Tag Archives: healthy

Love Thyself

As a friend of mine stared at my recent status updates, she emailed me: Bitch.

WHAT?! I replied.

You’re running again! You don’t need to.

…the conversation continued. Mostly about our bodies and how she “hates” her post-baby figure. I turned it, briefly, to running- I do need to. I don’t run for the awesome legs, sun-kissed nose or black toenails. I run because my sanity depends on it. To sum it up: I was a high-risk pregnancy- partially due to miscarriage and partially because of surgeries I’d had. This left me sidelined during 32 weeks of my pregnancy (I ran my last half marathon just a few weeks pregnant… that would explain the intense exhaustion I felt after). All during Addie’s gestation, I worked 60+ hours a week- sure we needed the money, but more-s0, I needed to take up my time. I often stayed late, finishing projects just to avoid seeing my Asics waiting for me at home. At 20 weeks I was rear-ended on my way to work, and that set my back into a spiral. Up until that point, I’d had NO pregnancy pain… from that point on it was pain all the time. I explained all this to my friend and more… I ended it by telling her to take a walk, by herself, with music that she likes, or in a new place. As she goes along, run for a minute, jog, walk- do it for 30 minutes. Tell me you don’t feel better. Running isn’t for everyone, but a family walk that incorporates a jog, a good walk/run routine, or just a brisk walk on your lunch break- if not for your thighs, for YOU- can make a world of difference in your attitude.

So, yes. I do need to run.

Besides that… when I look at my belly now (one year postpartum), I’m not overwhelmed with joy. I have never been a skinny girl. Thin, yes. But I was made to run up and down a field, wielding a stick of composite wood or alloy and leather strings. I was made to run through those skinny girls with my kilt flying high, showing off the spandex shorts beneath. My cleats sounding like a 100 horses, as I slam my feet into the ground. Sometimes I forget that.

Senior Year, lacrosse

Senior Year, lacrosse

Early on in my pregnancy, I went home for my sister’s baby shower. She weighed herself on the super-accurate scale my parents have. When the number popped up, I forgot about everything I just said above. I was so angry at myself for being so big. My sister, at 7 months pregnant weighed what I did before I got pregnant. We are the same height (give or take half an inch)… we are not the same build, and you guessed it: she’s the pretty one. She is blonde haired and blue eyed. She’s thin with lean muscle- not paltry. She’s strong with a long face and a big smile and beautiful skin. I am muscular, and when I’m not in shape, I look round, bulky, dimply. My calves are huge from a decade of dance and gymnastics. My shoulders are broad- good for being a hockey goalie. My face is round and my blue eyes shine from behind long lashes and a shock of dark hair. I have my Mom’s face and my Dad’s body… my sister is the opposite parental combination.

It was then, as she stepped off the scale, I began to take belly pictures.

Through the years I’ve had an obsession with my middle. My legs are always questionable. I wish they were leaner… even with all the abuse I put my knees through, they still carry me… but my belly has always been toned (not well defined, just flat)- until I had a baby.

My belly when we decided to conceive, age 27. Me at 21, after being tattooed and me at 25 on our honeymoon.

My belly when we decided to conceive, age 27. Me at 21, after being tattooed and me at 25 on our honeymoon… And a week post-Addie.

So, I write all that to share with you my mantra and what I try to remind myself of daily: “You are beautiful.”
[Now, you SAY IT: "I AM BEAUTIFUL"]
I remind myself… You gave birth to a beautiful baby girl a year ago… it’s not easy to take care of yourself with daily life, let alone when you have a baby. The house is always clean, the dog always walked and fed, the baby clean and smiling. The cabinets are organized and you’re up-to-date on your work. All appointments have been made and kept, the correct paperwork is filled out and sent. All phone calls are in and logged (fighting insurance companies is a full-time job). It goes on from there.
Give yourself a break and love it.

I’m a bit softer… but every extra pound, every little stretch mark… that’s Addie. Sure I’m down a few pounds from pre-baby… but it’s not the same. It being my body. My limbs feel heavier, my butt a little wider, my arms rub as I trudge up another hill in the park. What hasn’t changed is the rush, the surge, the high I get from logging miles. It’s not easy to get out there, but once you’re on the road- it’s hard to stop.

Let’s love our bodies, ladies everyone! Those 20 minutes you think are not going to make a difference, will make a heck of a difference compared to 0 minutes. Get out there and do it. Walk, jog, run, play catch, skip with your kids, play flag football with friends. Get active. Get healthy. And love yourself, love your mind, love your body.

I hope (when we’re ready) I carry just like I did with Addie- (all in the front):

Large photo: Exalt Photography Back and side pic: 37 weeks

Large photo: Exalt Photography, ~31 weeks
Side and back pictures: 37 weeks

For now, my middle is soft but my mind is strong. Run for sanity- reap the benefits of body:

Momma Belly

Momma Belly, May 2013

I hope you know how beautiful you are.

