Belly achin' baby.

Froggy's mic-key fell out in the middle of the night two weeks ago. By the time we woke up, her stoma had almost completely closed. I tried to put a new one in, but it was very painful. For both of us. Hurting your kid to save her from more pain later, doesn't equate in the mama brain.  
So the next day we had to do an outpatient procedure with sedation to put a new mic-key in.  Turns out a hole in your belly can close within 15 minutes. Our bodies our incredible at correcting error. Wait, there's a hole, fill it in, fill it in! Apparently, like everything Froggy, even her platelets are turbo powered. Her stoma closed in record time.

The procedure went well and Froggy has her new mic-key. But she was in a lot of pain and the docs would only give her Tylenol, so it was a tough couple days.

The next week we had her CF Clinic Appt. and she was 52.2 pounds and 1/4 of an inch shy of 4 feet! She's above the 50th percentile for height and weight. Her FEV1's with the aftermath of a cold were 98. Not too shabby.

I think this was the first time a procedure really affected her. It took 4 nurses to put her IV in after the first one failed. And she asked if I had a mic-key when I was little, or if Grandma did. And then, "Well, why do I have to have one?"

As she gets older, the questions only get harder. And I don't know the answers. I wish I did. We're learning together. And hopefully she knows that even if I don't have the perfect answer I love her perfectly. I wish like our bodies, our brains healed as seamlessly. When something doesn't make sense, the empty space is just filled. All is mended, with only a tiny scar of "why me?" or "make it go away mama." Just a harmless memory healed by time.

Mommy not-so-dearest anymore

I took Froggy ice skating and she ran into an old friend from preschool. We'd been skating hand-in-hand for an hour, having a great mommy/kiddo day. The second she met up with her friend this was our conversation:

Froggy: Mommy, leave me alone. I'm dependent.
Me: I think you mean independent.
Froggy: Which one means I don't need you anymore?
Me:  Independent.
Froggy: Then that's what I am.

The irony of course is that she NEEDED me to tell her that she's independent. Right? It was a cold day on that rink. A cold day indeed.

Actually, I am so proud everytime she doesn't need me. It means I'm doing something right. And at the end of the day, she's back in my arms, telling me to rub her back and hum, like I have since she was a babe. My dependent, independent little Frog.

Smart Cookie

Froggymama (FM): Froggy, do you want to join Girl Scouts?
Froggy: What do they do?
FM: I'm not sure, we'll go to the meeting and find out.

Froggy: Do they sell cookies?
FM: Yep.
Froggy: Do we get paid for selling the cookies?
FM: No.
Froggy: That's horrible! Why would I sell their cookies if I don't get paid for it? I don't want to be a girl scout.