The Story of Aidan

So hard to believe we've had nearly a decade with this boy already! The boy who made us parents first.

Aidan was the pleasant surprise we received on returning from our honeymoon in July of 2006. We had delayed our honeymoon by a couple weeks so that we could work it around both of our work schedules at the time. I wasn't feeling well (and was extremely hungry) the entirety of our honeymoon and suspected something was up. My poor husband got to deal with a hormonal, ravenous, pregnant woman on what was supposed to be a relaxing, welcome-to-marriage vacation. It still makes me laugh. And to think clueless me rode roller coasters at an amusement park and ate deli meat sandwiches that week. All pregnancy no-no's!

August 2006

In retrospect, my pregnancy with Aidan was pretty easy, but I was a much bigger baby about it. My worst complaints were pretty bad heart burn/acid reflux and carpal tunnel problems. The carpal tunnel issues became debilitating, and by the start of month two I was sleeping on the couch at night with ice packs on my elbows. I was working then as an inspector for a company that made cylinder heads for Harley Davidson's big bikes. It required a lot of hand work, use of power tools and handling heavy objects, and I started smashing fingers because I just couldn't feel my hands anymore. I was put on light duty at work and sent to physical therapy where I received ultrasound treatments to relieve the pain. While they worked temporarily, the therapist told me my options were to either quit my job or have surgery at the age of 24. I resigned in August.

I fought the reflux/heart burn issues in the worst way possible: by snacking on Tums and downing unfathomable amounts of dairy products. Milk and yogurt seemed to wash the burn away, but only if consumed frequently. I was drinking about a gallon of milk every two days...sometimes more. To this day I'm sure that's what caused some of Aidan's issues later on. I was a pretty dense first-time Mom.

We decided that our first baby would surprise us boy or girl, so we decided on names for both genders: Aidan James and Madeleine Jo. Though I was convinced we were having a girl, I bought a little blue outfit and a little pink outfit to pack in the hospital bag anyway (which was ready to go a month in advance). We took Lamaze classes to prepare for birth, which were a monumental waste of time and left me with more fears than anything else. My sisters-in-law threw us a couple's baby shower a couple months before I was due, which thankfully provided us with most of the things we needed.

Baby shower

 The day before D-day. And yes, that's my foot.

I was due April 2, 2007, and went into labor at 3:00 am that morning. By 1:00 pm I called Eli home from work and we rushed to the clinic to see my doctor before heading to the hospital.

This is where the pleasantness takes a sharp turn, so if you're scared of childbirth or dislike traumatic birth stories, skip the next 13 paragraphs or so!

It turned out that Aidan was positioned the wrong way (posterior) and I had back labor. Things were not moving along as swiftly as the doctor wanted so they broke my water. When that failed to speed things up they gave me Pitocin, which is a synthetic hormone used to strengthen contractions. I was convinced terrorists had developed that evil concoction to terrify mothers out of having any more children. Fourteen hours into this burning pain, I tossed all my good resolutions for a drug-free birth out the window and asked for an epidural.

Have you ever felt like you were trapped in a comedic horror tale? That's what I felt like through that whole ordeal. When the nurses told me Dr. Terwilliger would be in soon I said, "Wait. You mean like Sideshow Bob from the Simpsons? You mean someone who shares the name of a murderous cartoon character is going to be sticking a needle in my spine?"

I was slightly relieved to see this Dr. Terwilliger was at least not sporting an orange afro. He instructed my husband (who is not a small man, folks) to help hold me still for the epidural. As soon as the needle went in, my leg kicked out involuntarily. It felt everything like a reflex. I thought he had hit a nerve, but immediately he started screaming at me to hold still. My sister-in-law, who was waiting in the hallway, even heard it.

"It went through. I'm going to have to redo it." He explained that my inconsiderate jerking had made him go through my spinal cord with the needle, and he was going to redo the epidural a bit higher up because the the first would not be effective.

What a nightmare. Finally he proclaimed the second epidural a success. While it took some of the edge off the pain, it was still very painful. The nurses called him back in (he probably thought I was the biggest cry baby ever) and insinuated that I was lying to him. He said he'd check back in after attending to another mother. When he came back an hour or two later and I told him the pain worsened about every hour, he sat down to explain that I was leaking spinal fluid from the first attempted epidural, and it was making the second epidural less effective.

The parody-themed birth experience continued when the next doctor to come on call resembled Al Roker before he lost weight. It wrapped up with the third doctor on call, who held an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Bean. Or at least I thought so at the time. It was really late when he came in; I had been awake since 3:00 am and on a cocktail of pain meds most the evening.

This "Mr. Beanish" doctor was to be the one who would deliver Aidan. He made it a point to tell me that there were twelve other women in labor under his care that night, and I wouldn't be the first priority if things sped up for me. He then used a vacuum-extractor to try to move Aidan. This only resulted in giving poor Aidan a cone-head.

