Mother's Day Gifts

Before 8am this morning, I had changed a diaper, wiped a butt, and grounded a 5 year-old. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

My husband told me I had to relax and stay in bed while he took our three kids to get my mother’s day latte. I obliged. But it felt bizarre. Laying in bed while there was laundry to be done and beds to made? I forced myself, though, because I didn't want to disappoint the kids when they got home.  I just laid there and made a mental list of all the things I needed to do.

When I got the all clear, I came down stairs to a kitchen table piled with thoughtful gifts and an empty room.  Josie and Owen jumped out from under the table and screamed, “Happy Mother’s Day!” If I could have wrapped that moment up in a box, it would have been the second greatest mother's day gift that I’d ever received.

After I opened my presents, Josie and Owen started arguing over who picked out what.  Owen had a meltdown when he realized Josie picked out everything.  I immediately put my gifts aside and tried to momentarily raise Owen’s self esteem and keep Josie’s in-check.

My husband offered to skip his Sunday run, which is tantamount to him giving up air – a very sweet offer.  His support makes me a better mother.  It’s his day too. 

So while he ran, I made the beds, vacuumed Emily’s trail of goldfish, and explained to Josie and Owen why hanging on the cords to the blinds was not a good decision. Then, I put on a show.

For a moment, they were all occupied - a rare trifecta. I sat down to finish my lukewarm latte.  My mind wandered to where it has gone every mother’s day for the last 5 years.  I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.  Am I really a mom, celebrating mother’s day with 3 wonderful children?  I remember how convinced I was this day would never come.

Each mother’s day, I think back on the moment when the young doctor, new to Radiology  told me the chemotherapy I’d had at 19 might make it difficult, if not impossible, for me to have children.  He wasn't even my doctor.  He stammered nervously after he told me - like he was shocked to have been the one to break the news.I was shocked too – my cancer wasn't anywhere near my reproductive organs.  What was this doctor talking about? Then, I remembered the day we discussed my treatment plan, when my oncologist talked about the toxicity of all the chemo drugs.  The side effects that all sounded like blah blah blah because I didn't want to hear any of them.

Fast-forward 14 years. I am sitting on a kid stained couch near a pile of toys next to three kids who call me mom.  That doctor was wrong.  But, without knowing it, he gave me the greatest mother’s day gift I've ever received. He gave me perspective.

He made me appreciate every second of motherhood. He made me appreciate the loads of laundry, the diaper changes and the stress that seems, like children, to grow each year.

On Mother’s Day, I think what I want to do most, are the thankless things that mothers do.  Because having children and being a mom are the gifts that I can't take for granted.

Getting Old

I have to admit putting on a brave face and proudly carrying my sweet Emily into a public setting is getting old. I’m sick of smiling politely and saying, “it’s just a birthmark.” I’m losing my patience for seemingly innocent children who stare at her and point while they whisper to their friends.

I know I am strong. I know I have faced far worse circumstances. I know there are parents who wish their biggest heartache was having to deal with other people’s judgement of their child’s unusual birthmark. But, if I am really being honest, I’m tired of putting it into perspective and tired of counting my blessings. For once, I want someone to see my daughter’s face without first seeing the large hemangioma under her beautiful right eye.

I appreciate the people who try to be polite and not say anything. I’m irritated by the people who smile uncomfortably and say, “What a pretty baby,”  I can’t help but wonder what they’re really thinking.

Sometimes a child will look at her, stop for just a second, look up at me and then smile before going down the slide. I look around and see if I can spot the mother. To tell her that she’s done a good job. So the next time her child dumps out the belongings of her purse in the grocery store, she can remember that, when it matters most, her child knows how to behave.

Today, Emily stared at herself in the mirror that covers the closet door. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye while I folded laundry on top of the bed. “How big is Emily?” I asked. She raised both hands and smiled while I said, “so big.”

I folded a few towels and then said, “Dance. Dance. Dance.” Emily raised her right arm, pinched her thumb and pointer finger together like she was trying to snap and then twisted her body to the rhythm of her imaginary music.

