In other medical news...

Lily has always been, shall we say, special.  She was my easiest birth and baby, by leaps and bounds, but right about when she turned 10 months old, she had a slew of illnesses that completely changed her from the calm, peaceful, contented infant she had been into a volatile, strong-willed creature whose vocal chords knew no limit.

8 years later, she still continues to baffle me, though the complexities of her character make her easy to love.  She's smart, affectionate, creative, imaginative, friendly, adventurous and on and on.  I adore her and don't worry about her all that much, even if I sometimes feel that dealing with her is much like breaking a horse.

This past school year was a particularly difficult one for Lily.  She resisted our early-morning routine often enough that she ended up walking to school alone on more than one occasion instead of joining her sister and neighbor on their usual bike ride and she didn't thrive academically, as we'd expected.  In fact, she struggled to pass off even the most basic "rocket math" timed tests and failed to take voluntary (AR)tests on pretty simple books in spite of the fact that she was blazing through the Harry Potter series at home.  Her teacher expressed concern that Lily would often ask for instructions to be repeated when other students were beginning their work.  We often prayed for guidance in knowing how to deal with this difficult but talented child of ours.

Then, in March, we noticed that she would occasionally stop mid-sentence and utter unintelligible sounds for a few seconds before pulling out of it and resuming whatever she'd been saying before her trance-like episode.  This was particularly puzzling.  I hit the internet, searching for answers.  My most convincing hunch was ADD, since many of her behaviors(including what I thought was merely a vocal tic) mimicked those with ADD.  I even asked some friends, whose kids have the disorder to find out what approach to take in getting a diagnosis, and what techniques they've found to be effective in treating it.  I called her teacher to express my concerns.

One night, I was on the internet for an entirely different purpose and stumbled across a headline: "10 things often mistaken for ADHD".  I clicked on it.  I clicked through the different disorders, just skimming over the information and clicked through the page about "seizures", not even reading it.  But then something prompted me to go back.  I began to read through information on seizures and immediately knew that was what Lily was experiencing.

As far as I know, we have no family history of seizures, and my exposure to epilepsy is limited at best.  It had never, ever crossed my mind that Lily's episodes could be seizures - I mean, what first comes to mind when discussing epilepsy are grand mal seizures, involving a complete takeover of the mind and body into convulsive fits, right?  My preconceived notions might have set back Lily's diagnosis for years.  But my attention to the Spirit, which had prompted me to go back when I would otherwise have blazed through, gave us exactly what we needed to go forward and help Lily.  I am so grateful for that guidance.

So what do we do now?  We've met with a neurologist, had an EEG (I'll show pictures when I blog from my iPhone) and determined what type of medication is used to treat absence seizures, as they're called.  I'm a bit skeptical and maybe even a little bit scared of the medicine, but have confidence that the Lord will guide us to make the right decisions on Lily's behalf, just as he so lovingly guided me to find out what was wrong in the first place, against all odds.  We'll keep everyone posted on our journey.

I think we're turning into a camping family after all.

Maybe it's the cheapskate in us, but camping is becoming our go-to family activity.  We wrangled some friends into coming up into the sticks with us last weekend and had a great time - minus a couple of bee stings the kids managed to get.  Plus, what is it about camping that makes me absolutely famished?  I went to girls camp with the Young Women a few weeks ago and packed it in so well that I came home 8 pounds heavier than when I had left three days earlier.  (I've since lost it, thankfully).

Our friends introduced us to geocaching, since there was a spot close by our campground, and I'm pretty sure we have found a new family hobby.  Here are the kids when they discovered the loot:

Camping just brings out all the joys of childhood, in my opinion.  Exploring an open wilderness, discovering hidden treasures, cutting it loose with friends and family, soaking in the sun and fresh air, getting filthy and washing up in a cold mountain stream, star-gazing, playing cards late into the night... it's just so wholesome and "unplugged" I can't help but smile.  And the pesto breakfast burritos Debbie made were a nice touch.  Mmm.

Here I go again, wearing my heart on my sleeve.

A couple of weeks ago, I was playing Monopoly with Lily and Tim on a Sunday.  The other kids had gone to bed, and Lily was pleased as punch that she got to keep us up late (even if we were only doing it to deprive her of sleep in preparation for an EEG the next morning - story for another day).  I was tired already but the game got off to a pretty good start and was relatively even-handed for a good hour.  That's where my luck ran out.  Lily and Tim both slapped down a bunch of houses and I managed to land on every single stinkin' one before I could get around the board again to collect $200 for passing "GO".  It got downright depressing from there on out - I pretty much couldn't get ahead again, and I turned into more of a spectator than a participant - suffering loss after loss, mortgaging my properties and finally bowing out thanks to the time.  Still, for over an hour I had to suffer through a torturous game in which I merely endured blow after blow after blow.  It was not fun.

I didn't go down without a decent amount of whining and complaining - but, in my defense, my anger over the Monopoly game was merely a reflection of my emotions over something much deeper.  Two days earlier, I had suffered my third miscarriage in the last year.  I really threw Tim for a loop, when, after cleaning up the game and putting Lily to bed, I started moaning and groaning about "wasted time" and how I loathe it.  Then the tears started flowing and he didn't know what to make of it.  It's a stupid Monopoly game, for crying out loud.  But it wasn't.  I was mourning the 27 weeks I've spent since November being pregnant with no baby on the way to show for it.  I was grieving over the hours I'd spent feeling crummy and tired and grouchy - feelings I was willing to endure so that we could add another child to our family.  But it just isn't to be right now.  And probably never.

All of the kids have been anxious to have a little sister (or brother, depending on who you talk to) for some time now.  We had them all so close together that they were too young to recollect what it was like to have a baby in the house.  Anna, when I told her why we probably weren't going to have any more children said to me, as only a child could say, "Mom, why don't you just keep trying?"  Oh, if only it were that simple.  For those with recurrent miscarriages, a reason is found only half of the time.  And among those with a diagnosis, it still requires a fair amount of emotional energy (and financial investment) to take the steps necessary to carry a baby to term.  Tim and I are still reeling from the last nine months and feel unwilling to make that investment(especially given my age).  We prayed about having more children and felt good about it.  A part of me will always want that "big" family of five or even six.  But we also feel incredibly blessed to have four beautiful, healthy daughters and, for now, have decided that four is, in fact, enough.  So much so, that I sold all my baby stuff in a yard sale last week (maybe a little hasty, but whatever).  And I might just feel a little bit relieved that I will only be 50 years old when the last of my children leaves the nest.

In summary, here's how I feel about the whole thing.  I'm somewhat sad.  I'm a little ticked off about the wasted time and effort that never materialized into something measurable.  The activities I'd postponed because of that due date in August, then the one in October, and another in March.  Still, I have been through enough in my life that I know that the majority of challenges we face carry long-term benefits, if we are but willing to see the big picture.  I don't see it all yet.  But I have faith that I will someday.  And let's be honest, I have four kids.  Four wonderful kids!  No room to complain, really.