Devishly angelic












Transforming transformer....












on Ivey's head












Can you believe this curly hair?

Cutie in a bikini.

My friend Jennifer at Lots of Scotts has one incredible video posted today. I think it will touch every one in some way. Watch it from beginning to end. I know we have many signs. Ivey's is so much like one family you will see. She was not predicted to make it one year...now look at her. She is two. Not predicted to live, move, know, thrive, communicate, see or hear....now look at her. She is His image.

If there isn't a God, then how do you explain her?

A Fish Story

Okay, this whole losing an eye in an elevator story gets even better. If you don't know what I am talking about see the post below "One Green Eye Please". Anyway, apparently the boys got a bigger kick out of the incident than adults in the story. Or maybe I just get to hear it from their perspective now – after the fact.

Today Knox, Walker and I took Ivey to see the doctor. She had seizures on Monday night so we were hoping to find some cause for the break through. So today we were sitting in the waiting room when a sweet momma with a newborn little girl and her son, probably eight, sat down next to us. The boys started chatting and looking at dingy waiting room books. Then they started exchanging stories.

They were typical boys stories…………….until Walker piped up.

Then he started telling how….we were at the ballgame and my sister's eye….you know the rest. Of course I was looking around the room – trying to distract Walker from his 'story'- praying the mom wasn't really paying attention to my three year old – but then again, she might think he has a VIVID imagination……………

Oh well, as normal I over dramatized the story before the ending actually occurred. What actually happened was this. Walker told his sister's eye in the elevator story – hand motions and all. (The boy's mom was busy with the baby, not listening.) The boy was unfazed, raised his eyebrows and then he went on to tell his 'my fish is bigger than your fish' story.

The boy's story….. he went fishing last week (no periods in his excited sentences) and he he caught a fish and the hook went through the fish's eye so the fish couldn't see and then it got away. And he was so mad!!

So they all just swapped eye stories. No problem. Oh, if we all had the minds of a child!

Yesterday when I walked into the room this is what I found. One beautiful sleeping princess. One sock in her mouth.

One green eye please

I have a funny story to tell you about Monday night. However, this is my third attempt to try and put it on paper but even retelling the story stumps me and my mind goes blank of all the possible words that would clearly give you the feeling that you were there with us. Also I would like to adequately provide you a visual of the facial expressions of EVERYONE involved. Trust me on this one, there is an array of stumped faces in this story in vast degrees of disbelief, for an ever so brief moment we were all speechless. So I must say, in all my days of knowing this would happen, IN PURE IVEY FASHION, this story is one-of-a-kind and darn near IMPOSSIBLE, FREAK OCCURANCE; however, as you all know, only Our Ivey could drum up this one.

So here goes.

Monday night we went to the Rome Braves Game with our three kiddos, Miranda and Wesley and Haley and David. Great game. Braves won.

So we were leaving the game getting on the elevator to take us down to the parking lot of the stadium. Now let me add here before I forget, for all the times I have been frustrated about and with people, this story is one reason I love Rome. We truly live in a GREAT town with good loving people. Thank you!!!

Back to the elevator.

So we are all filing onto the elevator, three couples, Matt pushing the stroller full of Ivey stuff, the boys and me carrying Ivey. The lady running the elevator says, 'Did one of you just loose an earring?' The three girls check their ears, rings and you see everyone kind of look for any something that could have dropped to the floor… nothing…..and then Matt says…

"Ivey's eyes".

There's that brief sssssllllloooooowwwww motion - you already know the answer feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Now we have been waiting for this moment to happen. Eventually, we knew we would loose one. She plucks them out all the time and when I say all the time, I mean it literally. Of course they drop onto the floor, we pick them up, wash them off and put them back in, so when I say "loose it", I mean it in the "I just threw the retainer in the trash" kind of lost. Not our Ivey.

So I pull Ivey from my shoulder and sure enough, right eye is gone. Then there is another brief moment where everyone looks at each other. Now don't forget the lady running the elevator is still sitting on her stool with this look of ""Did he just say EYE"??!!!

Elevator is moving down at this point.

Whatever fell managed to drop in that stinkin' gap where the elevator floor and the building floor don't meet. Now lets all think together – elevator shaft.

So now we all, all of us on the elevator, know it was The Eye. Panic.

The lady running the elevator is still trying to decide if we r.e.a.l.l.y meant the baby's eye.

