World Prematurity Day

It's World Prematurity Day, and rather than talk about candy or books, I decided that today it's time to raise awareness.

As many of you know, my first granddaughter was born at just 27 weeks. She was 14 1/2 inches long and 2 lb 9 oz. While in the NICU, she had NECK, sepsis, pneumonia, E-coli based meningitis, seizures, apnea, and a brain bleed. I don't mind telling you, those first few weeks were terrifying. It seemed like every day we got some new piece of frightening news. 

We were told she was going to have trouble keeping up with kids her own age, she would be slow to learn, walk, speak. We were told for the rest of her life she would probably have trouble hearing, talking, seeing and that she would struggle in school.

I remember sitting in the doctor's office, listening to them talk about what her future would probably hold, and feeling overwhelmed by the panic. Was I strong enough to help this child? What could I possibly do? Every touch from another person robbed her tiny body of the energy she needed to develop parts of her body she would need. I remember vividly the day my daughter was first able to hold her baby. I remember desperately just wanting to hear the baby cry, which we couldn't because of all the tubes and other equipment. 

At some point during that visit with the doctors, I asked what my other daughter and I could do to help. Since we couldn't even touch her, rocking her was out of the question. She couldn't swallow, so feeding her wasn't on the list. The doctor told us one thing we could do to help: read to her. It didn't matter what we read, he said. Just read. I can't give you all of the scientific reasons why reading helps premature babies develop. I just remember feeling an immense sense of relief that there was something I could do. 

And so we did. Day after day, for hours at a time, we read aloud from children's books, like he Baby Blue Cat Who Said No, and Mama, Do You Love Me? We read Gila Monsters Meet You at the Airport and Minerva Louise. We read magazines and books about Egypt and the Romance Writer's Report. 

My two nieces were also born prematurely, and both faced their own set of challenges when they were first born.

Thanks to the prayers of friends and family and the knowledge of the nurses and doctors in the NICU, all three of the premature babies in our family grew up healthy. All three dodged all of the things we were told could be challenges for them because they were born so early.

My nieces are adults with families of their own, and The Princess is a happy and healthy 9 year-old who not only keeps up with the kids her age, but consistently hits the honor roll and helps other kids when they have challenges with their lessons. She loves to read and writes stories of her own. I don't know if she inherited her love of stories from me, or if she developed a love of stories in the NICU, but it doesn't really matter. Wherever it came from, I'm glad she has it. 

Not every family is so lucky, but every family deserves to be. Please help support the effort to raise awareness and get the kind of care premature babies need everywhere. And if you find yourself with a premature baby inside your sphere of influence, read. Read, read, read. I promise you, it will help. 

All is Well!

To everyone who has asked about Abigail's health, thank you for including her in your prayers over the past few weeks. She had a follow-up visit with the doctor today, and it looks like the operation has been successful so far. Everything in her little brain is working the way it's supposed to be working. She'll have another follow-up visit in three months, but for now all is well. So, to our family and friends, to all of you who held our sweet little girl in your hearts while she went through the brain surgery, to her surgeon and the entire medical team who cared for her, our heartfelt thanks. We couldn't be more pleased with today's news.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday -- They Start a Little Younger Every Year!

