First I guess I'll give a brief update on my grandfather. He made a miraculous recovery. And I do mean miraculous. As in, we were picking out what to put in the obituary and what to wear to the funeral and the next day he's requesting pudding. We were initially very cautious, we are aware of something called "the surge" before death and thought surely that's what it was. But three days of sitting up talking and sugars being about normal, they've discharged him. Yep. He's home now.
Wyatt starts his first full year of preschool tomorrow, three days a week for two and a half hours. He went a few times at the end of the year last year and since he got his new peppa pig back pack he is super excited.
As far as my healthy living and dieting is going? I practically ate myself into a food coma this past week. But, I'm feeling much better now. Mentally that is. Physically I'm a jag-off for wasting the past three weeks pretty much. I feel better now though and I'm ready to get rolling...again. I mean, the past few weeks I'd done okay eating, but not a whole lot of working out other than my horrible dance parties with myself while I try to clean.
My sister just bought the kids a mini trampoline, because I don't really have enough shit laying around my house already, but I like to jump on it a few times every time I walk past it and I was looking into some rebounding exercises today. I love new toys.
I'd actually like to share something else I'm working on though. Non-weight related.
My eldest son was born with a cleft lip, and I recently took to the web and designed a shirt for cleft awareness. his cleft lip was actually a really big part of my life. I know it's not like it's fatal, or really horrible or anything like that, but it's still a big part of ME. I don't even think it will be a big deal to him growing up, but it played a huge role in shaping my life. I'm feeling kind of lazy, so I'm just going to copy and paste exactly what I did on my facebook. I'm selling these shirts, not for profit, I guess not really even selling then, I'm ordering them for my family and friends who are interested. And this is what I had to say whenever I shared the design.
"I had had a few people interested when I posted about getting cleft shirts made up. For those of you who were interested this will be the design (99% sure anyway...I keep playing with it still lol).
Now I'm sure the first thing you've noticed is "But isn't that a breast cancer ribbon?" No. Cleft awareness ribbons were granted "hot pink" as their color, breast cancer was to be "pale pink." Breast cancer has sort of taken over the entire pink spectrum because of how many it affects and how catastrophic the illness can be. Hot pink is however still supposed to represent clefts, while that rarely happens, that is the reasoning behind the color choice and the ribbon to this shirt. This is a great opportunity to educate others when they ask you the same question when you're wearing this shirt (;
The front would be the Cleft strong, and the back would be the "let your smile change the world" cleft smiles are often referred to as 'wide smiles.'
As far as pricing goes. I won't know the actual price until I know how many are ordered. The way the website works is that the price per shirt goes down depending on the quantity ordered. Just to be clear, I am NOT making a profit from these shirts. At all. I will ask you to pay the same price the website charges me, and I will post pictures of the final quote when I make the order just for verification. I'm doing this because I decided I wanted these shirts for ME, but then realized it could be a nice opportunity to spread awareness. I will not order your shirt without payment first, preferably in full. I'm not trying to buy a bunch of shirts with my money and have a lot of people change their minds after I've already paid and then I'm screwed.
I will leave this up for probably a week or so to give everyone who wants a chance to order. You can comment, message, or text me sizes you want. Feel free to share this status or ask others around too.
Oral clefts are one of the most common birth defects in the country, affecting around 1 in every 1000 children born. Cleft lips are more common in boys, cleft lips and palates are more common in girls. Although it is often hereditary, or caused by environmental factors such as prescription medicines, they can also be spontaneous as well (as was Wyatt's case.) Although it is one of the most common birth defects it's also still widely believed that it is a rarity in our country in healthy pregnancies with no family history. Many had told me they only thought it happened very often in third world countries.
I realize a cleft isn't a life threatening illness, it does not require immediate surgery to sustain life, it does not even affect the general health of the affected child. Many believe after its "fixed" it's not really a big deal. So I'm going to do something I've never really fully done here. I'm going to share my story. The important part is already above, so whether or not you choose to read further is at your digression. But this is our story, and why I believe our family is cleft strong. This is a story my family is family with, and I have discussed to an extent with certain friends. But I believe now I will share the whole thing.
When you get pregnant it's supposed to be an exciting time. My people, especially not 17 year olds, ever really consider the possibility that something could be WRONG with their baby. There's this beautiful bliss cloud that floats around your head that says "That would never happen to me. I'm healthy." My fears in my pregnancy were "how will I support this child?" "What if I have a miscarriage or a stillborn?" The extent of my worries were focused around how terrible child birth would be, would I have a boy or a girl, and oh my gosh what color should we paint the room?
The ultrasound where they saw Wyatt's cleft was a happy one. He was so flexible in there he was sucking on his toes! They revealed that he was a boy, something I had secretly wished for, my boyfriend, mother and I were all just so tickled to see my perfect son. It was some time in the following week that I got a message on my phone from a midwife about the ultrasound "something they saw." Naturally, I panicked, I remember specifically my phone wasn't working right. I kept trying to call her back and it kept hanging up, as a naturally anxious person to begin with I thought the world was ending. I remember thinking "it's his heart, it's his heart" because my own mother had had a heart murmur. When the sweet old midwfie explained it was a cleft lip and what a cleft lip was I remember saying "okay?" and waiting for more. Why was this such a big deal, why had she scared me to death like that? What's WRONG with her? I think it took me approximately four hours to really let the cleft sink in. But it wasn't his heart.