Now doors open. Poor unsuspecting policeman standing at the elevator for security purposes sees an elevator of adults and three two children with panic stricken faces. Third child is smiling because of her sudden rash of attentive adults. At this point, I am assuming Matt got to the security guy before me, because all I remember is this guy with his little walkie talkie already up to his mouth and a very perplexed look on his face. Within seconds a line of sweat beads pops out on his forehead. Of course now I am in his face with that crazy laugh/giggle that I get when I am trying not to cry, because it really isn't anything to cry about, but seriously … I am saying stressing someone has to go down to the basement and get her eye, because it is her eye…. !!!! He is speechless.

Now can you imagine the guy's face on the other end of the walkie talkie? Eye down elevator shaft???? Hhhmmmm……………….

Now Miranda and Wesley, like us, would never have dreamed this one up, but at least they know things get a little odd and crazy some times. Sorry Haley and David. You just go INITIATED!!! Welcome to our world and we hope you'll go back with us again J
We had fun.

Yesterday as Miranda and I were driving down I-75 heading for the zoo, the call came in. At 8:08 am Matt was at State Mutual Stadium standing with the man who went to the basement, into the elevator shaft to look for one green eye……

And he found it.

A day at the zoo with CVI

Today was a fun day and one full of memories. A few years ago Matt and I were on our honeymoon on this date. Then the next summer we were celebrating our first year married at the beach. The next summer we were at the beach again, except this time our feet only touched the sand one, maybe two times. We had Knox with us and he was not quite 4 months old – we learned the hard way that babies, sand, hot sun and nursing don't quite mix. So, the next summer we were home on this date, me pregnant with Walker. The memories play like pictures in my head, but there are many times in Ivey's life that things are a little fuzzy, thus so are many other moments of the past two years. So, it is funny how one day recalled can bring about memories.

Today while Matt took the boys fishing, I rummaged through some of my picture boxes. Sometimes I sit amazed at the amount of information my brain can recall about my children, especially Ivey and her medical jargon. I sat devastated at the amount of time that has passed that I can't recall at all in the times since Ivey was born. I know I have talked about this before and it is something I don't think about often, but it is almost like having a case of amnesia. And honestly, I am not so sure that is not what it is. It is so frustrating to try to remember something, when I just can't. Like this past Monday, it was our anniversary, so Matt and I went to dinner. And for what ever reason, we talked about the day Ivey was born, which we do not talk about often. He recalled events that happened and my brain refused to remember. Why is that? I don't necessarily think it is a positive or negative attribute; it is what it is.

Anyway, I looked through a box that was full of pictures taken during the first six months of Ivey's life. There were pictures of the boys, Ivey, our home, our dogs, birthday parties and friends, the frustrating thing, I can't remember taking those pictures. There were a few pictures of this same day two years ago at our friend's home (georgiamom), and I can't remember being there. We were all happy, smiling, kids playing, but honestly it was a hard time for us all. So sometimes I wonder what else I am missing. And when I look at pictures like I did today, I can't help but wonder how this all affected every one else around us, how it still affects them? For two years we have been so absorbed in our own little entity – absorbed, but having no other choice at times.

Today after I sifted through the box, I packed Ivey up and went to Miranda's house. Matt and the boys were still fishing, so we went to spend time with Miranda, Ivey's Godmother. We sat by the pool with Wesley and some other friends – enjoying a holiday, but I had to sit for a minute and take it in- I felt like crying, not sad crying, just a 'finally' cry. Life has finally slowed enough that Ivey could sit next to her Godmother's pool in the summer sun and sleep. There are so many 'finally moments' here lately. But, I wonder what else is missing?

I realize that this really has nothing to do with Ivey. But sometimes I wonder if I am the only one over analyzing our situation or if it is normal for families like ours. Does it happen like this? One day you wake up and things are easier, life a little more, dare I say –Normal, even if it is our new normal. What do I do now with more time; time to think about things other than how to avoid the next medical malfunction?

There is a future that is oh so uncertain and unclear in front of me. I often find myself in a new unchartered territory. Where Matt still maintains so much of himself from before kids and especially Ivey, I do not. Lately, especially with the trach out and more time to think, I wonder what my future holds. How will I do this? How will I do that? Will I be able to get back to this, or could I try something new like blah blah? Mostly, I find my self wondering if I will do things right. I wonder if I will make good decisions for Ivey. I have spent so much time with doctors telling me that in fact I am doing things right, now it seems like the educational arena may not be so easy. I find sometimes when I talk to professionals that I lack confidence to speak in the appropriate lingo that will benefit Ivey the best.