It is so hard to love yourself, especially when we have SO many pictures of our youth reminding us of the times when nothing jiggled! It’s a different love. I think of my pre-baby body as my first love, but as I evolved into wife and then motherhood, it’s a more mature love. A respect for what I’ve done in life and all I have yet to do.

Maybe someday I’ll love myself without trying, but until then… I repeat my mantra in anything but a full-length mirror!

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Delaware

And so… finally. How was Delaware?

It was amazing.
It began with me missing the exit, and ended with me in tears at Saladworks.
In the middle, I suppose, is what you want to read about.

We got up early on Thursday morning and prepared ourselves before dressing Addie in her finest romper (read: simple to get her in and out of). I must have been incredibly nervous, because I didn’t take one picture. Not a single one.

Once we were in my mom’s minivan, I set the GPS and headed to the closest Dunks. We loaded up on coffee and jumped on the PA Turnpike. My hands were sweaty, despite the chill in the air, and the drive went well. It turns out that Wilmington is only 70, or so, minutes from my parents’ house. Even missing an exit, we still got to the appointment early. We arrived and were directed to the clinic, where we were welcomed with smiles and open arms. But, enough of that- onto the meat:

We learned a lot of things in our 80+ minute meeting with Dr. Bober and his assistant, Angie Duker. These were the thoughts I’d had just the day after our trip about our experience so far:

We arrived at the train station just 15 minutes before we had to board. It was perfect timing. As we ran in through the thick drops of drizzle, Dave grabbed some milk for the coffee we had made, and we waited for the All Aboard to flip up on the Amtrak screen. We loaded ourselves onto the train; baby, suitcase, duffel bag, diaper bag, toy bag, lunch bag, milk cooler bag and car seat. Once settled in our seats, Addie took her bottle of milk. We pulled into Penn Station in New York a few hours later and I moved into a window seat. As we pulled out, Addie looked out the window, then back at me. Belly-to-belly, she plopped her head down on my chest and fell asleep for her nap. Right on time.

She awoke, her noggin popping up with a smile plastered across her face. Then a frown. Time to eat! Addie chowed down her milk and then happily cooed and spit for a while.

She was wonderful the whole ride; following her nap and eating schedules as usual- and making do with having to sleep wherever- including on my legs.

Then it was Thursday, October 11. The day began like the rest had in the previous week. I was up at 4:30am, unable to sleep through the night since receiving my copy of the sleep study. Mild disordered sleep.  What did that mean?

As Dr. Bober reviewed all the papers I had so carefully sorted (Medical Records, Birth Records, Early Intervention, Genetic Testing, Skeletal Survey and Results, Growth Charts), I was still nervous. Finally, he asked Dave and me what we knew about achondroplasia. I froze. What didn’t I know. I said a few things and he stopped me. We reviewed my biggest fears, from central sleep apnea to decompression surgery and hydrocephalus. We talked about milestones (I have some new charts… I will make a page for them!) and we discussed sleep. While Dr. Bober was not concerned, he did tell me to just keep an eye on Addie and if I notice any changes in her sleep to contact him. However, as of October 15th, when we went to the sleep specialist in Boston, we are scheduled for a second sleep study in March. The sleep specialist would like to see her central sleep apnea occurrences a little lower than they are. Who knew one person could need so many doctors, yet be deemed healthy?

Beyond that, we reviewed Addie’s soft spot and it’s measurements. We were told what to look out for and that a little bit of extra fluid is common, but nothing to worry about. We were told to feel her soft spot once a week. I check every night.

Dr. Bober also talked about spinal stenosis, and the difference between it being a feature of dwarfism and critical. I felt relieved to know that Addie doesn’t present with any signs of critical stenosis, but knowing that the first 24 months of life are where hydrocephalus, bowing and stenosis will most likely show up in childhood, I feel like I’m having a private countdown while I should be enjoying each day, I am bombarded with looking and checking and feeling and testing.

I know. I need to relax.

Then, we moved onto examining Addie: 23 3/4 inches, 14 pounds 2 1/2 ounces and a head circumference of 17.8 inches!
She can’t straighten her arms all the way, which is just another feature of dwarfism that many people have, and, after reading the doctor’s notes (sent to me in less than 3 weeks!), she shows some signs of bowing (bilateral genu recurvatum). Yes, I looked that up- as well as over 10 other “musculoskeletal” notes about appearance. We will be seeing Dr. MacKenzie in April, as well, and he will probably have more to say about that then.

There really wasn’t bad news, per se-,but there were some things to look out for and preventative measures that need to be taken. For instance, a common issue with achondroplasia is kyphosis. Addie presents with lower lumbar kyphosis (when you hold her, you can feel her spine stick out in her lower back):

The fear with this is that in the lumbar region of your spine, your bones sit parallel. If your spine curves the opposite way, the bones will grind into each other, causing the bones in the spine to break and look “bullet-shaped”, instead.

