Monday, July 20, 2015

It’s Hour 30 – My Life as a Stay-At-Home Dad (A guest post from my husband)

This is the fourth time I am sitting down to try and start this – which is indicative of my life the past day and a half. It all started Saturday evening… I had gone with my dad to do some work on our family’s cabin when I got a message from Alisha that she was feeling sick. Having come down with one of my semi-annual sinus infections myself, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I offered to come home, and was hoping to finish up the project we were working on before heading back. Well… the project took till midnight and I didn’t get home till 1:30am Sunday morning. Jude (our 29-week old) got up an hour after I got in bed, then we all got up for the day by 7, which means I got about 4 hours of sleep.
Just to give you a picture of the state of our union, both Alisha and I had been out of town this past week; I was at a work conference in DC, and Alisha and the boys headed to the beach with my mom and nieces. Having packed for separate week long trips, our living room was an explosion of bags, suitcases, food, toys, dirty clothes, and the loot from my Ikea trip. Although I have tried to clean up said living room on multiple attempts, somehow it is still a disaster… how is this possible?
In addition, I have been wearing the same clothes since I left the cabin, and my hair is matted (and fairly greasy). I wore a baseball hat when I had to go outside yesterday, but then at one point forgot it and said, “oh well, it is what it is”. 
I have done 125 loads of laundry and 75 sinks full of dishes that seem to magically re-appear whenever I leave the room. This never ending task produces a surprising level of anxiety, and I find myself having a conversation with myself (which may or may not be out loud) how to use the spare five minutes I am not holding our 29-week old, or playing with our 192-week old, Graham. Although he is showing an impressive level of independence today, it is so hard to juggle the time (or lack thereof) I have throughout the past day – has it really only been that long?
When Jude went down for his afternoon nap, I turned on a movie for Graham and crawled into Graham’s twin bed (where I also slept last night – Graham was on the floor) and fell asleep until I heard Jude through the monitor an hour or so later (disclaimer, Alisha is also home, just upstairs in the cave of sickness). Then I had to figure out dinner… a task which seemed impossible. This was also the point at which I realized that all the dishes I did get done, did not include Jude’s bottles which resulted in me spiraling into…
Sorry, now back from a 3 hour interruption. I am now in the 33rd hour of my new commission. My 7-month old is now asleep again and my 44-month old is watching some weird cartoon on his Leap Pad for quiet time. My living room is worse than it was when I described it above… is this real life?  
I am sitting here trying to figure out what to do now. Do I sweep through again and try to clean this war-zone, do the dishes, do a load of laundry, study for my upcoming Comp Exam, watch something on Netflix, check my work e-mail, or sit in silence? Prioritization gets seriously skewed when you only have an hour or two…
Here’s to all the mom’s out there who do this every day, especially to my wife. How she maintains her sanity, while caring for the children and our home is beyond my comprehension. It’s hard to get outside my day to day life sometimes and experience what it is like to be pulled in different directions all day, second guessing whether you made the best use of your time, got the right things done, said “yes” to your 3 ½ year old a few more times than you said “no”, have revolving tasks that you can never cross of your to-do list, and also manage any level of hygiene or self-care. My 33 hours as a stay at home dad have given me a bit of a new perspective… I get to leave each morning and head to a job (that I love) where I get to cross things off my to do list, close my door if I need to focus, eat lunch when I want, organize my day the way I want, and get recognition and positive feedback for a job well-done. To be honest, going to work is the easier of our two jobs by far. I find myself so thankful today for my wife, and I hope she gets better soon (genuinely, although in a round-about way it seems self-serving).

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Jude Denman: A Birth Story or The Day I Pooped on My Husband

Finally getting around to writing this...I'm sure at this point I may leave a few things out, since it's been almost 6 months. 6 MONTHS. What?! Where did that time go? Oh, yes. In the black hole of baby land, that's where. Where days seem like years and weeks seem like decades and months seem like weeks. It's a strange, strange little world. But anyway, here we go...

I was due on Christmas Day, so we made zero plans, hoping to be back home with a snuggly newborn by Christmas morning. I started having contractions a couple of days before Christmas, but we woke up Christmas morning to Graham saying 'It is really Christmas?? That's SO cool!' And it was, just not as cool as if there had been a baby there too. Although far less sleep-deprived, so that was a plus. It was also unseasonably warm, so we took a couple of walks, hoping to get something (i.e. the BABY) moving. No such luck. We were Skyping with Jim's parents in the afternoon, who had been packed and ready to come for something like 2 weeks. I initially hadn't wanted anyone there until after the birth, but at this point we were all tired, a little cranky and ready for some distraction, so we kind of begged asked them to come, and they hopped in the car and were at our house Christmas evening. It was perfect. We were able to spend a great couple of days with them, and they took Graham all day on Saturday so Jim and I could have time to ourselves.

Yes, Saturday. Christmas had been on Thursday.

We went to the Ploughcroft Tea Room, walking on Blackwater, and to see the Hobbit at an afternoon showing (a movie during the day!!) And still, no baby. I had 2 hours of contractions every day, sometimes in the middle of the night, and each time I thought 'This is it!' But it wasn't. Jim's dad went home Sunday but his mom offered to stay and help with Graham, an offer which we willingly accepted. Sunday or Monday night (I think it was Sunday?) we went to Sam's Club and ran into Lauren (doula/friend/wonder woman) while there. I was having some pretty good contractions and couldn't even walk around without getting tired, so I went to sit in the car; Lauren went home preparing to come back over if she needed to. She didn't.

Tuesday morning (5 days overdue!) we went to the library with Graham while Jim's mom ran some errands. I remember feeling extremely out of it and tired, and eventually just sat down and watched Graham play with some other kids and totally let their mom handle it. I think she may have been surprised when the sad looking pregnant woman stood up and said 'Time to go!' to the little boy running amok. We were going to go somewhere else, but I was too tired, so Jim ran through the Panera drive through for me and dropped me off at home while he and Graham went back out. I sat on our bed with my soup and grilled cheese and started an episode of Bones (I'd been binge watching it lately while Jim did homework. Supportive wife that I am.) I wasn't even halfway through when I just couldn't get comfortable anymore sitting down. I tried standing, sitting, leaning...nothing was comfortable. I immediately did the only thing I knew to do - I jumped in the shower. With Graham's labor, that's where I felt 'safe', so that was where I started this time. Just before getting in I texted Jim and asked him to come home and let Lauren know what was going on. This was around 2:30 pm.

