been gone for a minute, now I’m back

Gosh so much has changed in the year (or more!) that I’ve been ghostly quiet.

Cue crickets chirping here

Ian Grey
December 7 2020

You have no idea how much I wanted you.
How much I suffered for you.

I wanted you so bad, I begged for the chance to have you for months, going against the better wishes of every single individual I knew. Going against every excuse for no.

But what I didn’t know was how I would suffer endlessly both physically and mentally for nine straight months. I didn’t know I would vomit nearly 50 pounds of my body weight, and I didn’t know that I would spend the entire nine months with nonstop hospital visits, endless rounds of depression, and quite possibly the deepest, darkest, blackest hole I have ever been in.

H Y P E R E M I S I S    G R A V I D A R U M 

It affects about 2% of pregnant women. 
And it basically means that I am a walking talking vomiting machine. 

I suffered through nine months of hyperemisis, while also being off my bipolar medicines, and navigating some of the deepest personal struggles I have ever worked through in my life. 

And for you my sweet boy, for that perfect smile and face?

I wouldn’t trade an ounce of my suffering. You are pure love, and my soul has never felt so content and complete knowing you are in our family.

..content sigh here..

In 2020 I conquered being pregnant during a global pandemic. This meant for the first time ever I had to suffer alone during endless ER visits without my forever hospital buddy. In my first 18 weeks (during the months of March to May) I would have daily (and sometimes twice daily) ER visits due to the severe painful and violent vomiting. They would stick and prod me with all kinds of needles, narcotics, and medication.

I’m not talking about a little bit of nausea or a little bit of bile in the morning. I’m talking about full-blown exorcism style, body seizing up and cramping in a “I am in full-blown hysterics” vomiting fit with fresh vomit coming out about 15 to 20 minutes every hour on the hour. I couldn’t even keep water in my system long enough, before I was vomiting fresh cold liquids.

This also meant that sometimes they would discharge me from the ER, and I wouldn’t even make it through the night or back home before I was heading right back. There was no amount of liquids, Zofran nor Reglan which would make the vomiting stop.

Each time I was admitted it would take a minimum of 3 days before they could get the vomiting to just stop. Eventually, between my hysterics and continuous vomiting, I would need to be on a psychiatric dose of Phenergan, to knock me out.

Being alone in the hospital for me meant there was no one there who understood my mental state and how to keep me calm. No one from my support system to help me through the sheer panic and terror. No one to explain to these strangers why I look like a crazy psychotic bit*% just let loose from the asylum, leaving vomit trails behind her.

I was alone and I was scared. Unmedicated and terrified. She was in control, and at the time I couldn’t even see the glimmer of a light at the end of the tunnel.

All this during the “height” of COVID fears. So for the first time in my life (E V E R) I was dropped at the door of the ER with no one allowed inside with me.

Being pregnant, unmedicated, and experiencing around the clock vomiting meant that my mental state had completely deteriorated.

As in I was a total crazy bitch that if you said “try to relax” one more time my eyes were going to laser you down, or if I heard the words “this is all in your head” 😳 one. more. fucking. time.

No shit this is in my head, it’s a mental fucking disorder you dumb fucking bitch

Each time I arrived at that ER I was in full blown hyperventilation panicking hysterics and could not control my panic attacks. In those moments I thought for sure I was going to die. Cause of death: extreme vomiting.

I was in pain, I was dizzy, my stomach hurt like if I tried to get abs like the rock overnight. I was literally cry/yelling ” just make it stop, please”

J U S T M A K E I T S T O P

And all they could say was “ma’am you need to calm down”

I was not even half way through my pregnancy at this point. I was admitted 3x for 6 nights each stay during these first 3 months.

After week 18 my vomiting fits would take me to the OB L&D floor

And can I just say, bless you universe for OB nurses

Here I would meet and come to know some o the nicest nurses I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with. Some who would come to know me personally as I continuously showed up vomiting. they referred to me as the VIP patient. Once I was coming through the doors, my girls, and Juan, were there to lift me up from the floor and bring me back to life.  

But, there was no one like Juan
Juan, the mid40s male OB nurse, who was previously married to a psychiatrist in Columbia.
Juan was the one who knew what to say, how to handle my outbursts, and how to soothe my demons.
If ever there was a gift from the universe to women pregnant while navigating mental health disorders, it’s name would be Juan. 