This is not Addie’s spinal x-ray, just an example.

When we hold Addie, we need to provide full back support. That includes when she is up against our chest, applying slight pressure to the base of her spine to help straighten it out, and when she is in our lap, letting her lean against us. Anything she sits in needs to be a hardback, allowing her to conform to what she sits in and not the other way around.

Pressure on the low back.
Leaning back to create spinal support.

Sadly, this limits our carrier time to never. I had always imagined myself a baby wearing mama, but having a healthy baby means more- and so, my arms are always full and so is my heart!

Addie’s first pic in the Bjorn… before we knew!

What IS good for her, however, is tummy time, as it brings her back into an arch… which is great! She is a happy camper on her belly, for the most part, and (as of October 27th) if she doesn’t want to be on her back, she rolls to her belly = A total baby-body workout!

Addie playing some music on her belly!

Some more interesting facts:

* Due to the shape of the ribcage, the liver is [usually] able to be felt. This is not true on an average height child, which is something to alert doctors of should they have a concern. Sometimes, it is falsely interpreted as a swelling.
* Addie’s arms do not fulling extend by about 20% at the elbow. This is totally normal, and should not inhibit her in any way. She does have lower muscle tone, primarily in her arms, but that is just another feature of dwarfism. As well, her limb disproportions were noted in her arms as rhizomelic, and her lower extremities are rhizomelic light. This refers to her arms as short (the long bones) and her legs as mildly (for a dwarf) short. She will, most likely, be around 4 feet tall.
* The diagnosis of achondroplasia could have been made with ONE x-ray of her pelvic bone! The blood test, however, confirms it.
* Dr. Bober feels Addie is doing great! (This is my favorite fact!)

And so, this is how Delaware went.

We met with a great family when our appointment was over, there were lots of smiles and handshakes and then we were leaving… and I was shaking. I was gripping Addie so close to me I could feel her little Buddha-belly flatten against me.

Dave and I decided that we had not eaten, and so we needed to get food in Delaware. (If you’ve ever seen me hungry, you know it’s a sight better left for horror films and psychiatry studies.) We made a left out of the hospital and came across a Saladworks- one of my favorite places to eat. We walked in and parked ourselves at a table after glancing at the menu. I knew what I wanted, and as I told Dave I looked over at Addie. Perfect. Small. Addie. And I grabbed Dave, locked myself in his grasp and cried into his shoulder. I cried for the relief that Addie is OK. I cried for the fact that she will have struggles. I cried because I have not slept through the night since she was born.

We learned a lot, and we will continue to learn. Thank you for taking this journey with me as a woman, as a mom, as a parent, as a friend.

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Is it the weekend, yet?

What a roller coaster week! If I never hear the word “no” again, it will be too soon.

I’ve spoken with numerous people, and by the blessings of the Universe, our case is in the Research Department of UnitedHealthcare. I’ve spent hours on the phone, mostly on hold… and when I’m not on hold, I’m spelling ” dysplasia” and “achondroplasia” and “Adelaide” for someone who doesn’t understand why she needs to see a specialist.  A woman actually scoffed at the idea that Addie needed to go “all the way to Delaware”. If that wasn’t insult enough, she asked me if I could get an appointment in Delaware, was I willing to travel. What kind of question is that? OF COURSE I’d be willing to travel- she’s my baby! I’d swim across the English Channel with her on my back, if need be.

So, this week was very frustrating, and I’ve wracked up minutes upon hours of cellphone use…

And I’ve made more connections and friendships  than we could ever hope for.

There has been a love and outpouring from a community, better known as the world, to help Dave and me with making sure that Addie can get the care she needs.  Word-of-mouth, Facebook, website shares and emails have helped us raise funding so that we can get Addie to NemoursAlfred I. duPont.  Knowing we will need to put down a deposit to even make an appointment and pay for a majority of the testing before we leave was making my stomach turn, but I took the advice of a few moms and posted a fundraising website.

And there was an outpouring.  Not just love from friends and family, but kindness from total strangers- people following Addie’s story and loving her without ever meeting her.

This beautiful baby cannot express her thanks, but we, the Martinka’s want you to know that we will forever remember everyone who helps us along the way.  We know that we will always need someone to talk to; ask questions or share a hug, but we are hoping to pay all the support we’ve gotten forward. We hope to make a difference for everyone out there who has no insurance, or insufficient insurance. We want people to be aware of dwarfism, and know that each of our children need to be cared for individually- and though they may need different care than other children, they have just as much right to it!

We will share the story of the first few months of her life with Addie over and over as she gets older. She will know the love that she has surrounding her- those who have never met her, those who have yet to and those who have kissed her little toes and smelled her sweet breath- thank you.