About 45 minutes later, I was out of the shower and Lauren was getting ready to come over. I stayed in the bathroom listening to my JJ Heller Pandora station (random, but it was perfect), swaying through contractions as they got a little more intense. I had the lights off, and when Lauren arrived she and Jim checked on me periodically but let me do my thing. When I decided to come out into the bedroom because the contractions were starting to gain speed, I was surprised that it was sunset and the room was dark. They had started some peppermint oil in the diffuser and the two of them were gracious enough to just sit in the dark for me.  It didn't seem at all odd then, but looking back it was kind of comical to walk out and have them sitting quietly together in our bedroom. We're close like that. Also, sometime during this they were taking bets as to when and how much I would start cussing throughout labor. (kind souls, those two)

I laid on my side on the bed and let my leg hang over to ease some of the intensity, however, it eased it a bit too much and I wasn't really feeling the contractions at all. So I started doing some 'duck walks' to loosen up and continue in labor...it was as ridiculous looking as it sounds, if not more so. Google it. Or maybe don't. I remember having one contraction that hit hard, and Lauren helped me sway into it as I held onto the doorframe of our bathroom.

-Let me take this moment to say: if you are having a baby, get.a.doula. Preferably one who will talk sense into you when you need it. Lauren has this uncanny way of being incredibly encouraging while at the same time basically saying 'suck it up. NOW.' It's a delicate dance, one which she has perfected.-

After that contraction, we moved to our bedroom chair. I sat on my knees in front of it and laid my arms/head on the seat. Lauren started using the rebozo, which definitely made things more intense. You should probably Google that one - it's like a large scarf that you rub back and forth on your belly like one of those vibrating exercise belts that were popular in the 80's. Seriously. Anyway...I keep using the word 'intense' - it's honestly the best way I can think of to describe the feeling. It hurt, yes. But the intensity that required all of my focus is what stuck with me. When a contraction started, Lauren would tighten the rebozo around me. After one particularly strong contraction I started to freak out a little. They let me cry and vent and get it out, then once again, it was time to say 'OK. You're going to do this.' I remember multiple times when Lauren would say 'Face that fear. Then punch it in the face.' In between these contractions, I was drinking coconut water and eating energy balls, lovingly fed to me by my husband. (he was there too, I promise!) As each contraction came, I leaned hard into my 'squat' and bounced my way through, basically channeling all of that pain/intensity into my legs. Mentally, I kept thinking of it as a really, REALLY good workout, and repeated 'legs. butt. legs. butt.' in my head. If only I did that everyday instead of eating ice cream at 10 pm...

We had gotten into a groove of this and I felt like I was managing the contractions well. Of course, dear Lauren then had to go and say "OK, I think we need to change it up, so you don't get stuck here." But I LIKED 'here'. I could handle 'here'. Boo. Her suggestion? Walking the stairs in lunges, 2-3 steps at a time. I almost cursed at this point. But I didn't (ha! take that you two). So, we started on the stairs. For each contraction, I would lean in and push into my top leg as much as I could. It hurt like hell at first, but again, the whole 'workout' mental game helped me immensely. I actually remember hearing Graham playing Candy Land with his Grammy and I smiled in the middle of a contraction! I SMILED during a contraction. What was happening?! Shortly after that I had a contraction where I could tell some progress was made, and commented that I was "pretty sure I just dilated a couple centimeters." I had been pestering Lauren for a while about when we may be able to leave for the hospital. While it was going great, I was still hoping for the possibility of an epidural just in case. It was about this point that she agreed we should go and she called ahead to let them know, and to ask for the birthing tub to be set up and filled. She and Jim got everything in the cars while I labored through a few more contractions on the stairs until I felt ready to head to the car.

The car ride with Graham's birth was awful, so I was extremely nervous this time around. Lauren told me I could sit however I wanted, so turned backwards on my knees and hugged the seat, kind of like what I'd been doing in our room with the chair. (sounds kinky. It wasn't, I assure you. Far, far from it, in fact.) I immediately was more comfortable knowing I didn't have to be seated or buckled. Why this hadn't occurred to me before, I don't know, but it hadn't. I had one contraction at the same (insert expletive) stoplight that I had had with Graham. I semi laughed about it afterward to Jim...it was like the light was intent on torturing me. I had a second contraction about 3 minutes from the hospital and knew...I was in transition. That lovely phase where you go from laboring to LABORING, where you get to a 10 and are ready to push. Yes, this happened in the car. We got to the hospital and I was trying to remain calm, so walked into the waiting room and concentrated on another contraction while waiting for Jim and Lauren to park the cars and get me the heck in the delivery room!

We rode the elevator up (why? WHY do you have to get in an elevator?!) and apparently I was calm enough that they thought the triage room was suitable. And I had to do things like pee in a cup and get a wristband and answer stupid questions from a very rude nurse who did not seem to enjoy her job that night (thankfully she was the only rude nurse we encountered!). They hooked me up to monitor Jude's heartbeat and then asked me to get on the bed to be checked. Um. NO. I'm in transition and you want to check me?! I lost my shit at that point. The contractions were awful and I tried to just focus but the lights were bright, the nurse wouldn't move her freaking computer out of the way (so much so that Lauren actually bumped into her not-so-accidentally to try and get her to move out of my way!), and I had bad memories from Graham's birth. He was definitely starting to move downward and I needed support so I literally sat on Lauren's legs while she was standing. And by sat I mean I put all of my pregnant and in labor weight on her and didn't move. Apparently she was shaking but she didn't move, she just stayed and let me do my thing.

I was finally able to get on the bed to get checked since they refused to move me...and when they did I was, oh, you know, about an 8. Yes people. Like I was trying to tell you...I'm Having a BABY! We went across the hall (literally, like 5 steps) to the delivery room, where, the birthing tub was in fact not set up yet. I think there were multiple reasons, many out of their control, but again, I kind of panicked. So I immediately said "I want to be in the tub!" and waddled to the regular tub in the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and practically jumped in. After one contraction in there I felt claustrophobic, so proceed to get back out, but failed to put any clothes back on. At this point, I was in full blown labor land and couldn't have cared less if the President walked in the room. I got down on my knees by the bed and worked through a contraction or two there, all while a nurse was trying to get a blood sample. She was so patient as I was not really helpful in any way...she just kept saying 'Oh bless her heart I've been there.' I love Southern people.