And I was not an easy patient when I came in my friends. I was H O R R I B L E at times.

Over those last 22 weeks, I was COVID tested up my nose (both nostrils 5 seconds each, they count it out for you) a total of 9x for my 9 hospital admissions.

Over the course of 39 weeks I had endless amounts of fluids pumped into, I was poked with countless needles as each time my veins would blow, always due to my severe dehydration. In October I spent 22 days admitted trying to control the vomiting.

But, also during these times my depression too was beginning to get blacker, and I was tumbling too far down the rabbit hole. My bipolar mind was starting to shed her shackles and I knew what was coming.

and I was scared

At the end of October, about week 32 of my pregnancy, my husband admitted me to L&D because I confessed to suicidal ideations. I wanted to die. It was way preferable to how I was feeling on the daily. So, I now had a round the clock sitter for the remainder of my pregnancy. Both in the hospital and out. I was not allowed to be alone with my kids, and I lost all vestiges of my privacy.



The only silver lining here?
The only upside to this?

My baby was perfectly healthy, and growing exceptionally well considering how much I was vomiting.

On December 7th, at 4am, my water broke. By 7am we were on our way the hospital (I spent three hours in denial).
At 1pm already being 4.5cm I received an epidural, and shortly after they began Petocin to speed my dilation.
Lucky me, my epidural was done incorrectly and I was now very much feeling my 8cm contractions.

HOLY FUCKING MOTHER

Those are no joke my friend. WOW. 
They took my epidural out, and readministered higher up the spine (so fun!)
and then… B A M….. 5 minutes later: OK TIME TO PUSH!
Excuse me? I can’t even feel my body right now? Push what? Push where? How?

So I tried to push, lolol apparently I was doing nothing, at all, just holding my breath.

Andddddd then all of the sudden we’re all running down the hall way, because my little tiny baby’s heart rate had fallen down to 43bpm.
Before I knew it I was having an emergency C-section, being cut vertically as my little tiny baby was also already almost out (all I needed was literally one good push). My incision runs about 7” down below my navel.
They would later reopen this same incision 8 weeks after I was completely healed for my tubal ligation… superrrrr fun!
But totally fucking necessary!

No way am I ever having another baby.

Ever
Never

I will say this, if Evan had been a C-section, Evan would be the only one. That shit is no joke. No fucking way would I like to feel the recovery of abdominal surgery ever again.

N E V E R E V E R A G A I N

The night Ian came out, my magical antipsychotic pill went right back in, and thanks to the incredible help of my magical husband and my amazing support system I began the road to recovering my mental health. But doing so has not been easy, and I’m still no where near back to my “regular self”, whatever that might actually be. I struggle everyday with just trying to put back the pieces I blew apart in 2020. My life literally imploded, and I’m searching through tiny pieces of dust and debris trying to piece this mess together.

But as a mom, my only option is to show up and do the work so I can keep giving these kids the love they need.

And honestly, it’s what keeps me going, putting one foot in front of the other.
Every single day, I just keep living and healing for them.
They deserve for me to be whole.
They deserve a happy mom.


I’m on this train called life.
You know the bullet express with no stops?
It just keeps going, and going.
Never. Stopping.

JG

Speech Therapy Re-Evaluation

Wow! It’s been six months already! Six months that we’ve been working with Nicole in speech therapy, and the immense progress we have seen in these short six months is nothing short of incredible!

When we first started speech therapy,  I didn’t think Logan needed it?! He was about 11 months, and I thought it was perfectly normal that he only used two vowel sounds. But then again I just have a very biased opening on how perfect he is. {shoulder shrug here} But he wasn’t interested in books, he couldn’t use anticipation, and communicating with us was nearly impossible.

we had oooooo’s aaaaa’s galore tho

But apparently, speech therapy is sooo much more than just learning how to speak correctly! Now? Now Logan understands that certain words have certain meanings. He loves to read books, and can successfully turn the pages. There’s comprehension, anticipation, and repetition involved in each session. He’s learning that not everything is just useless sounds garbled together. When I say “up” he’ll now throw his arms in the air for me to carry him. When he wants something he’ll signal “gimme”, or when he wants to open something he’ll knock on its surface. All the skills we’ve learned in speech therapy.