It’s a small blessing that the weekend means no one will answer the phones or give you an answer to any questions because the right person “isn’t in the office”, so here’s to the weekend. Here’s to community. Here’s to banding together for our beautiful Adelaide.

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I Knew Before You Told Me

From the moment she was born, I knew she was different. Adelaide Eileen was born at only 18 inches, with my button nose and crooked pinkies. What she was born without was what caught my eye.

27 years ago I came flying into this world with a shock of dark hair, flailing all 21 inches of my body in a fury weighing just shy of 5 1/2 pounds.  During the 3 hours I pushed with Addie, I remember seeing her dark hair, feeling her head and then seeing her little body.  She looked just like me, but, to be honest, squat. I held my little ball of baby, loving all over her and sharing with no one.

I wanted to ask the doctors a million questions- I was shocked the next day when her pediatrician measured her at 18 inches.
I knew before I asked.  I knew she was my genetic miracle. Our little package of jumbled up genes that was perfectly delivered to us.

A daughter holds her mother’s hand for a while and her heart forever.

I was so tired, but I couldn’t stop staring. She was the most beautiful human I’d ever seen.
Watching her grow, or not, led me to think something was up- but you only think to ask the doctors a question if you think there is something wrong. In my heart of hearts I knew there was nothing wrong, just different about my little Addie. Then I read all about it. Her head was big. I was so scared. Could she have hydrocephalus? I researched all I could. I took Addie to her 2 month appointment and mentioned it to the nurse doing her measurements. She inferred that it was something she was going to mention anyway, due to her head circumference growing, and my heart sank.  I wanted to hear “don’t worry about it.” But, as you know from my first post, we ended up leaving that appointment with a script for a ultrasound of her head and x-rays of her long bones.

I took her home, undressed her and examined every inch. I saw her inner thighs and how small her hands were. The non-existent bridge of her nose. The way her legs bowed out. I saw her face, with those shining, deep violet eyes staring up at me. And she’s perfect.

After her diagnosis, Dave and I told a few people. Looking for initial reactions- a way to gauge our responses to people and learn what kind of reactions we would be fielding. And, as if getting unexpected news wasn’t confusing enough, the other shoe dropped.
People said they were sorry. Dave and I found ourselves trying to stop people from saying the wrong thing. Did we tell the wrong close friends? Was it something we said?

Nothing is wrong with her. Why are you sorry? We’re not.
It’s not unfortunate. We’re beyond fortunate to have  be chosen by this baby girl.

I knew she was the most beautiful girl from the moment she was born. She is loved to the core- and being so small, that’s a lot of love per inch!

I knew before they told me. I knew she was going to be the best thing to ever happen to me. I knew it. And I love every little bit.

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Filed under Achondroplasia, Family Life

Corporate America. There’s Hope.

I was disappointed.  Using a baby carrier was amazing to me. I was a baby wearing mama. Holding my little girl to me while I did everything from the dishes to walking the puppy, felt so pure and natural to me. I love the Bjorn which has more support, but the organic look and feel of the K’Tan was just what I wanted, and I was lucky enough to have a friend who purchased it for me!  I used it once, but Addie was so scrunched in it, I decided to wait to use it for a few weeks; then we learned she was an achon baby, and my little miracle could not use a carrier.

Scrunched Addie (see above)

No carrier.

I walked into the small local shop where I got the K’Tan. I explained that for medical reasons Addie would not be able to use it, and that it was clean, had all the pieces, it was in the box and had the instructions and warranty card.  The woman behind the desk glanced at me, her eyes darted to Addie, then to a piece of paper, where she was writing a note. “Your name and number. “ *** “I’ll ask the owner and call you later, but I already know the answer is ‘no’. We don’t take anything back that’s been out of the box.”  I was confused, as the carrier is clean, and there is one in the store, on display- out of the box, that they will sell. I assured the woman that I just wanted store credit, but she seemed to be distracted, so I wheeled the stroller in a k-turn motion and walked out.

I left the shop feeling dejected.  I would have loved to shop in this store again- support a local business. I was sure that the owner would call, or understand, but a message, “Hi Chelley, this is Xxxxx from Xxx XxXx, I spoke with the owner and we can’t take it back. Sorry. Bye.” Short, not sweet and not helpful. Instead of helping a local mom at an already difficult time, the almighty dollar takes the cake.  Instead of spending a few hundred there over the next few years, they made $74 on one sale. One time and one time only.  What a disappointment.  I would wanted a call from the owner (this truly is a small business)- to perhaps speak with her.  In a small state, like Rhode Island, all the business you can get includes everyone, right?