I was going through various phrases like "I don't want to do this!" "Oh my gosh this hurts!" "I want to be done now!" and the like, so after a couple of contractions Lauren had me put one foot on a stool to lean into like I had been on the stairs. (This was maybe 30 minutes max in the delivery room) I put my arms around Lauren's neck for support (yes, fully nude. Don't concentrate on that picture too long) and leaned into the contraction...and my body just started pushing. So I kept leaning in and yelled "I'm pushing!" Lauren almost died, literally, from me pulling her down, so Jim came up behind me to catch both of us, and that's when it happened. I pooped. On his leg. I knew it happened and didn't give a shit (get it? yes, you do.). But I remember thinking "Wow! He is handling that SO well!" because if you know my husband, you would not expect him to handle that well. I was quite proud of him, in a strange way.

The nurse was yelling for an emergency delivery kit and told me she could deliver him there but would prefer if I could get in the bed since babies tend to be slippery. I managed to get on the bed on my knees and they put the back of the bed upright so I could stay kneeling and lean into it. The midwife managed to get there in the midst of this so I just went with my body and pushed when it felt like it. I grunted and screamed and screamed and grunted, but I did have magical minutes...actual minutes...in between pushes. I had heard this happened but didn't experience it with Graham. I was able to just lay against the bed and rest, and when a push started, put all of my energy into it. After a few minutes the midwife asked if she could break my water, and I said no. I expected it to break naturally while pushing like Graham's did, and I remembered how great that felt, so I kept going. But after a few more pushes he just felt like he was sitting there. Just SITTING with this great, horrible pressure and I finally let out a 'WHY THE F*** ISN'T HE COMING OUT?!' And Jim and Lauren literally cheered. "You finally cussed, hooray!" It was just enough to lighten the moment, and in a couple more pushes, he was out...in his water sac!! (it's called 'en caul') That was why he wasn't coming...it was like a freaking water balloon kept going in and out of my nether regions. I don't recommend that, just as an FYI.

The sac broke almost immediately though so I didn't get to see it (sad) but I looked down and there he was! My baby, with a pouty lip and hair and I just got to pick him up and hold him. And hold him. And hold him. I just kept saying 'Hi!' and laughing with relief. I held him for over an hour and it was wonderful (other than the delivering the placenta and getting stitched up and all of that fun stuff). They finally had to take him to weigh him (8 lbs 9 oz!), and I was able to get up and take a shower. Yes people, I walked to the bathroom, took a shower by myself, and got dressed an hour after giving birth. This is what endorphins do to you. If only that was every morning...I was impressed with myself for showering today, a normal Wednesday.

So, after a week of pre labor, lots of fear and anxiety and doubt, Jude Denman Meador was born in 6 hours, at 8:33 pm on December 30th, 2014. And other than a few crazy moments, I would actually use the word 'great' to describe my labor. I didn't think that was even possible, but it is, I assure you. I owe that to a lot of God's grace, a great doula, and a gracious husband who kept a poop stain on his pants all night long.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

A Letter to My Sons

My Dear Boys,

Every parent has dreams, things that they wish and hope and pray they will pass on to their children. Habits and manners, memories and ideals, morals and stories. Every parent wants their children to have a great childhood, one they will remember with fondness. I wish these same things for you. 

But lately, there has been so much controversy in our world: unrest, violence, prejudice, name calling, misunderstanding, disrespect, hurt. When I was a child, I think I was shielded more from these things. We didn't have social media. We didn't have the internet. We didn't think about things like terrorist attacks or transgender celebrities and thought that the Civil Rights movement was something in the past. 

Your world is different. 

I can't shield you from all of these things; it's impossible. Nor do I want to. At your young ages now, yes, I shield you from the big problems of the world, but sooner than I'd like to admit I won't be able to. They will be front and center - on a screen, from your friends, on a magazine in the checkout line. And we'll talk about them. It will be hard sometimes; uncomfortable, yes. Most of the time I'll be silently praying I'm somehow making sense without telling you too much or too little. But there is one thing I know I can tell you. One thing that if you remember nothing else, remember this:

A person is always a person FIRST. Created in the image of God, loved by that same God who longs for them to know Him Personally. 

That girl with the skin a different color than yours. That boy who talks a little funny and walks a little differently than you do. That man who doesn't feel like a man and has lived a life of confusion. That police officer who is trying to do their job well, and the one who has blinders on and isn't doing it so well. The blogger who spews out venom in the name of 'conservativism' or the news anchor giving a 'liberal spin' to a story. The terrorist who is so devoted to a false view of humanity they are willing to kill or be killed for it. 

They. Are. People.

Are there maybe sins to be addressed, mistakes to be corrected, honor to be restored and healing to take place? Yes. A million times yes. This does not negate that. Let me say that again - seeing someone as a Person FIRST does not negate any issues that may be there. But what it does is open a door for real walls to be torn down. Not ones we construct in our mind, not an 'us vs. them' mentality, but true, deep down at the core of our being walls. Insecurity. Pride. Failure. Feelings of being completely lost. Abandonment. The types of things that usually only come up in counseling sessions because they're hard and ugly and we don't want to admit that really, we all have them at our core. WE'RE ALL PEOPLE. We all need saving. 

And Jesus? He didn't come saying "Fix yourself so I can save you!" "Stop believing lies before I will be your friend!" No. He said to the worst of the worst, "Hey! I'm coming for dinner!" And he knew them as a person. He got into their lives, into their home, into their world. He didn't sugarcoat any sin issues, but his focus wasn't first on the sin. His focus was first on the person, and in so doing the person saw the person of Christ, and realized what they were not, but what they could be in Him. Because it is 'the kindness of God that leads us to repentance'.  

