A Journey of the Heart

We had an appointment with a parade of specialists from UAMS and Arkansas Children's Hospital yesterday to address the questionable ultrasound pictures we've seen over the past few weeks.  The investigation began about a month ago when our regular obstetrician's visit revealed potentially unusual placement and size of Ava's digestive organs.  From what the doctors have concluded thus far, her ability to digest and thrive from what she is digesting seems to be unhindered.  However, a precautionary look at the rest of her organs flagged a possible growth-related issue concerning her heart.  We were then scheduled to return to the high risk specialty clinic for further ultrasounds and an echocardiogram, followed by a visit with a pediatric cardiologist and a high risk pregnancy specialist.

According to the cardiologist's assessment of the views provided, the left ventricle of Ava's heart is slightly undersized, which has likely affected the growth of the aorta that loops above it.  While this causes no problem in the womb because of the heart's greater dependence upon the right ventricle and a temporarily intact ductus arteriosus, shortly following birth the ductus arteriosus closes and the heart begins to rely more heaily upon the left ventricle.  

Since it isn't possible to measure the effectiveness of her left ventricle until after she's born, our medical team is making arrangements for her delivery to be scheuled as an induction at UAMS in order to have her immediately dosed with medication to extend the life of the ductus arteriosus and have her transported to Arkansas Children's Hopital. From what I understand, after that point we'll have to see how lefty does its job and if there is any hardship to the mitral valve that depends on it.  If its processes are sufficient, that would be ideal.  If they aren't, a series of surgeries may happen for her.

I know that this update might seem like a sudden turn of events on this blog, but I've been hesitant to record these details of our precious daughter's development because, frankly, I've been to afraid to face what these complications might mean in her fragile life.  Now that the things she might be dealing with seem somewhat clearer and the shock of all these appointments is fading, I understand that NOW is the time to relinquish our paralyzing fears and ask for unceasing prayer for our daughter, the medical team, and everyone we know that our family will depend on during Ava's early life.  

Anyone who knows Jason and I well enough knows that we're a very self-reliant little team.  It's going to be a big adjustment to have to depend on the expertise of others for the sake of our girl's health.  While we'll move heaven and earth to insure she has access to the BEST care, we are aware that every miracle that's possible is in our Heavenly Father's hands and that He above all should receive the praise for every victorious moment of her impending battle. We know that none of this is a mistake on His part... It will be our blessing to love and protect her.

We love you, Perfect Girl.  Mommy and Daddy and all your grandparents are busy preparing for you to come home healthy and strong.  We have faith that God will show His mightiness through you.

Tasty birds

 

Our sweet church family threw a shower for us this past Sunday afternoon (December 9), and in my gleeful haste to gab and be festive, the only picture I took of the whole event was this shot of a single cupcake with the purple bird's beak nibbled off.  Yes, I ate it.  Yes, I monitored my sugar all afternoon so I could eat it.

I left nothing but a few marshmallow fondant feathers.  Let's have a moment of silence for Mr. Delicious Bird and his fallen comrades.

I would gladly accept and treasure any pictures from that day, if any gentle reader might oblige me... 

Santa is Strange.

 

I can only imagine what the packing slip for my recent package looked like to the good people at Amazon.com.

 

 

Contents:

 

1 Cuddleuppets Unicorn

 

1 F01T Tactical Tomahawk, Black

 

 Like my parents always told me:

Don't ask questions.

It's all part of the magic of Christmas.

 

 

 

 

Worryin Hour

Dear Ava Leigh,

By my watch, it's the Worrying Hour. 
(That translates to approximately five thirty, Central Time.)
I give my worries an hour to do ply their craft each day,
Then stuff them back into my nervous system for later.

I'm astounded by my spiritual immaturity,
in my refusal to relinquish my fears for you.
I don't care to discuss them. 
Wording my speculations might be like
loading a previously jammed weapon,
according to my frayed logic.

I'm not even confident that I understand
what the doctors are double-checking for on Friday,
since Dr. Double For Indiana Jones insists
that you do not behave like a sick baby.
But who calls the trucks out to a smokeless fire? 

The sound echo of your round, new face
is sleeping on my desk. 
I talk to the you in that picture,
the you that looks so much like my dad.
I'm comforted that you look so unbothered,
and I'm grateful for this glimpse of you...
you look like you couldn't be anything but perfect. 

No matter what,
You are.

And you will be.
You will be. 

Mini's Furry Friends: O Christmas Cat

 

O Christmas cat, O Christmas cat,

O where could you be hiding?

 

O Christmas Cat, O Christmas cat,

O where are you residing?

 

 

You're eighteen pounds

of evil fluff

 

I don't trust with

our Christmas stuff
 

O Christmas Cat, O Christmas Cat,

please don't chew through the deco.

 

 

O Christmas Cat, O Christmas Cat,

I see your tail a'flicking.

 

O Christmas Cat, O Christmas Cat,

Let's not eat wire netting!

 

 

Why do you slink

amongst the bling

 

And chew on sparkly,

blinky things?