Please know that I am married to a small business owner. The business is my husband’s passion: music. Often times he has had to turn people away from full-fledged returns in favor of store credit, but he always takes the time to discuss issues with his customers- and speaks to them personally. To be told, “no”, was a lot to take, especially because the woman I had spoken to was so sharp with me and didn’t seem to hear what I was saying. I love the carrier, but medically I can’t use it. Isn’t the human condition a benefit here? The rules can be changed. Exceptions can be made. But, you have to listen.

And not I have to make the request that  no one give Addie gifts from small shops… clearly they cannot bend to be helpful to a new mom who is in apparent distress. As people serving people, looking up to see your customers, instead of down at your phone/keyboard/notepad, would go a long way. Sometimes you just want to know you were heard before a decision is passed down.

At the end of this debacle, I posted the carrier on line for a fraction of the price… and my big sister saved the day. A new mommy herself, she posted on Facebook and asked around, finding a buyer!

Sadly, however, this was just one of the few items that I was told “no” to on behalf of Addie.

Which brings me to Babies R’ Us in Warwick, RI.  I originally loved the idea of registering at only small shops, but knew we would need far reaching locations due to my family being all over the east coast (and some on the west, too!)- so BRU it was! I’ve been so happy with their assistance in returns and exchanges since the baby showers, and for this alone I was so grateful.

The Baby Einstein Bouncer was awesome! I remember seeing it and wanting it immediately; colors, lights, music and a ton of tactile activities. I was sure Addie would love it as much as I would.  Alas, this was not to be so.  Not a big deal to return, right? Wrong!!!

The box that the bouncer came in was cumbersome, so we took the inside boxes out of it and tossed the main packaging into recycling months ago; a small blessing that we never put it together. Driving to the store with Dave, he was convinced they would not take it back, while I was plotting my steps from pleading with the manager to writing corporate. We loaded our returns into a cart, including the pieces of the bouncer.

As we stood in line, I was already frustrated. Why do I have to explain things, why can’t “due to a medical condition” just be enough? I walked up to the counter with my cart full of stuff and explained, “I’d like to return some toys. I’m sorry I don’t have the main box for the bouncer, but it’s never been put together.” Michaela smiled at me and asked if we had been registered there. I felt the need to continue, “I really love the bouncer, but for medical reasons Addie can’t use it.” She glanced up from typing in my information and warmly smiled again. “No problem”, she said. While making small talk and commenting on how adorable Addie is and how she hopes she is OK, the sales associate scanned my registry info, found the bouncer, scanned the rest of my stuff, swiped a merchandise return card, handed it and the receipt to me and wished me a nice day.

I walked over to Dave, who was feeding Addie her favorite [and only food], Mommy Milk, and wanted to cry. I was so pent up, convinced that the world was against me. That, already, there were issues that would hinder Addie, but Babies R’ Us proved me wrong. A corporation caring about its customers, though I’m sure not always the case, has brought some light to the sadness I feel having to return toys that are not good for our beautiful little girl.

We got this beautiful elephant, a mirror, finger puppets, 2 books and an impression kit for Addie’s hands and feet with the credit. I think these will be great to help Addie’s development for touch and vision. I’m so excited to play with her new toys and help her develop at her own pace in a fun way!

Knowing that I shouldn’t give up on the world lending a hand is a good feeling- especially because this is just the beginning of a long road.

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Filed under #educate, Achondroplasia, Community

Community

I belong to a New Mom’s Group with RI New Moms. All of our babies are in the 0-3 month range. All of our babies are learning to coo, watching their fists and balling them up into their mouths, tracking things with their eyes and growing up faster than we’d like. All of our babies are the same, yet different, and I’m so glad Addie’s different was so lovingly embraced.

I tried to tell everyone in the group about her hospital stay and how we learned of her diagnosis in an unorthodox way.  I wanted to make eye contact, but I couldn’t stop looking at her. I was preparing for people’s faces to drop, to see wide eyes, hear a gasp that inadvertently made its way past someone’s lips. But that never came. Smiles, head nods, and looks of compassion not pity, were all around me. Addie would be loved by these women, just as she was loved by myself.

Communities seems to be fleeting in some cases. Friends we make at one intersection of life sometimes fail to crossover as we grow, change and, ultimately become who we never thought we would be: our parents (HA!). But, I need people. I need a community of men, women and children who can tell me I’m doing the right thing for Addie.  You can never know exactly what your child is going through in life; kids get meaner by the year, after all. However, I will never be able to tell my sweet baby girl that I know how she feels because I’ve been there, too. I can taste the bitterness in my mouth, feeling like the angst-y adolescent I was over a decade ago. I want to tell those kids off and push them to the ground. I want to lose control. I want to make people who have yet to exist, hurt for reasons yet to manifest.

And so, I wait.

I watch her little chest rise and fall. I tear up every time she smiles in her sleep. I have done this since she was born. I’m boarder-line stalking my child.  I cannot help it.

