Happy 9 months

Gabe is 9 months old today, which also means we have been back home for 7 months. Time just keeps rolling along. We are still working on crawling, I think along with feeding, it is our biggest current goal. He tolerates being on his belly better now, but still doesn't like forward motion (I'm sure the tug of his button just doesn't feel right). Not that he doesn't want to be mobile, you can see him watching his brothers, the dog wandering by or that toy, piece of paper, lint that is just out of reach and you know he wants so badly to go somewhere. We get him up on all fours and he tolerates it better than he used to, but still gets aggravated after about 30-60 seconds. He likes standing and pulling up better than getting on all fours, but we've been told that crawling is very important and even if he should walk before he crawls, he still has to learn to crawl. Something about that opposing motion involved in crawling that integrates the right and left brain. He could have some real issues down the road if crawling is skipped. I knew it was important, but not that important. So, we'll work on the crawling!!

Feeding seems to be moving right along. He hasn't had any big increases in the past few days, but we're holding steady and don't seem to be losing any ground for now. This week we see Pulmonology here in town. Maybe Dr. Macke will tell us Gabe doesn't need to be on the monitor at bed time anymore and we'll see another piece of equipment head out the door. That would leave only the nebulizer, I believe. Is that right? I think it is. I don't think we'll stop the breathing treatments soon, but now that we are only doing two per day, it isn't a big deal. We usually do it at morning nap time and before bed time and he will often fall asleep during the treatment anyway. I think it is actually comforting to do the treatments, since the area seems to be lousy with RSV. A couple of weeks ago he developed a bit of a cough with his snotty nose and I wondered about it...but it never seemed to progress into anything too worrisome and I can't help but think the treatments may have helped stave off a more serious problem. We're doing our best to follow the rules and keep him and the older two as safe as we can, but with all that is bouncing around and as sick as so many people are right now, we feel as though we've been protected. We have needed this winter to be as healthy as possible and so far we've been incredibly fortunate. I have got to stop saying that!! It ain't over yet - as can be evidenced by yet another dusting of snow on the trees.

As each Sunday goes by, and more time passes, I find myself looking more eagerly and hopefully toward spring. Spring is a time of rebirth and renewal after all. From the moment we decided we were taking Gabe home, against the advice of some, we knew we did so at a risk and that this winter would be very important. There is only one week left in February, then March, then April....no, it isn't over yet but we're getting so close. I need to walk outside and feel a 70 degree breeze on my face. It has nothing to do with cabin fever or a desire to walk outside without a coat. That first crocus pushing up through the earth will signify another hurdle has passed. I've never run a marathon, but I know how it feels to be in the last leg of a long race. In the beginning of a race, your breath comes hard and fast until you find your rhythm. You are aware of your position, how far you have to go and you gather in and focus. Then you do settle in and find that rhythm, you feel good about where you are and don't dwell on the finish - it's too far off to think about, no not yet. It's time to focus on the next hurdle, one step at a time, pass the next one and the next one, just keep going. Ultimately, you turn and find yourself closing in on the final leg of the race. It's not over, but it's getting closer and your breath comes faster again. You're tired and you become aware of all the aches, but there is also a gathering inside, anticipation for that final push to the finish. For me the final push was the greatest moment, and I almost always had it in me to surge forward. There's such focus and clarity then, and the aches and breathlessness fade away for those last few moments. If you like this metaphor, then I think we are (hopefully) heading into the last lap for this winter. We're tired and anxious for normal, but the final push isn't here yet. We're antsy and anxious for it, ready for the moment when we can go to church as a whole and complete family, without debate or reservation. Ready to venture out to the grocery store or to Target, and have no regret other than the obvious regrets that come with taking three children along shopping. Oh we've relaxed some. The last sleep study gave us tremendous peace of mind and every time I look at him, I know he's really ok. But still, there's a sense of anticipation. Every spring it seems with each bloom I see thrusting its way quietly up through the earth and bursting open, something bursts open inside of me too. I can't even imagine how I will feel this year when I see that first unfolding daffodil or crocus, announcing the earth's rebirth. I may just be downright giddy.