When we focus first on what is wrong with someone, we focus on the wrong thing. I can tell you full well if a random person comes up to me and tells me that how I'm mothering you boys is wrong, I'm going to write that person off immediately. Who are they to know? If a friend - someone who KNOWS me, the person me - tells me I'm doing something wrong, I listen. We have trust, a relationship, one where honesty is encouraged and hard things are done. And maybe then I change what's going wrong. But only then.

So my prayer for you boys, is that you'll ignore the shouts of social media. You'll ignore the banter of Blue vs. Red or black vs. white. Rather, you'll walk down the street, drive downtown, stop the man asking for change on the side of the road, and invite them to dinner. Spend time with their families. Let them see the love of Christ shining through you and know that something is not only different - but that something is GOOD. 

And I think everyone longs to see a little bit of that good these days.

'I love you and love you, and love you and love you,'

Mommy

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Your Kids Have WHAT??? An FPIES and Leaky Gut FAQ

At least five times a week, probably more, I get asked questions about my boys and their food allergies. Questions range from the general 'how are they doing?' to the technical 'what does FPIES stand for?' to the more specific 'what do you do when they have a reaction?' If you're connected to us at all, you're probably aware that they have issues with food. Not only do I talk about it a lot (sometimes I get tired of me!) but it is a really huge part of our daily lives, so it's kind of hard to avoid. My answers to the questions vary, depending on how much time we have, who is asking and if they really want the full answer, or the short version.

So, I thought I'd answer some questions here! That way, if you're really interested, you can get the details that I may not be able to share in passing, and if you're not, you can totally skip over this post and I won't blame you. My hope is also that if someone is furiously scouring the internet for answers and someone who can relate to what they're going through, maybe they'll stumble on this post and know they're not alone in the crazy world of guts. Here we go!

1) What do you mean by 'leaky gut'?
     Our guts are the center of our immune system. Everyone's intestine's are lined with microscopic fibers and a thin protective coating, the purpose of which are to help break down food into amino acids and to keep particles that shouldn't be going into our systems from seeping out. Our guts are also the source of billions of bacteria, both good and bad. If the balance of bacteria is off, that can cause issues such as illness, allergies, eczema, IBS, fatigue and a host of other problems. That's why you always hear encouragement to take probiotics if you have to take an antibiotic for any reason - to restore the gut flora back to a healthy state.

When the gut flora is off balance, and the lining of the gut isn't stable, particles can slip through 'holes' in the lining and into the blood stream. Thus the term 'leaky gut'. Most babies have some of this until around 6 months when their digestive system matures and the holes close up. However, some babies can have larger holes that allow more unbroken particles through, which can lead to much bigger, more permanent problems.

2) How did your boys get this?
    Ahhh...the million dollar question! While we weren't inside their bodies to see exactly what happened, based on their symptoms, the timing of them and in talking with multiple doctors, this is what we've been able to determine: Jim's side of the family has a genetic predisposition to gut issues with the boys on their side of the family. It manifests itself differently with each boy, but it's one of those things that is well-known in the family, "oh, those Meador boys!" "Jimmy, you cried ALL THE TIME". You get the picture. With both boys, I was Group B positive (a type of strep that is very common in pregnancy) and mastitis (a breast infection) shortly after they were born. With Graham it was at 3 weeks, with Jude at 5 days. With Graham, I had antibiotics during labor for the Group B, and for the mastitis. With Jude, I refused antibiotics during labor after much research on Group B and tried to avoid them via natural means with the mastitis but it became absolutely necessary to have them - a lot of them. Referencing the question above, antibiotics kill off the good gut bacteria. Like, all of it. Gone. With Graham, I didn't know much about probiotics; with Jude, I was popping them like crazy trying to counteract the effects of the antibiotics. However, with the combination of genetics and the antibiotics, both boys started showing signs of reflux shortly after the antibiotic doses. With Graham it was within about a week or so; with Jude it was a couple of weeks after I had started them.

As best we can determine, the antibiotics damaged their guts more, allowing larger particles into their bloodstream. This begins a horrible cyclical process, where the body attacks the particle as a foreign object, because it's not supposed to be in the bloodstream. However, because the gut is damaged, it is unable to fight the 'foreign body' as well as it should, which allows more particles in and it begins all over again. Rather than amino acids, the whole food protein slips into the bloodstream.

3) What is FPIES and how did Graham get that?
     FPIES stand for Food Protein Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome. It's kind of like Leaky Gut on crack. Because we had no idea what was going on with him and it was such a ride trying to figure it out (more on that next), basically, his gut was continually being damaged. Once it has been fighting these 'foreign bodies' long enough, it develops into a chronic condition, one in which the T cells identify certain food portions as invaders every time they enter his body. Why certain foods affect him and others don't, we're not sure, as there are some pretty random ones. So, rather than his gut healing, it became damaged long-term, and will take a long time to heal.

4) How did you figure out what was wrong?
    Oh. This question. None of these are short answers, but this one is the one that is the longest. Not only in words, but in life lived.

Graham: We lovingly refer to our first 6 months as parents as 'the time when Jim hated our child'. Once Graham started with the reflux, we started paying attention to what I was eating, since I was breastfeeding. We immediately noticed a correlation between dairy and him screaming incessantly for hours on end. I gladly cut that out of my diet, but he was still miserable. I decided rather than do an elimination diet to do the reverse - purposely add one thing into my diet and see how he reacted. I got a coffee with soy milk, and within 4 hours he had projectile vomited 3 times. I ate an egg and he vomited so much I took a picture to document that the entire length of my arm was covered. And on and on. When he was around 3 months old, it was Super Bowl Sunday and we had turned on the start of the game. He started refluxing and up came large chunks of blood. We started driving to the emergency room but then called his doctor's on call line and she said it was safe to wait and bring him to her first thing in the morning. His esophagus was so damaged from all of the refluxing (and screaming probably) that it had torn. She prescribed a very high dose of Zantac to stop the bleeding and we gradually lessened his dose over time.