I told only a small select few people about his cleft. No matter how anyone reacted their reaction didn't seem to satisfy me. If they were horrified I was offended, if they carried on like I'd said the weather was calling for rain, I was furious. No one seemed to understand. Despite the fact that I had told so few, that still didn't stop others from finding out. I'll never forget someone I hardly ever talked to stopping me in the hallway to say "she'd heard" she was "sorry" how "you never here about that around here" and how she would "MAKE the doctors fix it." Like no, I thought I'd just leave it like that? That was the first day I let myself cry like a baby in front of my boyfriend.
As if it wasn't bad enough I was the pregnant 17 year old, now I was the pregnant 17 year old with something wrong with her kid. Ironically, our school was having a cookie sale to raise funds for a little boy to get a cleft repaired. I was mortified. Everyone knew my baby was going to be "messed up" like the little boy in the pictures on the posters for the sale.
The extent of my depression in my pregnancy is something almost no one really knew. I was bitchy, but still, I never talked about being scared for my son, I talked about being scared for labor, or how bad my back hurt. I was terrified and confused. Your entire purpose in life when you have a child is to keep that child safe, here I was, not even having given birth yet and I had already failed. I couldn't protect him, or keep him safe, I couldn't even create him without screwing up.
I was scared I wouldn't be able to love him. When babies are born and parents have that "ah ha" moment as they count all of his little fingers and toes and wail through tears of happiness "hes perfect!" I would never have that moment. I would never get my "ah ha" moment. I wouldn't cry "he's perfect" I would simply have to state "he's here" and inquire as to whether the extent of his deformity was isolated to only his lip or if the palate was affected as well. I thought I would never want to take his picture or to take him in public. I thought I was be embarrassed with him, I worried I couldn't love him enough.
Can you imagine? Being only halfway through your pregnancy. Just now finding out it was a boy, for another 4 months I would have to pretend to be excited, pretend to be interested as we picked out cribs, and bedding and names. I had to pretend that I was excited to meet my precious prince or everyone would think I was a horrible person. I loved my son, don't get me wrong. I have never not loved my son. But I wanted to think he was perfect, to love him more. And these were things I felt I wouldn't be able to do. Which made me feel GUILTY. Guilt, on top of crippling depression? My pregnancy was worse than my post partum depression, even now I recognize that my pregnancy was one of the most depressing times of my life. I always felt sad, depressed, embarrassed, or even bitter.
I gave up caffeine, I walked all the time, I took care of myself, made sure to eat, to take my vitamins, I did EVERYTHING right. And yet MY baby was the one with the deformity. It seemed unfair. I looked at other babies and stared at the perfect lips, I would be a better parent, I was a better person than so many of these moms and still...THEY had perfect babies. And after I would think this, I
would again go back to the horribly feeling of guilt again.
May 25th 2011 I went in for a scheduled induction at already 5cm dialated and 90% effaced. I had a pretty easy labor, filled with playing 'scoops' on my phone and complaining insessively about my IV hurting. On May 26th Wyatt Michael Patterson was born, weighing in at a perfect 6 lbs 12.5 ounces and 20 inches long. I had my ah ha moment.
That perfect moment where the world seems to slow down and you aren't aware of anything or anyone else in the world. Not the doctor pushing on your stomach or the snot running down your face. I wasn't looking at Wyatt and looking at his cleft, I was looking at his huge dark eyes just staring at me. Completely aware, as they left him lay on my stomach and it struck me. I wanted to touched him. Almost as if to make sure he was really there. And I'll never forget the rest of my entire life my first words to Wyatt, even though I had my 'ah ha' moment I didn't shout he's perfect, I didn't sigh, I didn't gasp he's here..I touched him, and he was slimy and gooey, and the first thing Wyatt ever heard from my mouth was "he's so gross!" It wasn't that I actually thought he was gross. It wasn't that I expected anything less than that after given birth, it's just...the cold hard truth. He was gross. Gross and perfect.
And he was here.
I took more pictures than my phone could even hold just in those five months I was blessed to see his cleft each morning. He gave his cleft a big EFF YOU and nursed like a champ despite it. While I never heard Wyatt coo, or babble, I did get to watch him fit BOTH of his fists in his mouth, I did get to marvel at his not getting a single ear infection (as we were warned cleft babies usually have to get tubes in their ears from), I got to watch a smile that took up his entire face. I loved Wyatt's cleft. I gave his cleft kisses, I mused how he made friends EVERY WHERE he went, no grandma left untouched by his beauty. I didn't mind when anyone stared at him because I stared at him all the time too. Little kids were the only ones to ask "what's wrong with him?" or "what happened to his face?" and I didn't mind that either. We took pride in educating them, though as soon as we would start to explain their eyes usually dulled with boredom.
