Before I go on any more about Jacob, let me first fill you all in about Zach's progress. Since he has been able to get rid of the thigh-high casts and replace them with knee-high air casts, life has been much easier. At first he was very sore and cried every time we forced him to get up on his feet. I felt so bad for him and dreaded each trip to the bathroom or journey up the stairs. Zach seldom complains and to hear him moan in pain was just gut wrenching. Fortunately it was short lived though and things got better!
Zach is now able to take his air casts off when laying down or sitting and, as you can see below, he has regained his full range of motion. We haven't seen his left foot able to flex that way since he was about four years old! He still has a way to go though. He has not yet put any weight on his bare feet and he struggles to walk with the air casts on. He will have to totally re-learn the act of walking, starting completely from scratch. It will be like we are revisiting the toddler years all over again with him.
Regardless, it is so nice to see him happy and pain free again. I can't say enough about how wonderful he has been through this whole process. He has taken everything in stride and with virtually no complaining. His teachers say that he has been wonderful at school and the other students have been so welcoming and helpful when it comes to his needs. I am so proud of him!
With one success story well underway, it is time to charge into the next obstacle head on. This one is scarier though. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would be sitting here in a hotel room typing this on the eve of one of my children's brain surgery. "Brain Surgery"...how can that term not be terrifying? Police wife lifestyle - no problem...autism - no sweat...international adoption - totally under control...thigh-high casts - bring it on...but, brain surgery...let's just say I haven't slept in weeks! The flowers pictured above came with a bottle of wine and a visit from some dear friends last Saturday night in an effort to get my mind off the bumpy road that lies ahead. To be perfectly honest, that night did more good than any material gift every could. To feel human again for just a few hours was such a nice feeling! I had spent the day prior to that get together grocery shopping for my absence, preparing day by day routine lists for my inlaws, and writing out Jacob and Zach's valentine's day cards for school. For weeks my mind had been on making sure Marc, Abby, Zach, and Hailey's lives were uninterrupted during Jacob and my absence and making sure that my work life would also be left in perfect order. I was becoming more robotic than human, yet a few glasses of wine and a little bit of good old fashioned girly chatter seemed to breathe a little bit of life back into me so that I could tackle the weeks ahead. Thank you Kara and Cristina!!
I have been asked dozens of times this week, "How are you holding up?", to which I usually answer, "I'm fine." How do you really answer that question honestly? Do people really want to hear, "I'm terrified" or "These may be the last days that my son ever walks again." Do people really want to know how exhausted I am juggling the needs of all of my children while Marc focuses on law school, fearing every day that I will end up with two boys in wheelchairs? Or how about the guilt that I feel for sending Jacob to his room all those times that he had meltdowns over ridiculous things, which may actually have been neurological instead of behavioral in nature? "How are you holding up?"..."I'm fine."
Today, Jacob was quieter than usual. He was clingy and babyish, yet he answered all of the doctor's questions and allowed her to examine him without protest. He let them draw four vials of blood without so much as a flinch or a whimper. It wasn't until all of the doctors and nurses had left us alone and I asked him if he was scared, that he got a bit teary eyed and said, "Mom, you'll be there when I wake up, right?" My first instinct was to say, "of course I will", but then I thought about it a little bit more. This is a little boy, who went to a hospital as a baby to be examined for his spinal meningocele. A little boy who may have fallen asleep in that hospital. A little boy who's mom was not there when he woke up and who would not be there when he had his spinal surgery. To him, it may not be a given that I will be there when he wakes up, so I chose my words carefully. After all, if I promised that I would be the first person that he'd see and he woke up before the doctors were ready to have me there, it could throw him into a panic. So, I said, "would you like me to be there when you wake up?" He said, "yup". I responded, "I promise not to leave the hospital the whole time that you are having your operation and I will tell the doctors that they need to come and get me as soon as you start to wake up. As soon as they tell me that I can come in, then I will be there right away." That answer seemed to be okay with him.