I was having a very hard time knowing that anything I was eating could be causing him pain, and it was a constant guessing game. For both our sakes', we tried a hypoallergenic formula that had the proteins already broken down. He still had a lot of issues (which I now know why via what we've figured out with Jude), but was SO much better in comparison. I still remember the first time we went to the chiropractor after switching; he couldn't believe it was the same baby. He used to scream every time we went, and this time he was smiling and laughing. When we started solids, certain foods would cause him to break out in a rash and vomit. Never immediately, but within a few hours. To make a long story a little shorter...I did a ton of research, kept a food log, documented his reactions to every food - what reaction, when it occurred, how long it lasted, etc. and took it to his doctor. At one year, she agreed to allergy testing and stool samples - everything came up fine, which was actually really frustrating. When you know something's wrong but on paper it looks fine...not cool. More research, more logs, more documentation. A friend stumbled on something about FPIES and said 'hey! this sounds like Graham!' I had never heard of it but immediately learned everything I could and brought everything in to the doctor again when he had just turned 2. She agreed he needed to see the GI. After more tests (holding your screaming two year old to get 5 vials of blood is awful, just FYI), he was officially diagnosed with FPIES.

Jude: As soon as he started showing signs of reflux, I was it like white on rice. Immediately let his doctor know, started monitoring everything I was eating, etc. Within less than a week of his symptoms starting, he began choking. Like, stop breathing face turning purple choking. There was one day I had him flipped over banging on his back, all the while sobbing and scrambling trying to remember infant CPR. After that incident, we got a Zantac prescription. The reflux didn't go away, but it did calm the acid enough to prevent the horrendous choking episodes. Around that time we decided to stop breastfeeding (will explain more about why later). We tried him on an organic dairy formula, and for a few days thought 'Yes! this is working! he doesn't have allergies!' Then he started choking again and was so constipated he was crying in pain. Boo. We switched him to the sensitive formula and the same. We avoided soy completely because that is Graham's biggest trigger and would potentially give Jude a worse reaction than the dairy. We switched him to Alimentum, which was what Graham had been on. For a bit, it was a lot better, but then he totally stopped pooping. Completely. When we helped him to go, what came out was dark green, mucous and runny. The reflux came back with a vengeance, but was more mucous as well, and he broke out with eczema. We immediately got a referral to the GI (remember Graham was 2 before he went - Jude was less than 3 months!) They ran tests and confirmed the milk protein allergy - his lactoferrin levels in his intestine were at 250; the normal range was 1-7. However, the GI thought that the Zantac and Alimentum were the best solution; I didn't. I ended up calling a D.O. that we consult with; he suggested immediately switching to goat milk, and adding colostrum to it, along with the probiotics he was already getting. I was able to secure some from our local Mennonite store, and then endured a couple of hellish days. Then, on day 3, after 5 weeks of not being able to go on his own at all, he pooped. And pooped. and pooped. It was insane how much he went - he ended up with hemorrhoids from so much straining. His eczema started to get better too. A couple of weeks later, it came back. We couldn't figure out what was going on, but the D.O. thought it was the Zantac. So we went ahead and cut it out cold turkey. Again, a couple of hellish days, then he started getting better. The eczema was almost gone! I did some more research and found out that Zantac has corn in it. The Alimentum is corn based. He is hypersensitive to corn. Funny thing is, Graham is allergic to corn as well, but was on both of those for a long time, which I think contributed to the FPIES and his gut not fully healing as it should have.

5) What are they allergic to?

Graham: Poultry, beef, dairy/casein, soy, corn, egg, peas, kidney beans, pinto beans, garbanzo beans, quinoa, lentils, nuts, green beans. He can now have organic pork and pears, both of which used to be on his list! Why organic pork? He is so highly sensitive to corn and soy that if he eats 'regular' pork, he'll react because of what the pig ate. (this is where I could go on a whole rabbit trail about GMOs and how it's transferred through our genetics over the years and is now affecting our children...) We tried, and it wasn't a good outcome. Thankfully we live in an area where organic meat is easy to come by!

Jude: Dairy/casein/lactose, soy, corn. This is what we know so far. He's also so sensitive that if we buy goat milk say, from Kroger, that isn't pastured and antibiotic-free, he has a reaction and we have a huge setback.   This is also why I stopped breastfeeding. I wouldn't have been able to accept meals from almost anyone without knowing exactly what was in it, if the meat was 'OK', etc.; would have to bring my own food basically everywhere - family's houses, restaurants, friends' houses, etc. And something as slight as a little bit of maltodextrin as a seasoning (it's corn) would affect him for a week or more. Having been through postpartum so badly last time my psyche couldn't handle that.  Considering he's only 4 1/2 months old and been on the goat milk for just over a month, we haven't been able to get a good baseline for more than a week yet, as we tried a couple different kinds and he had the Zantac in his system, etc.

6) What happens when they have a reaction?

Graham: it depends on what it is that he eats. On the minor end, like with kidney beans for example, he won't feel well for a day or so, will get a rash on his face and bottom and will have some nasty poops for a day or two. Like a typical virus, which is what his body thinks it is. On the serious end, like with soy, it's a lot worse. He once had 3 slivers of cucumber from a sushi roll that had soy sauce on it, or another time had about 5 pretzels that had less that 2% of soy in them. Around 2 hours later, he starts getting purple under eye circles and sunken eyes, and his face and bottom start breaking out. About 12-18 hours after, he spikes a fever, which can go up to 104 degrees. He'll feel well in spurts then go back to the fever and lethargy until he has a literal shitstorm (it's a LOT of poop) where everything he's eaten since the trigger food is barely digested and all comes out at once. When he was in diapers, that was lots of fun. The worst one he's had took about 3 days to get out, and his system started to go into shock afterwards - full body chills, low body temp, the whole bit. That's the danger of FPIES - he can go into septic shock because his system gets so backed up the toxins start leaking into his bloodstream.

He also has behaviors: dairy makes him super aggressive; corn makes him unable to focus at all. You can see it in his eyes when he's like this - his brain is going about 300 mph. He told me recently that his 'tummy felt wiggly, so I have to act wild to get all the wiggles to stop.' We tried snap peas this week as a food trial - it's a no go. Today he was very aggressive, hyper emotional, had diarrhea no less than 8 times and has a horrible rash. From 3 peas.

Jude: horrible horrible eczema - pussy and bleeding, can't poop on his own at all so gets very backed up (which also poses the risk of septic shock), can't sleep (up most of the night and won't sleep well during the day) and colitis (his intestines are inflamed and very painful). He grunts and strains all day because his intestines hurt so much, and wants to comfort feed which makes him then spit it back up because he doesn't need it but he wants something to make him feel better, or he'll scream til he gets it. It's sad. :( He's having a reaction today too, and we're not sure if it's the end of a weeklong reaction to some store-bought goat milk or what (sometimes it's worst at the very end of a reaction).

