Under the Knife Updates

My surgery is scheduled for August 2. Gulp. Much sooner than we had expected. Just in the process of organizing helpers for childcare and when that is done I will feel much more at ease and able to just stress about the surgery itself, not who is looking after the kids!

Asher had his post op check up yesterday, and as we figured all is well. Next surgery is being scheduled for sometime in the coming months.

1 down, 2 in progress. Can't wait till this is over!

One of Those Days

They say "you're only given as much as you can handle in life".

Right.

By my theory, whoever came up with that little gem wasn't given much other than a charmed life or they wouldn't have been so able to say that.

Yesterday, for no real reason, it felt like I was given more than I could handle. It was a hard day. Nothing especially bad, just hard.

But then I went to bed and woke up and today was a new day. New days remind me that on most days, I can not only handle, but am lucky for what I've been given.

Thank goodness for new days.

Pender Birthday

We spent 3 days last week on Pender Island. Not with our normal crew at our normal location, but for a birthday celebration for Jordan's mom (I won't tell you how old, I'll just say it's special and rhymes with mixtee). 

The five of us, Jordan's sister and her partner, and Jordan's mom had a lovely relaxing time just hanging out. There were too many pics to share but here are a few. Oh Pender, we love you!

Birthday Gramma and her favourite girl

Mama + Rio = love

Bubbles on a lake

A crazy family

Daddy and Asher love

Auntie Chelsea: the deer whisperer

Dear Uncle Dave: I think you're insane. Love Nolan.

Dear Uncle Dave: I think you're hilarious. Love Asher.

What Not to Say to Preemie Parents

I'm sharing a really great article I saw posted by Graham's Foundation, a preemie charity I am in love with and will eventually do a separate post on. This is an article on what not to say to the parents of a preemie.

A lot of people, when faced with someone they know having a preemie (especially ones as small as ours) say some probably well meaning, yet awkward things. I have heard a variation of every single one of the points in this article (including #10 way back in the day!), and you know what, it STILL hurts. It doesn't matter if your preemies are no longer 2 pounds, I have the feeling that remembering that painful time when they were never goes away.

Recently a mom from Rio's preschool asked me why the boys were early. She apparently didn't realize she was asking something inappropriate (let's face it, most people don't, hence why they say dumb things), but I was at a loss for words. I stumbled out the explanation, then cried the whole walk home. Really lady, if anyone has a micro-preemie (or any preemie for that matter) it's a traumatic event, so do you think that is an ok question to ask someone you barely know? Unfortunately, a simple word like "why" leaves the asker's lips, but yet by the time it reaches the preemie mom's ears, she hears something more along the lines of "What did you do wrong?" or "Why couldn't you prevent this?".

Anyway, clearly, prematurity is a difficult subject for me and anyone else who's been through it. So give the article a read! I know most of you know better than this, but just a little reminder :)

Gratitude, Twin-Style: Published!

Remember this piece I did on Gratitude from my last session of the Momoir Project? Here it is on the momoir project site! This was actually at the end of May, but I was waiting to share the link until I could also tell you that the same piece was included in the spring issue of a national multiples magazine (Multiple Moments) - as seen below. Yippee!

Slowly but surely, getting published...

Momoirs - My Mother Always Told Me

This is the last short piece I wrote for my class through The Momoir Project. I was going to post it for Mother's Day and then didn't, as I began working on something for a contest and thought I might re-work this. I didn't end up doing that and then forgot about posting this. Since yesterday was Father's Day I was reminded. The spark was "My Mother Always Told Me".

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My Mother Always Told Me


"Always wear clean underwear, you never know when you might get into an accident".

Ok what, mother? First of all, shouldn't you always wear clean underwear just because? And secondly, if you did get into an accident and need medical treatment, would anyone really care what you were wearing? No! But this was my mom, always proper: hair combed, lipstick on, proper. I'm sure the thought of a doctor seeing her in anything other than her best underwear was simply mortifying.

Sadly, in the more than sixteen years since her death, this is the first piece of advice I think of. I know she shared plenty of wisdom over the years but nothing else readily comes to mind. I was a teenager when she died, not clued in yet that mother really does know best. Anything she did say was probably lost on me. She certainly did lead by example however, being the most giving, selfless person I knew, always helping and comforting others. In unmanageable pain, she even wrote deathbed letters to me and my siblings, the scrawling, nearly unrecognizable handwriting a sign of the disease that was ravaging her.