If it wasn't for fear of the unknown, and the kindness of a black nurse named Marilyn who spoke with an Irish brogue, I would have unhooked myself and fled that evil place that night.

I didn't see the doctor again until about 2:00 am, April 3. I was in a fog by then, so time is approximate. He was more whispering to Eli than to me, and I had a hard time understanding what he was saying at first. But I saw him check his watch, and then say, "I don't think this is going anywhere, we really should do a c-section."

I started crying, utterly defeated. I just wanted the nightmare to be over. All my will power had been beaten down, and I didn't know what options were left. I remembered from Lamaze class that walking or doing exercises sometimes helped move things along, but I wasn't allowed out of bed. I thought I was out of options.

I was wheeled into the OR shortly after. Dr. Terwilliger took his place by my head. I could feel the burning when they started the incision; Dr. T. told me that was impossible. I insisted, it felt like someone was branding me. He kept asking if I was sure I was only 5'1", maybe if I got my height wrong they were giving me less meds than I needed. I explained I've been this height since 7th grade, I'm pretty sure I haven't forgotten. He increased the anesthetic then, which thankfully helped.

Aidan James was born at 2:14 am, April 3, weighing in at 9 pounds and 22 inches long. I got a peek at him before he was whisked away for testing and a clean-up. I wouldn't get to see him again or hold him for the first time for another eight hours.

Eli took this picture and brought the camera back to show me. 

When I woke I was told Aidan had been taken to the NICU. They made me walk to the NICU to see him, which I thought was cruel and unusual punishment. Both Aidan and I had fevers; I had developed an infection from being in labor with my water broke for so long. I was told we had to stay for ten days so that they could complete the series of antibiotics they had him on. Aidan had jaundice bad enough that he had to spend a lot of time under a bili-blanket. I had finally gotten my glow worm.

The first time I got to hold my baby boy!

Eli was in the NICU with Aidan long before I got there, but this is the first picture taken of him holding his firstborn son. 

Our own bili-blanket glow worm...

...and sweet little cone head. They let us bring him back to our room later that day. 

 

This poor little guy was poked so many times his first week of life. The nurses gave his arms a break and put an IV in his scalp. The hat hid our reality; a moment of staged peace.

Grandparents meeting their first grandchild (for both sides).

I love that we got Little Grandma in the mirror of this photo! It looks like she's looking over her daughter's shoulder.

Day three they moved us to a hospitality suite in the hospital. Eli went home, he had to get back to work. It was around this time that I developed a blinding headache. It would mysteriously go away while laying down; as soon as I got up it returned full force. Of course, while recovering from a c-section, the nurses were on me all the time to walk walk walk! "You'll heal faster!" I also was under the impression that good mothers did everything for their babies; they kept baby by their side at all times, and did not rely on nurses to do anything for them. (I thankfully knew better by baby #2, and accepted all the help I was offered while in the hospital.) Laying down for long wasn't an option.

After a full day with no relief from the headache, I mentioned it to a nurse. She shrugged it off, saying a lot of things could be triggering it. There were a lot of hormones at play yet. I asked another nurse for help, explaining the headache was making it hard to see and think. She brought me a Motrin. A third nurse said I was probably just dehydrated and brought me a pitcher of water. "Drink as much as you can; it'll also help all that swelling go away." An hour later she said she could try an IV with fluids and see if that would work. She broke six veins in my arms trying to get the IV started before calling another nurse in. (My arms were black and blue for a week after we got home.) The other nurse grabbed my arm, and said I needed to calm down because being nervous was causing my veins to atrophy. I was making everyone's jobs harder. When she finally got the IV started I broke down crying from exhaustion, depression, pain, hormones. Embarrassed, I apologized: "I'm sorry, I just never expected things to turn out like they have."

The nurse who had finally got the IV started turned to me and snapped, "That was your first mistake. You never come in here with expectations." And she left. I've never forgotten those words, or the way she said them to me. I had never felt so worthless before.

When I woke the next morning to the incapacitating headache yet again, I again called a nurse. When she came in I told her everything that had been done and hadn't worked, and I needed help. She said that they couldn't do anything more for me because I was no longer a "patient". I had been discharged on day three. "It was in that pile of papers I brought you to sign. If you're in that much pain you'll have to go down to the emergency department and check yourself in."

I wheeled baby Aidan in his cart back to the NICU, explaining I was going to the emergency department for my headache. I spent the next eight hours laying in a dark room on morphine. They finally moved me on a stretcher into the hallway outside of the MRI room with about four other people, also on stretchers. The absurdity of this predicament overcame me, and I remember giggling uncontrollably until someone came to get me.