While I finished folding the rest of the clothes, Emily sat and stared at her image. Does she see it? I wondered. Was she going to touch the red mark in her reflection and try to wipe it off? Instead, she started dancing again. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Explaining Emily’s birthmark to strangers isn’t the only thing that is getting old. Emily is getting older too. It feels like a race against the clock. After each laser treatment, I am hoping and praying that, when the redness subsides, there will be enough gone that Emily will never have to ask, “What’s this?” or “Why do I have it?” or “Why do people stare and say mean things to me?”I finished the laundry and picked up Emily with a resurgence of strength, patience and understanding.  I am grateful that I am the one who has to deal with the comments, the looks and the ignorance.

I will sweetly smile at those who look Emily’s way. I will politely explain that Emily didn’t fall, didn’t color on her face or didn’t do anything other than be born looking a little different than everyone else. I will gladly answer every single question and continue to hope that Emily never has to answer one on her own.

“Bring it on strangers,” I say as I pick Emily up in the air and tickle her stomach with my nose. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” I tell Emily while she crumbles into a giggling ball. I lower Emily back down.  She nuzzles her nose into the nape of my neck and stays there for a while.

Happy Birthday, Sad Mommy

I didn't have a big 1st birthday party for my third child, Emily. I am not a big birthday party kind of person. My own birthday is in July – I have fond memories of sharing pizza and pool time with the few kids from the block who weren't on vacation  It was simple. But still a celebration.Another reason for not having a big party is that we are trying to save money for a house. Its shocking how quickly a first year old’s birthday party can become a car payment or two. Less is more, I decided.

Perhaps, the real reason I didn't have a big bash is that Emily had her laser treatment on Wednesday and her face looks bruised and swollen for a week or so after treatment. I just didn't want to have a party, with lots of people and lots of pictures, when my sweet Emily wasn't looking her best. She looked beautiful. But still not her best.

Looking back on my last baby’s first birthday, I wish I had thrown a huge circus theme party, with clowns, elephants and giant trapeze. I wish I had booked The Fresh Beat Band and flew in Barney on a private jet. Because the huge party would have distracted me from the sadness I couldn't shake all day. My baby, my last baby, was turning one, which really meant she wasn't a baby any more.

My advice for busy moms with more than one child who are contemplating how to celebrate their last child’s first birthday is to pull out all the stops. Leave no corner undecorated. Leave no treat unfrosted. Leave no second uncelebrated.

Because the day isn't just the end of your baby’s first year – it’s also the end of you being a mom to a baby.  And diaper changes, late night feedings and spit-up stains aside, being a mom to a baby is definitely something to celebrate. Especially on the last day you will ever get to be one.

The $600 Pacifier

I never really wanted an iPad.  I tend to steer clear of things that cost more than $20.00. I am a stay-at-home-mom for 3 young children. There shouldn't be anything expensive in a 2 mile radius of me and my brood.

My husband is always telling me I should buy myself a few nice things – like designer sunglasses or a snazzy smart-phone. “Just take care of them and keep them away from the kids,” my husband says. I just roll my eyes like I always do when he says something completely ridiculous.But, when my husband starting dropping hints that he was getting me an iPad, I started getting excited. When I opened the iPad on the eve of my 33rd birthday, after the kids were all tucked in bed, my husband said, “This gift is for you. Don’t let the kids use it.”

I started to roll my eyes instinctively but then stopped mid-roll said, “Okay, I’ll try.”Every morning, I hid the iPad high on a shelf and ran to retrieve it the second my kids went down for their nap.  I surfed with lightening speed, dominated Words With Friends, and Temple Run like I’ve never run before.

As soon as I heard the pitter-patter of little feet coming down the stairs, I shoved the iPad back on the shelf and pretended like it didn't exist for the rest of the day. This went on for a few weeks.

But then,  one day, when I was in the middle of a record-setting, heart-racing temple run, I was startled by a little voice from across the room.

“WHAT is that?!?!” My 5 year-old daughter, Josie, screamed like she had just discovered a roller coaster in her backyard. “Did we get an iPad?”