There are countless times over the years I would have loved her advice though - the words, not just the actions. What to do with my first baby, crying and writhing in pain from a sore tummy at two months old; how to make her perfect strawberry cream filled angel food cake that I have attempted, and failed at, many times; or most importantly to hear from her that I am a good enough mother to do all the things I worry every day that I don't do well enough.

But I don't have that, so I want to make sure my children do. Sure, I will probably live to a ripe old age, always available to give my three kids advice, often unwarranted I'm sure. But what if I'm not? What if my children are left, like me, without a mother to ask life's simple questions to? I am raising my children in a different generation than my parents raised me, one where the lines of communication are more open. But I still fear the years will pass and my children will think that the best piece of advice I gave them was to "always double wrap the onion or it will stink up the fridge".

Sure, those savvy little tidbits are important. Every girl needs to hear things like "don't highlight your hair yourself because the results can be disastrous." Or any child of mine should know how I feel about wearing white pants (Don't wear them! Ever!). But more importantly, I want to to tell them the big stuff, like they should choose a partner that they love and respect more than anything else; if they have babies (please have babies, please have babies, please have babies), it will change their ability to love in a way they won't understand until they are parents themselves; and above all else, that they are good enough, smart enough, and strong enough to do whatever they want in life.

Maybe I should start my deathbed letter to my children now and work on it over time, for say the next fifty years. Although if my husband didn't think I was insane enough already, stumbling upon the file "Deathbed_Letter_to_Kids.doc" on the computer might just tip him off. I guess that one's probably out of the question.

So instead, I will try to lead by example like my mom did, giving little pieces of advice to my kids whenever I can, hoping that it'll be there should they need it one day. And mom, if you're up there reading down over my shoulder, lucky for all of us that you were a wonderful woman whose memory we can turn to in the absence of advice. Because that clean underwear bit is really not your best work.

He's Special

Happy Fathers Day to the best dad in the world. My kids are blessed to have him, and I am just as blessed to parent with him. Today also coincides with our 7th wedding anniversary - I am one lucky lady.

Jordan is special in too many ways to count, but it in having the twins, especially Asher, he has shown how truly amazing he is. When I am down he is up, when I am negative, he is positive, and when I am sad he is hopeful. Because I can't say it nearly as eloquently as she can, check out this lovely piece of writing that sums up everything I feel.

Happy Fathers Day Jord! And Happy Fathers Day to Papa, Grampa, Great Grand dad, and all the other great dads in our lives too!

The Little Red Wagon That Could

The boys were given a wagon for their first birthday. Because it was winter, I tucked it away and only brought it out recently. Setting it up I noticed a big problem: lap belts. Each seat only had a lap belt - not even a crotch strap. See exhibit A below:

Exhibit A: Lap Belt

Unbelievable

You get that title? Yesterday was "Believe" and today is "Unbelievable"? Pretty clever eh?

Ok so first things first. The Canucks lost. No cup. Sad times. It is, however, just a game. Besides, Boston was a great team with a great goalie, and dare I say - they deserved to win that game even though I of course wish they didn't.

This post is not to lament the Canucks' loss, however, it is to speak to the insanity that was downtown Vancouver last night. If you haven't seen news of the riots, no matter where in this world you live, you must have been sleeping under a rock.

A few choice "fans" decide to ruin the night for everyone and riot, causing ridiculous damage to businesses and public property, and injuring tons of people.

I was over the loss of the game reasonably quickly. I watched until the dying seconds so I could see those poor dejected Canucks salute the crowd, and in turn, get the salute from the crowd they deserved. It did not disappoint. Not only were the fans in the arena all class to both teams, most of them stuck around far beyond when the Canucks left the ice in order to cheer on the Bruins. Those are the hockey fans, nay, the Canadians, I know and love.

And then a few minutes after the game all hell breaks loose outside, and suddenly the night is ruined. Most Vancouverites and British Columbians are disgusted by this, knowing that no real fans were at the root of this. Real fans were somewhere watching the game finish out, crying quietly and calmly into their beer.