And that’s just the beginning! With the careful tutelage between Patty and Nicole, Logan can now use certain hand signs to communicate what he wants and needs. We can successfully wave “bye-bye”, sign “gimme” and “open”, and signal to himself as “me”. And with each new sign that he learns to master, the tears and weeps for joy are contagious across the floor as we all celebrate in his triumph. I love this little dude so much, and watching his communication skills grow over the last six months has been nothing short of extra-ordinary.

I still have a few goals that I’m hoping will stick to this little man’s brain. I’m hoping to get him to clap (on command! dance, monkey dance!), to recognize his momma and poppa (whether in a photo or by pointing), and to finally make those vowel-consonant sounds. But honestly, with the progress he has made? I feel like these might be short-term goals because he’s been crushing them all!

 

You got this Little Dude. ♥

Down Syndrome Awareness Month

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and yes I realize this post is about 17 days past due. But life gets crazy, and that’s what its been like around here, just pure fu@#&*g chaos. But it’s here now, so please read, enjoy and then share, so others can enjoy it too!

So anywhooo..

We have several fun things going on, which, please feel free to get involved in. We love having new friends and old friends, and sometimes friends contact us and say hi.

Actually, we just like having friends in general.

 

 

We’re currently putting a massive amount of our free time into fundraising for the Down Syndrome Association of Miami, in hopes of reaching our goal to donate $2,000 to the Miracle Walk happening in Coral Gables, FL on November 3rd. Our link for more information is listed below.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/downsyndromeawarenessfundraiser

 

 

We’re also inviting local members of our community, family, and friends to sign up for the Miracle Walk and to join our team. Logan’s Loud Loonies! You can sign up directly on the DSAOM website and choose our team.

OR!

You can buy tickets on our Eventbrite page, linked through our Facebook. Join our team, and the day of the walk you receive an official team t-shirt (as well as the official walk t-shirt), and the chance to add to our donation goal. Our link for more information is listed below.

https://www.facebook.com/events/336893087097040/

 

Anddddd Finally…

the bake sale!

In an extra attempt to really reach our donation goal we will be selling mom’s home-baked, with real love and real ingredients cakes and cheesecakes.

The proceeds of each cake will be put towards our GoFundMe goals!

Current favorite flavors:

Golden Oreo Funfetti cheesecake with homemade whipped topping
Dulce de Leche topped brown sugar cheesecake with Oreo crust
Jack Daniels Tennesee Honey with a buttery graham cracker crust
White Chocolate Raspberry with homemade whipped topping and a buttery graham cracker crust
Plain cheesecake with homemade strawberry topping and a buttery graham cracker crust

We are also accepting custom flavor requests, and offer size variations in: 4″, 6″, or 11″ options!

Simply Text (305) 490-9461 or email us jroque810@gmail.com

with your name and cake request for more information!

Don’t be shy about asking for details on how to get involved, and don’t pass on the chance of meeting this beautiful soul, and getting involved in our beautiful community.

Join us, and lets spread kindness around like confetti….

 

♥JG

Starting Feeding Therapy

Starting Feeding Therapy

Sooo.. let’s talk about how much fun we have been having in feeding therapy. I mean, I knew Logan was going to like it because duhhhh.. FAT GUY loves everything! But oh.em.gee my friends: logan in feeding therapy, discovering food, is the most magical thing my momma heart has ever seen.

Through Cindy’s (linked here @talk.eat.play ) careful tutelage we’ve discovered so many new types of food! Plus we have experimented with so many new textures, messes, and flavors. And you wanna know what the best part of this is?

He likes to eat my cooking

You have no idea how much that satisfies my momma soul.

Considering how little (to practically nothing) Evan eats, the fact that Logan LOVES to eat every soft steamed whatever I put in front of him is amazing! And what’s more… you best believe its flavorful, and full of spices and seasoning! Because the kitchen is my happy place. I love that he loves what I love. You know?

And honestly, Cindy is amazing in how she encourages both me and Logan to discover new things in the kitchen and in our diets. The other day… I cooked with vegetables (ugh! it disgusts me just to say the word!) made them into a soup, pureed that sh*t, and BAM! guess who ate pureed broccoli and cheddar cheese soup.

This momma and son duo.

Dude, it had onions, carrots, broccoli, and potatoes. Things I would never eat! Never in a million years.. but within 30 or so minutes we were both three bowls deep. And loving every veggie-filled bite. 

Processed with VSCO with c2 preset

So. Much. Fun.

