Monday, December 30, 2013

Let Me See You BOP

BOP, BOP, BOP a little harder
Look at how she BOP she a party starter

[*Modified lyrics from the J. Dash song "Wop"]

We've mentioned bopping a couple of times on the blog and you might have heard Lance and I talk about it some in person.

What is bopping?

Bopping is a cutesy name for the Respiratory Therapy we do on Crosby.

Respiratory complications are the leading cause of death in patients with CF. The thick mucus present in a CF patient's lungs can cause inflammation and recurrent infections. With each infection, more damage or scarring occurs causing lung function to progressively worsen (why we don't want Crosby to get sick and why we limit his exposure to peeps with sickies). This is why regular, routine treatment is so very important to keep secretions cleared and prevent infection. Crosby's routine treatment is performed 2 times daily just for maintenance - once in the morning and once before bed. Each treatment takes about 30 to 40 minutes, depending upon his cooperation. 

When Crosby was first diagnosed, Lance and I went back to ACH twice in the following week to learn CF care. We had just gotten the results from his first CF clinic tests and his lungs were clear. As the respiratory therapist was demonstrating the bopping, I didn't understand why we had to do this twice a day when his lungs were fine! However, I now understand that with good, routine treatment, the lungs are kept healthy and the decline of pulmonary function can be slowed.

Crosby's daily regimen includes aerosol therapy and chest physical therapy (CPT or bopping). The purpose of aerosol therapy is to deliver a fine mist of medication into the lungs. Because he is an infant, we give Crosby's aerosol treatments with a mask.The inhaled medication he currently takes is Albuterol. Those with asthma will recognize the name but the use of this medication for Crosby is not the same as an asthma patient. We give two puffs with the inhaler prior to bopping. Each puff is administered separately, with about 30 seconds to a minute in between. I watch the little flange on the mask to make sure he has inhaled each puff 6 to 10 times. After the inhaler (and subsequent fit that always follows... what can I say, he hates that mask!), we start bopping.

Bopping involves placing Crosby in various positions, allowing segments of the lungs to point downward, then clapping firmly over his chest and back on part of the lung segment to shake the mucus loose. The idea is that once the mucus is loosened, gravity will help it fall to the large airways, then can be coughed out. Bopping is not painful, but can be time consuming since you spend 3 minutes of clapping over 10-12 lung positions. And it totally looks like we're beating our baby. Timing of bopping can involve some strategy as well. We can't bop him right after he eats because it could cause him to throw up. We can't bop him when he's hungry, because well, screaming will ensue. We also hate to interrupt nap time and if he's wide awake, you can bet he'll let you know he'd rather be playing then be held down!  

I should point out here that Crosby is not a fan of respiratory therapy. It's not sweet cuddle time or little pat-pat time. He has gotten so much better about tolerating the bopping and I must reinforce "tolerating" as the operative word here, folks. The first several weeks of bopping twice daily were rough. And I mean REALLY rough. Thirty minutes of listening to your newborn scream because you're doing something to him that he seriously does not like is very stressful. Even though I knew it was for his health and well-being, beating my baby just felt, well, mean. I was often in tears. Lance would be at a breaking point. My mom was frazzled. In those early days, whomever was administering the bopping would have to wear ear plugs just to get through it. We'd make it through a morning bop only to have to turn around and do it again at night. Then we'd start all over the next day. Dreadful! Not fun. Now, we strategically start the bopping when he's tired but not asleep. If we're lucky, he'll tucker out and the bopping will put him to sleep. I usually sing to him while we bop and we can usually make it through the 30 minute treatment without too many tears - his or mine. 

Crosby will require Respiratory Therapy for the rest of his life. As he gets older, the methods will change but the routine will remain. The treatments will be twice daily for maintenance and increase when he's sick. Bopping is an important part of keeping him healthy and now, it's just a normal part of our lives.

(Two things about these photos below: This depicts a good bopping session. He was happy. However, the sacrifice to that is Momma isn't looking her best. My BFF and Granny will both question my decision to not at least put on lipstick. You can't win them all folks. At least Crosby behaved! Second, some of them are blurry. My apologies. There is a lot of movement in bopping and our camera ain't the high speed kind.)



This is the Crosby doll given to us by the Respiratory Therapist. It marks all the lung lobes that we position the bopper over and what direction we need to hold him in when we bop. It was a great reference when we were first learning.




This is the bopper. It's hollow on the other side and insures that you are properly doing the back claps. We use this on him as an infant because he is so small.

I try to be very intentional with Crosby. I always show him the mask and tell him what I'm about to do before I do it.
It's a respect thing. So he knows it's coming but he's still not amused.

