Of late nights and hotdogs...

I love my SuperBug.  He truly has the most amazing and loving heart I have ever seen.  At his young age, he shows more compassion and love than adult 5 times his age!  I am constantly reminded of how blessed I am that God chose me to be His mother.  Today was just another example.

Last night, Honeybee was having a difficult time sleeping.  Her eczema was causing her such discomfort and she needed extra TLC to calm down.  I didn’t mind.  I loved holding her and stroking her back, soothing her with the natural creams that moisturize.  However, it would be less than honest to say that I was no tired.  When I finally got her settled and sleep, I’d walked the home floors for several rotations.  When the alarm clock blared my awakening this AM, I’d only had a couple of hours of sleep and knew I would need to sleep for a few more snooze button rotations.  Forty minutes later, I finally managed to get up and get ready.  Looking at the clock, I inwardly groaned.  I wouldn’t have time to make lunch that morning and I needed to clean the bottles that I left in the sink last night.
The lunch of champions :)

Imagine my surprise and delight when I walked downstairs and the sink was clear.  My wonderful mother-in-law had awakened early and cleared the mess for me.  My son was standing by the kitchen island with a wide grin on his face.  As I was walking out the door and preparing to give him his goodbye hug and kiss, he told me not to forgot my lunch.  I was just about to explain that I didn’t have make lunch, he points to a gray plastic bag.

My SuperBug had awakened, showered, and then took it upon himself to make me lunch—a hotdog on a bun, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and a Big Capri-Sun.  He even put ketchup in the separate areas.  My son then explained that he’d heard his sister crying in the middle of the night and had seen me walking in and out of her room through the crack in his door.  He figured I would be too tired to get up and make lunch and he knew I’d not had the chance to do so the night before.  He didn’t want me to skip lunch, so he made lunch for me.

My heart was amazingly full.  As I write this, I am reminded of God’s word, which tells me that unless I am converted and become as a child, I shall not enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt 18:3 KJV).  While I know this verse is geared more to one’s faith, I believe that my son exhibits some of the Godliest characteristics that I have had the privilege of being exposed.  I would be honored to be more like him in that regard.

In the meantime, I am super blessed to have him as my son and I am more than honored to be his Mommy.

-WinterMommy

Of Eczema and Medication

Today was our Honeybee's 6 month check-up.  So far, so good.  She is progressing well in height and weight.  She is healthy.  She is happy.  The only thing that isn't doing so well is her eczema.  Yes, the evil skin ailment has once again reared its ugly head and caused unpleasant nights and days for our Honeybee.
Our pediatrician has made no secret of the fact that Bee's eczema is one of the worst cases she has ever seen.  We have tried several natural ways of keeping the ailment at bay.  Shea Butter, diluted apple cider vinegar, massages, wet PJ wraps.  You name it.  We have tried it.  Finally, after a particularly bad episode of itching and crying and hair pulling, we were forced to cut Honeybee's hair (See A Hairless Honeybee) and our pediatrician was forced to try medication.

It worked...for a while.  It relieved the itching, allowed Honeybee a chance to sleep at night, and kept her disposition sunny.  But recently, she has had more itchy days than not.  At today's visit, our pediatrician noticed that despite our best efforts, the skin had started to weep.  :(  It was time to prescribe new medications.

So, that's what we are currently doing.  Today, Honeybee is one three medications.  Their dosage is spaced apart and one is to be used only for a couple of weeks, but hopefully they will work and we can get finally find something that works!

In other news, Honeybee has started trying to hold her own bottle at 6 months and is giving indications that she is looking forward to being mobile soon.  I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet.  I kind of like having her hold on to me a

A Hairless Honeybee


Well, after lengthy attempts at saving it, our household had to cut off all of Honeybee’s hair.  Yep.  We didn’t want to, but it had to be done.  Honeybee has eczema-very, very bad eczema from head to toe.  Some days, it is great and doesn’t bother her at all.  Other days, it is very uncomfortable for her and she itches incessantly.  One of the worst spots for her is her head.  Because her head sweats and she couldn’t reach the itch, she opted to pull out great plugs of her in her journey to stop the itch.  Our doctor told us we would probably have to cut her hair, but we continued to try and save it.  Alas, the comb overs weren’t doing it.  The standard Aveenos don’t work as she is highly sensitive to anything remotely related to oatmeal.  Shea butter is a friend, but only for a while.  Prescriptions  can work, but when they wear off, her itch seems to be intensified.  Plus, we aren’t fans of long term steroid use for infants…neither is our pediatrician.

