First off, I’ll state the obvious: Willow is freaking adorable in her new glasses! I’ve been bowling people over everywhere I go. Even the nurse at her pediatrician’s office was practically shrieking, “I CAN’T STAND IT!” because she was so overwhelmed with the cuteness. I don’t think it’ll ever get old.
It turns out she is extremely farsighted and that’s what was causing her eyes to cross. The entire day we spent at the eye doctor was terribly long, though, and we almost walked out without any answers. See, when we got there, I checked in, waited in the waiting room, saw the resident, then waited some more for the doctor. By the time the doctor got there, Willow was asleep. She almost sent us on our way saying that Willow was a little too young for refraction, but I insisted we dilate her eyes and try to get a reading. When Willow finally woke up (fully dilated and confused as hell), the doctor thanked me several times for being insistent. Had we waited six months, who knows how much she would have missed!
All the other appointments and evaluations are done. We’ll go back to neurology in about six months because he wasn’t interested in running any tests as yet. Willow is only a month behind in her gross motor skills and has some low tone in her trunk. What we’re hoping is that with a little PT, she’ll strengthen right up and now that she can see, some of those skills will right themselves as she becomes more and more interested in what’s going on around her.
For now, I grab brief moments of tummy time on the yoga ball because she hates it anywhere else. I keep her from teething on the glasses when she’s bored. And I squish her chubby cheeks. Just cause.
First a happy thing: Willow has now rolled over a few times. She is incredibly surprised and upset when it happens. At six-and-a-half months, she still detests tummy time. It’s hard for her to push herself up much further than her elbows. But we try.
The other things I’ve been waiting to see happen in her development haven’t happened. She doesn’t sit and isn’t terribly interested in it. She flops forward or sticks her legs out straight, forcing herself backward. This is most likely a problem with muscle tone. I am waiting for an evaluation with Early Intervention in the next week or so.
Her eyes also concern me because they are crossing. It isn’t all the time, and it changes from day to day–one day her right eye will turn in and the next day, her left. There’s no consistent pattern to it but it’s very different from Aiden’s lazy eye. We have an appointment with pediatric ophthalmology in two weeks.
Finally, we have a long wait for her follow up appointment with neurology. When she was discharged from the hospital, no prognosis was given. Her doctor simply told us to wait and see. We were also told that neurology would call us and schedule a follow up appointment but as I had yet to hear from them, I called yesterday. So far, the earliest we could get in is way out in August. The person that I spoke with said she would try to squeeze us in earlier. We’ll see how that goes.
My concerns are just that–mine. Despite her traumatic birth, her primary pediatrician does not seem worried at all. I just don’t think he sees what I see. True, the fact that she started rolling is incredibly encouraging. It’s all the other things that make me think that perhaps her miracle birth left us with a lot to work with.
The waiting is almost over.
YOU HAD MAJOR SURGERY!
This is essentially what I have been hearing from everyone and what I have been telling myself for the past six months. Can you believe it’s been that long? I can’t. Part of my disbelief lies in the recesses of my mind–I have a girl and we are both incredibly lucky to be alive.
Fast forward to the “real” world where I compare myself to the Americanized ideal image of the typical mom at six months postpartum. Here is where I get vain, frustrated, and sometimes downright depressed. My main problem with my body right now is that I can’t wear anything but yoga pants, maternity clothes, or my larger workout clothes. Everything else is snug to the point of hurting my scar or giving me the most horrid muffin top in the universe. I don’t recall ever being this doughy, and if I have been before, I must have blocked that from my memory.
I try not to dwell on my body image, but when I’m staring down a closet full of things I can’t wear yet and I have to get dressed for real twice a week, it’s hard not to. It’s not like I’m not trying to keep myself healthy. I started teaching again three months ago so I get my exercise. I’m still exclusively breastfeeding.
I’m just not slimming down like I hoped. But I know I have things like MAJOR SUGERY and age working against me. I imagine that having a vertical incision takes longer to heal. It surely made for an ugly scar on my already wrecked abdomen.
I think I’ll just suck it up and go shopping at Goodwill. Maybe I can find some mumus and over-sized sweatpants to wear until I get over myself.
I need a morning routine.
So far, the only definitive weekday agenda is as follows:
- Wake up
- Brush teeth
- Break up fights
- Drink coffee
- Send kids to school
- Drink a protein smoothie
- Feed the two kids left at home
- Change diapers
- Watch Nick Jr. ALL DAY LONG
At least once every few weeks I try to meet up with my friends for park play dates. It helps get me out of the house and gives me a reason to shower more than three times a week. Wednesdays and Sundays are church days so I’ve usually showered and if I have enough time (and Willow is happy enough to sit in the bouncy chair for a bit), I can straighten my hair so as not to look like a complete disaster. Sometimes, I even wear mascara! Or paint my nails!
I feel like I’m taking two steps forward and one step back out of this postpartum abyss. Willow started napping by herself and not in my arms. But she still nurses like a newborn so it’s not as if the naps last long. I’d rather snuggle her when she’s asleep like I used to.
Things change every day, though. I can’t complain. Willow is just so darn cute I find myself never being frustrated with the way things are. And that’s the way I want to keep it.