Hello? Anyone out there still?
If so, I'll be returning soon. I am going to have a "Mother's Helper" through the summer for the sole purpose of being able to get into the library to do Internet stuff again.
Life has been busy in the Moose Nugget household. We are officially Chicken Farmers, with a flock of 51 chickens. The garden is in, and as long as we get a fence up before the moose discover the broccoli (and everything else), we are looking good for growing a fair amount of our veggies this year. A mishap with the freezer getting unplugged fir a few days has us looking forward to hunting season and the next big fishing trip, and we are working on putting up buildings and clearing land to be able to raise a few more food animals next year.
It amazes me that all the hard work of the last few months fits into a small paragraph of nondescript words... We sure have been busy!
Beans is getting smarter by the minute. Every day, I am glad we decided to home school.
Little Nugget is still, well, little. And the doctors still don't know what's wrong with her. It's an ongoing saga that hardly deserves mention at the moment, not because it lacks importance, but because the whole situation just makes me mad. At this point, doctors are WAY overstepping their boundaries, and as test free test comes back negative and Little Nugget continues to do everything except get fat (healthy in every other way), we (me, J, and every other human being with an ounce of common sense) would like to be left in peace with our SMALL but otherwise HEALTHY daughter. Those that lack sense (aka- The Doctors) have gone nuts with their requests for tests and various other baloney.
More on that another day. If I get on that soapbox today, there's gonna be trouble in Moose Nugget Land.
The Little Farm on the Tundra is my peace and tranquility these days. The land has thawed and even gotten "hot" by our standards (80 something degrees today!) The return of summer has chickens clucking in the yard, chicks peeping in the hen house, laundry fluttering on the line, and that summery scent of plants growing in dirt, mingling with the smell of bug spray (natural and non toxic, of course!) and sunscreen.
This year, the full daylight isn't bothering me as much as it had the last couple summers. I must be adjusting. I haven't even pulled out the room darkening shades yet!
Will have to try to post some pics of the farm. The garden is big, quaint, and useful. The greenhouse is full. The chickens are a sight and "Farm TV" is all we watch now. My favorite episode is where "Ricky Bobby" (our rooster) chases Big Momma, Baby Girl, and Little Red (the hens) around the yard, calling them over when he finds a cache of beetles or a tasty treat in the yard. The bees, mosquitoes, and flies are the supporting actors in this episode, pollinating, buzzing, and searching for food. The backdrop is a front porch cluttered with planter boxes of "Herbs d'Italiano", mint, and various tea herbs, while the girls test their skills riding trikes or playing in the dirt. Our days are sweaty and dirty and so much fun.
It's gonna be a good summer.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Is That Moose Nuggets Wandering Out of the Trees?
Hey there, y'all. Yup. Moose Nuggets is still lurking about. Actually, I just liberated a little time away from the kiddos to sneak to my local library and do some internet work that was really too difficult to attempt from the iphone. (No internet at the cabin, but we pick up the 2G network. Go figure.)
Anyhoo... I figured since I was "in town", I'd poke my head in for a minute here.
Spring is in the air in Delta. Alaska spring is much different from Lower 48 spring. There are no daffodils or crocus peeking their heads through the snow. But it's over 30 degrees here, and that means spring. It's a little early to call it "break up) (where the ice breaks and the snow melts), but that is exactly what's been happening around here. The drive and our property (and the roads!) are in a constant thaw-freeze pattern. The days have been in the 40s (absolutely glorious!) and the nights are back in the 20s.
Our spring is already busy. J had a guy come push snow off my future gardening site a couple weeks ago. It was a funny sight, watching Beans realize that there was DIRT under all that snow. She self-proclaimed, "I'm a Farm Girl" (that's my girl!) and took off to dig in the dirt. Little Nugget clung hesitantly to my pant leg, tasted the earth, and was not nearly as impressed. She toddled off to find a pile of snow to eat.
On seeing dirt, Spring Fever grabbed J by the manhood and he began building my chicken coop. Looks like we should be able to have a few layers hanging around in a couple weeks. We will also be adding meat chickens and turkeys, and possibly a couple hogs. (Yes. We are going to eat these animals. No, they are not pets.)