I just stared at her.  The loud “thud” of my temple runner banging his head into a giant tree trunk broke the silence.

“I got it for my birthday,” I said.  I guess honesty was the best policy.  ”You can use it too if you sit by me and are very, very careful.” I caved.

“Your dad is going to kill me,” I said under my breath as Josie snuggled up against me and took my iPad.  It was the beginning of the end.

At first, I was frustrated by how much my kids wanted to use the iPad. But eventually, I realized that iPad is a great educational tool. My kids love the ABC writing app and love doing math with Team Umizoomi.

The iPad is also a great parenting tool. My kids know that if they eat all their dinner, clear their plates and behave during bath  then they can each play with the iPad before bedtime. It’s really the gift that keeps giving.

“See, sharing the iPad isn’t such a bad thing,” I said to my husband as my children drifted to sleep peacefully while visions of new apps downloaded in their heads.  My husband just rolled his eyes and said, “we’ll see.”

A few weeks later, when I was at home with my 4 year-old son, Owen, and my 8 month-old daughter, Emily, I ran upstairs to do some laundry while Owen played Angry Birds and Emily played in her play pen.

As soon as I got to the top of the stairs, Emily started crying. “Owen,” I called down to Emily’s older brother, “can you give Emily a toy so she stops crying?” I pleaded.“Oh yeah, sure,” he said. I heard Owen jump from the couch and a few seconds later, Emily stopped crying.

“I did it!” Owen screamed with excitement.

“Awesome, dude!” I called down.

I walked towards the dryer, got the clothes out and started to fold.  I managed to fold the entire load without so much as a peep from Emily.  Amazing, I thought.

Upon arriving back downstairs, I saw Emily sitting in her playpen and sucking on the iPad.“Owen!” I screamed and ran over to my very happy baby to retrieve my very wet iPad.“Hey, she likes it,” Owen said as Emily started to fuss.

“Yes, but it’s not a  pacifier,” I said as I took the iPad and put it back on the shelf for the rest of the day.

I guess even I have my limits, I thought. I gave Emily a busy box and showed her how to pop up the animals from each box. Then, I pulled out Candy Land from the closet and hoped Owen remembered how to play a game that didn't involve a touch screen.

Our Prize Fighter

Emily looked like she had been in a boxing match. There were tiny bruises all over her right cheek. Her face glistened with Vaseline, as though the cut man had prepped her for another round. But Emily wasn't heading back into the ring. She was heading home after her first pulsed-dye-laser treatment.

After talking with her dermatologist about the aggressive nature of Emily’s facial hemangioma and how it probably wouldn't be gone before she was 10, we decided to discuss Emily’s options.Emily’s dermatologist suggested pulsed-dye laser treatment. A pulsed-dye-laser is a bright light that destroys abnormal blood vessels under the skin.

The procedure was simple and painless.  But because of the proximity to Emily’s eye, the procedure required anesthesia. Emily would have to undergo the treatment in an operating room at the hospital, which upped our anxiety ten-fold.

I first asked the doctor whether the effectiveness of the laser was greater when she was younger. She confirmed that recent studies have shown much better results on infants than older children. Also, if we wait too long, the hemangioma can permanently scar her skin. It may damage her eye. And, whether we wanted to admit it or not, dealing with a large red mark on her face when entering school could also damage Emily psychologically.

Her dermatologist said she’s seen far too many school aged children come in for laser treatment after being ridiculed and tortured by other children. “It’s heart breaking and Emily doesn’t deserve that,” she said.

I knew my dermatologist was right. I knew that I should take advantage of the amazing medical procedures that are available to us. But I was worried about the anesthesia. I was also worried about changing Emily’s appearance.

There is part of me that will miss the strawberry red mark on the right side of Emily’s face. There is also part of me that wants Emily to learn to embrace what makes her different and stand up to those who hurt her.

But then, I walk around a park with Emily facing out in the baby bjorn and remember why I wish her hemangioma was already gone. I can’t take two steps without someone asking me what’s wrong with her. It’s a common occurrence to overhear one child telling another to check out the baby with the scary face. Everyone stops and stares. Everyone.