 

-JG♥

Sorry for our absence…

Sorry for our absence…

Things have been like super hella crazy around here, and thus our site has been eerily silent. I don’t even know where to begin to describe what our life has been like for the past two months. Sooooo much has happened that it’s impossible to think of just where to start. We hit milestones, we went through extreme lows, and then we came out the other end better people.

The biggest milestone?

Logan turned One.

Over the last few months, he’s grown and learned so much, and yet I still feel like with him time stands still, and he’s going to be my baby forever. The way he crawls all over the house makes me so proud, I laugh when my mom calls him “una cucaracha mala”. He can now come up to a tall knee position and is crushing every obstacle course Diana builds for him. We’ve discovered how to bang maracas together, and honestly,  it is the most magical thing I’ve ever seen.

Over the last few months, we’ve also discovered so many new things such as bathtubs, the beach, and plenty of new public outings like aquariums and brunches. We’ve learned how to say da da da, to hold our own bottle, we’ve made so many new friends, and we’re beginning to experiment with soft solids.

Making huge progress.

In so many ways I feel like each day is the same and we are getting nowhere. Still no clapping, still no waving, still no walking. But then I think of how far he has come, how he can now respond to simple words such as “up” and “come”, how he loves playing with his brother, how he can successfully bang items together… and don’t even get me started on his feeding accomplishments!

The more days go by, the prouder I become of my little wolverine. He’s accomplished so much, and likewise given me so much to learn and grow from. He’s quite possibly the best decision I have ever made, and the most fun I have ever had.

Mom

Speech Therapy Evaluation

Speech Therapy Evaluation

I feel like lately, it’s just one doctor, and one evaluation, and another doctor, and another evaluation… referrals, prescriptions, and doctor visits. Round and round we go. I’m drowning in them. But that’s what this stage of my life is going to be like, right? I knew to expect this and I knew that at this stage, I would be dedicating myself to this sole purpose. For his betterment, because at the end of the day, when you’re a mom, everything you do is for your kids, and to put them forward.

Speech therapy, but my kid doesn’t even speak? I didn’t get it? I didn’t understand how he could already have a delay in an area I didn’t even know to begin practicing. But then I think back to Evan, and what that was like. How he communicated with me at this stage, and the radical difference I see in the development of both my sons.

Logan turns 1 at the end of this month, and there are many areas within his communication skills that he’s falling behind on. There was so much information I absorbed in the 60 minutes that Logan was evaluated.

At first, came the usual onslaught of questions about Logan, from pre-birth to birth, to first months… and so on until where we are today. We’ve been working hard with Logan’s ITDS to have him combine consonant syllable sounds repeatedly, for months, and so far we have no success.

And yes, we know how to tell what Logan wants when he wants it because we know how to distinguish his cry, but that’s about it. Otherwise, his communication skills with us are very minimal or like nil to none.

But I didn’t think anything of this. Why? Sometimes, I forget Logan is turning one because his milestones are telling me my baby is 6 or 7mo. old. He’s just learned to crawl, were just beginning to explore solids, and we can finally sit unassisted on our own. But we still have a long way to go in terms of keeping up with the delay.

He has begun to have exploratory skills in the 6-9mo. levels. However, in his own range, he scored very minimal scattered skills. There are certain areas and skills where he does have full competency, like in the 0-3mo. range.

Well, thank god!

But ask me if Logan can point out his momma?

-Nope.

Or does he understand simple words?

-Nope.

He also has difficulty bringing his arms together repeatedly at mid-line. In other words, no matter how hard we practice, he still doesn’t clap. And listen, I practice that clap…. every. day.

Every. Damn. Day.

We continue to practice all kinds of skills daily, as we incorporate books, photos, and images to help him start recognizing the language. We encourage hand signals like “up” and “bye-bye”, and what’s most important is that we continue to work as a unit, making sure Logan gets the daily stimulation he needs.

But, hey, were working on it! And eventually, as with all things, he will get there.

And that’s the most important thing that I have to keep reminding myself, and telling myself… repeatedly.

He will get there.

All things in life are a phase, and this too shall pass.

After our evaluation, the therapist is suggesting we go full steam ahead and do 30 minute sessions, 3x a week.

We are currently doing PT & OT for a combined total of 3 hours a week, with our latest recommendations for feeding and speech, we’ll be doubling that number to 6 hours a week.