In addition to dissuading J from rushing out to buy the closest tractor, I have thrown on mud boots and begun tromping around to find ANYTHING that might be sprouting.
My urge to homestead and "live off the land" could wait no longer. With wildlife books in one hand and walking stick in the other, I took to our acreage to discover what's growing under all the snow.
Um... for the record, there's still a lot of snow out there.
But I did not come home empty-handed. A friend of mine taught me a recipe for some Mountain Medicine. If you live somewhere that cottonwoods grow, pay attention:
Balm of Gilead:
pick a few tablespoons of the sticky, resinous leaf buds from the trees before they start to open. Cover in olive oil and warm on the woodstove. (An electric range is fine too, if you have a woodstove shortage). Steep for "awhile". You'll know it's done when all the leaf buds are opened up. Melt in some beeswax and put it in a jar.
Balm of Gilead is good for what ails ya. Use on (small) cuts, scrapes, bruises, sore muscles, or a fantastic rub when you have a headache.
So I know I sound like a crazy mountain woman now, but it's true! And NATURAL. And better for you than Icy Hot and various other chemical things you rub on yourself to feel better. Also has some natural antiseptic properties. Just be cautious if you are aspirin sensitive. Cottonwoods have salicylic acid in them (naturally occurring!).
Next to try is cottonwood tea. I am told it's good for coughs and colds and headaches and various other things. Might even taste interesting.
Gotta Run. My time away from the homestead is up and there are woods to explore with curious kids.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Anyhoo... I figured since I was "in town", I'd poke my head in for a minute here.
Spring is in the air in Delta. Alaska spring is much different from Lower 48 spring. There are no daffodils or crocus peeking their heads through the snow. But it's over 30 degrees here, and that means spring. It's a little early to call it "break up) (where the ice breaks and the snow melts), but that is exactly what's been happening around here. The drive and our property (and the roads!) are in a constant thaw-freeze pattern. The days have been in the 40s (absolutely glorious!) and the nights are back in the 20s.
Our spring is already busy. J had a guy come push snow off my future gardening site a couple weeks ago. It was a funny sight, watching Beans realize that there was DIRT under all that snow. She self-proclaimed, "I'm a Farm Girl" (that's my girl!) and took off to dig in the dirt. Little Nugget clung hesitantly to my pant leg, tasted the earth, and was not nearly as impressed. She toddled off to find a pile of snow to eat.
On seeing dirt, Spring Fever grabbed J by the manhood and he began building my chicken coop. Looks like we should be able to have a few layers hanging around in a couple weeks. We will also be adding meat chickens and turkeys, and possibly a couple hogs. (Yes. We are going to eat these animals. No, they are not pets.)
In addition to dissuading J from rushing out to buy the closest tractor, I have thrown on mud boots and begun tromping around to find ANYTHING that might be sprouting.
My urge to homestead and "live off the land" could wait no longer. With wildlife books in one hand and walking stick in the other, I took to our acreage to discover what's growing under all the snow.
Um... for the record, there's still a lot of snow out there.
But I did not come home empty-handed. A friend of mine taught me a recipe for some Mountain Medicine. If you live somewhere that cottonwoods grow, pay attention:
Balm of Gilead:
pick a few tablespoons of the sticky, resinous leaf buds from the trees before they start to open. Cover in olive oil and warm on the woodstove. (An electric range is fine too, if you have a woodstove shortage). Steep for "awhile". You'll know it's done when all the leaf buds are opened up. Melt in some beeswax and put it in a jar.
Balm of Gilead is good for what ails ya. Use on (small) cuts, scrapes, bruises, sore muscles, or a fantastic rub when you have a headache.
So I know I sound like a crazy mountain woman now, but it's true! And NATURAL. And better for you than Icy Hot and various other chemical things you rub on yourself to feel better. Also has some natural antiseptic properties. Just be cautious if you are aspirin sensitive. Cottonwoods have salicylic acid in them (naturally occurring!).
Next to try is cottonwood tea. I am told it's good for coughs and colds and headaches and various other things. Might even taste interesting.
Gotta Run. My time away from the homestead is up and there are woods to explore with curious kids.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
So Long? Farewell?
Well, I'm not officially signing off or ending Moose Nuggets yet.
