Hello, gang!
Uff da. It has been awhile. I must admit that I've thought of writing about 100 times in the last couple months, but as more time passes I am almost embarrassed by that, thinking that I must really have something to say if I'm going to write a post. Who am I kidding? This is the world wide web! My writing may not be any more intriguing than watching a baby koala hugging it's momma, but I'm putting it out there, nonetheless!
Easter morning 2012 began dark and early... Ada and I headed to the first-ever outdoor sunrise service at our church, bundled for the cold. Too cold, in fact, for the precious dress I made for Ada, which proved to be completely impractical when it all came down to it. Nick was home with some sort of flu bug which came on quickly last evening, and hopefully will leave just as quickly.
As I was sitting in the back row with all the other parents of infants, I just soaked in the presence of the Lord and ate up all the precious words of the sermon and musical numbers. Well, that perhaps is not exactly true. Two nights prior, at the Good Friday service, I sat alone - again in the back row, of course, so as to make a speedy exit when baby became too unworshipful for those around her (!) - and I cried. I wish that I cried because of the powerful message of the Cross and what God has done for me through Christ's sacrifice. That is, after all, the point of going to a Good Friday service, right? To have moments to ponder the huge gift we've received in our salvation? Nick had exited the service after 12 minutes with Ada. I then could sit alone for the next half hour, and then we would switch. Win-win.
It was in the middle of "The Old Rugged Cross" that I got a text from Nick saying, "stay as long as you'd like... we're doing fine out here". I began to cry. Not only in the kindness of my husband in giving up an experience for me to have one, not only in the loneliness of rarely experiencing a church experience together as a family of three, but with the words "I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it someday for a crown." I lost it.
Cling. Clinging to hope. Clinging to a symbol of where my hope comes from. Wishing I had more of it. Hope, that is.
Life has settled in these last months into more of a routine. We live in our new place, which is such a blessing... more space, nice kitchen, garage. I teach music lessons, and Nick juggles his jobs and perhaps some of his sanity in the process. Ada continues to grow and do well, slowly gaining more skills.
And perhaps the main reason that I've not written much in these last months is that even with all the blessings of life, these past months have been such a difficult time for me, for us, and I am struggling to "make it", spiritually. I'm still dealing with so many questions and wish that I could just solve it all or forget it all. Go back to when life was simpler or easier to understand. So there have been many moments when I've been clinging, and that is tiring.
BUT... good news! Today we went to the cardiologist, and got a new look at Ada's heart. It looks very, very good, operating as it should be, and as a result she has very good oxygen saturation levels... in the high 80s, for those who care! Excellent for someone who has had the Glenn procedure! Ada continues in the same growth curve, and we were able to take her off of one more medication. So currently, she only takes aspirin, which is amazing. We've been given the go ahead to put her in the nursery, as the RSV and flu season is over, so that may help Nick and I to resume "normalish" living and have a bit of a break from time to time.
In addition, we had an appointment yesterday with Developmental Pathways, a group that assesses whether or not Ada would be qualified for extra services from the county, as she has been a bit delayed in gross motor and fine motor skills. However, she did not qualify, which actually is pretty good news, as it means that she is not enough delayed for anyone to be very concerned. That was what I was thinking would probably happen, as Ada has been gaining all sorts of mad skills these last couple of months. Army crawling is on its way, whenever there is the motivation of a sharp object or a cell phone on the floor. She's not going to waste her time and energy trying to get across the room to a lame plush toy. Not our girl. :)
So yes, this has been quite a disjointed post, written over the span of two very different days, but of course all of life has its difficulties and its celebrations. Thank you for hanging with us through both. Love much...
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Defining Moments
The day before a year ago today - we were pumped. At 3:30 in the afternoon we would discover what modern science would now allow us to find out- the gender of the little "Acorn" that I was carrying. Yes, I'd dreamed that we had a baby but that I'd been too drugged to remember any of it, so I woke to find Nick telling others that our baby's name was Acorn. So little Acorn, as we had dubbed him/her was starting to move and my belly was starting to grow, and now AT LAST we could find out if we'd be having an Ada June or a ... well, we didn't have a boy's name picked yet, so at least we'd know that we would have work to do!
