We met Dr. Adel.  He was kind and caring.  He explained things in a way that made sense.  He knew that our first meeting had been horrible, and that we’d left it not really grasping any of what was said.  So he started over.  He spent hours with us that day.  I instantly trusted him.  He held me while I cried and told me that it was going to be ok.  That we could do this together.  He was the first person to tell me that this wasn’t my fault, and that it was ok to mourn the loss of the healthy child we thought we were having.

The remainder of my pregnancy was spent with multiple OB appointments, perinatology appointments, and echo’s at Children’s.   I got really good at reading the faces of the technicians as they scanned his heart.  With each appointment, I had the hope that they would discover his heart was whole.  That they had made a mistake.  Jackson wasn’t growing as well as they wanted.  He only had 2 blood vessels in his umbilical cord, and so I was constantly told to eat more and exercise less.  Anything to get him to grow.  He needed to be big and strong for what he was going to endure.

It was decided that I would have a repeat c-section.  We would have a room full of doctors and nurses ready to step in at a moment’s notice.  It wasn’t the birth experience I wanted.  But it was what was best for Jackson.  We set the date of October 11, 2012.

Chris and I got up early the morning of the 11^th and headed to the hospital.  My parents and brother would come later and meet us there.  We checked in and did our best to joke and laugh.  As long as Jackson was inside me, his little heart wasn’t in danger.  He was safe and secure.  When they finally came to get me, I started to cry.  Walking myself into that operating room is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  I felt like I was putting Jackson in danger, and it hurt so bad.  It wasn’t the first time I felt like a bad mom.  My OB had traveled to Children’s to deliver Jackson.  The perinatologist was there to assist.  He had told me earlier in the morning that today was his birthday, and that was sure to be a good sign.  Jackson was delivered at 9:45 am and swept away before I could even hear him cry.  Chris went back and forth, from Jackson’s side to mine, telling me what he looked like and what they were doing.  I begged to know every detail.  Dr. Adel came and sat by my head and asked me if I was ready to have a baby.  I told him I was pretty sure I already had!  To which he replied “crap, I’m late” and he dashed off.  I needed that giggle to lighten the mood.  They finally let Chris bring Jackson to me and I was able to see and kiss my son.  He was small, but beautiful.  I instantly loved him.

When I came back to my room to recover, they brought Jackson in.  I was able to hold him and snuggle with him.  We passed him around the room a little and then I held him and tried to memorize every detail about him.  Those two hours passed in an instant and they came and whisked him away to the CICU down on the 3^rd floor.  My parents went down there and said that he was comfortable and stable.  I finally got down to see him later that afternoon.  It was a long ride in my wheel chair, but holding him was worth the pain of getting out of bed.  We had all noticed that his ears were shaped a little funny, but everyone said he was just squished inside of me.  We all noticed that his left eye didn’t seem to open as much as the right.  They told us he was just tired.

We spent the weekend in the CICU, holding him and getting to know him and waiting for the bomb to drop that they were taking him for surgery.  I missed Mason terribly.  I’d never spent this much time away from him and my heart longed to hold him and kiss him.  He visited some and even got down to see his brother for the first time.  His smile was one of pride.  I will never forget that look.  He looked down at Jackson as if to say “you are my little brother, my forever best friend, and I will always look out for you”.  He is the sweetest most affectionate child.  Having a little bother who is sick will make him even more empathetic and patient.

Chris had gone home the night of the 12^th to be with Mason.  I was in the CICU with Jackson when a little girl coded.  Doctors and nurses rushed to her room.  Her parents cried openly and loudly.  I knew she was sick, I’d been watching all weekend.  But then she died, right there.  This little 3 year old girl who was less than 100 feet from me.  Jackson’s nurse and I both weren’t sure what to do with ourselves.  Did we stand there?  Did we watch?  Should she help?  I told her I needed to leave.  And then I turned right back around and stood over Jackson, as if protecting him.  I cried for that little girl and her parents.  I asked God to be gentle.  They finally got her stable and I left Jackson’s bedside.  That little girl passed away in the middle of the night.  Her room was empty the next morning and I said a prayer for her family.

