Apparently, a mom’s coolness is directly related to the age of her children. The minute Gia turned 12 and a half years old, my status changed.   Suddenly,  my normal use of words and phrases like “IG” (instead of Instagram) or “you feel me” when I’m trying to emphasize the importance of wearing underwear and brushing teeth to Jack are, according to Gia, my attempts to “be cool.”

That couldn’t be further from the truth.  I’m a mom, just trying to survive in the jungle of elementary and middle schools, extracurricular activities, work, household, marriage…. life, really.

Awhile back, someone posted a “share this” type of FB post and tagged what was described as “all the cooler moms.”   I was not  included.  I’ll admit, it stung a little.  Okay, well, more than a little.   Just because I love coffee and active wear and singing rap lyrics that have no application to my daily life, doesnt make me uncool, does it?? Ha!

I made myself step back, consider the source, told myself to settle down. The thing is, ever since I had kids, I keep waiting for “it” to happen.  You know, that moment you cross over,  enter the uncool stratosphere.   There’s no recovering from that.   I don’t know why this even bothered me, except that I feared waking up, looking in the mirror one day and seeing some stranger in mom pants and clothes 3 years past their style prime staring back at me.

The truth is, anyone who is not a female and does not have children of one’s own,  cannot possibly have an inkling of what it’s like to be a mom in the most real form of the word, and therefore (I decided), has a skewed opinion of what a “cool mom” is and holds no merit with me. When he climbs into stirrups to have internal organs manipulated once yearly in the name of  cervical health, I’ll listen.  Not his fault, but still… no clue.  This is what I told myself to feel better.  Coping mechanism.  To be fair, I realize that gender is not a choice.  In my opinion, though, we should all try to understand the different challenges each face.

Moving on, I decided that it was unfortunate for anyone go through life without the experience of waiting  in the middle school car rider line for the 13  year old with the 10-year-old in the car trying to “hold it” and yelling that he’s in a “9 line bind” due to a sudden onset of diarrhea, which, I suspect, was perpetrated by those hot Cheetos I warned him not to eat.  The mad dash down Lakeland Drive to the closest gas station was an intense experience alone, thanks to the never-ending construction and stop lights every 500 feet.  And wouldn’t you know-  we caught ALL the red that day.  Experiences like this are what moms DO.  This is what our lives are about – crazy, disastrous happenings, interspersed with sweet moments that we cling to because those are the reasons we love our children so much.  We’re in constant pursuit of those pretty mom moments!

But, back to the point of this post. Moms often deserve more credit than they actually get.  I know mine certainly does.   Moms do so much “behind the scenes” type stuff.  Moms are incredible at making things happen.  We plan, organize, network, carpool, purchase, workout, facilitate, negotiate, coordinate, photograph, post, glorify, maintain, sustain, care.   I dare say, moms could rule the world! If you’re a mom, doing any of the above listed things, youre pretty cool, IMO, so go on and brush ya shoulders off.  (See how I just flexed my coolness with that abbreviation? haha).

Today, my wish is that the ratio of sweet moments to potential annihilation is 2:1 for all moms.  I hope that everyone sees the value in their mom as well and shows that love and appreciation in the form of a hug, a phone call, maybe coffee or even a trip to Target.  Take time to appreciate the time you have with your children and your mom- and make the most of those “sweet” moments.

Photo creds:  myself

*Yes – Im a photographer also- it’s part of the mom qualification process.  The title of the featured piece is “Naked Freezer Burned Great Value Brand Waffles Surprise Find.”  No one will claim responsibility but I highly suspect the 10 year old, given his history.

I often think of NICU infants as little soldiers.  They are exposed to so many stressors so early in life and by the time they leave the unit, at less than a year old, often have more “battle” scars than an adult can collect in a lifetime.  Every “little” procedure or treatment done to our patients affects them in a huge way.   And there are so many things:  IV sticks, lab draws, catheters, noxious noise stimulation, PICC lines, chest tubes, breathing tubes, feeding tubes, surgeries, exposure to harmful substances, blood transfusions, lumbar punctures, bladder stints.  There’s a tube for every hole and if there’s not a hole, we sometimes must make one.