But I will say that it has been increasingly difficult to find time for blogging.
In addition to caring for a sick baby (doing better and making some progress, by the way!), our days have been filling up quickly with things to do that take precedence over driving 15 miles to the library and trying to blog while my kids run rampant in the library. (Sorry Miss Joyce and Miss Nancy-and thank you for tolerating them!)
As much as I would love to promise the get back to blogging at one point or another, I only see our days getting even more and more busy and beautiful Delta Junction begins its spring thaw. There are chicken coops to build, land to clear and break into for farming, and switching out winter gear for summer gear.
In our house, that means the ice fishing gear (for J) and the knitting needles (for me) get traded out for regular fishing gear, camping gear, and farming gear.
If you are local, I hope you are out stomping around in the slush like we are!
Sorry I haven't been able to be more consistent in blogging. Those of you who know how to contact me are still welcome to do so! Haley- still looking forward to meeting you when you get here, so stay in touch!
So this blog is going to take the path of the moose...
Funny thing about moose- those buggers can be elusive, and sometimes you can't even see them, even though they are very close by in the trees. Then, out of no where, they like to pop up on the highway.
Until the next time I can pop up for air,
Happy Moose Trails!
But I will say that it has been increasingly difficult to find time for blogging.
In addition to caring for a sick baby (doing better and making some progress, by the way!), our days have been filling up quickly with things to do that take precedence over driving 15 miles to the library and trying to blog while my kids run rampant in the library. (Sorry Miss Joyce and Miss Nancy-and thank you for tolerating them!)
As much as I would love to promise the get back to blogging at one point or another, I only see our days getting even more and more busy and beautiful Delta Junction begins its spring thaw. There are chicken coops to build, land to clear and break into for farming, and switching out winter gear for summer gear.
In our house, that means the ice fishing gear (for J) and the knitting needles (for me) get traded out for regular fishing gear, camping gear, and farming gear.
If you are local, I hope you are out stomping around in the slush like we are!
Sorry I haven't been able to be more consistent in blogging. Those of you who know how to contact me are still welcome to do so! Haley- still looking forward to meeting you when you get here, so stay in touch!
So this blog is going to take the path of the moose...
Funny thing about moose- those buggers can be elusive, and sometimes you can't even see them, even though they are very close by in the trees. Then, out of no where, they like to pop up on the highway.
Until the next time I can pop up for air,
Happy Moose Trails!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A quiet life
Sorry for my absence. Life has been busy with Little Nugget. Still no answers from the medical community.
Meanwhile, we have been busy trying to create a new "normal".
Hoping to return with a decent post sometime this week, if I can get to the library.
Thanks to everyone for your loyalty and support!
-Moose Nuggets
Meanwhile, we have been busy trying to create a new "normal".
Hoping to return with a decent post sometime this week, if I can get to the library.
Thanks to everyone for your loyalty and support!
-Moose Nuggets
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Is It Just Me, Or Is It Brighter These Days?
Salutations!
Life has been busy in the Moose Nugget House, trying to establish a new "normal".
Little Nugget Update: Her echo cardiogram came back OK, so it's not her heart. THAT is good news. The down-side, we still have no idea what's wrong with her. More good news though: she has gained 9 ounces. So hopefully this means she might start growing again. We are (literally) weighing in twice a week now. She's still got the feeding tube, but her appetite is getting better and she is back to her usual antics which include... taking her first two steps!
Meanwhile, Alaska is moving in it's cyclical way with no notice of the Moose Nugget Household. A couple days ago, I had a rare opportunity to "sleep in" (thank you, J, for getting up with the kids!). I startled when I woke. The grey dawn was already pouring into the room. Panicked, I thought SURELY I did not sleep until 10 am?!? As I rushed down the loft steps to check on my babies, the clock told me to relax, it was only 8:30. It was a relaxed morning (for a change in our recent hectic pace), so I poured a cup of coffee and snuggled with my girls as J and I chatted the sunrise away. My day threw me for another loop in the evening time. I have become accustomed to the dark signaling when nap time is over, or when it might be time to think about dinner. I am already suffering from what I call "Summer Syndrome"... where the daylight tricks you into thinking it is earlier than it really is. We've had several late dinners this week because I am still letting the darkness dictate when I prepare the evening meal. And not that I care about eating a late dinner, but anyone can surely understand that a late dinner means a late bedtime for your kids. And not that the KIDS mind a late bedtime, but it sure puts a dent in my "Mommy Needs Personal Space" plans.