Holding the mask on while he fights can be difficult. I don't want to break the seal around his face
while I'm making sure he takes the 6-10 breaths.


Time is up, Momma!

It's over but Crosby is not happy and is expressing his feelings about it.
Because he's an infant, we combine positions 6 & 7.
For these, we place him on his side.
The motion is a steady beat for 3 minutes. We have to do it fairly hard to be effective, but it doesn't hurt him.

Position 8 & 9
He is on his tummy.

He's smiling, but positions 3 &4 are his least favorite.
He has to be flat on his back for these.

You can see my phone in this pic. We use it to time the bop to ensure we give each position 3 solid minutes.

Patience is wearing thin!

Position 5 is performed with Crosby lying on his side.

It took me a long time to get the hang of this
and be able to do this smoothly!

I always try to remember that the purpose of bopping is to loosen mucous.
Keeping that in mind helps me perform the bop properly and gets me through it. It's for his health!


Positions 1 & 2 are probably the two most tolerated.
We hold him straight up for those.


Back on his other side for combo positions 10 & 11.

Also on his side for position 12.


I would like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to my sweet Momma, who graciously bops Crosby every weekday morning. I don't know what I would do without her help! XOXOXO

Love,

Carmen

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Christmas Eves and Hope




Merry Christmas 

From the Crosby Show!




Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.
2 Corinthians 9:15 






Card Design by Kandace Gerber at Save The Date Designs. Contact her on Facebook here.

Photo by Reba Cauley at Cauley Photography. Contact her on Facebook here.





I've debated on whether or not I should share this story. I feel like I've really been very open and honest on this space so far because I want to share Crosby's story and document our family's journey by being as authentic as possible. Even the hard stuff. The following is extremely personal and a topic that I haven't talked much about. A lot of our family and friends probably don't even know some it. But, I decided to share this not to splay a sensitive story out there for everyone to read, but to acknowledge that there can be a lot of hurt in this Season. And that hurt can be amplified during this time when everything around you is suppose to be merry and jolly. Instead of feeling joyous, lots of people are suffering, feeling alone, in pain, depressed, and dealing with loss. I know some of those feelings well. But there can also be a lot of hope in this season. And that's what Crosby reminds me to hold on to. Hope.

Christmas Eve 2011. Christmas Eve traditions are important to Lance and I. A lot of hard things had happened that year and we were looking forward to spending the holidays together.

We also had a very big secret during that time. I was pregnant. It was unexpected but we were happy. We had told our parents, siblings and my best friend. We were waiting until we were in the "safe zone" before telling everyone else. So I passed on holiday spirits and drank mocktails while making merry. Lance and I made our Christmas plans and told him, just think, this time next year we'll have a 5 month old!

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. I was two days shy of being 12 weeks along. As we were literally heading out the door to church, it happened. It was obvious what was going on. I felt panicked and out of control. Lance called my doctor because I couldn't speak. We were told to wait and see. So we waited and then when it became apparently clear that it was happening, I couldn't control the scream that came out of my mouth. Around midnight it was definite that I needed medical attention, so Lance helped me to the car and we made our way to the ER.

Not the wonderful, cozy Christmas we had been envisioning. It was painful. Both physically and emotionally painful. I took the loss hard. I mourned what would never be. So Lance and I picked up the pieces after that Christmas and all I could be thankful for was that I still had him and we were together. Still to this day, thinking about that time can bring me to tears.

Christmas Eve 2012. Would you believe me if I told you that Lance and I spent the next Christmas in the ER again? (I should point out that we're not the type of people who rush to the ER all the time either!) Because of the previous year's less than ideal Christmas, we decided last year to spend our first Christmas as a married couple in New York City. Some friends of mine have a beautiful apartment in the heart of Manhattan and had graciously allowed us to occupy it for a long weekend. We had a wonderful trip, but the night before we were scheduled to fly home, Lance (who has an affinity for this) passed out at a concert in Times Square and hit his head. Hard. It literally bounded off the concrete. After we were taken to the ER by ambulance because he wasn't making any sense once he came to, we learned he had fractured his skull and had a concussion.

Spending that Christmas Eve in the ER was stressful for me and not very fun for Lance, who was pretty much incapacitated and incoherent for some time. We were alone, scared and missing our families. But something truly magical was happening and we wouldn't even find out about it until 5 weeks later. I only thought I was alone with Lance in that ER off 58th and 9th. Someone else was with us. And that someone else was Crosby. He only existed then in the form of several hundred little dividing cells. But he existed.