Jackson’s hearing test was October 13^th.  She started with his right ear.  I asked how it was looking, and she told me it was fine, he passed, and I should go get some lunch.  I came back half an hour later and she told me that he had mild to moderate hearing loss in the right ear.  And that he had profound loss in the left ear.  My world started to unravel.  Chris was at work.  How was I going to tell him that his child was deaf?

The morning of October 15^th, we were all in the CICU.  I held Jackson skin to skin and soaked in every inch of him.  The surgery date had come.  The speech and occupational therapists came.  They were worried about Jackson aspirating on bottles and encouraged us not to feed him by mouth.  Then a geneticist came by.  He looked at Jackson and asked us a few questions.  He stepped aside when the ophthalmologist came.  She dilated his eyes.  She told us that he had a colaboma in his left eye and that his right eye was smaller than the left.  She said she couldn’t say for sure if he had any vision at all and might be blind.  The fabric of my world started to fray some more.  Then came the ENT, who told us that Jackson had coanal atresia and that his nasal passage was blocked.  He was put on oxygen to help him breath.  The fabric ripped and tore.  And finally the geneticist came and told us that Jackson had CHARGE.  He said it was a genetic birth defect that affected many areas.   He would have significant vision and hearing issues.  His airway would be small and compromised.  He would be small and skinny and struggle to gain weight.  His genitals would be adversely affected.  He might not go through puberty without medication.  He would be immune deficient.  The fabric became single strands of thread.  Chris and I held one another and sobbed.  I was angry.  We had done an amnio and they had told us that everything was fine.  That it was just his heart.  Finally the CICU doctor got wind of what was going on, and chased them all away.  She was genuinely sorry and empathetic that they had done this on the day of surgery.  I thanked her for saving us.  I don’t think we could have taken one more person lining up to deliver bad news.

And then they came to take Jackson to surgery.  He was to have a band placed around his pulmonary artery to slow the flow of blood to his lungs down.  Otherwise, he would drown in his own blood and die.  There wasn’t a single sliver of hope left in us when they wheeled him away.  We were beaten and battered and devastated.  I could find nothing positive left in the world.  So we sat and we waited.

Esther came out and pulled Chris and I aside.  I took Chris’ hand in mine, sure that she was going to tell us that he had died.  The walk to that room seemed like an eternity.   She said that Jackson was stable, but, that when they inserted the breathing tube, his belly had filled with air and they didn’t know why.  They were going to bring in an ENT and scope him and see if they could figure out what was wrong.  We walked back outside and told my parents.  And we waited some more.  Esther came out and again pulled Chris and I aside.  Again I took his hand and we walked.  She said that they could find no medical explanation for the air, and that he was too unstable in that condition to operate and they were cancelling it.

I don’t think it even registered  in my brain that we would have to hand him over again.  It took about an hour before we were allowed back to see him.  Nothing prepares you for seeing your child with a breathing tube down their throat, asleep.  I took a deep breath and rounded the corner.  The guilt was over whelming.  I longed to hold him and comfort him, but I wasn’t allowed to move him.  All I could do was touch his arms and legs.  He was so warm from the heater above him.  His face was puffy and swollen.  He had a yellow piece of paper taped above his head that read “critical airway”.  They had graded him a 3.  Only thing worse was a grade 4.

The cardiologists and surgeons and anesthesiologists all came and told us that they had no idea what had happened.  They had no medical explanation for the air in his belly.  They were sorry and baffled.  I knew that God  had seen us and knew we couldn’t do it.  Glad stepped in and gave us a much needed do over.