Is Vancouver one of the best, if not the best city in the world? YES.

Just over a year ago did they not host the most kickass winter olympics since the dawn of time? YES.

Are they not home to the regular season BEST team in the NHL, who just happened to fall one measly game short of the Stanley Cup? YES.

THAT is Vancouver, not those a-holes who ruined it for the rest of us and tarnished poor Vancouver's name.

Stay classy Vancouver, we know that the vast majority of you are better than that.

BELIEVE!

This is a blog about our family - what we're up to, how we're feeling, what's new. So how could I not write a post, today of all days, about something that has been such a huge part of our family since last fall.

The Canucks.

I have mentioned them several times through posts since I started this blog. Jordan and I are die hard fans. I have been forever (literally for as long as I can remember) and Jordan is a convert care of me. This season, my first full year at home, I have watched every game. Not every single minute of every game, but at least a few minutes of each one. I have screamed, I have cheered, I have sworn. I have stormed out of the room then come running back in just as quickly. I have loved this team like they are my brothers and tonight is the night.

Game 7 - Stanley Cup Final.

I have watched 82 regular season games, followed by what is about to be 25 playoff games. I have been unbelievably stressed, and to be honest can't remember when I enjoyed my last game because of that stress. And it all comes down to tonight.

It's pathetic really. I should probably be embarrassed that I have spent this much time cheering them on. But let's just say that this season they were my hobby. I honestly think that with all the crrrrrrraaaaap we have had going on, they have been a diversion for my worry, and something to keep my mind occupied, even if it is with just useless stats.

So in honour of this huuuuuuuge game, we're doing a bit of celebrating tonight. Obviously, we're all wearing our shirts/jerseys. We are making a celebratory dinner (because we're celebrating them regardless) of the most comforty of comfort food (including a cake that has been poorly decorated with their logo). Oh and I even painted Rio's fingernails blue and green. This is serious business. All five of us will huddle around the tv and watch, in anticipation. Hopefully, there will be some tap dancing and/or groin pulling kicks in excitement like in previous successes!

Whatever happens tonight, stay classy Canucks fans.

GO CANUCKS GO! BELIEVE!

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Update: Well that wasn't the outcome we'd hoped for now was it? Hrmph. Boo. Hiss.

Oh well, at least I have an entire chocolate cake with a Canucks logo to drown my sorrows in. Two pieces down, a few more to go before the night is done ;)

Neuromuscular Visit

I am taking a break from the HORROR that is the hockey game right now (ok I can hear it but I can't bear to watch) to tell you about Asher's appointment today. We went for another check in with the physiatrist (the doctor who gave us Asher's diagnosis and will likely be the one leading any treatment if that's what's in store for us).

I kind of thought this appointment was pointless. Asher just saw her three months ago and there was no treatment or MRI on the horizon. Turns out that this appointment was just what I needed.

She had nothing but praise for Asher and his progress, especially in commando crawling. She made me realize that all of his little improvements are real achievements, small as they may be. As little as she knows him, she even noticed improvements in some of his reflexes or more importantly lack of them (Asher has been holding on to primitive reflexes - particularly ATNR - for far too long and they have been impeding his movement. In the short time she has spent with him she noticed how much that has changed since she saw him last).

Asher, although still a bit sore, coupled with becoming increasingly shy, behaved - of course - like a champ.

All good things. A good day. If only the Canucks weren't being blown out...AGAIN. Sigh.

The Day After

Twenty four hours have passed since Asher came home from hospital, and I think it's safe to say at this point that he's doing really well! We have kept on top of his pain meds every three hours to keep him comfortable, and other than a bit of complaining right around that three hour mark, he has seemed back to himself! I am hoping that by tomorrow he will need the drugs less and that within a couple more days he will feel completely fine. He is such a star and I couldn't be more proud of him and how he NEVER complains. I swear to you that kid is a living, breathing angel. And don't get me wrong, I love Nolan and his crazy personality to death, but all day yesterday I kept thinking to myself "Could you imagine if this was Nolan?". Wow, what a different experience it would have been with Mr. Crankpot!