But this is for him, his betterment, and his benefit, and really there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.

 

-JG

 

 

Feeding Therapy Evaluation

Feeding Therapy Evaluation

I like to joke that you would never guess Logan ate from a feeding tube for the first 5 days of his life. He’s a chunky monkey that likes to eat everything and anything you put in front of him. And if you’re eating something, you best believe, that yep you’re going to learn to share! So naturally, when feeding therapy was suggested, I was a little confused?

 

This fat guy?

He’s a champ at taking down his bottles lightning fast, which has come to require that we cut open the nipples (old Cuban traditions) — so that he can huff down the liquid mud we make his formula into. He’s basically drinking his oatmeal out of a bottle.

We even, maybe occasionally put his compota’s in there as well.

Cuban traditions die hard.

He also eats a whole bowl of Abuela Milly’s homemade purees, which contains all kinds of delicious goodness. Beans, meat, chicken, potatoes, rice, vegetables, spinach… you name it, he eats it.

Apparently, cutting the nipples is frowned upon by health professionals, and it’s time I let Logan learn to play with his food. Yes, it’s great that he eats well, and is of a healthy weight. But no, there are certain milestones he should be meeting which he is not. Primarily, we need to build the strength of the muscles within his jaw and cheeks, to give him the correct stamina he needs to chew. Right now, he’s a bit lax in that department.

Ask me if Logan can hold his bottle?

-Nope.

Can he chew soft solids?

-Nope.

Does he chew on puff cereal or children’s teething cookies?

-Nope.

-Can he drink thin liquids from a bottle?

-Again, nope.

These were things which were worrisome, but I didn’t think too much on. After his Feeding Therapy Evaluation, though, there are a few changes we’ll need to start making to his eating routine. Starting with new bottles, {eye roll here}. Ask me how many times I’ve heard this schpeel lol

The recommendation: we’ll be doing feeding therapy 2x for 45 minutes sessions.

 

Follow along to get updates on how he does!

Physical Therapy, 6mo. later

Physical Therapy, 6mo. later

We started physical therapy when Logan was about 5 months old. At the time, I thought Logan was rockin’ it when it came to meeting his milestones. He was doing tummy time great, and he was rolling from prone to supine (I’ve picked up a few terms over these sessions lol), holding his head up like a champ and all! However, after the initial evaluation, I quickly learned just how mislead I was.

Whhaaaa?

Yes, Logan was doing great in meeting his milestones, but he was cheating and using disorganized body movement. Something I was completely unaware of, as I had no clue what to look for. Diana, his physical torturer {ahem!} I mean… therapist, quickly filled us in on how Logan was overcompensating his movements by using extension to accomplish most of his actions.

tsk. tsk. tsk.

Not like that little Logan.

We came into physical therapy doing 3 sessions a week for 30-minute sessions. When we first started, Logan was using his shoulders to hold up his head and neck (looking like the Uncle Fester all day) and was preferring to utilize extension to accomplish his rolling. These were the first movements we corrected, as Diana began to work with him, and cue-ing him towards the correct movements.

We experienced A LOT of crying during these first initial sessions.

But we worked at it. Every day. We worked not only at therapy 3x a week, but we also worked as a unit at home, intermittently taking turns, ensuring little Logan was practicing correct movements. All. The. Time.

I began to ask excessive questions during our sessions with Diana. I wanted to know as much as I could about what he was learning to do, with what muscles, and how it would help him further his development.

“And what was that word you used?” “How can I do this at home” What if he does this?” “How do I correct this movement?” “What if he does this movement?” “He does this a lot, is that normal?”

I feel like that is my number one question:

Is that normal?

but what’s normal?

Because I’m not, and with him I only see perfection. 

Today, at the 6mo. PT re-evaluation I was able to show Diana how I’m learning to crawl on my own. I came into therapy 6 short months ago, unable to hold my own head up properly. But with constant support and dedication from my family and the amazing people at  Nicklaus Children’s Outpatient Therapy center, now? Now I can sit completely unassisted, I can roll all over the place like a crazy animal, and I’m finally beginning to learn to crawl.

Mommy is so proud! Not only of the progress I’ve made, but also of the way I continuously learn. The way I can pick up cues quickly, and continuously work at these movements, even when no one is helping me. Sometimes, mommy catches me in my play pen practicing weight baring, and she can’t help but laugh.