I can hear my friend Susan cheering in my head... the return of light means a lot to her, and other Alaska residents.
But for me... well, the end of dark winter always makes me a little sad. It means that the "busy season" is approaching. The snow will (eventually) melt. The ice will break. Break-up will be upon us. Then the summer, full of gardening, outdoor fun, berry picking, hiking, visiting family (they only come in summer, ya know) and (hopefully) livestock.
Don't get me wrong! I'm not lazy or afraid of work. Nor am I part vampire or a hater of summer fun. I actually love Alaska for it's extremes. But in our neck of Alaska, it seems like the dark JUST arrives, then it goes away again. As the daylight returns, I know my knitting needles will return to the shelf for a few months. Cozy semi-lazy days by the wood stove will come to an end, and all the books I promised myself I was absolutely positively going to read this winter will go back on the bookshelf. Goodbye, old friends! *SNIFF* See ya after then next snowfall!
Meanwhile, it's time to break out the room darkening shades. If I have another opportunity to sleep past 8 am, I am going to make sure I'm in the dark to do it. And even though there is still enough light outside to see the tree line, I'd better start putting some thought to dinner, so I can actually have my family fed before 8pm today.
In other news: we've had a yard visitor. And this guy likes to get in close. Dog-like prints, too big to be a fox and too small to be a wolf. I'm hoping (OH GOSH AM I HOPING!) that it's just a domesticated dog that has taken interest in our yard. I'm erring on the side of caution and thinking it could be a coyote. I haven't seen him in full form, but we did make eye contact in the dark, as he was trotting up the driveway while I was Northern Lights gazing the other evening. It scared me in that, "I think my stomach just fell into my shorts" kind of way and I dashed inside just about the time the startled canine starting growling in my general direction. He's been back a couple times, leaving fresh prints in our yard, dangerously close to the house and cars. (Please, for the love of goodness, just be one of the neighbor's dogs!)
If any of my neighbors are reading, I apologize, but the next time this critter gets that close to me, it's gonna be a hunting trophy on my cabin wall. Unless it can prove itself friendly and harmless. Domestic or not... a canine-like animal brave enough to growl at me in my own yard is going to get a reminder of who's name is on the deed.
So that I don't have to end on such a macabre note... I'd like to add that one exciting thing the daylight DOES signal... it's almost time for the Ice Park! (End of February, if I remember correctly?) And Beans is old enough to REALLY have fun with it this year. AND since I'm not a lumbering eight month pregnant woman this year (thank goodness), I'll be able to join the fun with her. We've had an unusually warm winter (for those of you snickering, "only" 10 below really IS pretty warm for us this time of year!). If the weather holds out, the park should be really enjoyable this year, because we'll be able to stay longer than an hour before freezing our toes.
Light snow is falling, and the grey sky has once again lulled me into believing that I have more time in my day than I really do...
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Life has been busy in the Moose Nugget House, trying to establish a new "normal".
Little Nugget Update: Her echo cardiogram came back OK, so it's not her heart. THAT is good news. The down-side, we still have no idea what's wrong with her. More good news though: she has gained 9 ounces. So hopefully this means she might start growing again. We are (literally) weighing in twice a week now. She's still got the feeding tube, but her appetite is getting better and she is back to her usual antics which include... taking her first two steps!
Meanwhile, Alaska is moving in it's cyclical way with no notice of the Moose Nugget Household. A couple days ago, I had a rare opportunity to "sleep in" (thank you, J, for getting up with the kids!). I startled when I woke. The grey dawn was already pouring into the room. Panicked, I thought SURELY I did not sleep until 10 am?!? As I rushed down the loft steps to check on my babies, the clock told me to relax, it was only 8:30. It was a relaxed morning (for a change in our recent hectic pace), so I poured a cup of coffee and snuggled with my girls as J and I chatted the sunrise away. My day threw me for another loop in the evening time. I have become accustomed to the dark signaling when nap time is over, or when it might be time to think about dinner. I am already suffering from what I call "Summer Syndrome"... where the daylight tricks you into thinking it is earlier than it really is. We've had several late dinners this week because I am still letting the darkness dictate when I prepare the evening meal. And not that I care about eating a late dinner, but anyone can surely understand that a late dinner means a late bedtime for your kids. And not that the KIDS mind a late bedtime, but it sure puts a dent in my "Mommy Needs Personal Space" plans.