While Asher may be feeling better, I spent the day feeling like I was hit by a truck. Asher actually had a good sleep last night, but because I was not used to having him in our room, I did not. I was worried about him so every time he stirred, so did I, then I would lay awake thinking about the day. I think yesterday Jordan and I were running on straight adrenaline in order to keep it together for Asher, and today that has taken its toll! Yesterday was emotionally difficult for us, even with no complications, so it stands to reason that we would be exhausted given how the day ended up. Although we knew he was never in imminent danger yesterday, it was not fun to be reminded of all of the times in the past when he really was.

It's funny because in some ways I think that yesterday was harder on us, given how many complications we've seen the boys go through already, yet in other ways I think it made it a bit easier to understand (although we were scared regardless). The nurses in surgical daycare were quite concerned about his sats being at 89 or 90, rightfully so, but to a parent that had no knowledge of what that meant I think it would have been much scarier. For Jordan and I who regularly saw the boys plummet to the 30s and 40s (and once to SIX!) I suppose we didn't get as worked up about it as we could have. And as I mentioned yesterday, WOW did it come in handy to have a former peds nurse for a husband! In the NICU, he was so distressed and immersed in the worried dad role, he never commented a lot on the medical stuff, other than to translate (not to mention he had never taken care of a 2 pounder). But yesterday, his assurances came frequently and confidently that Asher would be FINE and that made a world of difference to my sanity.

Asher is sleeping soundly, back in his room with Nolan, so here's hoping I do the same tonight and we all wake up tomorrow feeling like a million bucks!

Kindergarten Orientation

Yesterday, in the midst of Asher's surgery day from hell was Rio's orientation to kindergarten. It was great and we had so much fun. I had heard lots of good things about our school and those seemed to be confirmed upon arrival.

Rio was very nervous and shy but at the same time very excited. She moved through several activity stations that were fun for her, but I'm guessing were somehow "testing" their skills in printing, drawing, numbers etc (there were teachers walking around taking notes). At the end of it Rio got a giant "loot bag" full of papers for the parents but also a ton of craft supplies and three great books. I think that sealed the deal for her.

When we talked about it later and I asked her her favourite part, she said "all of it". I think that's a pretty good sign she'll be ready when the time comes. I won't be however!

Surgery Update

Well that SUCKED.

Ok now that I got that out of the way, Asher is fine, but today certainly didn't go as planned.

We got to the hospital and all the pre-op stuff went fine. I had to leave to do Rio's kindergarten orientation only a few minutes before Jord walked Asher to the OR, so timing wise it all worked out. Asher was an absolute star, only whimpering slightly just as I left, presumably because he was so hungry (no milk since 7pm the night before and the apple juice experiment didn't really work). Jordan said he remained that easy going until he got into the OR, at which point he got a little bit scared and the lip started to quiver, but otherwise he was tough as nails. Of course he was.

Pre-op - hand is bandaged for his IV (which took 3 location when all was said and done and ended up in his foot)

I rushed Rio home from orientation (another post will come on that) and on my way back to the hospital Jordan texted to say he had heard from the surgeon and the surgery went very well. We were relieved to say the least.

So then we waited for him to come back from recovery.

And we waited.

And we waited.

And the little girl who had surgery after Asher came back, with still no sign of him. I started to panic. They talked to recovery and said he had needed oxygen but they expected him back soon. I didn't think that was a good thing, but I tried to remain calm.

We waited a while longer (now we're at about 2.5 hours post surgery, when we had been told he "should" be back within 20 minutes). We finally heard he was coming back but that his sats had been in the 80s and he had needed oxygen to bring him back up to the 90s (sorry if you don't know what an 02 sat is, but enough of you who were on our NICU journey with us do, so I'm not going to explain it - too tired).

So back he came, off oxygen, but mask in hand just in case. He sat at around 90 and they wouldn't send him home unless it went to at least 95. They decided the best case scenario would be to admit him to peds and if he miraculously improved they would send him home. He looked terrible - so lethargic - and he broke my heart that he was so NOT our smiling happy Asher. He didn't even respond to seeing Jordan and I and was in so much pain. They had given him morphine and figured that is what caused the drop in his sats (morphine is known to be a respiratory suppressant) so we had to wait for the morphine to get out of his system.