Physical therapy is quickly becoming one our favorite ways to start the moring. ♥

 

 

 

Here we are, 10mo. later…

I didn’t originally want another baby. I was satisfied with just Evan and content enough to raise just him. However, my husband (sneaky bastard who knows me so well), appealed to the younger me who dreamed of a large family — similar to the one she grew up in.

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We tried one time, a random day on my ovulation cycle, exactly 2 weeks off the pill. When we woke up the next morning, we second-guessed that decision and said:                    “maybe we should wait” | “maybe we’re not ready” | “maybe in another year”

But guess what?

You don’t get to choose.

I knew instantly I was pregnant with Logan (which is probably why I felt like it was the longest 9mo. ever). The vomiting began just 2 weeks into gestation, and it would never stop. I’m not saying I gagged a little in the mornings, had a bit of nausea, or threw up a bit of stomach acid.

No, my friend. I. THREW. UP. All the time. ALL THE TIME.

It’s called hyperemesis gravidarum, which translated online means “severe vomiting”. Severe vomiting?! During my first trimester, I lost 30 pounds and was seen in the ER 12 times for severe dehydration. I couldn’t even hold down water. Add to that my loose bladder from Evan’s pregnancy, resulting in tons of amounts of pee coming involuntarily out, therefore making me smell homeless. Real attractive pregnancy glow [cue sarcasm].

I couldn’t leave the house without vomiting and pissing everywhere. On myself, down my pants, in the car, in the chairs I sat on, in the beds I laid in, in the stores I went to. EVERYWHERE. I felt disgusted with myself and spent most of the day at home changing my clothes, vomiting, and crying myself into hysterics.

I want to say it got better, but it didn’t. -_-

They gave me my first ultrasound at week 20, 5 weeks behind schedule. At the initial ultrasound, I was advised that something didn’t quite look right, in a very nonchalant, this is of no importance kind of manner, and that there were some images which the doctor felt might reflect Down Syndrome. They referred me to further testing, but otherwise, I was shrugged off and no other information was given.

At week 22 sequential blood work through the Harmony Blood Testing exam revealed a possible positive marker of Trisomy 21 for our little Logan. They would like me to come in to discuss our chances and other options for testing.

But, our little Logan, who already had a name, who already had a brother waiting for him, and with which whom I had already fallen hopelessly in love — might be, what? defective? No one had even told me what Trisomy21 was, nor did they even bother to explain it.

Google became my friend.

Shortly afterward, we opted for the amniocentesis, and I have to say — as a mom who has birthed naturally twice using an epidural… nothing compares to the pain of that needle piercing through the skin, then the abdomen, then the uterus, then the placenta. You feel, each. and. every. puncture.

And when you have a hyperactive fetus (like Logan), you get to ride that ride twice.

Fun times.  😉

Not.

In less than 2 weeks we got a call from Dr. Q at Maternal Fetal Medicine, that he would like to see me. Today. Within the next hour if possible. At that moment, I felt my heart sink. We were seen immediately upon arriving at the office and given another full work up ultrasound. Shortly after we were given the results, and asked very nicely about whether we had thought of how we wanted to proceed with the pregnancy?

I was so confused in this moment, as termination was never an option, no matter the results of the amnio. Hearing the doctor voice this question aloud, gave me uncertainty for one moment. One. Split. Moment. that I thought I was not meant to have this baby.

But I loved him. I loved him so much already, and I had faith that the universe knows why it does what it does. What’s meant to happen will happen. Have faith in your destiny. All that other horse shit.

So of course, we were confident in our choice to keep Logan, and raise him just like the other savages kids being raised in our house. Dr. Q was nothing short of magical as he followed our case. Through him we found the initial strength we needed, to know that our baby was going to be ok. And he was the most perfect thing we would ever lay our eyes on.

“The world needs more parents like you”

-Dr. Q

And now 10mo. after being with Logan I am ashamed at that feeling of overwhelming loss I had at the moment they told us we had a positive diagnosis. After all, an amnio has a 99.2%. accuracy rate. At that moment I just felt loss, for the life I had begun to envision with my two boys, which now seemed to be so unclear, so tumultuous, and so uncertain.

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I’ve never met an individual with Down Syndrome, and now I was about to be the mother of one. To say I was sadly unprepared is an understatement. But now? Now the only thing I know is that Logan is the biggest blessing we have ever received, and the universe truly does know what you need when you need it.