The next morning I came into the CICU to find his surgeon at his bedside.  And they told me they were going to do surgery that day.  He had had some cancellations, and Jackson had been stable all night.  The decision was made.  I frantically started calling to get Chris back to the hospital.  For the longest time, it was just me and my dad.  The mood was light, and I even found myself joking a little with the social worker.  Chris arrived and we said goodbye to Jackson, again, and they took him back.  We found ourselves again sitting and waiting for updates.  Esther rounded the corner, and immediately held two thumbs up.  I was beyond relieved.  She said there had been no air in the belly this time, and they were proceeding with the surgery.  Jackson sailed through it with no complications and the surgeon was quite pleased with the bands.  We were able to see him a while later.  Now added to that breathing tube down my child’s throat, was a band aid that was the length of his chest, covering the place where they had operated on his tiny heart.  I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.  I spent that night at the hospital, to be close, just in case.  I was in the CICU with Jackson when Dr. Adel came by.  I was starting to regret my decision to spend the night there by myself.  We talked and I cried and he listened.  He is such a gentle and caring man.  He assured me that just because Jackson was special, that didn’t change anything as far as he was concerned.  It just made him more special.

It took a few days to wean Jackson from the breathing tube.  He was finally at a point where he was breathing around it, and needed to be extubated.  Looking at your child, awake, and crying, but with no sound coming out of their mouth, is not something I was prepared for.  I mean, I’d heard about it, and I knew it would happen.  But in the moment when it did, I wasn’t ready.  My dad sent me off to the waiting room and he bravely stayed with Jackson.  I came back to find him awake, and on oxygen.  He ultimately ended up needing more support than that, and was placed on a CPAP machine for a day or two, and then back to oxygen .

Jackson was born on the 4^th floor of Children’s hospital in an operating room on October 11^th.  He spent the next 11 days in the CICU before being moved to the 9^th floor.  After a few days on the 9^th floor, he was taken down for surgery to place a feeding tube into his stomach, called a G Tube, so that we could take out the NG Tube that was in his nose.  He slowly recovered from that, and we finally were allowed to go home on November 5, 2012.  26 days after he was born.

Being a Heart Momma

February 7 - 14 is Congenital Heart Defect week.  This is for anyone born with a heart condition.  A birth defect if you will.  It wasn't something they did, or something their mother did while pregnant.  It just is.  I call it the shitty luck of the draw.

We are approaching the start of this week and I find myself overwhelmed with emotions.  Some days I am sad.  Some days I am happy.  Some days I am carefree and footloose and I let myself daydream about Jackson's graduation from college and his wedding and my grandchildren.  Some days it is all I can do to let him go every morning when I leave to go to work.  On those days I long to crawl into bed with him and snuggle and breath in the smell of him.  I worry that I will forget how sweet he smells.  When he was admitted back in to the hospital in December, we were there less than a day, and he already smelled of hospital.  I had scrubbed him clean of that stench and it was all over my baby again.  I hate that smell.

I am part of heart momma group.  We come there to share our successes, grieve our losses, and spill our deepest secrets.  Things we don't tell our friends or our spouses or our parents.  Things no one else in the world would understand, unless they too were a heart momma.  We say awful things and we cry and we pray.  We beg for just one more day.  We support one another.  And over the time that I have been a part of this group, I have had to witness the passing of no less than 10 babies.  Some with warning.  Some without.  Some clear across the ocean, in other countries.  Each one rocks my very world and shakes my confidence.   If these babies can go, then so can mine.  Jackson is here today, and for that I am thankful.  But I can't help but look at him and wonder how long we'll have.

He has two very scary heart procedures coming up.  The first is a heart cath, where they will insert a wire into his body and map out the veins and arteries of his heart.  He does this under sedation.  When you think about how small those parts are, it's easy to understand how sometimes the worst thing happens, and the wire pokes through an artery.  Irreparable damage is done.  And these children die rather quickly.  I tell myself "at least he'd be asleep".