Bladder full and excitement mounting, we were called back into the ultrasound room. I laid out on the bed and smiled at Nick. We tried to not be too junior high-ish, but who can refrain from a bit of giddiness at such a pivotal time? The tech didn't speak English very well, and what she said was short and to the point. She would point at a blob on the screen and say, "leg" or "heart" or "liver". Good times, good times, but what about the gender, ma'am? At one point she nonchalantly said, "...looks like a girl..." Uh... okay? Rather anti-climactic for me. But we waited for her to speak definitively and tell us FOR SURE. And we waited. And... this was taking some time. I got nervous. The few things she had been saying had stopped completely now. Silence in the room as Nick and I held hands and waited for it to be done.
The tech finished her work and told us we could leave and that a doctor would contact us with the results of the ultrasound. Results?? As in, we have a baby in there? It's proven now?? We walked out together into the hall and I started to cry. NOT the usual response after such a great experience of learning we were going to have a baby girl, or having the unique experience of seeing her.
The next morning, one year ago today, right now, I was making pancakes. Wild rice pancakes, I believe, my specialty. Nick's family was coming over for us to announce the gender of the first Pitrone grandchild. The pink whipping cream was all dished up in the fridge, hidden behind the salad dressings for the moment of the Great Reveal.
My cell phone rang.
I picked it up and heard the voice of Lori, my nurse practitioner. She apologized as she started the call, saying that these calls were the hardest part of her job.
I handed Nick the spatula and left the kitchen and the warm griddle and the gathering family and headed into the office/nursery-to-be in search of a pen. I scribbled out on two yellow post-its the verdict. Our baby didn't have all the chambers in her heart. Something was missing. There was a hole.... a ventricular septal defect, I wrote. I cried.
No. That- that's just not fair. It must be wrong. What did that lady know, anyways? It all looked like gobbledygook to me on the ultrasound screen. I bet they make mistakes like this all the time. How much training do they even have to become ultrasound techs? Anger, fear, fear, anger.
Nick saw my scribbled out notes and asked me more questions that would've been nice to ask while Lori was still on the phone. We had an appointment for later that afternoon for a follow-up with a REAL professional, a perinatologist, whatever that was. But for now, the pancakes were done and it was time to celebrate? I mean, CELEBRATE. Muster it up, Anna, you can do this. You've got stoic Swede running through your blood and Minnesota nice to top off the rest.
This was a defining moment in my life. To have difficult, perhaps tragic news delivered, and to learn how to survive. I cried at the table with Nick's family as I learned that there are times in life where putting on your best face or emphasizing the positive doesn't fix things. It's not honest.
My life took a turn that day- in what direction, I am still not positively sure. But it was a day that changed the course of my life and of our lives as a family. A year later and that baby Acorn is out, is over 16 pounds, is rolling over and then crying because she can't roll back, and has a scar story to knock any of the rest of us out of the running.
Maybe another year down the road, or two, when the details are not so fresh and vivid, I will look at this past year as "such a year of growth", or as a "precious time of trusting", or as a "great example of the Lord's provision". I'll shoot for that, don't you worry. I know in my heart of hearts that this past year I have had far more moments of desperation, anxiety, frustration, fear, fatigue, and doubt than I'll ever really let you know. After all, the pancakes are ready, and don't they smell delicious?
Bladder full and excitement mounting, we were called back into the ultrasound room. I laid out on the bed and smiled at Nick. We tried to not be too junior high-ish, but who can refrain from a bit of giddiness at such a pivotal time? The tech didn't speak English very well, and what she said was short and to the point. She would point at a blob on the screen and say, "leg" or "heart" or "liver". Good times, good times, but what about the gender, ma'am? At one point she nonchalantly said, "...looks like a girl..." Uh... okay? Rather anti-climactic for me. But we waited for her to speak definitively and tell us FOR SURE. And we waited. And... this was taking some time. I got nervous. The few things she had been saying had stopped completely now. Silence in the room as Nick and I held hands and waited for it to be done.
The tech finished her work and told us we could leave and that a doctor would contact us with the results of the ultrasound. Results?? As in, we have a baby in there? It's proven now?? We walked out together into the hall and I started to cry. NOT the usual response after such a great experience of learning we were going to have a baby girl, or having the unique experience of seeing her.
The next morning, one year ago today, right now, I was making pancakes. Wild rice pancakes, I believe, my specialty. Nick's family was coming over for us to announce the gender of the first Pitrone grandchild. The pink whipping cream was all dished up in the fridge, hidden behind the salad dressings for the moment of the Great Reveal.
My cell phone rang.
I picked it up and heard the voice of Lori, my nurse practitioner. She apologized as she started the call, saying that these calls were the hardest part of her job.