I spent the remainder of my pregnancy fighting all kinds of emotions as I processed an immense amount of information, and struggled with daily anxieties and fears… all while being unmedicated for the first time in 15 years. To say that my Bipolar Mind had reared her ugly head is the understatement of all these understatements. So, the Support System stepped in, and 2 weeks before giving birth to Logan, I moved back home with mom and dad. Half my stuff in one place, half my stuff in another. But it was the best decision I made. Not only for my own mental health and sanity but for the health of my children and family as well.

Now? Now Logan is 10 months, and in just two shorts months, he’ll turn 1. I don’t even know where the last ten months have gone as I have been through some crazy moments. I’ve lost my mind and my cool on more than one occasion, and there have been some hella crazy times. But motherhood is quite possibly the scariest hood I have ever been through. And I’ve seen some {bat shit} crazy stuff in my day.

At 10mo. my little wolverine has made huge leaps in overcoming any obstacles put before him. His “delay” is considered within “normal” (someone please define normal for me) limits and considered on par for someone who does not even have a disability.

He does have a delay in his fine and gross motor movements, so we go to physical and occupational therapy 3x a week, for 30 minutes each. We call it our “gym time”. We have upcoming therapy evaluations for speech and feeding, in hopes that we can get in front of the delay, rather than behind it.

I’ve learned so much from Logan over the past ten months. So much on motherhood, life, perspective, outlook, and love. I’ve learned to be quieter (which if you know me, is a difficult feat in and of itself), I’ve learned to be more patient and open-minded. I’ve learned compassion and strength. And I’ve learned, ultimately, that moms really can do it all, and then some!

♥JessG.

An Introduction by Ordinary Means…

An Introduction by Ordinary Means…

Hello, and welcome to our page!

We’re the Galdamez Crew.

Our family of five consists of Mom, Dad, Evan, Logan, and Cooper (my bonus baby pictured below).

Allow me to introduce, from left to right:

Evan, Avery, Logan, and Dominic.

The funny part is, this all began with one big, OOPS!

I come from a large, predominantly strong (like insanely strong and confident) female lead family, being I’m one of four sisters. If you know one of us, you know all of us (that’s just how it works in this pack). About 4 years ago, there was one missed contraceptive pill, and a month later the doctor announced: SURPRISE! You’re having a baby!

Come again now? 

9 crazy months later, we welcomed our first boy into the Roque clan, as Evan made his arrival in September of 2015. 3 short months later, Dominic would grace us with his presence, being the miracle baby of the family. Coopie arrived just in time for Evan’s first birthday, before Avery made her arrival later that December.

Once you pop, you just don’t stop. 

I guess you can say I popped the lid on that one. Because now? We got these kids coming out of everywhere, and we’re quickly becoming outnumbered.

We welcomed Logan 2 years later, and throw in our 3 other nieces — the count is where now??

8 grandkids for Abuela and Abuelo… 

Throw in the fact that were not done procreating yet…

And our mom might not survive these multiplying kids

I come from a big family

That’s an understatement, it’s only getting bigger.

Add to that, these crazy kids experience everything together and get into all kinds of trouble together. Most of the time, they don’t realize that they’re not actually brothers and sisters, and that “yes you need to go to your own home little girl” and “no you’re not coming to my house today”. At “Abuela’s Day Care” there are three toddlers and one infant on any given weekday.

They tend to do aalloottttttt of crazy shenanigans together, and it’s always the most fun they’ve ever had. The chaos that unfolds daily at our home and on our combined adventures is nothing short of hilarious. As “work from home” mom’s we spend half the time laughing at their conversations and the crazy adventures they get into; and the other half ripping our hairs out trying to decide who to punish first — and honestly speaking, its usually Avery, (she’s the little firecracker!)

la inventora de todo los mal ideas

But at the end of the day, we wouldn’t have it any other way. They love each other in the same way I love each of my sisters. The relationship dynamics between them are eerily like our own relationships. Best of all? We get to watch them grow into miniature versions of ourselves, and we get to partake in all the fun of our childhoods — all over again, but this time with our own kids. We still feel like kids ourselves most of the time.

It’s both the most work we’ve ever done, and the best of times we’ve ever had.

#boymom

 

♥JessG.