The Freight Train

Last Wednesday, Owen came down with the flu. It had been a virtual epidemic at his daycare, even causing them to shut down to stop it from spreading. Despite that, Owen got it.

So Owen was the Exorcist baby for a few days but seemed on the mend by the time his birthday came around on Friday. No big deal. His birthday was very low key - only 'Ama and Papa, Mom, Dad and Owen. We had pizza and cupcakes. We sang "Happy Birthday". Owen got a playdough kit and a train table from us and a shiny new Radio Flyer from his grandparents. We played with his new toys for a little and then my parents went home.

Then all hell broke loose.

DISCLAIMER: Read no further if stories of puking, dirty toilet deeds (done dirt cheap) and general bodily disgusting-ness is not your bag. You can just skip to the pictures. For those with a stronger stomach....

I started vomiting at around 9:00pm. Now, let's be honest here. I think most people have at some point overindulged in the good drink. We can all relate to the morning- after revenge your body takes on you. But you puke, you have a plate of Moons Over Mihammy and a gallon of coffee at Denny's and - Viola! All better. This was not the same scenario.

I wanted someone to put me out of my misery. Throwing up gave me no relief. I spent a good 6 to 12 hours wondering if I would ever feel good again. To make matters worse...my husband started his own vomit regimine about 3 hours after mine. Oh yeah - we have one bathroom!

We both somehow make it through the night. Owen wakes up the next morning - earlier than usual of course - and comes into bed with us. We stupidly give him the milk he asks for and whaddya know? H promptly throws it up in our bed. So now Dan and I, already nauseaded, have to clean up Owen's mess.

I go out into the kitchen to get towels and almost step in a big congealed pile of something on our floor. Our cat had thrown up. WHAT?! You've got to be kidding me?!

I go to call my mother to tell her about our awful night and she had already texted me "Uh oh. Papa's been puking all night." Now, I'm really starting to feel like I'm in a damn Stephen King novel. It's like the Superflu has hit and the end of the world is coming. I try desperately to figure out if I dreamt about a cornfields in Nebraska.

Luckily, the worst of the flu passed quickly for Dan and I. It lingered with Owen a bit but he's almost back to his cheerful self. I won't even go into the diapers that 1 week of the flu has given him. Unfortuately for Owen, his big day was overshadowed by the drama. Had we all been well, he would have had himself a nice little birthday.

The calm before the storm.

Owen's new thing - Playdough

A new bike!!! I can even touch!

Uuhhh...I'm 2. All I get is a measly cupcake?

Train table!!! Just what I wanted!

Hell yeah!

Papa knows what he's doing.

ChooChoo!

This is sweet.

Uuhh...guys? How the heck am I supposed to reach the middle of this table?

The Big Day

Owen is 2 today!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Birthday Boy!

This was officially Owen's first - and last big birthday bash. I sure hope he enjoyed it. Just kidding (kind of). Whew! It is hard work throwing a 1st birthday party!

That being said, I couldn't have asked for anything more. The day was filled with family and friends. Owen's friend Knoah and his mom Tonya made it all the way from Monroe! It was so good to get my hands on Knoah again! Especially after the little scare he gave all of us last week.

Because of the generosity of all the people that love Owen, he will be a lifetime member of the LPA. I was flabbergasted! I'm not really sure how to adequately express how grateful I am to everyone. You have given my son the absolute greatest gift. The LPA offers my son a lifetime of friendship and support. The fact that those who love Owen are a part of it is more special than I can say. Dan, Owen and I love you all! OK - We realized that this looks like a horror movie. Dan and I did not think of the ramifications of red icing when we ordered the cupcakes!

Thank you!

I will not get a chance to post pictures until tonight, but I wanted to get a jump start on saying thank you!

I couldn't have asked for a better 1st birthday party for Owen! Thank you everyone for all of the wonderful gifts. Owen received enough contributions to his LPA membership so that he can buy a lifetime membership! I feel so blessed to have such wonderful family and friends. I love you all! The pictures will be up tonight!

Happy Birthday Owen!

YAY!!! Happy Birthday my beautiful (and very manly) boy. This is what we were doing one year ago today...

One Year Ago Today

Today is not Owen's Birthday. Quite the opposite. Once year ago today we heard the words "Your son will die." It's a pretty emotional day for me. One year ago today: 10:00 am - Dan and I were getting ready to go to the doctor's office for an ultrasound. We were so excited. I was in my 38th week and couldn't wait to see how Owen was doing. 12:30 pm - By this time, Dan and I had seen Owen and were relieved that he was still a boy! Funny, but our biggest fear going into the ultrasound was that they had gotten the sex of the baby wrong. Dan left the doctor's office to go to work while I stayed for a check up with the doctor. When the doctor walked into the room and I was excited to talk about how the baby was doing. I quickly became alarmed by the look on her face. "Well," she said, "The ultrasound showed some abnormalities. Owen's arms, legs and chest, are measuring small. We are not sure what this means at this point so we would like you to see the perinatologist. We think that it would be best if you see her today." She told me that it would be a good idea to call my husband and have him come back to the hospital. 2:30 pm - I called my husband in a panic. "Something's wrong! Something's wrong!" I could barely talk through the sobbing. I thought to myself, what if Owen is a dwarf? That was the absolute worst thing I could have imagined. 'He look strange and people will make fun of him,' I thought. I didn't realize that it wasn't even close to the worst thing that could happen. I called my mother. I'll never forget the sound of her voice when I told her something was wrong. The wait to see the perinatologist was agonizing. When we were finally called in, the doctor did another ultrasound. The exact discussion was a blurr. I remember hearing "lethal" and some some term relating to his skeleton. Lethal. The severity of the situation dawned on me. "Will our baby die?". "Yes, your son will die." I remeber crying out. It was a primal, guttural cry. That's the only way I can describe it. It's the sound people make when their world comes crashing down. At 2:52 pm exactly one year ago, Dan and I thought our son would die. 7:00 pm - One year ago at this time, most of our immediate and close extended family had been told the devestating news. Everbody was as heartbroken as we were. My parents came over and cried with us. I had never seem as sad as on that day. Dan and I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating tears and silence. We bargained with God and promised that we would be better people if he let our son live. We prayed that our U of M appointment the next day would prove our diagnosis wrong.