So, finally, on a Saturday morning, after the haircut for SuperBug (aka Doodle who has decided recently that he would rather not be Doodle anymore), FatherWinter cut her hair.  I was downstairs as I didn’t want to see the thick tightly curled afro disappear.  When I came upstairs after it was done….I smiled J  It was cute.  Her features suit her new low cut perfectly. She is gorgeous, but she could be in a brown paper bag and be gorgeous to me.  The important thing is she is very happy, slightly less itchy at night, and still the bright eyed and bushy-tailed Honeybee we know and love. 

This weekend, after her daring cut, I had a really cool moment.  I was holding my daughter.  She was resting comfortably in my arms.  She wasn’t sleeping; her dark eyes were quietly observing everything around her.  She was lying comfortably against my chest and I was simply staring at her.  We didn’t say a word to each other.  There was no babble speech from her, no cheery or sing song words from me.  We just sat there in complete silence—together.  We were both enjoying the moment.  Every once in a while she would look up at me and smile.  I would return the same and we would return to our previous positions enjoying each other in the solitude and stillness of the night. 

These are the moments that I look forward to when the adoption is complete.  I look forward to tea parties and bedtime stories.  I look forward to holding my daughter in my lap, my son at my side, reading bedtime stories, and building memories as a family. 

Let’s hope that becomes our reality sooner than later.

Of Scents, Of Time, Of Mine

I received an email tonight from Honeybee's social worker.  It was one of those emails that you knew was a harbinger to not great news.  "I just tried to reach you on your cell....Call me ASAP...."  I literally ran up the stairs to grab my cell phone from its resting place on my nightstand.  I called our social worker and she said words that caused a lump in my throat and complete stillness in my home.  After she confirmed that my husband was standing beside me and that he was on speakerphone, she informed us that Honeybee's birthfather had appealed, on the last possible day, his termination of parental rights.  He was, in essence, fighting the adoption.

It was surreal.  A man, who has never contacted, called, asked about, inquired about, or to our knowledge acknowledged anything Honeybee suddenly has the potential to disrupt what has been her only environment for 97% of her life.  I listened intently as the social worker continued with the options and told us what was already being done.

After the call, I was...less than thrilled.  A lot of emotions were in my world.  I called a cousin who has gone through adoption and was blessed as she prayed for my husband, me, our family, and for the birth father.  I thought about how difficult this decision has to be for him to make this decision at the 11th hour.  How he must have been agonizing in his heart whether or not he even wanted to make the challenge.  It brought no solace and I found myself wanting to hold our Honeybee and I did....I am.

Tonight, my daughter is currently lying on my lap while I type.  I am watching her little form nestle securely in my arms and stopping to see her chest rise and fall ever so gently.  I am smelling her.  A hint of cocoa from the shea buttter.  A bit of acridity from the formula.  My baby.

I don't even want to think of the possibility of her not being able to be here.  She is mine.  I love her.  I know her father must love her because he is contacting, but I have to be honest....I want him to just understand what we are feeling here.  Five months is a long time to say no.  And suddenly you are saying yes.  Having never been in the situation that he is in, I can't say I understand his emotions.  I can't fault him for them.  They are legitimately his to endure and experience.  But I pray that something be said, done, or agreed to that will allow Honeybee to maintain the security, love, and environment that she has now and the ability to grant him peace that she is indeed safe and loved.

I know this is a difficult process for all involved.  Ultimate, I pray that whatever happens will be a blessing for her life, but I have to admit, my prayers will be for peace...the kind that surpasses understanding.

I say all of this and am then reminded of the post I wrote only a few days ago reminding me that Fear is False Evidence Appearing Real.  I know this will work out as it should and as God wills it to be.  God has not given me a spirit of fear.  In that I am standing strong and resting on His promises.  I know that He already knows the outcome.  As He created Honeybee, He has created her journey and I know sincerely, He will order my steps to ensure that hers walk that path wherever it may lead.