Eighteen

Rees turned eighteen yesterday and although I'm rarely at a loss for words (appropriate or not, unfortunately) I've been staring at a blank page for half an hour during this, my all-alone-quiet-time.   Ken already wrote a perfect, poignant letter and tucked it inside a Man Book, but I've scanned some great old baby pictures that beg to be shared, so blather on I will . . .

This is the best picture so it's first.

He made me a mother. Although too much comparison time on this computer often renders me depressed by my maternal flaws, I love motherhood and I love him very much. I also like him very much. He's a pleasant, funny, honest, hardworking guy who lives his Holy Faith. He likes country music, pizza, backpacking, hunting, Tolkien, and the USMC. He does not like Josh Groban (I'm working on that.), sushi, hybrid cars, Barack Obama, clapping during Mass, and cystic fibrosis.  He can climb Pioneer Peak, field dress large animals, argue politics, play with his little brothers and sisters, and ju-jitsu bad guys to the ground; but he can't sing or cook (Sorry, Future Wife.).

Because of CF care, we let him do things that first-time parents rarely do: eat cake, watch TV, and nap in our big bed, but it didn't ruin him and mellowed us more quickly, which the other kids appreciate. Because he was our firstborn, we were certain he was the brilliantest boy ever and began schoolwork early. But because he grew up to be logical and figured that out, he slowed down his pace near the end (You never did give me that essay on The Abolition of Man, did you?).

So he's eighteen now ~ working, taking classes, driving around with friends, hiking alone, and taking care of himself. I still do his laundry and fix him food and stay up late watching movies with him, as we move into the next life. Along with sweet, teary nostalgia, I look forward to seeing where Our Lord leads him and ask the Blessed Mother to join me in prayer for him.

Two weeks old at a friend's wedding.

Driving to Alaska.

Not quite a year old (at Providence Hospital).

Two years old.

Here are the Man Quotes that Ken put in his letter:

“Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain't you! You're better than that! I'm always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You're my son and you're my blood. You're the best thing in my life…”

-Rocky Balboa

Speaking to his son in Rocky Balboa (2006)

“In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.”

-President Theodore “Teddy/TR” Roosevelt

“Now what should happen when you make a mistake is this: you take your knocks, learn your lessons, and then move on. That’s the healthiest way to deal with a problem.”

-President Ronald Reagan (1987)

“On some positions, cowardice asks the question, is it expedient? And then expedience comes along and asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? Conscience asks the question, is it right?

There comes a time when one must take the position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.”

-Dr. Marin Luther King, Jr.

“If running against men has wearied you, how will you race against horses?  And if in the land of peace you fall headlong, what will you do in the thickets of the Jordan?”

-Jeremiah 12:5

“Avoid profane and silly myths. Train yourself for devotion, for while physical training is of limited value, devotion is valuable in every respect, since it holds a promise of life both for the present and for the future. This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance. Let no one have contempt for your youth, but set an example for those who believe, in speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity.”   “…man of God… pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

-1 Timothy 4:7-9, 12; 6:11-12

Last night.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, REES!

WE LOVE YOU AND ARE PROUD OF YOU!

Breastfeeding a Baby with CF

Do everything this book says.  The end.

I should talk more ~


Ecological breastfeeding is what it's called and here's how it works:

Frequent and unrestricted nursing for nutrition and nurturing, without the use of pacifiers or bottles or cups or pumps.  This requires a mother and baby to be physically close for a good year, which means that it's for full-time homemakers only.  Giving a baby everything he or she needs at your breast keeps up milk production, rest, and health.

Here's why it's especially good for babies with CF:

Good nutrition that is easily digested and strong emotional bonds give medically fragile children comforting support.  Of course, this is true for all kids; my point is simply that when a child has health problems and already operates at a deficit, ecological breastfeeding is a very real way to put an ace in their hand. Our firstborn was diagnosed failure to thrive at 6 weeks, put on formula, then diagnosed with CF at 9 months.  It was too late to fill him up with breastmilk.  Our babies after him were fed on demand as we awaited the genotyping results.  Four became rolly-polly Mama's boys, without CF.

(You get the idea!)
And a chubby little brunette girl, too (Can't find any digital photos...).