The MRI showed that I was leaking spinal fluid, which was causing a spinal headache. I was so relieved to finally have some clarity. The doctor explained to me what it was, that they go away on their own after seven days, but if it was incapacitating they could give me some Toradol. It helped me get through the days.

I became seriously depressed in those ten days in that place, despite having visitors almost every day. Aidan's first Easter Sunday (April 8) was spent in the hospital. My loving parents brought me some good food, my brother brought me his signature Rolos. I had no desire to eat. I didn't feel any of the warm, loving feelings I had felt for my baby before his birth. I stared at him, thinking what is this screaming creature that has hijacked my life? And then I felt awful for feeling that way. I was angry. My faith was no where near what it is today, and I was left with a very weak crutch. I suppose I felt entitled to a nice happy birth story all wrapped up with a bow on it. Reality was messy and painful and I didn't like it at all. People were mean. And I was an inconvenience to everyone. I got so low I could finally understand how a person could take their own life. I knew it was wrong--but I could see the other side.

The day finally came when we could leave. I was under the illusion that if we could just get home everything would be alright. I went out to start our SUV...and it wouldn't start. Try after try, it remained dead. I had to call my Mom to come all the way down to the hospital, pick us up, and take us all the way to our house. Oh, and stop by the pharmacy on the way home, please. The guilt had no limits, magnifying my role as a burden. In all honesty, I wasn't supposed to be driving at all. But the need to be independent to avoid more guilt was overwhelming.

The black cloud followed us home. Poor Aidan cried any time I sat him down. He was never happy. Nursing was not going well. I had no idea what was going on. I read so much stuff I was convinced I was never meant to be a mother in the first place. I couldn't figure out how to take the dog out and keep the baby happy and safe at the same time. Eli's Grandma and cousin stopped by to visit after a long sleepless night. His cousin walked around admiring our old farmhouse. After they left I realized the dog had had several accidents in the other room. Welcome to Motherhood: Humiliation, next 500 exits. There were moments I sat there, rocking and bawling while my baby bawled.

Those first five weeks at home were just an extension of the troubles that began at the hospital. Aidan was losing weight--far more weight than he was supposed to. His skin grew baggy and wrinkled on his little limbs; his pointy little chin was clearly visible where previously it had been masked by chubby round cheeks. A lactation consultant from the hospital told me he probably wasn't eating enough, though I nursed him round the clock.  I thought, I can't even keep my baby alive! He's starving in front of my eyes. If only love was enough to keep you alive! I was terrified he was going to die. He started spitting up a lot. When asked by the doctor how much spit up, I was presented with one of those what-in-the-world moments of motherhood you never expected. How do you measure baby spit up?

At four weeks old I noticed a spot of blood in one of Aidan's dirty diapers. Research told me it indicated an allergy. I took him to our family doctor, who referred us to a pediatrician. He was run through a gamut of tests: ultrasounds, x-rays, a bottle of dye to test for pyloric stenosis and GERD. While the tests were inconclusive, she sent us home with a can of hypoallergenic formula and a prescription for Prevacid, the pills of which I was supposed to divide, smash, and mix in his bottles. I was ashamed to be feeding my baby formula. Good mothers didn't use formula! Good mothers didn't drug their babies with prescription antacid. I was so ashamed I hid the formula from my parents for a while; I didn't want them to think I was a failure.


Aidan still spit up a lot, but he began gaining weight immediately after I started him on the hypoallergenic formula (which cost $27 a can) in mid-May. The pediatrician figured he had an intolerance to the protein (casein) in milk. Within two weeks he was sleeping through the night. It's amazing what a full-night's sleep can do for your disposition. Aidan was on Prevacid until just after his first birthday. And when I took him off formula, I switched him to soy milk, and then to rice milk. To this day milk upsets his stomach, and he can have no dairy for supper or toward the end of the day.

The first smile I caught on camera! And at almost two months old he was still in preemie clothes.

I relish these pictures of Aidan filling out! It takes me back to the overwhelming relief I felt, and joy. Dotti, our miniature dachshund, was Aidan protector. She'd get between him and anyone who came near him, other than me, and growl. I miss that little lady!

Always independent, Aidan started pulling his bottle out of my hand by 4 months old and holding it himself. We got him a bean bag where he would lay and feed himself his bottles, and then fall asleep.

Though I fell in love with my first baby slowly, everything looked up as the depression faded. Gray days turned bright once again. I couldn't imagine life without him. Aidan remained an emotional baby; he was giving us a taste of his personality. I can't help but think some of the drama of his birth and early weeks had an affect on his temperament. How appropriate that his name means "little fire".

A month after Aidan turned one we found out another baby was on the way. That same month we moved out of our farmhouse, recently lost to foreclosure, and into a one-bedroom apartment. Aidan continued to operate on his own time. Though he could stand at a year, he refused to walk until he was 14 months old. He didn't talk much until he was about two. At 21 months old he became a big brother for the first time to Gavin.

