Aria's Eyes

There was a time, not too long ago, that my only concern regarding my baby girl's eyes was whether or not they will stay so perfectly blue, like her daddy's. But, last week, I realized very quickly that the color of Aria's eyes was much less important than what could be hiding behind them.

After the flash went off while I was taking a photo of my little princess, a white glow appeared in her right eye, sending up a huge red flag for conditions such as Coat's Disease or retinoblastoma. A quick call to the pediatrician had us squeezed in for an appointment first thing in the morning to see if anything was blocking the normal, red reflection we're used to seeing in photos. While the pediatrician didn't find anything concerning, the color in the picture was obvious enough that she urged us to follow up with an eye specialist the next day. And that's where my last post ended.

My heart raced as I filled out Aria's medical history forms. My ever-curious baby was wide awake, exploring the office with Jimmi, who was loving all the attention she was getting from the office staff and other waiting room inhabitants. It wasn't long before we were called to a lowly lit room where Jimmi was asked to sit in the patient's chair and hold our baby down, flat on his lap. I couldn't watch as happy coos instantly turned to piercing screams that became louder and more intense as each one of four drops hit her tiny eyes. When the torture had ended, I took my sweaty, red-faced, tear-streaked little girl into my arms and rocked her until she was settled.

We were sent to a small waiting area to allow Aria's pupils time to dilate before the doctor could look at them. The baby seemed to have forgotten all about the Hell she'd been through just minutes before, as she looked around at the pictures on the walls, giggling and "talking" happily to all of them.

And then the doctor called her name.

I suddenly felt sick at the possibly of hearing very bad news and I silently begged for my daughter to stay healthy and allow me to take any health problems on myself, in her place. Fears of my own 3-month CT scans were trivial compared to the absolute terror in my heart at that moment.

"So what brings you in today?" asked the friendly-faced Dr. K, who looked to be about my age, making me feel slightly inferior. But that was in my own head. I swiped to find the glowing-eye photo and handed her my phone. "This," I said, pointing. I saw the doctor's expression change for an instant as soon as she saw the problem but she composed herself quickly, for our benefit, and said, "Ok, let's take a look."

I don't think I breathed at all during Aria's exam. I watched the doctor's face for any signs of horror as she shined various lights into my daughter's eyes while holding colorful, jingly toys to keep the baby focused and her body calm. Nothing. Not one readable sign. I couldn't tell what she was seeing and I was too afraid to ask. When she hovered over Aria's right eye just a little too long for my comfort level, I was convinced we were in trouble.

The doctor stood up, removed her mining light, head contraption, and smiled sweetly. "Her eyes are perfect," she said. At that point I finally exhaled and the build-up of tears flooded my eyes and poured down my face. "I'm sorry," I said, accepting the tissue the doctor was holding in front of me. "It's perfectly fine," she said. "They're happy tears." I nodded and squeezed my little girl, who was oblivious to the entire fiasco. Then Dr. K continued, "I want you to know you did exactly the right thing. If you see a glow like that again, in the future, you should bring her back. No go enjoy her and those beautifully perfect eyes!"

Welcome to Motherhood…Again!

You may or may not have noticed my seven week absence from the work of blogging. You may have assumed I'd decided to stop writing once Aria was finally home with us. You may have wondered where I'd gone and if everything was alright in my world. The short answer to all of the statements above is:

Holy CRAP! Being a new mommy is a LOT of work!

Yes, I'm fully aware of the fact that this is not my first time at the circus. But, being that my boys are now 11 and 13, starting from step one is almost like having to learn the basics all over again. And some things have actually changed! When my boys were newborns we were told to have them sleep on their sides. They even had side-sleepers you could buy in the store if rolling a receiving blanket and propping the baby up on it was too much work for you. Now it's back-sleeping only, unless you're awake and available to check on them every five minutes to make sure they aren't suffocating themselves. But, for the most part, it's all coming back to me. Well, aside from the girl thing. Changing a girl's poopy diaper is a lot more challenging than changing a boy's poopy diaper. Let me explain without getting into too much detail. With a boy, you move it to one side, wipe the mess, move it to the other side, wipe the mess, clean up the backend however it's easiest, throw on a new diaper and, voila! Clean baby! A girl, however, has many, many more creases and crevices and nooks and crannies for the poop to hide. It takes a lot of spreading and investigating to really get them clean. And don't forget to wipe front to back only! Poor Jimmi gets so uncomfortable when he has to handle the stinky ones on his own, but he's a trooper and pushes through!

Speaking of Jimmi…I've never seen the man so in love with another woman. My heart explodes each time I see him with her, talking to her and kissing her and telling her how beautiful she is and how much he loves her. It doesn't hurt that she looks EXACTLY like him! I must've taken 1000 photos of the two of them because I need to know it's real, and not just my mind showing me what I want to see.

And the boys love having a sister, too! They read to her and sing to her and watch her while I clean up or take a shower. She's been such a perfect addition to our family and she was worth every minute we had to wait for her.

And I must tell you about Lyndsay. She's doing great! She still has good days and not so good days, but her doctor mentioned, on more than one occasion, that she is very lucky to still be around to tell the tale of Aria's crazy birth. Aria is eight weeks old and Lyndsay will finally be cleared to go back to work this coming Monday. We are still is awe of Lyndsay's incredible strength and resilience.

Two months. How is my little baby two months old already? 

Since her birth she's grown almost four inches and five pounds! She can hold her head up, smile and coo. She loves to smile and "talk" to her invisible friends who gather around her changing table. Jimmi and I are convinced they must be our grandparents or her sisters who were lost at 9 weeks gestation. But our games of "Repeat the Sound" are her favorites, as seen here:

(If the video isn't embedded, copy and paste this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqdZwN3-Rb4&feature=youtu.be)

Because of Aria, for the first time in the last three years, I've been able to forget about cancer. Well, not completely forget about it. But I've been so busy and so completely wrapped up in my beautiful creation that The Big C hasn't been able to take over my thoughts and ruin my days. But I knew, eventually, I'd have to start the countdown again. And now is the time. 

T-minus 2 days until my next CT scan.

Yes, it's that time again. The week when I start nervously bingeing on as much chocolate as I can find. The week when I'll bite your head off if I don't like the way you say, "hello." The week when my heart beats so loudly in my head it keeps me awake at night. No matter how many times I've prepared for scan week, it never gets easier. And now I have a whole new set of worries. What will happen to little Aria if my cancer is back? Who will feed her and dress her and comfort her if I'm too sick? What if I die? My baby will never remember me. The boys are older now. That doesn't mean it would be easy for them to handle a recurrence, but at least they'd remember me if I didn't make it. Would Aria grow up calling someone else, "Mommy"?

Yes, these are the sick thoughts that travel through my pounding head. Friday will be here soon and my destiny will be revealed shorty after my body is scanned from knees to neck. Bad news will send me into a whirlwind of tests and treatments and good news will give me peace of mind…but only for the next three months until I start the countdown again.