 

 

O Christmas Cat, O Christmas cat,

This might be your last Christmas.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



IT'S NOT JUST UTER-ME NOW... IT'S UTER-US!

Guess what.

My sister Angela is pregnant.

 

What he, urm, she said!

I am ECSTATIC!!!!  Our children will be born in the same year, which means they'll get to poke each other in the eyes and pull each other's hair without one doing more damage than the other.  AND we'll both be about the same amount of crazy for the same reasons at the same time.  When you're the only crazy person in the room, it's just tragic.  When there are TWO crazy people in the room -- AND you're both growing bigger and hungrier by the day -- the odds are in your favor.  We ARE having Frito chili pie and mushroom soup for family dinner, DANGIT.

But seriously, I'm thrilled that Ava will have a cousin close to her age.  I was fortunate to have a few who I could have sleepovers with and exchange Lisa Frank stationary letters with through the mail when I was growing up.  Even if I didn't see them that often, we always managed to pick up where we left off as friends without the complication of being involved with one another's cliques at school.  We didn't feel the need to impress one another.  And best of all, our parents didn't have to worry about whose kids we were with. 

Even though Angela and I live about forty five minutes away from one another right now, we're still within close enough proximity to help one another or meet up for shopping trips.  This holiday season, that's going to be valuable -- with one of us puking and the other waddling, I expect we'll be able to negotiate some pity bargains if we hit the stores together!  Just kidding.

Or am I?

When it comes to bargain shopping, we are a little bit evil. 

 

Maybe not THAT evil.

 

I can't help but wonder what our five-year-old niece Jazmin is going to make of all this.  Her little world is going to explode with babies in 2013.  That's a hurricane of change and adjustment for a five-year-old.  I remember that feeling well.  I was five myself and attending kindergarten when Angela arrived, all wide-eyed and blond and smelling like powder and spit up.  While I'm sure that mom could tell me about all kinds of diabolical things I probably did on a daily basis in order to reestablish myself as the center of attention, the only five-year-old memory I have pertaining to that time was of being really proud that I had a baby sister.  I remember having mom bring her to Mrs. Chesser's class for show-and-tell so everyone else could admire her, too.  I don't remember being anything but proud and curious toward her. 

 

But then again, as we established earlier, I am a little evil.

 

But Jazmin is brighter than I was.  And she is very sensitive to others' feelings.  And after being in her position once myself, I'll try to teach her about her Big Important Role as older cousin.  As an older sister, I wish I had put more effort into being a better example for my younger siblings.  It's of no credit to me that they grew up to be so un-evil.  I think if I had realized that I would have a hand in guiding them, however accidentally, I would have taken more pleasure in my position as the oldest.  Now that I've realized it at thirty, all I get to do is to influence them to be as cheap as I am!     

 



 

 

Despite my past failures, I still think I'm slightly entitled to dole out a little sisterly advice in the case of pregnancy.  So Ang, if you're reading this today, this is all I have the right to say:

•  Keep your bellybutton clean.  You never know how awkwardly intimate some old ladies get when they rub your belly. 
• Don't apologize for accidentally burping, pooting or puking.  Just smile.  At no other time in your life will people think it's cute, so take advantage.
• When you think you're about to kill a bewildered husband or punt a pug across the room, retire to the master suite and watch The Notebook or What's Eating Gilbert Grape.  Wring yourself out, then repeat.  Your emotions are drenched in hormones, and you can outsmart those little boogers by rewiring them with an occasional lacrimal blowout.
• A little coffee in the morning cancels out a little cheese at night.  You'll figure out what I mean soon.

I LOVE YOU, MY FRIEN!  YOU CAN DO THIS!

 

 





 

  

Gettin' Nestified

I know that after the hurricane of activity at Mini Clenney's house this past week, we owe our family and friends an infinate amount of pizza and foot rubs.  (Well, that's what would sound good to me, anyway.) 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a feeling that some union somewhere is going to have my bum on a platter for all of the underpaid labor I took advantage of.

 

 Now look how spiffy things are! 

 

Here's the upstairs coffee station (because a spare ten dollar coffeepot saves me a few lumbering steps every morning)... 

 

 

...the White Room, which you may use when you visit if you can talk Honey Boo Boo Dog into giving up her daybed.  Good luck with that.  I'm pretty sure she's bigger than you.

 

 

 

 

...and the emerging mural in Ava Leigh's room which Daddy's still doctoring up on spare evenings.

 

 

 I would have a picture of the crib to share with you, but when Jason ripped open the package, we discovered that instead of the nice, tidy white bed we were expecting, we were given a yicky light oak piece.  No thanks.

 

So Daddy's negotiating skills were dusted off, and he straightened out the whole catastrophy with a nice management lady from Target who ordered the right bed and will give us a discount to make up for the trek across hill and dale to the nearest red dot boutique to retrieve it.  Crisis averted.  I hope that Mini inherits that silver tongue.

 

And speaking of that beautiful little girl, we were told at our last ultrasound that she has visible fat rolls.  Honey, you can have 'em!  They look so much cuter on you than me! 

 

 

 You look just like daddy when you're sleeping... 

Just another reason I love you.