These last six months have been an exercise in patience. It started with a rather uncomfortable stint waiting for Marshall to show his face. The last few weeks of pregnancy I spent telling everyone how big he was. I even had a few moments of claustrophobic panic that I wouldn’t be able to get him out. I tried to warn them, but I don’t think anyone was prepared for his incredible growing abilities. On May 27th, 2009 Marshall joined us at a whopping 9 lbs. 4 oz. Now, four months later, he is ounces from 20 L B’s baby, just barely staying on the charts in the 97th percentile. He has made me an accomplice in his quest to become the Stay Puft Marshmallow man. All he needs now is the beret.
I like to call Marshall my angel baby because he is just so dang good. He eats well (obviously), he sleeps well, and he is generally a happy baby. He rarely gets upset, and when he does he is easily consoled. Mostly he is content to smile, suck on his fingers, and drool. He is already starting to roll over which has me looking around the house fretting about having a mobile baby who doesn’t know the off limits rules again. My favorite past time, these days, is wrapping up in a blanket and cuddling with him, cheek to cheek. He has the best cheeks I have ever met. There is still an on-going debate over whether he is a red head or not. If the light is just right I think it is obvious, but Kendal hasn’t started calling him Chet yet, so we will see. I am also closely watching his eyes, hoping they will stay blue, but I love a lot of brown eyes too, so I won’t be too disappointed if they do change. He has only been around a few months, but I have a hard time remembering what life was like before he was ours, and I definitely can’t imagine life without him.
Secondly, after 9 long months, at the end of September we became the official owners of a little plot of land with a beautiful house right in the middle. It happened after five different offers on five different houses, hundreds of hours of perusing the internet, stacks of MLS printouts, tons of hopeful drive-by’s, lots of great advice.. and bundles of opinions, a few discussions on how big of a mortgage we could really afford, days of mourning over houses I had moved into in my head, and way too many walkthroughs where I had to carry James because he would either break something or the house was so gross I didn’t want him to touch any part of it. Then we came across a beautiful house, in a beautiful neighborhood, with a beautiful price and finally, everything worked out. We had to delay the closing twice so loose ends could be sorted out. But we finally signed the papers… and then we had to wait a day to get the keys. We rented a Uhaul and cleaned the carpets, but my allergies were too bad, so we took the Uhaul back, tore up carpet and waited another two weeks until we moved in. But now we have our very own spot on the earth, and now that I have organized the pantry, rearranged the furniture, put up a few paintings, and James has thrown up on the carpet—it is home. We had our first shindig here on Monday for James’ birthday. I took pictures, and acted as hostess. I already have a spot picked out for the Christmas tree, and I can’t wait to make memories and traditions in the new Nielsen residence.
I have to say that my favorite part about our new house is space. Space for James to run races across the kitchen. Space for me to bring out wedding presents that haven’t seen the light of day since I first opened them. Space for two cars in the garage. Space for my very own sparkling white fully functional dish washer. Space for three separate bedrooms. Space for a deep luxurious bathtub that James uses like a swimming pool and is calling to me today after a day of cold snowy weather. Space for a pantry that is so big it echoes in there. Space in the backyard for a playset and a garden… someday. Space on the kitchen counter for a pile of dishes, a pile of bills to be sorted, and still has room to make dinner. And, lots of empty space yet to be filled.
Our last wait has been for James. After I had Marshall and regained the use of my brain I noticed that James wasn’t speaking as much as children his same age and quite a bit younger. At first I just thought that he was taking things at his own pace, but his speech just seemed to have stalled and he was becoming more secluded. I started asking what my friends thought, and they said I should get him tested. So, I made an appointment with the local school district, which has a program to help developmentally delayed children. We waited a month for James to take a hearing test. He failed in his left ear. A few weeks later a team of therapists observed and interacted with him, then declared him “delayed.” A few weeks later we went to an audiologist who said he wasn’t hearing out of one ear. She said to go to an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor. A few weeks later, after looking in his ear for no more than a second the doctor told us he had fluid in his ears. And I wondered, what training does one need to be able to know that, and why the heck didn’t my pediatrician (who had seen him several times over the months) didn’t know how to tell? Another few weeks later James got tubes put in both ears. The surgery went perfectly. James did so well, and was feeling his same old self hours later. Kendal and I were both emotional about it. There is something so horrible about seeing your child in a hospital gown and so helpless. Over the next few weeks we could definitely tell James was hearing better. He suddenly became afraid of sounds. Drills, especially, seemed to plague him. But, he has also begun to mimic more sounds and learn more words. His personality has also resurfaced, and he interacts with outsiders more. Meanwhile, a therapist has been visiting our house. She came to work with James, but mostly she has been tutoring me on how to help him. Now that he has turned three he is going to start at a local preschool with a program to help kids with speech delay.
Mostly, I felt at peace about all of this. We were making progress, and I really believed that this all could be fixed. But I am a Mom, and I had a few moments where I feared the worst, and had some plain awful nightmares. What bothered Kendal and I the most was the waiting. Once we knew there was a problem I wanted to act immediately and get it fixed. Instead we had to go from person to person to find a new piece of the puzzle. James has come out of this fine. He has a perpetual source of energy. He is incredibly loving, giving us hugs, kisses and smiles on demand and at random. He dotes on Marshall and is never jealous. It is a good thing Marshall is so big because James loves giving him full body hugs. He has not suddenly popped out a sentence, but he is making good steps. His therapist says he should be hitting his stride in 6-7 months. Seeing my child struggle has been heartrending, but watching him learn and grow is exhilarating.
The last six months has been full of stops and starts, long days of stagnancy, followed by rushes of activity. It has kept us on our toes for sure. Knock on wood, I think things are going to settle down now into a rhythm. I can say for sure that the Lord knows the paths we walk, and everything has been worth the wait.