7) How are you treating it?
    Morning cocktails. Ha. But really, that's what we call them. Graham gets a small amount of orange juice mixed with a glass of water, probiotics, L. Glutamine (an amino acid to repair the gut lining), and enzymes (to help with the breakdown of food proteins and increase his immune system). Jude gets goat milk, an adult dose of probiotics split between his daily bottles, and powdered goat colostrum, along with a small amount of prune juice in every other bottle to help as he learns to go poop. Since he hasn't gone consistently ever, he's learning how to use those muscles and sometimes has difficulty and will make himself throw up pushing too hard.

Otherwise, food avoidance. We bring our food everywhere. For example, we went to the zoo with my brother recently, and I brought a cooler with a days' worth of food for Graham as there was literally nothing at the zoo we could purchase for him, and then a separate cooler with a days' worth of goat milk for Jude. Add those to the stroller with the diaper bag and Graham's seat was taken! We've also learned how to substitute lots of things - what to use instead of eggs or baking powder when baking; which brands he can have of certain items, etc.

8) Will they outgrow it?
     Eventually, if we can heal their guts. Jude's on a much faster track than Graham was at this point. Graham will possibly always have issues with dairy, soy and corn as he reacts so severely to those, but the others he should be able to eat eventually.

It's a wild ride. Tonight I was really over it. That comes in spurts. Most days we're used to it and it's just life, but sometimes I really, really hate it and it sucks. I'm thankful that they have been able to gain weight (and a lot of it!) despite everything, and that they both have the sweetest personalities! While I wish they didn't have to deal with this (or us too, let's be honest), I'm so thankful that God blessed us with them both, just the way they are. If you have other questions, feel free to ask!









Wednesday, April 22, 2015

when it doesn't look like you thought it would

I've had this post swimming around in my head for months now. I change things, I add things, I take some out...it seems as though I'll never get it all out. And maybe I won't? Because I'm still in the middle of it, and there's more to be shared, I am sure. But I've been ignoring the urge to just get this down, and I'm going to finally stop ignoring it.

While far from perfect, my life all the way through college was fairly easy. It had ups and downs - break ups, disappointments, failed friendships, new jobs, new schools, lots of missions trips where I learned a good deal. But not a lot that I could say was earth-shatteringly devastating or changed my life so drastically that I would always point to THAT time. Then I got married, and both of us decided to hit that growing, stretching life-altering stage AFTER the wedding. (which is fairly common) We had some really hard years, years where we honestly weren't sure we would stay married. And that shocked me. I knew people with hard marriages or who had divorced, but never assumed that would be something I would face, and multiple times, no less. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Then we added another person to our lives in the form of a baby. We were so excited and scared and every other emotion that comes with pregnancy, but we were ready! Except we weren't. Not only did that baby turn our world upside down like every baby tends to do, but I was hit with depression - something I again assumed happened to other people. Not me. Our baby was always in pain and cried more often than not for a solid 5 months, and I ended up being a research-aholic trying to figure out what was wrong and kind of missed that whole 'enjoying the baby' phase. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Fastforward a couple of years and we're contemplating a move - to IOWA of all places. 'Corn'-y jokes aside, (see what I did there?) we were excited! Closer to family, a slower pace of life, ability to stay home and raise some babies and some chickens. So we put our house up for sale and I quit my job. But said house didn't sell...and didn't sell...and didn't sell. And all of a sudden I was faced with the prospect of staying where we were, in the same house, except all of a sudden I was a stay-at-home mom with not a lot of stay-at-home mom friends and no idea how to change our entire way of living when we hadn't actually gone anywhere. It didn't look like I thought I would.

Then we had Jude. A great labor and delivery, and an immediate bond with this baby. I had let go of a lot of expectations for those first few weeks (so I thought) and it was blissfully exhausting. Sure, I had a case of mastitis from hell and didn't sleep a lot, but this time I was enjoying our baby. He seemed 'normal' to me (whatever that is in baby-world). He slept, he cried when he needed something, he ate, he pooped, the end. We did a lot of bonding and a lot of cuddling and I finally felt like yes!! This is that new baby phase everyone talks about that I definitely did not feel the first time. I loved it. About 3 or 4 weeks in, things started to change. He was getting reflux, I wasn't getting milk and none of us were getting sleep. The reflux got worse and we switched him to formula. Hard, but I was OK with it. Then the reflux got worse, the formula wasn't working, and all of a sudden we were faced with another scenario like last time: our baby is in pain, we don't know what's wrong, and that's not OK. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Except this time, I felt like it DID look like I thought it would, like it was dangled in front of my face for a few brief moments, then snatched away. And I was angry. SO angry.

I definitely felt overwhelmed and had down days, but I wasn't depressed like last time. I was just mad. It surprised me how mad I felt, since I'm not usually a big emotion person. (hormones only add to this wonderful mix) I felt like God was somehow taunting me. We had a lot of quiet-yelling conversations, mostly while trying to get a crying baby to sleep. I would just let it out, crying right along with him, not mincing words or feelings. Saying things that sounded a little like my three year old (this isn't fair!) and things that were much harder and deeper (do You care? Does this even matter?) I began to see that there were a lot of things hidden under the surface that I needed to deal with, to work through and wrestle with, and I am so thankful that I knew that I could. You see, a few years ago, I wouldn't have felt that way, wouldn't have felt OK to question God - to REALLY question His goodness, His love, His plans. I felt like I had to somehow say 'Yes, this is hard, but...' But...God is in control. But...God loves me. But...it's for my good. And it's one thing to say those things. But until those things have been truly challenged and the rug has been pulled out from under you, well. Let's just say cursing had never come so easily at any point in my life. I was like a secret sailor.

Slowly, gently, graciously, God let me work through those feelings. By allowing Graham to have some epic meltdowns (totally out of character for him), He showed me not only how I was acting, but also how He was acting. Loving. Holding me. Guiding me. Even when I didn't understand or like what was going on. We'd been visiting a new church, and I felt compelled to join the woman's Bible study. (which I never do. I like one on one, not usually big groups of women with all our emotions and hormones) The first two weeks were, no lie, on anger and God's character. Do I trust Him? I was taken back to Jude's birth, where I was so fearful, and remembered feeling that same thing. And that I had picked the word 'Trust' for this year (I pick a theme word every year). The anger began to subside, but the hard days didn't. And still I was learning.