I can hear my friend Susan cheering in my head... the return of light means a lot to her, and other Alaska residents.
But for me... well, the end of dark winter always makes me a little sad. It means that the "busy season" is approaching. The snow will (eventually) melt. The ice will break. Break-up will be upon us. Then the summer, full of gardening, outdoor fun, berry picking, hiking, visiting family (they only come in summer, ya know) and (hopefully) livestock.
Don't get me wrong! I'm not lazy or afraid of work. Nor am I part vampire or a hater of summer fun. I actually love Alaska for it's extremes. But in our neck of Alaska, it seems like the dark JUST arrives, then it goes away again. As the daylight returns, I know my knitting needles will return to the shelf for a few months. Cozy semi-lazy days by the wood stove will come to an end, and all the books I promised myself I was absolutely positively going to read this winter will go back on the bookshelf. Goodbye, old friends! *SNIFF* See ya after then next snowfall!
Meanwhile, it's time to break out the room darkening shades. If I have another opportunity to sleep past 8 am, I am going to make sure I'm in the dark to do it. And even though there is still enough light outside to see the tree line, I'd better start putting some thought to dinner, so I can actually have my family fed before 8pm today.
In other news: we've had a yard visitor. And this guy likes to get in close. Dog-like prints, too big to be a fox and too small to be a wolf. I'm hoping (OH GOSH AM I HOPING!) that it's just a domesticated dog that has taken interest in our yard. I'm erring on the side of caution and thinking it could be a coyote. I haven't seen him in full form, but we did make eye contact in the dark, as he was trotting up the driveway while I was Northern Lights gazing the other evening. It scared me in that, "I think my stomach just fell into my shorts" kind of way and I dashed inside just about the time the startled canine starting growling in my general direction. He's been back a couple times, leaving fresh prints in our yard, dangerously close to the house and cars. (Please, for the love of goodness, just be one of the neighbor's dogs!)
If any of my neighbors are reading, I apologize, but the next time this critter gets that close to me, it's gonna be a hunting trophy on my cabin wall. Unless it can prove itself friendly and harmless. Domestic or not... a canine-like animal brave enough to growl at me in my own yard is going to get a reminder of who's name is on the deed.
So that I don't have to end on such a macabre note... I'd like to add that one exciting thing the daylight DOES signal... it's almost time for the Ice Park! (End of February, if I remember correctly?) And Beans is old enough to REALLY have fun with it this year. AND since I'm not a lumbering eight month pregnant woman this year (thank goodness), I'll be able to join the fun with her. We've had an unusually warm winter (for those of you snickering, "only" 10 below really IS pretty warm for us this time of year!). If the weather holds out, the park should be really enjoyable this year, because we'll be able to stay longer than an hour before freezing our toes.
Light snow is falling, and the grey sky has once again lulled me into believing that I have more time in my day than I really do...
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
January Tundra
It was a relief to return home. It was dark when we landed (10 pm, though it would have been dark any time after 4 pm anyway), so no chances of watching the tundra appear. The flight was uneventful, and I had to grin when the pilot announced the local temp as 32 below zero. I know most people don't understand finding joy in that, but after such a long week in Seattle, I was ready for anything that resembled home.
J and Beans collected us at baggage claim. J collected luggage (commenting that we were certainly returning with more than we left with- I waited to tell him that the extra weight was mostly yarn *snort*). Beans and Little Nugget and I had a reunion of sorts, which mostly involved lots of hugs and kisses, and visiting the stuffed grizzly bear in the baggage claim area.
We exited the airport into the cold dark air. My first few gulps of air left me coughing- a common occurrence when you forget how to breath in 30 below temps.