The second is open heart surgery.  They will put him under, and then they will stop my child's heart from beating.  They will place him on a bypass machine.  And then they will cut his tiny chest open, again and they will operate on his tiny heart, again.  And when we hand him over to surgeons, my own heart is going to break into a million pieces.

I pray for the surgeons to have steady hands.  I pray that god watches over them and guides them.  I pray that there will be no complications.  No infections.  I pray that someday my child will understand why we did these awful things to him.  That is was to keep him here longer, with us. 

A good friend, who is also a heart momma, told me that god gives us these special warriors because we can do this work.  We can take on this job.  I never wanted to be a heart momma.  I don't think any of us did.  But, I am so thankful to have a space where I can go and I can unload some of these thoughts and feelings and fears, and I can be surrounded by people who understand.  Because they have all been there, and thought those same thoughts.

I will be wearing red every day, the 7 - 14, to show my support.  Support for those warriors who are still with us.  Support for those angles who have earned their wings and are flying high above us.  Support for the parents and siblings of congenital heart defects.  Support for hope and promises.  Support for life and for living it one blessed day at a time.  I hope that you will join me, and wear red.

We Have Some News to Share!

Nothing like reading the last page of a book, so you know how it ends, right?

Yup, those tests both say that we are pregnant! Looks like Mason will be getting a little brother or sister sometime in October. He says that he wants a sister, but, I don't actually think he has any idea what either means or entails. The thrifty side of me hopes for a boy, since I've saved all of Mason's clothes. But, the dreamer side of me hopes for a girl, so I can experience that relationship as well. To be honest, I am a little scared and really just hoping for a healthy pregnancy and healthy baby. That's really all I want.

I will try to update a little more frequently. Seems 2012 is already slipping past me, and I've been a bad blogger!!

MONSTER TRUCKS!!

I won tickets to the Monster Truck show here in Denver. The best part was when I went to get them from the radio station, they had lost 1 of the tickets, and so they upgraded us to their personal suite! How awesome is that!?!? So, we had an early dinner and headed down to the Pepsi Center.

Mason was pretty scared, to be honest, by how loud the monster trucks were. He clung to either

me or Chris (mostly Chris) while I tried to keep his ears covered. We had gotten ear plugs, but as I figured, he refused to keep them in his ears. His eyes were wide open all night, taking everything in. All in all, it was a lot of fun! A late night for sure, but, well worth it. All the way home he just kept talking about the monster trucks and the wheelies they did and how they jumped over the cars. Ahh, little boys!!

First Post of 2012? No Way!

I don't know how it got to be February, and this is my first post for 2012. I really don't. Well, actually, I think it's called having a 2 year old! I find myself photographing Mason much less and just enjoying him more. He is so vocal these days, asking to read more books (as if that were possible) and watch Thomas on tv, and eat. Good lord, the kid can eat! I don't know where he puts the calories, to look at him you'd think he never ate a thing. He's learned to open the fridge door, much to his father's dismay. Poor Chris, it drives him stark raving mad! I think he's just growing up way too quickly. I was just thinking about Easter Sunday and the fact that we'll get to dye eggs this year. Slow down little boy, slow down.

Rock Collection

Last weekend while I vaccumed, Chris and Mason spent a few minutes enjoying the gorgeous spring weather. Mason thought it was pretty fun to hand rocks, one by one, to his dad to hold onto. Seems he's starting that rock collection a little early!

Nothing in Particular

Just some random cuteness to brighten up every one's Tuesday.

Super Bowl Sunday

Mason sported his Cowboy T-shirt for dad's benefit. The Cowboys aren't in the Super Bowl this year, but they were gracious enough to host it.

SO Big!!

Really, when the heck did my son get to be such a big boy?!?!

Snowed In

We had record low temps last week. So cold, in fact, that many of the schools closed on Tuesday and Wednesday. And when the schools close, daycare closes too. I took Tuesday off and Chris took Wednesday off. Mason seemed to have a bit of an upset tummy, so it was actually a good thing he was home with us for a few days. I bought him new cups, with straws, and let him have one on Tuesday for the first time, with some pedialight. Man, did he think he was cool, strutting around the living room with his cup!!