Even a Hole in her Head Can't Stop Her

I know I've raved about my new baby granddaughter before, and I know there's a good chance you're all tired of hearing about her, but I hope you'll indulge me for a minute. You see, it was just one week ago that we found out Abigail had to have brain surgery. As brain surgeries go, this one isn't too bad, I guess. Abigail has a cyst that, so far, isn't bothering her at all, but the neurosurgeon has decided that it's growing quickly enough to be a problem in the future. Last week, he told my daughter and her husband that Abigail needed surgery. Since Ian's going to be sent off to Mississippi by the Air Force for training in just a couple of weeks, the doctor scheduled Abigail's surgery for Monday -- as in this past Monday, the 18th. We barely had time to catch our breath before it was time to check her into the hospital. More than once, I thanked our lucky stars that we live near one of the best children's hospitals in the nation -- maybe even the world. That didn't help a lot when we saw Mom carrying our tiny 16 pound baby down the hall in her hospital jammies, but it was the one thing I had to hang onto. I mean really! The doctor was about to drill a hole in the baby's skull! So we settled in to wait -- but we didn't have to wait long. In fact, the surgery was over so quickly that when we saw the doctor come into the waiting room, we all thought he'd run into some massive complication and had to stop operating. But the surgery went well, he said, and Abigail was recovering nicely. Mom got to go into the recovery room and hold her while she held up. Dad, Auntie Val and Grandmom stayed in the waiting room for a while longer. Then we were summoned and we met the intern wheeling Abigail from recovery to her room. We didn't know what to expect, so when she saw us and smiled, we all nearly fell over. And when she held up her tiny little hand, bandaged up to hold the IV, to her Auntie Val for a high five . . . well, at least two of us lost it. But don't tell Ian. He thinks I cry too easily, for some reason. Abigail was released the following day, and on Wednesday I drove up to the Base to spend my usual afternoon with her. I expected taking care of her to be a little difficult, you know. I thought she might be fussy. Uncomfortable. Even in a little pain. I didn't expect the difficulty to come from the fact that she was running at full power and grabbing, reaching, stretching, pulling (grandmom's hair) and playing as if she'd never even heard of the hospital. In fact, what she really wanted was for me to hold her upside-down, which is one of her favorite games. (I didn't, of course. She might not notice the hole the doctor drilled her in skull, but I can't forget it's there!) All I can say is that kids and modern medicine are amazing!

Yesterday, it was spring at my house. Sixty degrees, lovely, sunny. Tulips had broken through the soil. This morning, I woke up to this:

The pictures don't really do it justice. First, I took them with a phone camera. Second, the angle doesn't really show that there's at least 5" of snow there at 7:00 in the morning. And third, you can't feel how cold it is!

But it doesn't really matter because I'm celebrating this morning. First, yesterday I finally shipped the completed manuscript of PEPPERMINT TWISTED. To the best of my knowledge, it's scheduled for December 2007 release, but I'll keep you posted if that changes. And second, today I get to spend time with the World's Most Incredible Grandchild for the second time this week.

Now I ask you . . . if you were me, wouldn't you drive through a raging snowstorm to get to that child???

Rainy Sunday

It's a rainy Sunday, and I'm feeling lazy. For the past couple of nights, I've been sleeping like an actor in an Ambien ad -- the one who falls asleep and then wakes up over and over again. I don't have a little lamp bouncing around over my head, but I might as well for all the sleep I'm getting.

I'm not sure whether it's me waking on my own, or the dog keeping me awake. She's been acting out for the past couple of days, ever since my oldest daughter accidentally spilled a little garlic-butter sauce on the dog's thigh. Apparently Angel doesn't like garlic-butter sauce. We've tried washing it out of her fur, but her nose is much more sensitive than ours are, I guess. I can't smell it, but I'm guessing she can. That may be why she nudges me awake once an hour.

Life is finally calming down (knock wood). My mother is recovering from my father's death little by little, and Miss Abigail is doing extremely well. She came home the week before Christmas, and she's thriving. After spending the first three months of her life in an incubator with very little human touch, she loves, loves, loves to be held. By the strangest stroke of luck, Grandmom loves, loves, loves to hold her --which means that the two of us get along very well.

She's a very hard worker, our Little Miss Abigail. You have no idea how long it took her to get that thumb in her mouth, but she never gives up! She's truly an inspiration -- and a miracle.

On top of all that, I even feel as if I'm getting my brain back (yay! It's been a long, foggy time!) so I'm actually able to write again without feeling as if I'm sawing off a limb while I'm doing it. I've had a lot of e-mail asking about the third book in the candy shop mystery series. For those who've asked, I'm hard at work on the book (Peppermint Twisted) even as we speak, and assuming I can actually get it finished in the next couple of weeks, it's slotted for December 2007 release.

So while I'm here, curled up under a blanket on a wet Sunday morning, I want to send out a HUGE thank you to readers who haven't given up on me! It means more to me than I can say.