Christmas Eve 2013. God has redeemed my heartache from those two Christmases ago. I can now give thanks for that loss because it brought me Crosby, who carries my heart and soul. And he is why I have hope.

I know this year has been tough for me with my Dad's death and Crosby's diagnosis. But there are people who are battling even harder things. Things I couldn't even imagine. A widow spending her first Christmas without her husband. A mother who's arms are empty this Christmas after the loss of a child. Communities in upheaval from violence. A family torn a part by divorce. A man who just resigned his medical care to hospice. Veterans who feel lost and lonely and out of touch with the rest of us. A grandmother who feels forgotten, spending Christmas in a nursing home. A woman who can't be with her children and family because she is hospitalized, battling cancer. A couple who longs for babies but who have given up on their fight with infertility. Orphans who only want to be loved and a family of their own. I truly have a heart for folks whose heartbreaks are amplified by this Season.

We live in an imperfect world. A world filled with incredible sadness and all these painful things. But we also live in a world where there is hope. And without hope we have nothing.

So this Christmas Eve, when I pull Crosby close to snuggle him, I will be reminded of that. I'm going to choose to believe in hope. And Crosby. I rejoice in him. The symbol of hope that he is.

Love, Peace and Hope,

Carmen

A few days before Christmas, 2011

At Yankee Stadium, a few days before Christmas, 2012 (pre-accident)



Concussed at the ER in mid-town Manhattan, Christmas Eve Eve, 2012
He had just asked me for chapstick for the 11th time in 10 minutes.
Each time, I told him I didn't have any.

Christmas 2012, we didn't know Crosby was forming in utero.


We get to spend Christmas 2013 with this little dude!

Saturday, December 21, 2013

All I want for Christmas

Dear Santa: All I want for Christmas is a cure for Cystic Fibrosis. Love, Crosby.

And all of you can help Crosby's Christmas wish come true! How? By joining me in the Great Strides Campaign to raise money to support lifesaving research for CF. 

Look at this face? 



How can you say no?

I know this time of year that dollars are short and need lists are long. It seems like every charitable organization is in dire need of support. But, if you are trying to decide which cause to give to or perhaps just looking for some way to give a little extra this season, please consider donating any amount, large or small, to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. 

You can make a direct, one-time donation here:


Or, better yet...

Consider joining me for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation's Great Strides Campaign and walk to raise funds for CF. The walk is Saturday, May 17, 2014 in Little Rock.



You can either join The Crosby Show for the walk or simply make a donation to anyone already signed up to the team. To sign up, just follow the link below to visit my Great Strides home page and click on "Join My Team!" Then, follow the step-by-step instructions to register for the walk.




Great Strides is the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation's largest national fundraising event, with tens of thousands of people coming together at walks across the country each year to help find a cure for CF. Great Strides walks are family-friendly events with food, fun, and music. 


By joining The Crosby Show team, you will help fuel lifesaving research and medical programs that make a difference for people living with this disease, people like Crosby.  





Real progress has been made in the fight against CF, but the lives of young people with the disease are still cut far too short. We urgently need more support to help find a cure. 


Joining Great Strides is a simple and effective way for you to show your support for Crosby and his battle against CF. So once again, please help Crosby's 1st Christmas wish come true!





And from the depths of my Momma heart, thank you for helping to "add tomorrows" for Crosby.







Love,

Carmen, Lance, and Crosby


Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Crosby at 3 months

Dear Crosy Bear:

(I say "Crosy Bear" without the 'b' like Fozzie Bear. You know, waka waka? From the muppets? Maybe I should spell it "Crozzie Bear"...)



You are 3 months old today. My goodness I can't believe it! We can no longer call you a newborn. Your check up in the CF Clinic at ACH went really well this month. You are growing and growing and fall within the 80th percentile of weight to height ratio! You are still wearing a size 1 diaper (but just barely) and size 3 month clothes. You love your swing, your car seat (but only when it's in a moving car), the Moby wrap, your mobile at Nanny's, and you love to eat! You also love colors and stare endlessly at the paintings around the house. You haven't slept through the night yet, but I love the middle-of-the-night moments with you. Most mornings you snuggle with your Daddy in bed, in the crook of his arm while I get ready for work. He loves this time with you.



When Momma and Daddy come home from work and you open your eyes to look at us, you get the biggest smile on your little face. And then your Momma shatters into a million pieces over how much she adores you. That gummy smile gets me every time. You don't notice the dogs much yet, but both your big sisters love you. They especially love to lick your salty skin. I have a feeling that someday, the three of you are going to be the best of friends.