What Happens When Dad Dresses You

You go to daycare looking like a country bumpkin!! Where was this shirt for Halloween??

New Do

Mason's hair is really growing, and filling in fast. I love to mess with it when he gets out of the tub. Grandma says he's due for a hair cut soon. I don't quite think Mom is ready for that yet!

ELTON JOHN Rocks My World!!!!!!!!1

The concert announcement was made in October that Elton John and Billy Joel were coming to Denver as part of their Face to Face tour. I love Elton. Anyone who knows me knows that I love Elton. But, anyone who knows me also knows there is NO WAY that I would fork out the cost of good tickets to go see them. So, my wonderful husband did it for me!! They were supposed to come in November, when I was on maternity leave, but had to cancel and re-set it for February 22nd. I have been counting down the months, weeks and even days to last night.

OH MY GOD!! UN FREAKING BELIEVABLE!!! The set was 3+ hours of Elton and Billy. They played each others songs. They played their own songs. They ROCKED!! I cried when Elton came on stage. Yes, cried. I never ever thought I'd get to see him live. Ever!

So, a shout out to my wonderful husband for buying the tickets and a shout out to Elton and Billy for one of the best birthdays I can remember!

Lookin Cute

Just a quick picture of my adorable little boy.

New PJ's

Grandma Donna got these for Mason for Christmas. They are 6 month jammies, but his feet seem to fit them better without being so squished. Is it possible that his feet really are as big as everyone commented when he was born??

1st Day of Daycare

So, I got Mason dropped off at daycare, and even managed to hold my tears in until I was in the car, so that was good. I can't even tell you how much I wanted to call in sick today and stay home with him. But, here I am. Oh, and he arfed on me, like 3 times, so now I have puffy eyes from crying, and I smell like arf. YAY!! It's going to be a long long day. And I can't wait to go home and snuggle with him!

Happ Valentines Day

Happy Valentines Day! I woke up this morning to find snow and lots of goodies on the kitchen table. Mason brought me a love bug and some macaroons, which, if I were ever going to be executed, would be part of my last meal request. Chris got chocolates (duh!!) and some gift cards to go shopping with later. I am excited to see what he'll make me for dinner?!? For anyone who does not know, our tradition is that he finds a recipe for something we've never had, buys everything, and makes me dinner. He makes the most wonderful meals too! So, we'll see what he's got planned later. I am making pancakes - one of Chris' favorites.

Have a happy Valentines Day everyone! XOXO

Pity Party, Table For One

Mason starts daycare on Tuesday. Next Tuesday.

At 6:30 in the morning I have to leave my house with my little boy and drop him off at another woman's house, and then I won't see him for 10 hours after that. GAH!!

I know I need to be thankful that he was able to stay home for almost 5 months before he went off to daycare. I know that there are lots of babies who go to daycare at 6 weeks, and even some earlier than that. I know that I should appreciate the gift of a generous maternity leave from my office, and Chris being laid off for the winter. But, I don't really want to be thankful. I want to be independently wealthy and stay home with my son. That's what I want.

I have been getting up earlier this week and testing out what it will take to get Chris and I both up, and showered, and Mason up and dressed and fed, and all of us out the door so we can be to work on time. The upside is that I am the first one in Mason's room in the morning. I call out to him when I walk in his room and his little face just beams and he smiles from ear to ear. He gets so excited he does a little dance in bed. Melts my heart every time! He gets changed and has a bottle and we have a few minutes to just sit in his chair and cuddle.

Tuesday morning I just might have to spike my coffee!! I have given myself 20 minutes to say goodbye to him. At 7am I simply must walk out the door and get into my car and drive away. I sincerely hope I have the strength to do it!

All Jumped Out

Enough said. I mean, really. Enough said.