For now, Emily loves the attention. She flaps her arms with excitement and grins at those who look her way. She doesn't recognize the fear in their faces. She can’t understand the mean things they say.

Ultimately, my husband and I decided to treat her hemangioma to give Emily a clean slate. We want to let her determine how she wants to be different. We feel fortunate that Emily’s physical difference is 

something that can be easily treated. We feel like it’s our duty as her parents to prevent any permanent scarring on her face and to prevent any potential ridicule down the road.

Emily’s first laser treatment was a huge success. She tolerated it like a champ, smiling all the way into the OR and waking up happy just a few minutes after it ended. Because Emily did so well, the dermatologist said we may only have to do a few more treatments before we see results.

We hope, one day, Emily will look back on what we did and thank us for making the financial and emotional commitment to remove her birthmark. I hope, one day, when Emily is a teenager, she doesn’t rebel and get a giant red tattoo where her birthmark used to be.

Top 10 Reasons to Have 3 Kids

1. Mini-vans are awesome…Really

Having three kids is the perfect excuse to trade in your clunky SUV for a roomy, fuel-efficient, family-friendly, mini-van.  When other moms in SUVs see you at carpool and scream, “You got a minivan!” just smile as you push open your sleek, safe automatically sliding doors and say, “Had to – 3 kids.”

2. It’s good for your marriage

The third child makes you appreciate your spouse even more because, frankly, you can’t handle three kids on your own.  The next time your husband or wife does something that irritates you, you will find yourself biting your tongue.  Go ahead and drink milk right from the carton, honey. Just don’t forget to change the baby’s diaper after you’re done.

3. People will think you are a celebrity 

Everywhere you go with three kids in tow, people will stare as you walk by. Sure, they may be staring at you because they think you are crazy. But it’s much more fun to pretend they are mistaking you for Angelina Jolie.

4. Baby gear is expensive

If you’ve already paid $200 for a carseat and $500 for a double jogging stroller, then you should definitely have another baby just to get more return on your investment.

5. Your car/house/wardrobe is already a mess

What’s a few more smashed goldfish on the floor of your car? Once you take the plunge and have two, your life already revolves around your children.  Having one more will help your children learn to take turns being the center of your attention.

6. Your older children will finally put down their iPads

Parents who have a third child are shocked at how much their older children enjoy playing with their youngest sibling.  Making a happy baby laugh is far more gratifying than making an angry bird fly.

7. Increase your odds for Eldercare

We all want to believe our kids will be there for us in our golden years.  But let’s face it, your oldest will probably blame you for everything, your second will probably move out of state, and so your third is your best chance for having an adult child who is willing and able to pick up your prescriptions.

8. Kids are funny

Most parents would agree that some of their best laughs in recent years were because of (or at the expense of) their kids.  The more kids you have, the more you laugh.  Of course, it can also mean more tears, more stress and more college tuition, but let’s try and stay focused on the positives.

9. Babies aren’t obnoxious

When your 4 year-old starts saying things like “whatever” and “just move on” you’d do anything to turn back the clock.  But you can’t.  You can, however, have another baby.  Give yourself one more chance to enjoy the baby smell, the baby smiles and the adorable, inoffensive baby talk.

10. Third time’s a charm

Your third child will be the happiest, easiest, most fun baby ever. Guaranteed. Perhaps it’s because you’ve worked out all your parenting kinks on the first two. Or maybe it’s because your third child has to learn to wait in line from an early age.  Whatever the cause, just know that it’s true. Most of the time.

Emily Joan: Making Her Mark

The day I brought my third child, Emily Joan, home from the hospital I was worried about a lot of things. I was worried I wouldn't remember how to care for a newborn. I was worried my older children would have a difficult time adjusting. I was worried I would never sleep again.At first, I wasn't worried about the faint, red mark on the right side of Emily’s face. But that night, as I stared at Emily under the dim light of the lamp by my bed, the mark finally caught my attention.

I ran my fingers over where the mark started in the corner of her right eye and followed the mark’s diagonal outline down her soft, pink cheek.  Something’s not right, I remember thinking, and the seed of worry was planted in my overtired and overprotective mind.