I handed Nick the spatula and left the kitchen and the warm griddle and the gathering family and headed into the office/nursery-to-be in search of a pen. I scribbled out on two yellow post-its the verdict. Our baby didn't have all the chambers in her heart. Something was missing. There was a hole.... a ventricular septal defect, I wrote. I cried.
No. That- that's just not fair. It must be wrong. What did that lady know, anyways? It all looked like gobbledygook to me on the ultrasound screen. I bet they make mistakes like this all the time. How much training do they even have to become ultrasound techs? Anger, fear, fear, anger.
Nick saw my scribbled out notes and asked me more questions that would've been nice to ask while Lori was still on the phone. We had an appointment for later that afternoon for a follow-up with a REAL professional, a perinatologist, whatever that was. But for now, the pancakes were done and it was time to celebrate? I mean, CELEBRATE. Muster it up, Anna, you can do this. You've got stoic Swede running through your blood and Minnesota nice to top off the rest.
This was a defining moment in my life. To have difficult, perhaps tragic news delivered, and to learn how to survive. I cried at the table with Nick's family as I learned that there are times in life where putting on your best face or emphasizing the positive doesn't fix things. It's not honest.
My life took a turn that day- in what direction, I am still not positively sure. But it was a day that changed the course of my life and of our lives as a family. A year later and that baby Acorn is out, is over 16 pounds, is rolling over and then crying because she can't roll back, and has a scar story to knock any of the rest of us out of the running.
Maybe another year down the road, or two, when the details are not so fresh and vivid, I will look at this past year as "such a year of growth", or as a "precious time of trusting", or as a "great example of the Lord's provision". I'll shoot for that, don't you worry. I know in my heart of hearts that this past year I have had far more moments of desperation, anxiety, frustration, fear, fatigue, and doubt than I'll ever really let you know. After all, the pancakes are ready, and don't they smell delicious?
Friday, January 20, 2012
The Ada Update, 7 months!
We're now safely moved in to our new place, and just have a few boxes remaining... and they will likely sit exactly where they are for a good amount of time! Amazing the quantity of "stuff" that we can't bear to be rid of, yet can't seem to put to use any time soon.
The latest update on our little babe is that she is a whopping 15.5 pounds, and climbing! At our last visit to the cardiologist, she freed us from the sternal precautions, so we began lifting Ada from under her arms, etc. She is delayed on her gross motor skills and hasn't yet turned over, but we are sure that after the memory of pain is gone and we spend some good tummy time together, she'll figure it out. We all did at some point, didn't we? Also, we no longer have to give her the multivitamin or the diuretic, so she now only has two daily medications (which she is rocking, of course). The cardiologist was so pleased and noticed that the fluid around Ada's heart was nearly gone, so she will not need to see us for another three months! Amazing....
And the pediatrician last week was equally happy with Ada's growth, so we can wait another month for a visit with her. Longer space between visits is a blessing because it communicates to us that things are going well enough that the professionals can trust us to monitor our daughter. So life can be more normal now? We're still keeping Ada "in", and away from germs during flu season, but she is able to get out and about more than ever.
Her current favorite things: anything involving Daddy, watching us jump up and down, laugh-coughing, 6 a.m., her talking dolly, walks outside, and falling alseep over rice cereal breakfast (okay, that only has happened twice, but it was darling, and this was how I could fit that story into the blog!)
The latest update on our little babe is that she is a whopping 15.5 pounds, and climbing! At our last visit to the cardiologist, she freed us from the sternal precautions, so we began lifting Ada from under her arms, etc. She is delayed on her gross motor skills and hasn't yet turned over, but we are sure that after the memory of pain is gone and we spend some good tummy time together, she'll figure it out. We all did at some point, didn't we? Also, we no longer have to give her the multivitamin or the diuretic, so she now only has two daily medications (which she is rocking, of course). The cardiologist was so pleased and noticed that the fluid around Ada's heart was nearly gone, so she will not need to see us for another three months! Amazing....
And the pediatrician last week was equally happy with Ada's growth, so we can wait another month for a visit with her. Longer space between visits is a blessing because it communicates to us that things are going well enough that the professionals can trust us to monitor our daughter. So life can be more normal now? We're still keeping Ada "in", and away from germs during flu season, but she is able to get out and about more than ever.
