"There's Something Wrong With Leo"

For a few weeks, my absence has been for good cause.  You see, the holidays came and went and both were lovely.  I wish I had updated the actual details for you sooner, but I couldn't.  My mind wasn't really there.  Nonetheless, I'll give you a quick rundown.

1.) We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with both our families and Adam and I became acutely aware of how much our separate sides have just become a collective "family."  It's probably happened over time but it's become so obvious after this year.  It's a great to have such a large family support system.  It's even better to share a really good day with them all.  His siblings feel like mine, his parents like my own.  It's a good feeling.  It really is. 

2.) New Years Eve/Day, never being my favorite holiday, was actually spectacular.  Our original plans with all of the cousins were cancelled due to sick kiddos, but it didn't stop any celebrations in our own private homes.  We had a party with the kids (disco dancing, sparkling grape juice toast) and I spent New Years Day with Adam's mom and sisters at a local winery.  You can't really top that. 

But, through it all, I felt like something was wrong. 

It started like this:

On December 13, 2013, at 1am, I got a call from Adam while I was leaving work.  "There's something wrong with Leo."  I still can't think about it (much less write about it) without getting teary-eyed.  He was right.  There was something wrong with Leo, but that was the beginning of it.  While driving to meet Adam halfway on 31, I have never felt so scared in my life.  Never.  Leo was having a hard time breathing.  I don't like to mess around when it comes to kids and airways.  They make me nervous, and I don't scare easily.

                                                 

 

Leo spent the night in the emergency room (with me and Annie.)  He was admitted.  The next day, though, Leo left the hospital, and we thought we were in the clear.  The worst was just coming, though.  Despite his difficulty breathing, Leo had recurrent fevers of 104+. 

 

Christmas Day was the first time it clicked with me that something really was wrong with Leo. He couldn't eat, he went from nearly 37 pounds to 28.6 pounds in a short period of time. His eyes were sunken, his lips cracked and bleeding.  He was drinking water by the gallons, it seemed, but never looking hydrated.  I kept telling myself that it was a virus and it would pass.  The day after Christmas, I told my mom, "I can't take him in today.  If I take him in, they'll admit him."  In hindsight, he probably needed some sort of intervention, but I was scared of what was going to be done: the work-up, the fluids, the swabs and the monitoring.  I didn't want any of it.  I felt I could nurse him back to health myself.  I tried, but as the mucles in his legs started to waste and the bones in his feet became apparent, I became tearful.  And scared.  We ran through the possibilites. 

 

Was it cystic fibrosis?  Diabetes?  An immune deficiency? I'll spare you all of the "what-ifs" that were thrown about.  They weren't good.

 

I looked at the family photo we had taken shortly after Thanksgiving and I cried.  The Leo in the picture was not the Leo we had with us.  Our new Leo was sad and vacant. 

 

Adam said very little.  Except, as I got off the phone with my dad one day, visibly upset, Adam seemed angry.  "F---."  That's all he said as he got off the couch and headed for the stairs.  I asked what was wrong and, after a few seconds of silence, he quietly said, "Leo."  Thirty minutes later, Adam had gone upstairs and not returned.  This is what I found when I went to check on him.

 

The recent polar vertex meant that the inevitable doctor's appointment for Leo was cancelled.  But a miraculous thing happened while we were stuck at home: Leo started to smile again.  After four weeks of absolute inactivity and expression, he was playing with his brothers.  Granted, it was slow at first, and very careful, but he was playing.  His lips looked better.  His cheeks turned pink.  He seemed like Leo.  And he was ravenous. 

 

In the last week,  Leo has made drastic improvements. His eyes still look a little distant, but his face is filling out again.  He's eating everything in sight.  As of today, he's back up to 33 pounds.  He's getting better. 

 

He's still going to get the work-up and the doctor's visit that I so stupidly put off for so long.  We still want to know if there is something wrong with Leo, but most of the serious possibilities are no longer a concern.  It took a long time, but our Leo is coming back. 

 

Last night, he was up at ten, asking for ham and beans and cornbread.  He got that, and then carmel corn, crackers, a cheese stick, chocolate milk.  I'll give him anything he wants if he just keeps getting better.   

Now, I'm not writing this for pity, more for my own recollection.  Clearly, Leo is getting better and we couldn't be happier.  Some family knew how sick Leo was, others didn't.  If this is the first you are hearing of it, I'm sorry. We weren't really into talking about it.  But, now we can.

 

Yesterday, Adam and I went room to room together and watched each child as he/she slept.  We snuggle a little longer with the kids now.  We take naps with them.  We practice patience.  We try to be present when we spend time with them. Leo's illness, whatever it was, was a sign that we needed to slow down--to enjoy each other--to stop taking all of this for granted. 

 

And so we will.

 

And perhaps we'll look for help a little sooner next time the kids get sick.  Lesson learned.  I'd like to think we're decent parents, but we're clearly not medicine men.  Clearly.

 

Three cheers for Leo Alexander.  To health, to weath, and to happiness.

 

God bless.