Pay It Forward

These past few months my family has ran into some bad luck. I won't detail it all out for you - but it has not been fun being an adult in the Jarvis family lately.

On one of my lowest days - I received an envelope from a person in my town. I was given strict orders to open the envelope later, and not mention another word about it. I curiously looked at her, cautiously took the envelope, and walked away.

I had been in email contact with this particular person about our children, so i fully expected a card, an invitation to something, or maybe even a letter.

That is not what was inside.

The contents of the envelope were very unexpected, and moved me to tears. Literally. It came at just the right time.

During this time I received a crochet order. A lady from New York was searching for someone to make a name doily, and a crafting lady in our town referred her to me. The New York lady had a family member that was very ill, and was not expected to live much longer. She had always wanted a name doily, and this was to be made for her... before she died. She didn't have much money, but was willing to pay me what I quoted her.

When I received the check... something clicked, and I knew exactly what i was going to do.

When she gets the name doily... inside that box... will be her very own envelope.

Wait... What???

I am a self-admitting  hypochondriac.

Knowing this about myself has led to the opposite of what you might think. I tend to refuse to go to the doctor, or send my children to the doctor. Years can go by without any of us seeing a health care professional. I am not stupid, I know that it is more likely nothing to worry about - but every single ache and pain still tends to lead me to Google. I am the Queen of Self Diagnosis.

When I DO end up going to the doctor, or taking my children to the doctor, the first words out of my mouth are usually "I didn't come here to get medication." I am not a real big believer that medication is the best answer. I'd rather solve the problem then cover it with chemicals. You want to prescribe my kid "the pink stuff"? I don't think so. Give Tylenol for a fever? No thank you. I could go on all day...

Several months ago I got a phone call from a friend who was just returning from a regular appointment with her baby girl. Her pediatrician had just returned from a seminar on a syndrome that involved a bifed uvula and was sending her daughter in for some testing. My friend knew about my son's bifed uvula and wanted to pass on the information. Being the procrastinator, doctor avoiding person that I am - Googled, decided it was nothing, and forgot about it.

Then... I saw something that led me to write this in my journal on November 1, 2011:

"Something is wrong with my son.
I am the type of person that thinks something is horribly wrong with everyone all the time. This awareness about myself usually makes me overcompensate by NOT going to the doctor and NOT taking my children to the doctor... ever. I HATE (yes... I said it... hate...) going to the doctor.
I've made TWO appointments for my child today. One with a pediatrician, who couldn't see him until the 10th, and one with my favorite country doctor who will see him sooner.
I haven't stopped shaking since 10:00 last night. I've bawled. I've felt ill. My jaw hurts from being tense. I feel like I need to vomit/shit/die all day.
If I believed in a Lord, I'd be praying. Hell... I AM praying.
Last night as I sat on my couch - I knew. I was the only one in the world that knew... and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My blood went cold, my hands got hot.... and I knew. My son has a rare condition... a bad one.
I can't speak of it now. I just can't.
I can't... but I am dying on the inside. I have to get my shit together... I have to get my life in order... I have to pull my pants up and DO this thing.
Fuck."

What did I see? A large change in the way his chest was shaped since this summer. Somewhere in my brain I had filed away the other symptoms of this syndrome my friend mentioned to me several months prior. This chest formation was in those symptoms.

I ended up cancelling the Pediatric appointment, and went to my favorite ol' country - no meds if we don't have to - doctor. During this visit, I expected him to calm my nerves and tell me that I should quit with the Google and there was nothing to worry about. Instead - he was very concerned. I was shocked. I was so shocked! To the core. He set up appointments for the University of Iowa. Shocked!

Yesterday morning I wrote this in my journal:

"Today is the Doctor appointment.
Strangely - I feel a tad calmed, relaxed, and... better. Maybe because I am actually on this road to figuring things out? I don't know why, I just know that I am thankful. I was a MESS before. I never want to feel that panicked and out of control again. It was soooooooooooooo horrid.
I haven't said a word to my children, including my son. He thinks he's going because his chest has a bump on it -- and that is true... at least PARTLY true.
Is this the beginning of a different life... or the end to my worry? We shall see."