Several times today, Jacob has asked me when he will be able to return to school. I have skirted the question, because I have absolutely no idea what the correct answer is. For now he seems to be content hugging the koala Build-a-Bear that his class gave him today (in full surgical gear) and hoping to return to his friends in the very near future.
So it's now getting late. My little man is snoring away next to me, exhausted by a day of dining out, examinations, swimming, and some movie watching. As I look at him, I can't help but think that this time tomorrow I will either be feeling a sense of relief or dread. He will be hooked up to multiple monitors and devices for either days or weeks. He may be able to talk to me, or not...hold a crayon, or not...take a step, or not. I will either be looking forward to a summer of my four children running and playing at the beach...or trying to figure out how I will manage it with a whole set of new challenges. I will either be contacting his current kindergarten about possible return dates...or I will be talking to the SPED team at our local school district about the services that they will now need to provide. God only knows what will be going through my mind 24 hours from now.
As I sit here alone in my hotel room next to my sleeping boy, reality is hitting me hard tonight. They say that God never gives you more that you can handle. I've taken comfort in that statement so many times. How much does he think that I can really handle? Tomorrow will be a true test...
I have been asked dozens of times this week, "How are you holding up?", to which I usually answer, "I'm fine." How do you really answer that question honestly? Do people really want to hear, "I'm terrified" or "These may be the last days that my son ever walks again." Do people really want to know how exhausted I am juggling the needs of all of my children while Marc focuses on law school, fearing every day that I will end up with two boys in wheelchairs? Or how about the guilt that I feel for sending Jacob to his room all those times that he had meltdowns over ridiculous things, which may actually have been neurological instead of behavioral in nature? "How are you holding up?"..."I'm fine."
Today, Jacob was quieter than usual. He was clingy and babyish, yet he answered all of the doctor's questions and allowed her to examine him without protest. He let them draw four vials of blood without so much as a flinch or a whimper. It wasn't until all of the doctors and nurses had left us alone and I asked him if he was scared, that he got a bit teary eyed and said, "Mom, you'll be there when I wake up, right?" My first instinct was to say, "of course I will", but then I thought about it a little bit more. This is a little boy, who went to a hospital as a baby to be examined for his spinal meningocele. A little boy who may have fallen asleep in that hospital. A little boy who's mom was not there when he woke up and who would not be there when he had his spinal surgery. To him, it may not be a given that I will be there when he wakes up, so I chose my words carefully. After all, if I promised that I would be the first person that he'd see and he woke up before the doctors were ready to have me there, it could throw him into a panic. So, I said, "would you like me to be there when you wake up?" He said, "yup". I responded, "I promise not to leave the hospital the whole time that you are having your operation and I will tell the doctors that they need to come and get me as soon as you start to wake up. As soon as they tell me that I can come in, then I will be there right away." That answer seemed to be okay with him.
Several times today, Jacob has asked me when he will be able to return to school. I have skirted the question, because I have absolutely no idea what the correct answer is. For now he seems to be content hugging the koala Build-a-Bear that his class gave him today (in full surgical gear) and hoping to return to his friends in the very near future. 
So it's now getting late. My little man is snoring away next to me, exhausted by a day of dining out, examinations, swimming, and some movie watching. As I look at him, I can't help but think that this time tomorrow I will either be feeling a sense of relief or dread. He will be hooked up to multiple monitors and devices for either days or weeks. He may be able to talk to me, or not...hold a crayon, or not...take a step, or not. I will either be looking forward to a summer of my four children running and playing at the beach...or trying to figure out how I will manage it with a whole set of new challenges. I will either be contacting his current kindergarten about possible return dates...or I will be talking to the SPED team at our local school district about the services that they will now need to provide. God only knows what will be going through my mind 24 hours from now.
As I sit here alone in my hotel room next to my sleeping boy, reality is hitting me hard tonight. They say that God never gives you more that you can handle. I've taken comfort in that statement so many times. How much does he think that I can really handle? Tomorrow will be a true test...
Keeping you both in my prayers......
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