Her current favorite things: anything involving Daddy, watching us jump up and down, laugh-coughing, 6 a.m., her talking dolly, walks outside, and falling alseep over rice cereal breakfast (okay, that only has happened twice, but it was darling, and this was how I could fit that story into the blog!)
Saturday, December 31, 2011
2012
We are sitting in boxes in our apartment tonight, anticipating a move tomorrow! We will be moving "down the road" to a house that we'll be renting... more space will be a lovely deal, as well as having a place that is more conducive for hosting groups of people. The last couple weeks have been the general gross-ness involved in packing up all our dear things and figuring out what order to do so, so that I don't go crazy searching for the chocolate, etc. Ha-ha, as if I would lose track of a handy chocolate stash!
So yes, perhaps not the "best" time to move, but it will be nice once it is all over. We are rejoicing that Ada has been doing so well these last weeks, eating, gaining weight... we are slowly finding some sanity! Honestly, we went out last night in honor of New Year's Eve as a family of three- and it went well! This morning we three went to church together, and it also went well. Could normalcy be returning? To think of being a "normal" household is almost too good to be true.
I do plan to write a sweet change of the year blog soon, but for now I don't have enough working brain cells. Perhaps next week? Oh, and when will we have internet at our place? Well, we will talk again soon.
Ada heads in to the cardiologist on Wednesday... we hope to hear that she can stop taking a couple of her medications, and that she is cleared of the sternal precautions. We'll let you know!
Saturday, December 24, 2011
The Night Before Christmas, RPE (Revised Pitrone Edition)
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my hut
Lie boxes and baskets and remnants of what
Our dear little family has found at our door
These past days of Christmas have not been a bore!
The first day I didn't know what to expect -
A couple fine packages arrived here. And yet,
We didn't know who would be sending this loot
How caring, how generous - sneaky, to boot!
The next day the ornament said #2
And now we were really wondering who
would pour on our family a bunch of great things
to eat, to snuggle, to wear... We were kings!
At least that is how we began to feel.
We could hardly believe that it was real -
That every day, a gift would arrive
From a friend, though anonymous, from someone alive.
(Hey, once in awhile, the rhyming gets lame.
But I'm just a little bomboozle-dee-damed
And reeling and out of my mind, as you see,
We just can't make sense of this big shopping spree!)
Why would a person, a group, or a school
Think that it would be so great and so cool
To "love on!" a former teacher and fam
And bless the dear socks off a little sweet lamb
Named Ada. My daughter, she hasn't a clue
The ways that you all have shown love... and it's true!
You've blessed us beyond any words we can say
You truly have made this a great Christmas Day.
So thank you to all of our dear little elves
Who sacrificed much for our last days - the Twelve
The Twelve Days of Christmas Two Thousand Eleven
We consider you all to be blessings from Heaven.
Huge thanks to the families and people involved in the last two weeks of our lives, blessing us with such a great variety of gifts. We know little, other than that there are some dear people at JES who have huge hearts for our family. Though we feel undeserving, I must say that it is a beautiful ending to a very tough year.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)
Lie boxes and baskets and remnants of what
Our dear little family has found at our door
These past days of Christmas have not been a bore!
The first day I didn't know what to expect -
A couple fine packages arrived here. And yet,
We didn't know who would be sending this loot
How caring, how generous - sneaky, to boot!
The next day the ornament said #2
And now we were really wondering who
would pour on our family a bunch of great things
to eat, to snuggle, to wear... We were kings!
At least that is how we began to feel.
We could hardly believe that it was real -
That every day, a gift would arrive
From a friend, though anonymous, from someone alive.
(Hey, once in awhile, the rhyming gets lame.
But I'm just a little bomboozle-dee-damed
And reeling and out of my mind, as you see,
We just can't make sense of this big shopping spree!)
Why would a person, a group, or a school
Think that it would be so great and so cool
To "love on!" a former teacher and fam
And bless the dear socks off a little sweet lamb
Named Ada. My daughter, she hasn't a clue
The ways that you all have shown love... and it's true!
You've blessed us beyond any words we can say
You truly have made this a great Christmas Day.
So thank you to all of our dear little elves
Who sacrificed much for our last days - the Twelve
The Twelve Days of Christmas Two Thousand Eleven
We consider you all to be blessings from Heaven.
Huge thanks to the families and people involved in the last two weeks of our lives, blessing us with such a great variety of gifts. We know little, other than that there are some dear people at JES who have huge hearts for our family. Though we feel undeserving, I must say that it is a beautiful ending to a very tough year.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
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