One Month Later


It is hard to believe that the surgery was just over a month ago. Have I mentioned that he has been seizure-free ever since? The last one that we saw was when we were walking to Johns Hopkins on the morning of the surgery.

Here’s another tidbit, if you’re looking for happiness in your day: we were in occupational therapy earlier this week and he mis-identified which arm is his “wiggly arm”. That one about made me fall out of my chair. That he would have seizures several times a day that manifested in that arm, and that he would stop using that arm altogether at points- and now momentarily forgets which one it even was? Incredible. Just…crazy incredible.

So it is kind of easy to just move on now. Everything is moving in the right direction. But I think to do that would be to miss a lot of what happened. I mentioned once that the full weight of what we all just went through was too much to hold at points. So I didn’t really deal with the sadness and anger of the ICU or the fear and sadness with seeing all of those seizures, month after month. And that is fine because- you know- you have to keep functioning, right? But I think that’s what is next for me- a little more pondering and getting my head and heart around what just happened.

(This is one of those things that did not come to me on my own, but was kindly suggested to me by a couple of friends. And it resonated with me as right.)


In Whole30 news:

We are on day 8 and that intense irritability has really lessened or- dare I say it- passed. I’m pretty much a bundle of rainbows and sunshine again. But not sugar-infused sunshine. Chicken breast and egg-infused sunshine. Because that’s all I eat.

(Kidding. I eat vegetables and fruit too. And nuts. But that’s it.)

My energy feels nice and consistent throughout the day. But- here’s an important note- I always start my week off with high energy. On Mondays, I attack projects and homeschool children and do laundry and take on the world. It is Wednesday now, and usually I start to lose energy for everything starting tomorrow. By Friday afternoon I am a shell of a mom and can barely press play on Netflix. So the real test for me will be to see how I feel in the next few days. Do I just want to lay around all day and parent from the horizontal position? Or do I still want to get up and engage with my kids and all of that good stuff?

Time will tell.


Last thought, regarding homeschooling: I love mornings like this. Kids in p.j.s at 10:00 a.m., stuffing themselves in the kitchen island. One day they won’t all fit in there.


14 thoughts on “One Month Later

  1. Can you please ask them to try to do a reenactment of this one day when they are much larger? And then hang the pictures side-by-side on your wall. That would be amazing.

  2. So thankful to God for all He has accomplished these past several months in our little buddy and in your whole family (extended included as we trusted Him and held out hope). What beautiful monkeys you have and WAY TO GO on the whole 30 dealio! IMPRESSIVE!!!!!!!!! I can barely give chocolate up for 5 hours. Seriously!

  3. “The baby” isn’t looking so much like a baby in that picture anymore. What a cute little boy!

  4. So absolutely amazing! Praise God! I missed you are homeschooling–awesome and the whole diet thing, yeah–awesome too:) you are amazing and I sort of get the whole processing thing later on after getting through a huge ordeal. I’m like that too and then gave delayed reactions and emotions once it is all over. It’s like The Lord pulls us through, gives adrenaline to hold together and keep on with life and then stuff sinks in. Love reading your updates!!

  5. I think I was kinda numb through my whole NICU experience. (Of course, I was drugged for much of it, so…yeah.) Then one day, a few months later, when all the drama had been over for quite some time, I found myself sobbing one day. Angry, sad, feeling cheated–all kinds of feelings. I just felt walloped by the enormity of what we’d all been through. While they were there, I was somehow able to almost forget that the IC stood for “intensive care.” It is funny (weird, not ha-ha) how our bodies/hearts keep us from feeling things until we can stand to.

    I’m glad things are going well. And I LOVE that pic. Think they’ve got a future in contortionism.

  6. oh kat, it warms my heart to see that, in many ways, you are an identical mom to your mom. I mean, I can see a photo like that of some kids crammed in a kitchen island, and the reasons it would be important to you, at your Lincoln house. Does that make sense? anyhow, just seeing that legacy living on and it’s sweet. the kids are gorgeous. just gorgeous! xoxoxoxoxo


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