Often, a NICU baby’s survival is bought at the price of pain and discomfort.  No wonder many of them grow into children with abnormal pain responses.   Every day, decisions are made in the NICU, risks and benefits are weighed, sometimes the lesser of 2 harms is chosen,  consequences are considered.  Not only is NICU life difficult for an infant, but also the family.  It takes incredible strength and perseverance on the part of parents.

I knew of Paisley Benson before I really got to know her and her family.  I had not yet taken care of her when I was on call one night and assigned to the East side of our football field- sized unit. When “on call,” each NNP takes charge of a side, East or West, for the night.  What struck me most readily about Paisley’s mom was her obvious dedication to her daughter.  She was that “ideal” parent:  often present, ready with questions, sharing information with the NICU team, very involved with Paisley’s care.  I was impressed with her ability to cope with such complex issues as the ones that Paisley had.  Even more striking was what I later learned: Paisley’s problems were a complete surprise to her  family.   I’ve had the privilege to know Paisley and her family outside of the NICU.  She is one of the happiest babies I’ve known!  It’s amazing the benefits love and support will reap!  Here is Paisley’s NICU story, told by her mom, Kristie, and posted with permission.

“Paisley was born October 1, 2015, emergency C-section and we were unaware of any health issues that were present.  However, within 10 minutes of birth, we were told she had an imperforate anus.  Her kidneys were enlarged, placing pressure on her lungs, causing the right lung to collapse.  She was transferred to Blair E. Batson Children’s hospital NICU and placed on a ventilator.   She also had a feeding tube, a drain, and a catheter. It was one of the  scariest days of our lives.  We had to place our little girl’s life into the hands of people we didn’t even know and pray that God watch over her and the doctors.

At less than 12 hours old, Paisley was taken to surgery to get a colostomy.   She received 2 PICC lines, numerous IV sticks, and had to be catheterized every 4 hours.  According to statistics, only 1 in 5,000 babies recieve the diagnosis that Paisley has.   The nurses were amazing and now we consider them and the doctors to be like family.   I had to learn a lot while I was there, so I would be able to properly care for Paisley at home and I felt very overwhelmed at times.  The NICU team was always there to help when I thought it was too much.  The doctors, nurses, and nurse practitioners made our stay much easier.

Paisley stayed in the NICU for 1 month, not long for many babies, but it felt like forever to us.  I cried every day going to and from the hospital. Remaining strong was difficult for my husband and I, but it was necessary- we have a 5 year old and Hunter didn’t understand why he couldn’t see his sister.

Although we are home now,  there are still difficult things to deal with, times that we feel overwhelmed, but I know God has a plan for our family.   The NICU was only the beginning of our journey.  Paisley will need more surgeries, so we still have a long road ahead of us, but the surgeries will be performed here in Jackson at Batson Children’s Hospital.  She continues to need multiple check ups and clinic visits.  I love sharing our story, helping others to realize that lives can change in an instant.   My family and I are forever grateful for the outstanding care Paisley has received from the team of doctors and nurses at Batson.”

The only comforting thought I had when I left work one evening in September, about 5 years ago was: “Thank goodness Dr Hersey is on call tonight!  Lord, work through him and everyone else for this family, if it be Your will.  And I really hope it is.”  (NICU nurses pray for any and everything- IVs to get, Foleys to slip in, pneumothoraces not to blow, bowels not  to perforate. )  Dr. Hersey is not only incredible when it comes to managing premies, especially ones on ventilators, but he is also great at teaching the complicated stuff.   He’s the only neonatologist I know that can explain the Alveolar gas equation, perform a Hapkido move, then finish with the corniest joke you’ve ever heard- and all in under 5 minutes.

That afternoon, though, no jokes were made as we stood at Eli’s bedside on the East side of the unit and wrapped him, vent tubing, IV lines, EKG leads in a blanket and placed him in his mom’s arms to hold, which is what we do when there is nothing left to do.  We had tried everything to keep him alive and he just wasn’t responding.   This is one of the most frustrating parts of medicine- the helpless feeling of trying “everything”- and it not being enough.   Elijah’s oxygen saturations were low, his vent settings high, and driving into work the next morning, I prepared myself to see the empty bed spot that I was afraid would be there waiting, a testament to my fear of the worst.  Fortunately, Ive learned, in 16 years of NICU nursing, that God is able and babies are very resilient.