I've shared a lot more personal thoughts and feelings on social media this year than ever before. In realizing the need for community, I also realized that if I have people in my life, then I want them IN my life. And that means the hard icky stuff as well as the wonderful and happy things. And the thing with the hard stuff is that it's just that - hard. It's ugly, because we live in a world full of sin and disease and hardship. We're not promised an easy life, and we're not told to call ugly things beautiful. They're not, they're ugly. And we've had a lot of uglier moments in the past few months, from overwhelmed days and doctor appointments and babies with a sickness that isn't going anywhere. Those things aren't beautiful, and I'm beginning to understand I don't have to make them be. I don't have to say 'This is hard, but.' I can say 'This is hard.' period. And in saying that, I haven't removed the beauty from my life, or negated it in any way. Because sometimes the ugly makes way for the beautiful. They're not mutually exclusive; they can coexist in this strange muddle of life that doesn't always make much sense, but they're both there. Ann Voskamp calls it the 'ugly beautiful'.

There are days when I'm fumbling through, trying to find the beauty, and there are days where it's right in front of my face all day long (those days are always nice). Every day isn't happy, but there is joy. I've always heard that joy and happiness are not the same, and I understood it to a certain extent. I'm seeing now that joy isn't always this exuberant expression of joyfulness (insert picture of radiant woman dancing in a field). It can be quiet. An undercurrent. Our pastor used to say that 'joy is peace dancing and peace is joy resting.' And I feel it. That underlying sense of peace, of 'rightness', even on the most difficult days. This last week has been a long string of those days - one reaction set off a whole cluster of reactions for Jude, which culminated in no sleep, lots of crying, and a lot of questions - even some of that anger came flaring back up. And those things weren't beautiful. They're ugly. But the beauty has been there - in the desperate cries for help, the constant prayers to not be anxious, to not be fearful. Even though I don't enjoy the process, the way I'm learning dependance on God is a beautiful thing. I'm learning to really take each day as it comes. In my planning ways, this is SO hard for me. But living fully in the day I'm in - whatever that day looks like - is the only way I'm going to truly be able to see the bits of beauty shining through.

It doesn't look like I thought it would. Every day I still pray that it will, that this stage will be done, we'll have learned what we have to learn, and move on. But that day hasn't come yet. (tomorrow, maybe?) And if you're in a stage like ours - where there's a lot of ugly and a lot of hard, know that it's OK. It could be seem big or small to others, but if it feels big and huge and hard to you, then it is. Don't run from it, but be all in. Learn how to face those feelings, to have those tough talks with God, to not know how to make things better and to have to be OK with that. It's not pleasant, but you will make it, I promise. I have to remind myself of that constantly.

It may not look like you thought it would, but take heart - that also means the outcome won't look like you thought it would either, and I'm willing to wager that it will be even more beautiful than you can imagine. (self: read this. every day.)


Wednesday, April 8, 2015

On Fear (and the beginning of Jude's birth story)

Afraid. I was so.afraid. to give birth this time.

Graham's birth was, in a word, traumatic. It's funny because most people who hear his story - or even that were actually there - comment on how 'good' of a birth it was. And I suppose in the sense that there were no complications, it was relatively fast and unmedicated, then yes, it was. But neither Jim nor I had a clue what was happening, and if you haven't experienced it firsthand let me just tell you - labor is excruciating. Like 'my body is tearing in two and it will never, in any way, be put back together' kind of pain. When that's going on and you're standing in your shower at your house with no doctor or midwife in sight, it's a little terrifying. I didn't realize how much it had affected me until I was getting ready to do it again, and fear really overtook me.

Sometime in October, I approached our dear friend Lauren about acting as my coach for our birth. It was a little strange on multiple accounts: 1) Lauren was someone we knew and were friends with, but weren't close (strange how helping birth someone's child can change that!) 2) we weren't planning on having a doula 3) it was getting a little late in the game to find someone, especially being due on Christmas Day, and 4) while she LOVES birth and has assisted at many, she's not technically a doula. (technicalities be damned!) But I just felt this strange urge to ask her, so I did. Randomly, one day after preschool pickup. After praying over it and working out the details of the holidays, she agreed, for which I am forever grateful! During one of our pre-birth sessions, she had me write out my top 10 'wishes' for this birth. Here is what I wrote:

1) Calm/not fearful 
2) Informed/aware (we felt a lot of things last time were rushed)
3) Mostly at home 
4) Supportive Staff
5) Able to endure pain
6) Confidence in medication decision if chosen
7) Control 
8) Mom/baby time immediately
9) Relaxed about feeding
10) Good memories of experience

You'll note number 6 - I was VERY open to having an epidural this time. And by that I mean I was secretly really hoping we got to the hospital in plenty of time to get one. But we looked at this list and decided that overall, I wanted to be 'Present'. That was my goal for this go-around. No matter if we were at home, at the hospital, drugged up or au-naturale, I wanted to feel present and not chaotic. I was comfortable with this, but as the time drew closer, I became more and more fearful. 

Side note: it's ironic to me how last time I prepped and prepped for birth and kind of failed to prep for life after baby. This time, I felt much more prepared for life once he was here, and far less prepared for the actual birthing process. I think I knew that ultimately, he would get here one way or another, and the after part - you know, the actual life part - was far more important for me to be ready for. Back to the story...

Graham's preschool Christmas program was December 17th. I remember hoping I would be going into labor as soon as he finished but ha! Not so much. Instead I was 39 weeks pregnant trying not to get knocked over by all of the sugar-filled children at 'Jesus' Birthday Party' afterward. Graham was roaming somewhere with Jim when I sat down at a table next to this sweet older woman, who introduced herself as Julia. I have since gotten to know Julia a little better, and let me tell you - that woman is in touch with God and sensitive to His leading like few people I have ever met. It's amazing to behold. That day, however, I just knew her as a grandma to a preschooler, who randomly asked if she could pray for me. I may have grown up a PK (pastor's kid for all you non-Baptist cool kids out there), but I was not used to someone I just met not only praying for me, but also doing so in a room crowded with people eating cake. Knowing, however, that I could use a little prayer, I said sure. And then she prayed basically this: "please allow this woman's labor to be as pain free as possible, to go quickly, for her to feel in control, to labor at home but make it to the hospital with enough time to deliver, and to have no complications." WHO ARE YOU? I could not get that moment out of my head. 