For those of you chuckling (or for dad, who always figured I would forget how to breathe), this is not a joke. In subzero temps, gulps of air are downright painful. The cold air mixes with the humidity from your breath and freezes on it's way down. Nose hairs prickle and freeze rapidly, leaving frozen boogers in it's wake. The body's reflexes (coughing) try to kick out this cold air. In spite of the pain of breathing in this cold air (it really does feel like you might suffocate), I had to grin and try sucking in another deep breath.
The rest of the night was uneventful. With doctor appointments in Fairbanks lined up for the following day, we retired to a hotel room.
The next morning, I amused myself by peeking out at the dark morning sky. Funny how a week away from home can make you a tourist in your own town again. I peeked out the window of the hotel until after 10 am, when the sun began to come up in earnest. I stared in amazement and wonder at the hoar frost and the ice fog, a combination of awe and homey comfort washing over me. As we started south toward home as the 3 pm sun began to set, it was then I realized that I had been quite homesick for Alaska, and was happy to be back on the Tundra.
*Little Nugget Update: We didn't get very good news. She's still not gaining weight. More tests to be lined up and I'm sure, a long road ahead of us. That's all the detail I care to get into today, so just keep us in your prayers and good thoughts.*
The drive home was more beautiful than I remembered. Sometimes when you get to love something every day, you forget to see how beautiful it always is. The cold was colder. The vastness more vast.
The cabin was as perfect as ever. Snow covered roof, fox foot-printed yard, smoke rising from the stovepipe, and a warm handmade quilt from my mom to snuggle under, where I finally stopped being Alaska Tough, and gave myself permission to be a worried mom.
It's good to be home.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
J and Beans collected us at baggage claim. J collected luggage (commenting that we were certainly returning with more than we left with- I waited to tell him that the extra weight was mostly yarn *snort*). Beans and Little Nugget and I had a reunion of sorts, which mostly involved lots of hugs and kisses, and visiting the stuffed grizzly bear in the baggage claim area.
We exited the airport into the cold dark air. My first few gulps of air left me coughing- a common occurrence when you forget how to breath in 30 below temps.
For those of you chuckling (or for dad, who always figured I would forget how to breathe), this is not a joke. In subzero temps, gulps of air are downright painful. The cold air mixes with the humidity from your breath and freezes on it's way down. Nose hairs prickle and freeze rapidly, leaving frozen boogers in it's wake. The body's reflexes (coughing) try to kick out this cold air. In spite of the pain of breathing in this cold air (it really does feel like you might suffocate), I had to grin and try sucking in another deep breath.
The rest of the night was uneventful. With doctor appointments in Fairbanks lined up for the following day, we retired to a hotel room.
The next morning, I amused myself by peeking out at the dark morning sky. Funny how a week away from home can make you a tourist in your own town again. I peeked out the window of the hotel until after 10 am, when the sun began to come up in earnest. I stared in amazement and wonder at the hoar frost and the ice fog, a combination of awe and homey comfort washing over me. As we started south toward home as the 3 pm sun began to set, it was then I realized that I had been quite homesick for Alaska, and was happy to be back on the Tundra.
*Little Nugget Update: We didn't get very good news. She's still not gaining weight. More tests to be lined up and I'm sure, a long road ahead of us. That's all the detail I care to get into today, so just keep us in your prayers and good thoughts.*
The drive home was more beautiful than I remembered. Sometimes when you get to love something every day, you forget to see how beautiful it always is. The cold was colder. The vastness more vast.
The cabin was as perfect as ever. Snow covered roof, fox foot-printed yard, smoke rising from the stovepipe, and a warm handmade quilt from my mom to snuggle under, where I finally stopped being Alaska Tough, and gave myself permission to be a worried mom.
It's good to be home.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Monday, January 11, 2010
100 Degree Difference
Hey Y'all.
What a week. Honestly.
Here's the long and short (mostly long, sorry) of the hospital news:
Little Nugget has had biopsies, various tests, and enough procedures done to make her burst into tears the moment she sees someone in scrubs or white jackets. And after all this, we are leaving Seattle with the same information we came with... essentially that our baby is not growing and is severely constipated. She hasn't gained any weight in over 9 weeks now. The poor Little Nugget had to receive THREE enemas and almost 2 gallons of something they call "Go Lightly" (which should be renamed Go Constantly), before she finally cleaned out her little bowels. When they put her back on the scale, it turns out that she lost close to an entire pound of poop. Talk about being "full of it".