I will say it again. I loved Wyatt's cleft. I was not only nervous for his surgery, but I also mourned the loss of his perfect face, the face God shaped with his own hands to make wonderful just for me. Because he knew, even before I did, that I was a mom who would love him, show him off, have my ah ha moment. He knew I could handle this, and he knew that Wyatt could too. God doesn't make mistakes, he sculpted Wyatt's wonderful face with the utmost certainty that it was perfect.
And then the time came. The time to 'fix' or 'repair' his cleft. I don't like either term, because I didn't see it as something broken or damaged. I didn't want to have his lip done. I didn't want to put him under, and I didn't want to change him. As someone who has anxiety 98% of the time, I remember while Wyatt was back in surgery for a number of hours that I honestly don't recall exactly how many, I felt completely numb. I felt like I should be freaking out, or hysterical, but I felt just empty.
I would of course cry like a big baby again when I saw him. And I remember again, my first thought being unconventional. "He looks like a monkey." My first thought when I saw my son post surgery was that he looked like a monkey. Something else I would lie about of course and tell everyone he looked great. I carried him crying the entire way to our room where we would stay for the next three days.
I remember crying as I held him, with my mother and grandma wiping their eyes behind me, as our nurse joked about how a lot of moms insist "that's not my baby" after their cleft surgery or are just 'crazy' and wanting to hit her. I remember it took about 70 washes to finally get the blood out of my neon green shirt I'd bought at Michaels. I remember them not letting us leave until he pooped and one of the only things that would make him happy was to walk around the halls and pull him in the wagon. I remember it being so hard because I had been breast feeding and cosleeping and could do neither now and I remember asking politely for him to be put back on the strong painkillers twice before snapping at the nurses and demanding it NOW while fighting back my own helpless tears. But more than anything from the entire experience I remember the next day.
He smiled.
It was a sort of unsure smile, it seemed tight, probably felt wrong to him, but I'll never in my entire life forget it. His second, first smile. The following weeks with the arm restraints and the tape over his lip were not a whole lot of fun. I liked to draw mustaches on the tape before I would put it on him and that made me a little bit happier. I remember it wasn't as hard as we thought it would be, I had taken off I think two weeks from work to be with him and he seemed up to spirits far before I had to go back. I was glad to be with him though.
We were again blessed beyond our expectations when his teeth came in, he has a notch in his gums and were were expecting a lot of dental problems but the teeth even came through where his notch was. He teeth were late, especially late on the side of his cleft, but they were healthy and boy does he like brushing them. He started talking well after his second birthday and hasn't stopped since. I don't believe Wyatt's cleft defines him. His lip is beautiful, even with out the little indent under the nose that I gazed longingly at while I was pregnant. His cleft lip is not the biggest part of who he is, his big kisses, his 'lovins' and how much he loves being 'a nice big brother' the way he plays pirate and his obsession with peppa pig, that is who Wyatt is. But his cleft? That is a very large part of who I am. It is an experience that humbled me, something that I believe made me grow up a lot, something that I believe not only made me appreciate Wyatt but also bonded me much closer to him. I got so many more bragging rights about how strong and amazing Wyatt is from this, and instead of continuing to cry about it after it was all over and done I decided that I was blessed. Blessed to appreciate the little milestones other parents might not, like the first time he was able to blow raspberries, or his ear infections (a lot of other parents might only think about it if they DID get them), I was blessed with two beautiful faces, and two first smiles, and that's something only a select few are blessed with. The experience made us all a little braver, and a little stronger, and maybe I annoy everyone with posting every year on the anniversary of his surgery (november 9th!) but it is one of the biggest days of the year to me. Even more so than my own birthday, it's a big part of who I am and I still miss his cleft.
Don't think just because the cleft is repaired the struggle is over. Naturally, a cleft smile doesn't like the same as that as someone who was born cleft free. They used to call it a "hare lip" because, like a hare there is the separation of the lips. It's not so much a term used anymore, but still. The medical world has had so many more advanced, cleft repairs are looking better and better as the years go on, but you are still seeing a scar, a 'tight' looking smile, often times the lips actually are different, one side usually pulls up a little. Those with clefts may have dental problems, speech problems, self confidence issues. Those born with a cleft palate are looking at multiple surgeries throughout their entire life. Even with just the lip, often times they go back in to reshape the nose, to trim the scar tissue in the lip, in Wyatt's case the notch in his gum there is a question of whether or not we will want to put him but under for that as well. Once you have a cleft in the family you are also at an increased risk for another cleft baby. Meaning not only was Sawyer at a higher risk, but when Wyatt and Sawyer have children they will pass the gene onto their kids, and their kids to theirs, and so on and so forth. I was at peace with it when I was pregnant with Sawyer, honestly, because it had made me stronger, it had made me more aware, I wasn't naive enough to think "nothing would happen to my kids" I had a better idea of what we were getting into and I wasn't scared. The whole ultrasound with our high risk doctor and I was admittedly hopeful he would be cleft free I just kept thinking in my head of that first smile after Wyatt's surgery and how I knew we could get through anything. Wyatt's cleft will forever be in our family now, and it will always be a very big part of who I am. Not in a bad way really though. I consider our family cleft strong."
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