For the next week as Christmas neared, I kept thinking about Julia's prayer, and started praying along the same lines. I realized that my faith when I prayed was more a 'oh I hope this happens' while hers was a faith like I hadn't seen before. And I started feeling a little like maybe it would be OK. Then Christmas came and went, and I still didn't have a baby, and the fear crept back in. I had contractions daily for at least 2 hours, and then they would stop. I was so frustrated...finally on Dec. 29th I had a mini breakdown (read: pregnancy. Hormones. overdue. HORMONES. Not pretty.) and laid it all out. F*** the birth process, and planning and whatever. I wanted to go in, have someone strap me up to an IV, and wait for them to tell me to push. Jim, quite lovingly, pointed out that I was running away, and that doing so would just be living in fear. And we do NOT live in fear. We're not made to. And Julia's prayer, and verses I'd been ruminating on and all the emotions tied up in this came to a head, and I realized, He's right. This is hard, and it will be painful, but God is good and Do I Trust Him? Lo and behold, the next day, we had a baby. In 6 hours, only 1 of which was at the hospital. Med-free. Totally present. Surreal. 

This may seem like 'Whoa. Deep stuff for just having a baby. People do it every day Alisha.' And that's true. But this was just the beginning of what God has been leading us through these past few months, and I can tell you beyond the shadow of a doubt, I HAD to work through it before the birth, to understand some of these things then, to be able to work through more afterward. This Lenten season in my life has been one for the books, and I'm trying to put it all together in a way that I can actually convey in writing.

But, until then...I'll write the nitty gritty details of the birth next, for those of you who enjoy hearing about blood and poop and vaginas and such. It shall be titled 'The Day I Pooped on my Husband'. 



Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Let's Get Real

If you're a mom, then you are probably no stranger to the world of mommy blogs (which, let's face it - this is mostly that), mommy Instagram accounts, HuffPost articles that circulate Facebook, funny - and quite accurate - memes about your kids driving you to drink, etc. etc. You're also probably no stranger to the push for 'realness', for authenticity, for showing life as it truly is. I love that trend. But for as popular as it is, I can't tell you the number of time I have had people make the comment to me - be it in regards to this blog, something I shared on Instagram, or even just in conversation - 'I love how real you are'; they say it like it's something they don't see that often. It seems like there is a disconnect somewhere, which has had me thinking...

How real are we in real life? Not just in the pictures posted online or the blog post that went viral, but one on one, when we see each other on the street or at the playground, in the office or the gym? The more I've started paying attention, the more I've noticed: we're not. This was glaringly apparent to me the other day, as I sat talking with some first-time moms of little ones. When I first talked to some, it was the usual 'Hi! I'm so and so' with smiles and coos at the babies. But as we all actually talked about what was going on in our lives, I realized we all had that same new-baby glassy stare, the questions and confusion, the sheer exhaustion and the overwhelmed feelings that everyone else had. And thankfully, we were in a safe space to share those feelings. But what if we weren't? Or what if we were unaware such a place existed? Would we just go through our days with the smiles and the coos on the outside, but not let people know what was really going on? I think that happens far too often - and not just in motherhood, but in life.

Life is hard, people. It's also amazing, and wonderful and full of joy, but is sometimes just.plain.hard. And hard looks so different for everyone. What I may struggle with may be completely different than what you're going through, but at its core, it's the same. Or what I'm celebrating and what you're celebrating may be on opposite ends of the spectrum, but we're still celebrating. So why is that when we see each other the conversation goes something like this: 'Hey! How are you?' 'Oh, you know fine. How bout you?' 'Good, pretty good.' 'Good!' ...and that's where we leave it?

I get that we need some people - very close people - who we can share the deepest of the deep with, and that doesn't need to be shared with the general public. But in our fast-paced, busy lives, and especially if you're in the season of motherhood, we need community (reference my last post for that one). But we can't grow in community unless we're willing to really go there. To get real. And by community, I don't mean 'fellowship', as one may or may not have experienced if you grew up in a church background like me. Fellowship could be defined as: hanging out, a get together, sharing prayer requests about our random family member who lives 5 states away. Community could be defined as: we've all got some shit, so let's share it and walk through that together. Joys, trials, triumphs, failures. The whole bit.

So if I'm in a funk and having a bad day, then when you ask me how I'm doing, my answer may be more along the lines of 'Awful, actually.' or maybe I'll just look at you and start crying. Or if you have my sense of humor I'll text you something sarcastic so we can commiserate together. Likewise, if my day is great, I'm not going to say I'm just 'OK'. I'm going to tell you I'm GREAT! and tell you how God just provided something unexpectedly, or why my three year old is the most hilarious human alive. And if you ask for a prayer request, be prepared for things like 'I'm angry with God because we're dealing with this again' (that was a very real one up until last week or so). Because if we're all being honest, very rarely are we just 'fine' or 'good'. We're humans; we have too many emotions for that.

I've been trying to put this into practice, and I think that's maybe what surprises people. Because most of the blogs we read or Instagram feeds we see aren't people we actually know. They can be real and we can feel 'real' with them, but it's rare (while wonderful!) when we can actually connect with them. It's far more awkward when it's someone you are conversing with. Lately, when people ask how I am, my initial answer has been: 'It depends on the day. Sometimes good, sometimes awful.' or when talking about getting out of the house with little ones: 'I know. I was on the phone with my husband on the way here bawling about how hard this all is.' and when talking with a friend who is also going through a tough season: 'I just want to yell how I f***ing hate this!' It may not be pretty and have a hashtag and filter applied to it, but it's raw and it's real. And dare I say, refreshing?

So, let's get real. You with me, me with you. If you ask me how I'm doing, I promise an honest answer, and I'm hoping you'll do the same. That way we can walk this road of life not just together, but truly with each other.