I mentioned to Dave, multiple times, about how I am so shocked that she is here. One minute she was in me and I felt her move, and with each new happening (a flutter, a kick, hiccups), I felt like now this is real, but now she is here. She is lying next to me in her pink bassinet and she is real. She is real and really amazing. And she is mine. She is ours.

I suppose never having carried a life, Dave can’t totally understand my feelings, but he loves his “little bit” and I love my “bugga-boo”. We, collectively, have about 300 songs for her, stemming from the multitude of names she has, ranging from Addie-Boombaladdie to Battle-aide (when she’s battling sleep) and so many more.

When it all gets too much, and I need someone, I reach for my cell phone and email someone. Some I’ve just met in one of the many communities I’m coming to form as the cohesive guild I need for me, while some I’ve known for years and have stood the test of time.

The outreach has been unexpected. People who know people. Friends who have friends. Getting an email from someone who knows someone, or is someone who is a little person- reaching out to me, making themselves available and knowing that I just don’t know what to expect. I want to do what is best for Addie- always. I want her to have the experience she deserves in life and every opportunity afforded to her peers- whether they are large or small, short or tall. Just perusing Facebook pages and other blogs, I see happy families, college-bound students, sporting events, vacations, boyfriends, girlfriends, and happy hours.

And I am at ease.

There is a community who will help us raise Addie- it takes a village, after all. She will be loved by many, and feared by some.

But aren’t we all?

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Motor Skills

I fear that some of Addie’s motor skills will be behind… because that is what I’ve read, I’ve researched and what I’ve been told.

This was June 19th, age 9weeks 1day.  She may, at some point fall behind… til then: she’s kicking tail in the milestones department!

I’ve got a million fears about how she may not be average until she’s a bit older, and I’m going to celebrate, because I’m right- currently, she’s advanced. She has amazing head control and is rolling herself over daily, although not consistently. With everything I may want to cry about in the future, I’m here to applaud the now.

Roll, Addie, roll!

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Filed under Achondroplasia, Milestones

‘A’ is for Adelaide and Achondroplasia

I’m not sure where to begin. I could go back to camping.  That amazing 2-days my husband, Dave and I spent in Maine, creating our beautiful daughter.  It wasn’t really romantic, but it got our minds off of the previous 6-week troublesome time, which began with an early pregnancy miscarriage- often referred to as a chemical pregnancy.  In the weeks following, when the cramping eased, and the doctor reminded me that we could try again right away, we knew we needed a weekend away.  With our handsome puppy at doggie daycare, we took off to Wells, Maine.

It was a beautiful weekend.  And we made Addie.

A few weeks after we got back, I got a faint line and after watching the timer flash for 3 minutes “PREGNANT” popped up on the digital screen.  Excited, but scared to repeat the past, I tried to hide my findings from my husband; but, a few hours after he went to work, I texted a picture of the test to him.

***

Hearing her heartbeat was the most beautiful music ever created.  Rapid and deep, hearing her life beginning in me was one of the best days of my life, and over the following months, I took the tests, ate well, gaining only 26 pounds, and was then blessed with a beautiful, but long, delivery at 38 weeks, 5 days.

A clear-lunged Adelaide Eileen came into the world April 17, 2012 at 10:32am at 7 pounds, 7 ounces and 18 inches long.

18 inches is in the 5th percentile for height in a newborn.

At Addie’s one month check up, her head was in the 75th percentile, weight 10-25th percentile and height still in the 5th.

At two months, her head was in the 90th percentile, weight 25th percentile, and her height had dropped below 5th.

I cried.

We left the doctors’ office with an appointment for a fontanelle ultrasound to check for Hydrocephalus and another for x-rays of her long bones.  At 5’7 and my husband standing 5’9, I was unsure how we had such a short baby, but her head was our main concern.  Along with the appointment at the radiologist’s office, Addie left the office with thighs sore with vaccine shots.  Later that night, June 19, 2012,  a fever of 101.5 struck, and was just the beginning.

***

At 7pm, June 21st, we arrived at Hasbro Children’s Hospital in Providence, RI. Addie presented with a mild-grade fever, lethargy and a lack of appetite. She endured hours of IVs, needle pricks, blood draws, a CT scan and four, yes four, unsuccessful attempts at a lumbar puncture.  Without the spinal cord fluid needed to run a meningitis test, Addie was started on broad spectrum antibiotics for the night.

A tentatively negative read was done of her CT, for everything, including Hydrocephalus- a concern due to the rapid growth of her head. Although this brought relief, there was another test we knew needed to be done for her general heath (an x-ray of her long bones), and there was the issue of what was making her ill at the present moment.

***

A call from our pediatrician to the attending physician in the hospital prompted the bones of her body to be x-rayed, specifically the long bones in her arms (upper) and legs (thigh), pelvis, spine and skull, which took all of 10 minutes and we were wheeled back to our room.