Beyond the Sea

Okay, so it's been a while since I posted anything on my blog. I knew I'd been quiet for a while, but I didn't realize just how long it had been until this morning. Last time I checked in, I'd held Abigail for the very first time. I don't mind admitting that holding that sweet little bundle choked me up, and thinking about that moment still makes me a little emotional. In the weeks since I wrote that, she has come home from the hospital (yay!!!) and has grown to an enormous 8 pounds 10 ounces. She is, frankly, The World's Most Incredible Baby. Oh, I know that everyone thinks that about their own kids and grandkids, and I guess I'm no exception, but watching that tiny little 2 pound 9 ounce baby battle her way through diseases that would cut larger people off at the knees has left me a little in awe of the kid. Really. She's four months old now and doctors say that technically she's just a month old, but don't tell her that because it would just make her mad. Just after her mom and dad brought her home, mom put on a copy of the soundtrack from "Beyond the Sea," a movie about Bobby Darin. She happened to have that soundtrack handy because her sister (my oldest daughter) is an avid Kevin Spacey fan, I guess. Anyway, Abigail seemed to like the music, which was kind of cute, so mom played it for her a few times It's no great mystery where this story is going. Abigail loves Kevin Spacey singing Bobby Darin. In fact that soundtrack is the fastest way to calm her down when she gets fussy. She absolutely loves the title track, but she also likes "Artificial Flowers" a lot. We've tried playing other music from that era, but she's not having any of it. It's got to be Kevin singing Bobby or nothing at all. We haven't tried Bobby singing Bobby yet, but that's our next step. I have a feeling, though, that Bobby will have a hard time holding up to Kevin -- at least in Abigail's mind :)

A Day to be Thankful For

Last night I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I held my baby granddaughter for the first time since she was born. I had a one-day window of opportunity a couple of weeks ago, but I was in Dallas on business . . . and the baby wasn't. The very next day the baby contracted an intestinal infection which meant she had to be incubated and intubated until just two days ago, and that meant I couldn't hold her. Yesterday, after the extended family finished Thanksgiving dinner and went our separate ways, my daughters, son-in-law and I went to the hospital and, after all the usual care-taking items were out of the way, Vanessa laid little Abigail in my arms. I've been sitting beside her incubator for the past few weeks, reading to her. We've read "The Baby Blue Cat Who Said No", "Cookie Monster and the Cookie Tree", and "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" several times a week, but when I spoke and her little eyes went wide as if she recognized my voice, I was both surprised and overwhelmed with emotion. I didn't get to hold her for long, but holding her for even 15 minutes was the best thing that's happened to be in a long time, and it was definitely something to be grateful for.

Just When You Think You're Catching Up With Life . . .

. . . somebody throws you another curve ball. I've been off the internet for a couple of weeks now because my very first grandchild decided she needed to come into the world 13 1/2 weeks ahead of schedule. We spent several days in the hospital trying to convince her to be patient and wait, but this little girl knows what she wants and she doesn't take no for an answer. Abigail Charlotte arrived after a mere 97 hours of labor, weighing a whopping 2 pounds 9 ounces and stretching to a grand length of 14 1/2 inches. We won't be bringing her home from the hospital for a while yet, but she's doing well and already growing. I'm absolutely thrilled to be a grandmom for the first time, and I'm not bragging one bit when I say she's just about the prettiest baby I've ever seen! I can't wait until she's out of the isolette so I can take some books into the NICU and read to her. While my daughter was in labor with Abigail (no, she's not going to be Abby, at least not while her parents are listening) I received a phone call from my mother letting me know that one of my cousins had died. Gary was one of those larger-than-life people who fill a room with their personality when they walk through the door, and I'm going to miss him. We had one fairly uneventful day, and then my dad fell and broke his ankle. He's 81 years old and suffering from congestive heart failure, so he's been in the ICU for the past couple of days waiting to stabilize enough to undergo surgery. The surgery was this afternoon, and his doctor tells us it all went well, which is good news. They've installed a metal plate in his ankle that will stay there for the rest of his life, and he's not allowed to even attempt to walk on that foot or put any weight on it at all for at least two months, so now we begin the next-to-impossible task of keeping my very fidgety dad in bed and off his feet for the next 60 days. It's been an emotional couple of weeks, filled with ups and downs, highs, lows, and lots of tears -- the good kind and the not-so-good kind. I've divided my time between the Newborn ICU and the regular ICU in two hospitals 20 miles apart. I lost track of the days a long time ago, and I'm never sure what day of the week it is, but I suppose this, too, shall pass. Before you know it, three months will have passed, Abigail will come home and so will my dad, and life will settle down into a nice, smooth routine again. And if you believe that, I have some lovely swampland . . .