We packed up and went up to peds where we got admitted. Our nurse was one Jordan had worked with in the past, and several of his former coworkers came in to say hi so that was a nice distraction. Asher was uncomfortable and upset, but finally started perking up so we decided to feed him. Well didn't that do the trick! As soon as he had a bottle, up his sats came and stayed at around 95. No signs of nausea, so we kept on feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And the more he ate, the more he seemed to improve! I even got him laughing, and at that point knew we could safely bring him home. My boy was back! His pain was under control, he had eaten a significant amount, and he was happy again. Phew!

By around 6pm we were fairly confident that the surgeon would discharge him, but then it was more waiting until he arrived at around 7. As expected, there was no longer a reason to keep him overnight. We got more details on the surgery, and essentially it went BETTER than he had hoped. It was easy to bring down and there was no hernia to go along with it. The really good news is that it bodes well for the surgery to fix the other side - the surgeon is confident it will go just as well, if not even easier.

So now we keep on top of pain meds for a few days and then Asher sees him for a follow up in 2-3 weeks. If all goes well from now till then, the second surgery will be booked.

Strangely enough, as horrible as today went, I feel waaaay more at ease about the second surgery. The surgery itself went well. Asher handled the anesthetic ok. Next time there will be no morphine, or at least a much smaller dose. I feel like this was a bad test run, and next time will be much better. It has to be!!

Thanks to everyone who called and sent messages checking in on us today. Asher is now sleeping soundly, and he is sleeping in our room tonight so we can hear him at the slightest stir and keep on top of his pain meds.

Speaking of sleep...an 11 hour hospital stay for a 20 minute surgery....the parents need to go to bed too...

Never Say Never - Juice Edition

I started to write a post about how we gave Asher apple juice the other day. I went on and on about how much we hate giving juice to babies, yet needed to give Asher a try, as all he is allowed surgery day are "clear fluids" and he doesn't consistently drink water.

But I decided against the holier than thou post about how much we hate juice and how we never wanted to give it to our babies, because it would make it appear that I judge everyone who does give their babies juice. (I don't, it is just our personal choice - hence why I am re-writing this post.) But in the past (ok and the present) it has been fairly laughable how uptight we have been with feeding our kids a healthy diet, so I couldn't very well tell you we gave Asher juice without telling you what a big deal it is.

Anyway, I digress, imagine that. Onward to the point of the story.

The apple juice trial run went reasonably well, so hopefully the morning of surgery (Wednesday) he will take at least that amount again in order to help with some of the grumps that will come along with no bottle, no breakfast, and a bleak unfamiliar hospital. (Who ever would have thought I'd say a hospital would be unfamiliar to Asher?!)

Some rules are meant to be broken, especially if it comes to your kids and what is in their best interests, and giving Asher juice the morning of surgery is definitely in his best interests.

Yes, the Trousdells have fed their baby juice - in his bottle of all places - and it wasn't even watered down! Oh the horror! And imagine that, we all lived through it!

Plasma Car Fun

Today we spent pretty much all day outside, enjoying the glorious sun. Rio took the bros for a spin on her plasma car and they looooved it.

Nolan: maybe not his cutest look, but possibly his funniest

Asher rockin it

Check out the video of Asher below. If you can hear beyond screechy mama, you can tell how much Asher loves it by the ooohing and ahhing he's doing:

Torn

Next Wednesday, June 8, is a huge day for our family. Not only is it Asher's surgery, but it is Rio's kindergarten orientation. Jordan and I will divide and conquer - one with Asher and one with Rio (thankfully gramma is coming from out of town to be with Nolan).

Jordan is the better choice to be with Asher. He is not only a nurse, but he is super dad, and over all much more calm than me. He is more than capable of dealing with the surgery and everything surrounding it. I will be able to stay at the hospital until just before surgery, but by the time I am able to return Asher should be in recovery and waiting to go home. Jordan will be the one to go into the OR while he is put under, and waiting for him when he wakes up.

Likewise, I am the better choice to be with Rio. I am as excited and nervous for her to start kindergarten as she is, and don't want to miss out on this big step for her. As sentimental as Jordan is towards his kids, I think I am slightly more excited about this event than he is, as am I more emotional over all about our baby starting school.

Unfortunately, both of us wish we could do both. I guess since my body can't be in two places at one time, I need to settle for my heart being with both of them, regardless of where I am.

What an emotional day it's going to be.