Finally some photos!

And still we wait to be discharged. Won't happen until his counts recover and they're taking their time. Meanwhile, we're threatened with antibiotics at every teething temperature fluctuation. The state of his posterior has us holding them back with sticks. Three days of IV means not 20 minutes between soaking diapers, which is NOT conducive to healing raw skin.

He's slowly pulling through this latest teething round. Still many happy moments for the impossibly wonderful little man.

Is It Just Me?

I cling desperately to the evidence of longer daylight hours. It's somehow so exciting, the prospect of more time under the sun. This year, it almost seems to announce our impending freedom.

It's just so oppressively 'Hibernate', the early darkness mixed with breath-stealing cold. You know the cold... it freezes your nosehairs together within seconds of emerging from the violent cloud of heat as you and it pours out of your house. Gahg. Everything you touch seems to scream of fear that it's going to break - your car, the screen door, even your boots protest with loud squeaks across hard-packed snow.

By why on earth am I contemplating such things on an unseasonally warm day. Even while I revel in the rare luxury of breathing in warm moist air tonight, I know the truth. It'll be one slick guantlet on the roads in the morning!

We've had more teething setbacks and the alarm bells went off when he spiked a little teething fever. "Better safe than sorry". They need a parrot on the floor. This round with the teeth has incited more abrupt and discouraging results. I had to laugh at myself as I thought of how a severe diaper rash is often a parents' first object of helplessness and heartbreak. It took me a minute to remember that it wasn't our first. That is the gift of time, I suppose. Already, it dulls and rounds the acute points of trials endured, helps to (almost) forget and march on to the next mountain.

I have a personal goal that I hope to master in the coming year. If I cannot do it in that time, I fear an undesireable pattern will be set. I want to make an effort not to "wear" this event of my family's. You know the people who cling to tragedies through their lives, brandishing them about as though they were a physical shield that allowed them a pass. I'm not naturally the loud martyr-type, but alone in my room, so to speak, I really feel the deepness of this particular hit to my whole. Even as we are a success, and even as I appreciate how many people don't get to keep their babies, even as I appreciate how much harder others have to fight, I mourn all that he's already been through. I feel it is a selfish indulgence but I cannot help it.

It's almost over.

Busy Times.

There's a lot going on right now. We're busting our humps to wrap up the million tiny touches of my shop before business really gets rolling. We're accommodating a couple of dogs already for boarding, but the grooming won't start until February. I'm really jazzed to start working again and am happily tweaking my space to suit me better. Patrick has been phenomenal help with all the hard stuff. I'm going to have to clean up after these boarders and do a photoshoot for my website to update the pics.

Keeping my brain and body occupied is helping to distract me from my impatience. We're RIGHT THERE. We're at the end, only his counts are still dropping. Not until they show a steady upswing will they release us. He's had two infusions of blood and platelets this time. Evidence that his little body is losing ground to the toxic meds, needing more and more help to recover. I'm SO relieved that there is no more to put him through. I can't wait to welcome him home for the last time, to be an intact family unit again.

The Little Man himself is teething again. Tooth #5 has broken through and I suspect there's a couple more chasing it. He spends his days this week snuggling and dozing. We're looking forward to him getting past this and back to his cheerful, exhausting self.

He is the best thing to ever happen to us.

He Continues to Shine his Light When it's Needed Most.

Developmentally, he's a MONSTER.

Into everyone and everything, he stands alone for almost a full minute at a time and drags items larger than himself along while he cruises. Given something to hold on to, he's FAST on those little feet. His little arms are constantly fishing between the bars to claim anything within reach. He knows how to stand on things to climb higher in the crib and enjoys making his own rhythm by banging things together. His musical tastes continue to vary - into some hard core rap today. Great.

Just the other day he launched himself right past me out of the crib, which is as high as my waist. I caught him in the air, his head a foot from the cement floor and his toes pointing to the sky. !!!Whaaaa?!!!

I think we're really in for it.

Thank You For Having Me.

I've never meant it so much.

My heart breaks for a friend struggling with a heavy loss. Her friend, her sister, her mother. It's a struggle she should not have to bear at this time. I wish that I could help her avoid it altogether.

The air in my lungs weighs me down at the loud omission of a once vibrant and cheerful life.

Even knowing it's coming and looking forward to the completion of a long and exhausting battle, the reality of the void still knocks everything right out of your being.

She was so brave - laughing even, during her last day.
Her name means Resolute Protector.
How apt.

I still struggle to wrap my head around the fact that all that was Wilma, all that was contained in that beautiful person, is gone.

Where ever you are girl, I know that you're flying and I wish you the very best.