With Elijah’s family’s permission, I share his amazing story, told in his mother’s words.  Im so thankful to know this beautiful family.

“The story of Elijah starts with me going into labor early one Wednesday morning in September.  There was no pain, just a worry, so the trip to the doctor resulted in a stay at the hospital in Meridian, MS.  There, attempts were made to stop the birth but his arrival was happening, so the doctor and my husband made the decision to send me to University of Mississippi Medical Center.  The ride over was painful and long, with every bump causing contractions.

Once at UMMC, the prognosis was that the baby was coming, and on Friday morning, Elijah finally made his way into the world, tiny and fragile at 1 pound, 6 ounces.  This began our 4 month, life-changing journey in the NICU.  We watched our 23 week, 6 day gestational age infant start life in an incubator, with leads, wires, and breathing machines to keep him alive.  Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

We learned so much from the team of doctors and nurses who took excellent care of Elijah, including the best and most disheartening possible outcomes.  We prayed for the best and looked to the hospital team for some form of reassurance.  However, there came a night where the doctor met us around his incubator and told us that all that could be done had been done and prayer was our only hope.  For the first and possibly the last time, we were allowed to hold our baby in our arms.

Tears rolled down both mine and my husband’s faces.  After what seemed a few short minutes, we placed him back into the incubator, but stayed there, holding Elijah’s hand, and prayed.  After midnight, we reluctantly went back to our RV to try to get some rest.  We received no phone calls the rest of the night, which built hope in us.  We found Elijah, back to normal when we came into the NICU that next morning!  The only medicine needed was prayer and love.  It was a true miracle from God.  

After many weeks, several surgeries, and one terribly hard night, Elijah was allowed to go home in January.  We were just as scared as when he was born, and we were prepared for anything.  Now, Elijah is a 5 year old with more energy than we can keep up with.  He’s still tiny by comparison with most children his age, but he is very intelligent, caring, loving, and joyful.  He loves his family, baby sister, and all the animals we have.  I wouldn’t change what we went through for anything because it made us stronger and made us realize how precious life really is.”

Today was not unlike any other day when I’m off and Vonnie is home.  We make it a joint effort to awaken our children and coax them into getting dressed for school.  I love these days!  They gather around the heater in the living room and sleepily pull on clothes while Vonnie sits on the couch watching Fox News.  Then it’s brush hair, brush teeth (most of the time), eat breakfast and off to school for the both of them.  Today, Vonnie takes them and returns in less than about 5 minutes, no kidding, because we live right next door to the elementary school.  Man, I’m gonna miss that convenience when the kids move to junior high!

Now is mommy and daddy time.  I love this time on some mornings when Vonnie doesn’t have to be somewhere early and we can spend time together, just us.  This morning was one of those mornings.  Quiet, I thought.  Nice.   I’ll go to the gym,  run some errands, my mind was ticking off items on a “To-Do” list.

Now, here I must explain that Vonnie and I, at times, feel the need to test each other’s defense skills.  At any given moment, one of us gives the other “that look”- the one that’s playful and mischievous -and we “put up our dukes” and proceed to spar, hands only, which really means we swing at each other, seeing who can land more hits.   They are not really hits or slaps, more like taps.  We are usually laughing the whole time.

This morning, Vonnie was the challenger.   I rallied, of course, putting up my hands and readying myself.  Good practice for taekwondo, I thought.  (I’m always looking to improve that skill set) We began our banter of taps, Vonnie taking some hits, landing others.  He decided to throw in a kick.  I blocked it.    “Oh, we are kicking now?!”  My turn.  I waited for an opening and didn’t have to wait long.  He was too concerned with blocking his head, that his torso was left unprotected and I welcomed the opportunity to practice my twist kick.  Both of us bobbing and weaving, I moved toward his left side, turned my hip at what I thought was just the right angle and  BAM!  I hit him with my best attempt at a twist kick.

Vonnie: “Ow!”  I saw his eyes get a little bigger and he laughed.  I was pleasantly surprised I landed it so well.  “You are a gym rat and a taekwondo junkie.”    He said this to me , as I collapsed in a fit of laughter.   Then he grabbed me up, wrapped his arms around me in a big hug, as he always does after our sparring matches, and said I love you.

And all was right in the world.