The next morning, when I took Emily to the pediatrician for her newborn check-up, the pediatrician asked me if I had any concerns. “Just the mark on her face,” I blurted out, wondering why he hadn't brought it up already.  But to anyone else, it was barely noticeable beneath the bright pink tone of Emily’s newborn skin.

The pediatrician took a second look and said that it was some type of birthmark. “Either a port wine stain, which never goes away, or a hemangioma, which gets darker and thicker but goes away in time,” he said.

“How do you know what kind it is?” I managed to ask, choking back the tears.“You just have to wait and see,” he said.

My pediatrician’s words haunted me as I drove home from the appointment. I am not the type to wait and see. I am the type to seek and find – to Google and Bing - to exhaust every available resource until I know every possible outcome.

As soon as I got home, I ran to the computer. After an hour of searching on the internet, I was wishing I had taken my pediatrician’s advice.

Not only had I seen numerous unpleasant images of birthmarks on babies, but I had learned about several syndromes associated with large facial birthmarks. These syndromes caused serious heart and brain problems too.

Suddenly, worrying about a mark on her face seemed meaningless compared to worrying about a life-threatening or life-altering syndrome. I read page after page of web content. But as hard as I tried to compare Emily’s birthmark to the images on the computer screen, there wasn't a website in the world that could diagnose Emily. All I got from the world wide web was world wide worry.

One positive thing I learned from the internet was that Emily needed to see a pediatric 

dermatologist. I called the nurses line at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital, and a nurse referred me to Dr. Benjamin, who not only specializes in infantile birthmarks but is an expert in the field.

Dr. Benjamin couldn’t fit Emily into her schedule for a few weeks.  I was willing to wait to see the best.  But with every passing day Emily’s birthmark got darker. And my worries got stronger.

The next few weeks felt like years.  Thoughts about what might be wrong with Emily consumed me. My three year-old son, Owen, started to recognize the look on my face when I was contemplating the worst. “Don’t be sad mommy,” he would say.  I would run to my bedroom, shove my head in a pillow and sob until Dora the Explorer was over.

Finally, three weeks after Emily was born, my husband, Norm, and I sat in a tiny, white room and watched anxiously while Dr. Benjamin examined Emily’s large, red birthmark. It felt like good news when Dr. Benjamin said it was a hemangioma. I knew that meant it would go away.

Because the birthmark was so close to Emily’s eye, Dr. Benjamin was concerned that it might grow over the eye and cause blindness.  My worry-free minute was over.

Dr. Benjamin wanted Emily to start taking a beta blocker called Propanolol.  While the drug has been around for years, it had just recently been discovered as an effective and safe way to treat hemangiomas.  Hopefully, the drug would keep Emily’s birthmark flat so her right eye would remain open.

Before leaving I forced myself to ask Dr. Benjamin about the syndromes, even though I wasn't sure I would like her answer. She said both the size and placement of Emily’s birthmark put her at risk for a syndrome called PHACES. But, she said, Emily seemed like a healthy baby. There wasn't a need for further testing right now.

“We will just have to wait and see,” the dermatologist said as she smiled and walked out of the room. At that moment, I thought those were the worst words any parents could hear.  But then I gained some perspective.

Over the last six months, Emily and I have spent a lot of time in waiting rooms with other families. I met parents who were waiting for appointments, waiting for results, or waiting for their children to be admitted to the hospital.It made me realize how lucky I am. I get to bring my baby home. I get to watch her grow and learn and laugh. Each day is a wonderful gift – just not a guarantee. 

Emily, now 6 months, is growing and thriving. The drug kept her birthmark from interfering with her vision and lightened the mark’s appearance. She already had an echo-cardiogram which showed her heart looked normal.  Since she is meeting all her milestones, it appears, so far, that her brain is functioning perfectly. 

As for when the birthmark will go away and whether or not Emily has the syndrome, we will just have to wait and see.  Waiting and seeing really isn't such a bad thing after all. Because it means that at this very moment, as far as I know, we are all okay.