Then we got another, littler girl with CF.  Ecological breastfeeding took on new intensity as her symptoms became clear and the diagnosis finalized.  She has not gotten chubby with frequent nursing, but she has held her own and remains healthy.

Desiring both to make sure that she was getting the most amount of good calories and that I was not nursing to fulfil my needs,  I recently compared nutritional information for breastmilk with a few of my favorite first foods for babies (whole milk yogurt, sweet potatoes, bananas).  I promptly shelved the idea and settled down on the couch with my current book and my baby, thoroughly convinced (again) that the perfection of breastmilk is all that's needed!   A bit more googling of babies with cystic fibrosis and breastfeeding yielded disappointing results (Not in the information, but the amount). This wonderful article from the LaLeche League, this encouraging one from a center in UT, and this interview by a popular CF blogger were all I found.  Since they are awesome, maybe that's fine.


I've also enjoyed carrying my babies in a sling, as it keeps them upright to aid reflux and near my heart to aid breathing.  Plus they're fashionable and an adorable accessory!  

 

So it is absolutely possible to successfully nurse your CF baby.  It is at least absolutely worth committing to try a month of frequent, unrestricted everything at the breast (food and pacification) and check weight.  If it doesn't work, then you'll know that you gave it your all and that you can embrace and thank God for life-saving formula.

With affection and support,
Allison


"You drew me forth from the womb and made me safe at my mother's breast."  (Psalm 22:10)

Story

 

I have a story in the latest Chicken Soup for the Soul book called Thanks to CF.

 

That's all.

Excuse me please while I dance a bit!

Love,
Allison

Six Months with Addie

This past Valentine's Day, our seventh baby was born, a second girl we named Adah Marie, after our grandmothers in heaven that have been praying for us.  We call her Addie, and she has cystic fibrosis.

Like her eldest brother, she needs pulmonary therapy thrice daily (gentle patting on her chest and back to loosen thick mucus for coughing up), digestive enzymes before every nursing session, extra salt, probiotics, albuterol, and antibiotics.  She will never know differently unless a drug is discovered that targets the genetic defect (Let us pray...).

Even though I understood the genetics, thanks to great high school biology classes on Mendel's pea plants and I knew there was a 1:4 chance that CF could resurface, I nevertheless fought near constant nauseous panic the first few days and weeks as the symptoms became clear.  When the results of the genetic test returned Two copies of DF508 mutation.  Cystic Fibrosis Diagnosed, I cried.  Bawled, really, because this is where the theological truths of our Holy Faith crash against the anguish of heartbroken parents in a battle of weeping, fighting, swords, and clubs.  It felt like that, anyway.  I didn't want to visit friends with healthy children; maybe because I was jealous and maybe because I didn't want to be a downer.  I didn't want anyone else to hold her.  I told her I'm sorry a million times (I counted.).

But I've gone through these wranglings before and this time I have 2000 years of Church teaching and a Holy Mother to help.  Catholic theology holds that children are a gift, not a right; that suffering can bring us closer to Jesus; and that people are made for God.  Did I really believe what I'd been writing about on this blog for the past year and a half?  (Of course, thanks be to God and the prayers of Saint Therese!)  The Holy Spirit reminded me of the embarrassment of riches I have in our sacramental marriage blessed with so many children, and graces pouring upon me; so I picked myself up, made a morning offering of thanksgiving, called my friend over to tea, and proudly passed off my pretty daughter for auntie-ish snuggles.

We've figured out a good daily groove for Addie's care (Which basically means a chart for the others kids to keep track of who gets to do her therapy and squirt stuff into her mouth.) and we're delighting in the cuteness of our little girl; for CF chores and all, she is our own baby with her own personality ~

Spitting raspberries.

She slides down just enough to read the instruction stickers.

.

Loves to jam her hands into her mouth.

She especially digs her bouncy seat ~ see her feet in the air?

Quiets right down when Ken plays his guitar.

Clare and Addie ~ my girls!

Big Red is her friend.

Be still, my heart!





Happy six months, Adah Marie!  We are so thrilled and thankful for you!

5 Things I Can Do, Now That I'm Catholic

(I know, I know.  Some Catholics do not do these things and some protestants do.  It's simply a little fun in my life.)