A geneticist came to do some measurements. I felt hot and sick. There were tears forming, but, as a mother, I had known Addie was too short for her age. We discussed nothing specific, only mentioning that there could be a genetic anomaly, and that’s why she was called in to look at the x-rays. As the doctor left the room to read the x-rays herself, I held my knees to my chest and practiced breathing.

When she returned, I was cleaning out my breast pump pieces in scalding water. She pulled a chair up to talk. I stayed at the sink, burning my hands in the water. When she didn’t continue her diatribe, I knew the x-rays had shown something. I finished washing the bottles and made small talk. If I never heard what she had to say then she had never said anything. Right?

“After reviewing the x-rays with the best radiologist in Rhode Island, we have both confirmed the diagnosis of Achondroplasia,” Doctor.
“What’s that mean?” Dave.
“Dwarfism,” I said. Blankly staring at something that wasn’t there.

Achondroplasia 

There’s been a lot of discussion over the years about the proper way to refer to someone with dwarfism. Many people who have the condition prefer the term “little person” or “person of short stature.” For some, “dwarf” is acceptable. For most, “midget” definitely is not.
But here’s an idea everyone can agree on: Why not simply call a person with dwarfism by his or her name?
Being of short stature is only one of the characteristics that make a little person who he or she is. If you’re the parent or loved one of a little person, you know this to be true.
But here are some facts that other people may not realize about dwarfism and those who have it.

Dwarfism:

  • is characterized by short stature. Technically, that means an adult height of 4 feet 10 inches or under, according to the advocacy group Little People of America (LPA).
  • can be caused by any one of more than 300 conditions, most of which are genetic. The most common type, accounting for 70% of all cases of short stature, is called achondroplasia.
  • can and most often does occur in families where both parents are of average height. In fact, 4 out of 5 of children with achondroplasia are born to average-size parents.

Dwarfism isn’t:

  • an intellectual disability. A person who has dwarfism is typically of normal intelligence.
  • a disease that requires a “cure.” Most people with one of these conditions live long, fulfilling lives.
  • a reason to assume someone is incapable. Little people go to school, go to work, marry, and raise children, just like their average-size peers.

What Causes Short Stature?

  • More than 300 well-described conditions are known to cause short stature in a child. Most are caused by a spontaneous genetic change (mutation) in the egg or sperm cells prior to conception. Others are caused by genetic changes inherited from one or both parents.
  • Similarly, depending on the type of condition causing the short stature, it is possible for two average-size parents to have a child with short stature, and is also possible for parents who are little people to have an average-size child.
  • What prompts a gene to mutate is not yet clearly understood. The change is seemingly random and unpreventable, and can occur in any pregnancy. If parents have some form of dwarfism themselves, the odds are much greater that their children will also be little people. A genetic counselor can help determine the likelihood of passing on the condition in these cases.
  • Dwarfism has other causes, including metabolic or hormonal disorders in infancy or childhood. Chromosomal abnormalities, pituitary gland disorders (which influence growth and metabolism), absorptive problems (when the body can’t absorb nutrients adequately), and kidney disease can all lead to short stature if a child fails to grow at a normal rate.

By far, the most common skeletal dysplasia is achondroplasia, a short-limb dysplasia that occurs in about 1 of every 15,000 to 40,000 babies born of all races and ethnicities. It can be caused by a spontaneous mutation in a gene called FGFR3, or a child can inherit a change in this gene from a parent who also has achondroplasia.

People with achondroplasia have a relatively long trunk and shortened upper parts of their arms and legs. They may share other features as well, such as a larger head with a prominent forehead, a flattened bridge of the nose, shortened hands and fingers, and reduced muscle tone. The average adult height for someone with achondroplasia is a little over 4 feet.

Diagnosis

Some types of dwarfism can be identified through prenatal testing if a doctor suspects a particular condition and tests for it. But most cases are not identified until after the child is born. In those instances, the doctor makes a diagnosis based on the child’s appearance, failure to grow, and X-rays of the bones. Depending on the type of dwarfism the child has, diagnosis often can be made almost immediately after birth.
Once a diagnosis is made, there is no “treatment” for most of the conditions that lead to short stature. Hormonal or metabolic problems may be treated with hormone injections or special diets to spark a child’s growth, but skeletal dysplasias cannot be “cured.”
People with these types of dwarfism can, however, get medical care for some of the health complications associated with their short stature.
Some forms of dwarfism also involve issues in other body systems — such as vision or hearing — and require careful monitoring.

Possible Complications and Treatments

Short stature is the one quality all people with dwarfism have in common. After that, each of the many conditions that cause dwarfism has its own set of characteristics and possible complications.
Fortunately, many of these complications are treatable, so that people of short stature can lead healthy, active lives.
For example, a small percentage of babies with achondroplasia may experience hydrocephalus (excess fluid around the brain). They may also have a greater risk of developing apnea — a temporary stop in breathing during sleep — because of abnormally small or misshapen anatomy or, more likely, because of airway obstruction by the adenoids or the tonsils. Occasionally, a part of the brain or spinal cord is compressed. With close monitoring by doctors, however, these potentially serious problems can be detected early and surgically corrected.