Heading up to the University of Iowa Hospitals was shit-tay. The weather was nice, and the company (my husband and son) were awesome... but the hospital gives me the shits. Literally. My mother went there. Lots and lots... and the result was death. I do not like it, and even though it looks kinda different - it is still the same. The Children's wing was especially horrid. They do their best, and the hospital is great - but watching "Nemo" on the big screen isn't nearly as fun when you have dying children all around you.

All day long my son was poked, and prodded, and tested. He took it like a champ. The Genetics appointment was very interesting. They took pictures, asked lots and lots of questions, took an extensive family history, measured fingers and toes, and even poked and prodded at my husband and I. As we talked, a nurse typed into the computer, and students came in and looked us over. I was fascinated.

The Geneticist came and sat down, and presented the "score card". He scored some points in other syndromes, including the SCARY one that it was suspected he had... but not high enough for a diagnosis. I was so relieved, I cried. As I was smiling and fighting back tears, she proceeded to tell me that she was diagnosing my son with Elhers-Danlos Syndrome. She suspected my oldest daughter had it too.

I was all, wait...what??

She hadn't even seen my daughter, but with the history and some simple descriptions she was pretty positive. Interesting. I just kept right on smiling (I was still on a high from him not having the other syndrome). I wasn't HAPPY that he had this, and I didn't want them to think I was, so I tried to keep it cool. I was craving more information. I was having withdrawals from Google.

So. Now what? I'm just beginning to learn. Certain odd things that I've noticed about my oldest, and youngest child are starting to make sense. I'm struggling with some guilt over not taking their aches and pains seriously. I'm dipping into some resources to learn how to make their lives a little easier. I am at the foot of this mountain of becoming an Ehlers-Danlos expert, and I have a long ways to climb. The truth is... this is going to suck for him, and I am not happy about that.

But you know what?

I'm still smiling.

It Just Keeps Getting Better...

I hear all the time from my friends who have younger kids, or from strangers with babies about how they wish they could keep their children little forever. How they wish their babies would stop growing so fast. How they are going to miss that baby stage, toddler age, childhood.

Let me tell you... I thought it too.

But... It doesn't end. You know... that feeling of awe. That overwhelming, heart hurting, feeling of LOVE. That is what I was scared I was going to miss. That sweetness.

This weekend I looked at my sleeping children.

I still feel it.

Even though they are not babies, not toddlers, and barely even children... I still feel it... and it might even be MORE amazing.

I wish I had known that when I was holding my tiny babies. I wish I had known that it only gets better and better.

Schooooolllssssss out for Summmmmerrrrrrrr!!! (An update post)

Not that I care... much. The only perk for me is that I get to see my lovelies on my lunch break.

Kelsey got her driving permit, and then recently upgraded to a school permit. It was SCARY watching her just.... drive off.... by herself.

Bailey's room is almost gutted, so she's been sleeping in the same room as Teague. They are both sick of it and fight constantly.

All the kids are playing summer ball. We have games almost every single night of the week, usually several in a night.

Today is the 11th anniversary of my miscarriage. I remembered... my cousin remembered...

I could promise to blog more... but I won't... I WANT to...

I'm reading "Jane Eyre" -- I find it very hard to get interested in but am determined to finish it. It is kinda getting good... I'm only on Chapter 5.

I am letting this post to my Facebook again. I wasn't going to have it automatically post there - because I figured if people wanted to read what I had to say they could come HERE... to my blogspot... on their own effort. I don't know why I changed my mind. I might change it back.

I planted my garden. It is growing well.

I've been ill.

I am still ill. But on the plus side, I've found two new blogs to enjoy! And being the nice person that I am, I'll share them with you.

http://wearetheraddest.blogspot.com/

http://www.reagansblob.com/

And just a reminder... don't forget about Nella! She is turning one this week, so that means I have been reading her blog for an entire year. I love the blog, the pictures, and I have even been secretly stealing her Mama's songs for my own playlist. Turn up your volume, I promise you'll love it.

http://www.kellehampton.com/

I'll take that challenge!

Some of the blogs I read are doing a January challenge by posting before and after pictures of different things in their home that need organizing. It is suppose to help give motivation to get things done.

So... here it is... Project #1: The downstairs bathroom closet.


BEFORE - I acknowledge the blurry, and apologize for it.

AFTER - Yes. The dogs are now in the closet. Don't judge me.

Well.... there you have it, folks. If I were more organized - I would already know what I am going to tackle next, but if that were the case... I wouldn't have this problem in the first place!

Happy Holidays!