 1.)  Celebrate Halloween.  Yes, sir, I love Halloween.  My only childhood memories of trick-or-treating are from photographs, as all that Devil nonsense ended at about age 10, when my parents "got saved."  Now I encourage my children to pick something really dead and scary or a saint, making sure that the identifying prop is gross (like bloody arrows for Sebastian).  I love telling them that it's a night to poke fun at Death, for the next day celebrates our beloved friends in heaven.  Plus I don't have to make breakfast, lunch, or snacks the following few days. As long as they have glasses of milk, they are ordered to eat it all so that the buckets don't languish, every sneaking Tootsie Roll ruining lunches for days.

2.)  Drink wine.  Nectar of the gods.  We were taught that Jesus drank "new wine," certainly not fermented alcohol, and the licensure contract for the Assemblies of God required a signature whereby we agreed to abstain from alcohol.  No more.  We choose; we enjoy; we thank God for luxuries.  My favorite is to sip a glass of red wine while cooking dinner.  Gets me in touch with my 1/4 Italian.

3.)  Enjoy secular art.  My salvation is neither in question nor jeopardy if I appreciate art from unbelievers, or different-believers.  If something is good, true, and beautiful; if something draws me outward and upward, then I can thank God for talent, regardless of the artists' religion.  No guilt.

 4.)  Recite rote prayers.  Such a weight lifted when I no longer had to create my own prayers.  As a brand new Catholic, it felt like cheating if I read someone else's words, but I was healed of that problem right quick.  Catholic prayers, even when prayed all alone and for personal reasons, always contain an element of community, witnessed by the many inclusions of plural pronouns like we and us.  The Communion of Saints is a consoling component of the Faith, and something I'm deeply grateful to be able to point my kids towards.

5.)  Have all the babies I want and help get them to Heaven.  No need to pretend that there's anything more important or spiritual or grave.  Or delightfully fun!  My ministry is husband, home, children and it is full-time  ("Full-time ministry" is the pinnacle of protestant sprirituality and pride.).  The world is God's and we use our fearfully and wonderfully made selves to know Him and to make Him known (Halleluia!).  But I do not carry the weight alone, for my Holy Mother Church makes available much aid. 



So I'm happy to be Catholic for all the theological and historical truth, and for all the little extras that make the journey merry.

Some of the kids on Assumption Day.


Let's be happy and enjoy the world!
Love,  Allison

 

Books and Food

I've fallen into the Rainbow Resource catalog and am unable to speak coherently (Have you seen that thing?  No wonder I've avoided it for so long.  Lawd.).  I'm ordering someone else's plan because I do not want to create my own this year.  I do want to make time for things like cooking well-thought-out meals, cleaning proactively instead of reactively, reminding myself how to play the piano, and taking showers before Ken arrives home.  So I will organize the materials on each child's shelf and answer their brilliant questions in a lilting voice while practicing my scales or reading Chesterton.  It's a good plan.  It'll work. 


That introduction is my excuse for a short post.


What I've got is wonderful, though.  Food and drink it is:
Rees' new favorite shake and my new favorite summer zucchini meal.



TROPICAL SHAKE

1 cup of coconut milk  (Ken gets small cans from Sam's that seem thick like evaporated milk.)
1 cup of OJ
1 cup of frozen mixed fruit (Ours is a blend of strawberries, mangoes, pineapples and peaches.)
A blop of honey (Maybe a tablespoon.)

It's the prettiest pale orange color and he appreciates the fruitiness, as he says he's sick of chocolate and mocha  (Who'd a thunk it?).




ZUCCHINI BAKE

Fill whatever size pan you want with zucchini circles.  Cover with shredded cheese.  Cover with bacon bits.  Bake until desired veggie tenderness, cheesy meltiness and bacon crunchiness.  Add some sort of bread and supper is ready.


I even have Clare do it so that I can continue my path down homeschool catalog insanity . . .

Kidding on the insanity part; this is me.  It is.

Happy weekend.  Happy studying.

 Warmly,  Allison





Life Site News

Life Site News writer Pete Baklinski has written a delightful article telling our story, which I'm going to link to in the About page and the Helpful Links page.  It made me smile and cry; hope you will, too.

Warmly,
Allison