As a child with dwarfism grows, other issues may also become apparent, including:

  • delayed development of some motor skills, such as sitting up and walking
  • a greater susceptibility to ear infections and hearing loss
  • breathing problems caused by small chests
  • weight problems
  • curvature of the spine (scoliosis, kyphosis, and/or lordosis)
  • bowed legs
  • trouble with joint flexibility and early arthritis
  • lower back pain or leg numbness
  • crowding of teeth in the jaw

Proper medical care can alleviate many of these problems. For example, surgery often can bring relief from the pain of joints that wear out under the stress of bearing weight differently with limited flexibility.
Surgery also can be used to improve some of the leg, hip, and spine problems people with short stature sometimes face.
Nonsurgical options may help, too — for instance, excessive weight can worsen many orthopedic problems, so a nutritionist might help develop a healthy plan for shedding extra pounds. And doctors or physical therapists can recommend ways to increase physical activity without putting extra stress on the bones and joints.

 

The information runs far and is quite plentiful.  In the United States, approximately 10,000 individuals are estimated to have achondroplasia. Achondroplasia affects about 1 in every 40,000 children. However, this number varies, depending on the source. Eighty percent of all little people have achondroplasia. Approximately 150,000 persons have achondroplasia worldwide. The worldwide population of little people is approximately 190,000.

And there, my dear readers, are the facts.

Please don’t say you’re sorry. Nothing to be sorry about. She is beautiful and we are blessed. She’s a bit small for her age. That’s all.  Mention of a TLC tv show hardly seems appropriate, after all, is social media the best judgment or indicator for life’s actuality? Asking if there is anything you can do doesn’t make much sense either, as she is a normal little girl in every way but height.

People don’t know what to say- I’ve already encountered that. But if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, if you don’t know what to say, say nothing.

Adelaide Eileen. The prettiest girl in the whole wide world. <3

But with all this talk, I can’t say that I’m not scared, or angry, or confused, or hurt. I can say I’m so happy, blessed and in love. Little people live normal life expectancies and can do anything they want.  It’s not a disease. She does not need to be cured.

She cannot ever do gymnastics.  If I said this didn’t hurt me, I would be a liar.  I was a gymnast, and some of my fondest memories are swinging my long and lean body around the bars, sleep over camp and long drives to state meets. She cannot participate in other little girls’ gymnastics parties. But, she can swim- and I’m looking forward to mommy & me swim lessons like it’s Christmas day!

And here I am. I’m angry.  I’m really angry. I’m so ashamed of myself for, potentially, making life harder for her.  I am, in my mind, at fault. I want to help her be the strong girl I know she is, but how can I do that when I’m falling apart on the inside? I’m angry this will impact her. I’m angry other children won’t get it. I’m angry that people in her family, at least not everyone, will understand and respect and be “ok” with her stature. I’m angry people may point, laugh, call her names, misunderstand her, and hurt her. I’m angry, damn it. I really am.  Perhaps some of my fears are masked by this anger, which I’ve always been so quick to feel, but for now I’ll call it a pure emotion and hope it unfolds well.

As I watch her sleep in her hospital bed (crib), she looks like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She has my little nose and crooked pinkies, and Dave’s ears and lips.  She is an angel. She’s a perfect combination of the man I will love forever and myself. Maybe she’s not your ideal baby- but she’s certainly my ideal: happy, healthy, with dimples, bright blue eyes, 10 fingers and toes, sweet baby coos, and a sigh that ends with her collapsing on my chest.

In truth, as I write, she is getting better from whatever brought us here in the first place; No fever, less lethargic and eating much better. But she is still here. I am battling with her being sick and getting a lifelong diagnosis that I’m not sure the right way to process.  I am dealing with the good news of no hydrocephalus and the shock of knowing my daughter will be physically different from other children. I am scared of my reaction to other parents, when they tell me of milestones their children are crossing, as Addie’s motor skills may be slightly behind because she cannot learn to sit by propping. I am wondering what life will bring to her and how I can make sure she has the best one possible- as any parent does for their child.

Over the past few days I have tried to take all the information thrown our way in stride, and remember that some questions will remain unanswered until she reaches a certain age and the universe reveals its mysterious ways.  I’ve contemplated if I had known she would be a little person before she was born, would I feel differently… no.  I wish I had had the time before she was born to process, as it is hard to shed tears when I’m looking at her beautiful face; but I will let my emotions take their course, rely on the love Dave and I share and the information at hand to be the best parents we can be.

And so, I conclude.

‘A’ is for Adelaide and Achondroplasia.

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