18 months and 2 years old

When Aidan was two years old, almost three, Eli noticed that his right eye was crossing when looking at something across a room. I ran him to the doctor again, who sent us to an ophthalmologist. We discovered that Aidan was far-sighted, and his eye was crossing in an attempt to correct his vision. He got glasses, and an eye patch. We had to patch his good eye (on a decreasing schedule) for two years to help strengthen the muscles of the crossing eye. To this day, his eyes are fine while wearing glasses, but if he has to go without them for too long his eye starts to cross again.

He loves his eye appointments.

4th and 5th birthdays

6th and 7th birthdays

...and 8th birthday...the cake was a crumbling mess of cake buildings, and hurriedly eaten before it collapsed. It was supposed to resemble a racing video game, the name of which eludes me.

 Aidan is quite dramatic: within the span of five minutes I've heard, "This is the best day ever!" to "This is the worst day ever!" He has a way of making even the mundane exciting. I can hear from inside the house if a package came while he gets the mail; if the box holds only bills he rivals Eeyore in his sorrow over the plight of adult life. He has nearly given me a stroke by announcing loudly and animatedly: "There's a sparrow on the bird feeder!" But it was the end of the world that he couldn't have a cardinal for a pet. Or a bunny. Or a typewriter for his birthday...why do little brothers always have to ruin my typewriters?

Sometimes he just needs quiet time.

In stride with his role as oldest child, Aidan loves taking the reins in situations and leading others. Aidan is my most trusted helper. He knows where almost everything is around here, and is careful to do chores well. He's my main dog-taker-outer, mail-getter, bed-maker, and vacuum-pusher. He's always more than happy to help smaller brothers out (sometimes in a "mother hen" way, as the oldest are prone to do).

Aidan is a very sensitive young man; his feelings are always the first to get hurt. He is super hard on himself when he makes a mistake, and needs a lot of love and redirecting to make it ok again. Disappointment lurks around every corner for him. He's always been a very open and outgoing guy most his life. My Mom used to be afraid he'd get kidnapped because he'd go to anyone.

This sensitivity has awarded Aidan a kind heart, and he often can tell when I'm sad without me saying a word. He'll come over and give me a hug, and usually offer to do all my work for me so I never have to work again. He writes a lot of notes telling his dad and me how much he loves us, or explaining how sorry he is about something.

Aidan was our only child to attend public school, and he was there for preschool and first grade. As early as preschool the teacher was implementing a reward system to help stem meltdowns. By first grade he was having sessions with the counselor, with talks of him possibly being on the autism spectrum and medication. This ultimately led to our decision to homeschool. Going into 3rd grade Aidan was reading at a 4th grade level. However, his favorite books are compilations of Peanuts comic strips (and was a fan long before the new movie came out, so you can imagine how excited he was about that). The two Peanuts books he owns have been read over and over again from cover to cover. His favorite movies are "The Peanuts Movie", obviously, and "Meet the Robinsons". His "second favorite" books are any that include inventions or projects that kids can do, such as Childcraft books. The bane of his existence is math. Despite our explanations that inventors need math to be good at what they do, we still wrestle with it daily.

When he grows up Aidan wants to be an inventor scientist. He has a creative streak, and is currently writing a book called, "The Inventions of the Doctor", though he "could write so much better if only he had a typewriter". We have a binder full of his doodles and plans.

I've never seen a child so excited over a blank book! Or art supplies...

His snowman had a jet pack.

He is fascinated by how electricity works and loves playing with his Snap Circuits and Legos. His favorite sports are baseball and bowling.

Playing video games beats out just about everything else on his favorite list, so we watch which games he plays and how long he gets to play them, careful not to let it become a runaway train.

He really wants to become an altar boy, which is partly why we started Latin for him this school year. He is a devoted hat collector and wearer, and enjoys dressing up to look like a "gentleman" for Mass.

 And sometimes he's just full of shenanigans. What boys won't do to get their brothers in an uproar!

I'm pretty sure I know who was behind this stunt....

Can you see the squirrel he sneaked up on?

That's him on that tricycle...last summer....

We've been so blessed with this boy, and looking back at how far he's come...well, it just makes me want to squeeze him tighter. It's hard thinking that half his life at home with us has possibly passed us by!

For Aidan's 9th birthday we took a special trip with my parents after Mass to the Shrine of Our Lady Of Guadalupe to see the relics of the Passion of Christ. It was an amazing experience, and one I hope will stand out in his memories. We're waiting for Eli to get home from state bowling before he opens gifts and enjoys his cake, so I'll write a separate post on the happenings of his special day.

Happy Birthday, Aidan! Mom and Dad love you dearly!