Realistically, I know Ivey better than anyone. I read her like a book. However, there is always someone looking over my shoulder. Seriously, there are checks and balances everywhere. Ivey has a home health case manager, a BCW case manager, a trach clinic case manager and a couple of other people watching, evaluating every aspect of her life, which in effect evaluates my every move too. They are all very sweet people, but life under a microscope is hard sometimes. That does not happen with 'Normal' children. I feel an overwhelming need to be the perfect mom, yet, I can't quite reach the goal. Actually, I am no where near it.

I feel lucky to work with the people involved in Ivey's care. I feel like those who invest time with Ivey on a regular basis she her as a person. They make her special and don't rely on books or statistics. They are all wonderful people and Ivey is very blessed to have them. They recognize that she is in fact, and Individual. She is Ivey.

I guess you are wondering what this has to do with memories of previous Fourth or July's. Well, it is a little of everything. I guess it is mainly about change. Things have changed so quickly in our lives. Now I wonder if I can keep up. Ivey is excelling so quickly. How will I keep up with her, learn new ways to teach her, make it to appointments, be a good mom to the boys, a good wife and still be a person who can carry on a normal conversation with friends without feeling self conscious? How will I maintain my friendships when time is so hard to come by? When I sat with Miranda today, I missed time we used to share. I worry about things in her life that I have missed over the past two years and I regret that I have missed them. I guess this still makes no sense. It is hard to explain. I just wonder, do all families like ours come out of a fog and need to put the pieces together quickly so not to fall further behind in life, the life beyond a sweet special child?

Twilight Zone

Update: Like they say.... "This to shall pass." And it did. Yuck.

There are a few people in this world that I hope to meet some day, one such person being Ivey's GI doctor's nurse. She and I speak on the phone often, but think of the volume of patients she must have (ugh). I am hesitant to admit that there have been times when I called her and did not get her voicemail and she knew it was me before I said my name. Is that a good or bad sign? If this were two years ago, or even one year ago for that matter, I would say that we were walking around leaving our stamp on the world of all of these sweet medical people. But who are we kidding? Back in the day, Nurse GI and I would talk about reflux, feeding schedules, residual, formula volumes, medications, g-tubes, j-tubes, ng tubes and don't forget – poop. As of lately though our phone conversations seem to have taken a slight turn to the bizarre. At the end of the day she either thinks that Ivey is one little girl determined to keep everyone on their tiptoes or she thinks that I am paddling around in a boat with a few holes. However, you all know our sweet Ivey is anything but boring.

So anyway, a few months ago I had to call Nurse GI and tell her that our darling little Ivey took her hairclip out of her few wisps of hair that I was/am overly resolute to put bows. Seriously??? What was/am I thinking? Imagine – Ivey put the bow in her mouth and swallowed it – (for the record, she is fast as lightning)- where it managed to lodge itself against her trach (thank the Lord) for two days…that's right two days…where more than one adult never put it together that the disappearance of the hair bow and an unusual sudden cough were connected. You all know that bows fall out and get lost all the time, so when her bow came up missing while at Moe's, Matt and I assumed it fell out of her hair. The bow was retrieved during her speech session; and imagine, her cough cleared up. I can only dream of the thoughts running through Ivey's sweet GI nurse's mind on that one, let alone what our GI doc really said.

And for all of you Dr. Rogers people, you can only imagine the look I got from him on that one. I had to take her into his office following that little incident…..

That's just one bizarre conversation as of lately…………….

So imagine today when I had to call her again, but not about bows. This time our little Houdini, we think, took a small dressing of gauze and tape from the opening of her stoma where the trach once was …. and swallowed it. Notice I said we 'think'. We 'think' because the dressing was missing, she had some scary respiratory distress for a moment and…. we still can't find the dressing. So this morning as I left a message for the GI nurse, I did my best to sound like a responsible adult and explain the situation because we were concerned about gauze and tape passing through her little system that also has a g-tube and j-tube floating, not to mention the fact that Ivey is not so great about pooping regularly. But this is where I have to hand it to our GI nurse, she takes it all in stride and manages not to make me feel like a complete nut, which she probably has plenty of ammo to do at this point. When she called back, she was more concerned the dressing might be lodged silently somewhere in Ivey's esophagus. I can't tell you how much I appreciate her ability to be calm (not laugh) and be understanding of the strange, yet entertaining, little events that pop up around here. (We want to make sure that office has fine-tuned skills in rare GI occurances.) One day I do hope to meet and introduce her to our little fireball. In the meantime, I hope we are keeping her entertained- at our own expense, literally.

Ivey did go to Floyd where she got to drink a nice syringe of barium. I do want to thank the nurses and physician for being so sweet to her and for being so prompt and quick with the procedure.

Luckily, Ivey does not have gauze and tape lodged in her esophagus and hopefully I can report to you in a few days that all is clear…..