You love to be held, rocked and cuddled by us and that is just fine with me. I usually sing to you when we are bopping and you've gotten so much better at tolerating it (my singing AND the bopping).

I love watching your little personality develop. You smile and laugh and try to talk to us. But boy do you have a tempter too! You can be so happy and then have a total melt down in 10 seconds flat! Fiery spirit in this one, folks!! 

You are the light of our life baby boy! Happy 3 months.

Love,



Momma and Daddy




Toe Jam!




Knees & Toes

Talkin with Daddy

Momma and Crosby getting ready for the work day/






Wednesday, December 11, 2013

To the man he'll never know

Today would have been my Dad's 66th birthday. I think every "first" without him is hard and every major life event that he's not here for is bittersweet.



I can't explain how devastating it is for me that Crosby will never know my Dad. Loosing a beloved parent when I was four months pregnant was hard. I constantly focused on the things that would never be. Dad would never hold him. Dad would never take him fishing. Dad would never play silly games with him, sing annoying songs, or foster his imagination in wildly creative make-believe sessions. One of the things I had honestly looked forward to most in my adult life was my babies getting to have a relationship with the man who had shaped who I am and who was responsible for a lot of the good inside of me. Bereavement is painful. Loosing a parent is shitty. But among all of that painful shittyness, there is this: the awful truth that Crosby Lee Smith will never know Sandy Lee Sanders. And Pappy will never know my son.



My dad was surrounded by girls. Besides his brother, all of his immediate family was girls. Dad was loved by his mom, his sister, his wife, all girl nieces, two daughters, two granddaughters and a girl granddog. He lamented the absence of a male but secretly I know he loved being "the man" in so many lives. Three weeks after his death, in an ultrasound room not so far away, I held Lance's hand as my doctor confirmed what I had already thought: Dad's grandson, the first boy in his world, would be entering this world without my dad in it. Bittersweet.

This journey has been so different from the way I envisioned it. The day Crosby was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Second only to the day that I married his Daddy. But, that day of such happiness and celebration was clouded by the thoughts of: "I sure wish my Dad was here." I remember fantasizing about the look he would've had on his face when he first saw Crosby. I longed to see Dad's concerned face for me as well as how ecstatic he would've been to finally have a little boy in his life. He wasn't there to pray with me before labor. He wasn't there to assure me everything would be alright. He wasn't there to meet my little guy and touch him and tell me how perfect he is. He wasn't there to push my hair off my forehead and tell me how proud he was of me. Dad wasn't there on the day Crosby entered into the world and he won't be here for any of the days Crosby walks the earth. Bittersweet.

I have come to know that it's possible to be incredibly happy and overwhelmingly sad at the exact same time. Grief is very painful. It is a constant, never-ceasing pain. Nothing makes it better. It sits on your heart, so heavy, suffocating you. Having a new baby has certainly helped distract me. There are moments of pure happiness. Sometimes I'm able to forget my heart is broken. I have a lot to look forward to. I am so blessed with a wonderful husband and beautiful baby boy. But then I remember Dad is gone. And the remembering brings it all back, like a huge wave of pain that takes your breath away. I'm told that time will heal this. That it won't always be so raw. And I believe that to be true. But the truth that my dad and my son will never meet will always linger, weighing on my heart.

I can't feel my Dad's presence and I want to so badly. I don't see things that could be him like butterflies or rainbows. I don't feel an angel watching over me or a breeze that is his reassurance. Mostly I just feel that he is far, far away. I believe that he is there, observing and protecting, I just can't feel it. I know that I can tell Crosby about my Dad and share stories with him. I know that I can do things to keep his memory alive. It's just not the same. Stories and photos don't replace relationships and experiences. They don't even come close.

I suppose I'll just have settle for appreciating the time I had with Dad. Afterall, he knew I was pregnant and he was so excited. I am thankful for that. He really was the best father a girl could ask for. I am so grateful he was mine. Maybe the quickest way to realize the love and sacrifices our parents made for us is to become parents ourselves. When I look at my sweet boy and my heart is exploding, I finalllllly get just HOW much my Momma and Dad love me. I mean, I know they love me but goodness gracious! It's just bittersweet that I get the opportunity to come to this realization after my Dad is gone.

It's my wish that I can be as good of a parent to Crosby that my Dad was to me. It's my wish that Crosby and I will have the kind of relationship Dad and I had.

Happy birthday, Daddy. Happy birthday from the family that misses you so much. And, happy birthday from Crosby, the coolest little dude, that you will never know.

I love you. To the moon. And back.

-Your Princess

Veteran's Day 2013



 
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