Leo Clement

 The Lenten spring has finally arrived. Even though outside you can't tell, but underneath the snow, the very tiny bit of snow anyway, life is starting to stir. For the next couple of months, we try to fast from indulgences, to temper our wants and desires, to be kinder and softer to those in our lives. After which, Pascha, or Easter, will triumphantly arrive and become the culmination of our faith and of the long and hard winter journey. I for one, am ready for this winter to be over. Like that chatter box in the rear seat yelling every three seconds: "are we there yet?" I too am just about jumping out of my seat at every landmark that brings us closer. Who needs steak and candy when you can have this? Yeah I am that crazy. So crazy that I am actually relieved that our 40 day Great Lent has arrived with its austerity, haunting music, and limited menu. Glad that now I don't have any more excuses to keep me from de-cluttering my mind and so...

It might be a blessing in disguise, the oral/speech therapist said to me today. Perhaps it can be a good thing that little man is refusing a bottle since his surgery. He had to give it up sometime. Why not now?   Since the surgery, he has been adamantly, no, vehemently refusing a bottle.  No way! Get that instrument of torture away from me he exclaims! He had a bad experience in the hospital and blames the bottle. Trauma runs deeper then the conscious level.  Is my baby really done with all this? I remember when I weaned Nika from nursing. (At 2 yrs old!!!) I had to quit her cold turkey because I got sick and my breast-milk was filled with nasty meds. I think it was harder for me then for her. She suddenly seemed so grown up, so independent from me. Although Leo quit nursing from me on his own way back, it never felt like quitting all the way. I still gave him bottles and held him as he gurgled and chugged...

Remember those old folk tales about changelings? Those stories about changelings that stole away human babies, took their places, and then worked mischief on the unsuspecting parents. But sometimes the parents would realize what happened, and, of course, freak the heck out. Imagine suddenly not recognizing your own child. Yikes! I have been going through a little bit of this emotional freak out with our own personal changeling. I guess I never spent enough time thinking about the outcome of this new surgery, which ultimately, was more cosmetic then the last one. The other surgery did major reconstruction, no doubt about it, but it didn't change his face. I remember the plastic surgeon mentioning how some parents have a hard time coming to grips with the changes wrought in their babies physique, but I disregarded that statement at the time. I had other things to worry about! So now, I find myself remembering that and experiencing...

And at least we are dead beating it at home.  They let us go today after lunch, without much hassle. Whenever we are discharged from the hospital after a longish stay, I am always surprised at how easy it is to leave when they let us. I always feel like I should grab the boy and run, while the mission impossible soundtrack plays in the background. I get this surreal feeling like it is almost to easy to just walk out: carrying him, with maybe a passing nurse's goodbye following us out. Is that all there is? Shouldn't there be a crowd cheering frantically and waving us out? A fanfare? Or maybe the satisfying sound of bullets thwacking aimlessly into the floor as we sprint heroically down the hallway and into a waiting helicopter? Ah well. It was nice to stroll out of there regardless. Little man was very happy to be home, and stopped playing "the frail boy who just had his head cut open" and immediately upon arrival started crawl...

Today Leo man had some lows, but also had some highs. Between feeling a bit yucky in his tummy, and owy in his head, he also had some smiles and giggles for his favorite people. It is easy for us to stay fairly positive about his recovery. All we have to do is compare it to the ordeal we went through last time. This doesn't even compare. Yeah, it is hard. And yeah we are tired and emotionally drained, but at 3 days post-op last time, Leo was still dead to the world and on life support. Today he is complaining, smiling, eating, and very much alive. Thank God. The deciding factor on the idea of discharge tomorrow depends on how much fluid little man takes in and puts out tonight. He has been rebelling the bottle the last couple days. I guess it is really the only thing he can say no to. But, he really needs to drink so that we can get the heck home. Staying hopeful, and staying faithful, love to all of you, and thanks so much for all your prayers! Here a...

The worst is over, technically, but the hard part of healing is yet to come. The surgery was a total success, and Leo only lost one unit of blood, which is really nothing when compared to his last surgery, where he lost 4. However, our little Lion is emotionally scarred from his last experience, so when he woke up yesterday, in a hospital bed, plugged in, and with a pounding headache (really everywhere ache) he was one mad and very scared little baby! It was a long night full of tears, sleepless dreams, and morphine. This morning, though looking pretty battered and swollen, Leo drank some milk and even played with his rattle. But he is still pretty sensitive to anyone touching him or fiddling with his wires. I must have held him for hours, just gently stroking him, and playing his favorite Dan Zane's album on the ipad over and over and over again, until even the kiddo next door has them memorized. I don't know what is more exhausting at this point, not sleepi...

We are sitting here, calmly, listening to Leo breathing. Well, more like snoring. And he is breathing room air!!! No life support, though he does have a femoral IV which works great and saves him from having needles in his hands or feet. Wow. This guy is amazing. He looks great, and the surgeons came out to us smiling. What a different picture then last time. And his new noble brow! Wow! Although it is puffy and will get even more so, the results are amazing. So happy. So relieved. More later, so stay tuned. And thank you for all your prayers today. They work!

Now it's all up to the doctors. It's all about trust. He's passed out of our hands and into theirs. And God oh God, please keep him safe. I carried him into the OR. It was bright and warm, with cheerful balloons and landscapes paintd on the wall that helped distract from all the scary machines, monitors, and of course, featured in the middle, the table itself. I always forget how small and narrow the actual table is. A thin resting place where the battle between life and death is fought. They put him to sleep in my arms, and he was scared. Then he stilled, leaving me with the expression in his eyes burnt on to the inside of my eyelids. No parent should have to do this. And yet so many do. Trust. Trust. Trust. I make it the mantra of my racing heart.

Hey, buddy... Guess what? You know what mummy is doing? Packing your favorite blankie and toy. Why?  Well...you know your forehead? Yeah that one right there in the mirror..... I'm sorry honey, but the doctors are going to fix it for you tomorrow. I know that sounds scary and owy, but think about how handsome you will be! The girls are gonna dig you for sure.  Don't cry baby, you'll make me loose it too, and we are out of tissues. What's that now? You think I'm joking? Hmm... well..... Uh.. You think I'm packing for the spa here?  Really? Ok, baby, if you insist. Forget that doctor hospital junk, you and me, we are heading for a spa! And when we come home, boy baby, you are going to look and feel so good! Watch out world, here comes Leo man!