They added a feeding tube to her list of things to go home with. The good news is that her tests did not show any of the very serious and or deadly diseases she could have had. The bad news is that the doctors still don't know what the heck is wrong with her, and they are "HOPING" that with emptied bowels and the feeding tube, that she will be able to absorb nutrients and calories and start gaining weight.
The science in that: the intestines are where your body absorbs nutrients and converts calories into the stuff it takes to grow. If that part of the body is full, there is nowhere to absorb those calories. By emptying the system and keeping stuff moving through, that means the body SHOULD be able to do it's job. The doctor sounded hopeful that the feeding tube would be a fairly temporary thing, and if his Empty Intestine Theory is correct, we should start seeing Little Nugget pack on the weight fairly quickly. Who knew pooping was so incredibly important?
Meanwhile, I'll be nursing constantly, pumping milk for supplementary feedings in between nursing, and trying to keep her from removing the feeding tube. She's not crazy about it. We couldn't leave the hospital until I proved that I could replace a dislodged tube (not too challenging, I should add). It brings a whole new meaning to "up your nose with a rubber hose".
Thanks to everyone that was praying for us and sending good wishes and good karma. Hopefully this works, because if she doesn't start growing, we will probably have to endure more testing and intervention.
Poor Peanut.
Living in the hospital for a week certainly lent some perspective though. We met lots of great kids and families in the hospital, there for all kinds of reasons. At one point, in the thick of our visit, I had a volunteer come sit with Little Nugget so I could take a much needed mental health break. (Your mind starts going a little nutty when you are tired, your baby is being poked and prodded, and you still don't have a WHY your baby is sick). I headed to the coffee shop in the hospital and was just starting to feel sorry enough for Little Nugget and myself to start crying. Another mom with an almost bald little toddler sat next to me and offered a hug (which I gladly accepted). "First trip?" she asked. "Yep," I replied, as I sniffed and wiped my eyes. The toddler was eyeballing me with curiosity. We exchanged stories, and I got a dose of perspective. She was there with her little guy who was undergoing chemotherapy. And just when I felt like an idiot for crying over my generally healthy but not pooping or growing baby, she said she really felt for ME. She thought having no answer was worse than having a diagnosis, even a really bad one. She sat with me for the rest of my break, our conversation about sick kids came to an end when she noticed my knitting bag, and we spent the rest of the time talking about normal stuff... how to knit in the round, fun places to see in Seattle, and what the rest of our respective family members were like. Being normal was what I really needed. When we parted ways, we both went back to our individual stresses, but a little more "normal" for our coffee break.
Watching a little guy bravely holding his mommy's hand on the way to chemo definitely gives you a little perspective about your own worries. Watching his mommy treat him like a normal toddler when he wanted to push every button on the elevator made it a little easier to return to Little Nugget's room without being afraid of her feeding tube and other equipment.
SO...
We are leaving Seattle with the same thing we got here with. A baby who won't grow and won't poop. I think we finally have the pooping part a little more under control. Little Nugget is slowly growing used to the feeding tube, and my new mission is to knit up some really adorable and fashionable mitten-like hand covers for her so she doesn't have to wear an ugly sock on her hand. (The sock keeps her from being able to get her nimble little fingers on the feeding tube, reducing the ability to pull it out.) I happened upon another fancy-pants knitting store today where I indulged in some adorable and fancy yarns just for this project (and maybe a few others). J was feeling sorry enough for Little Nugget and his tired wife who endured the hospital trip alone that he didn't question my (expensive) yarn purchases... simply saying that it was good for me to find something fun and enjoyable while I was here. (When he sees the receipt, he may not feel quite so generous. Ahem.)
We head back to Fairbanks tomorrow. I can't wait to see Beans and J again, and head back to my cozy Little Farm on the Tundra... back to the quiet life, the crunching snow, and the wood-smoked coziness of Alaska.
J sent a text this morning... 48 below zero at the little house. As I sit and watch a light rain mist over Seattle, I am aware of the nearly 100 degree temperature difference. (It's around 50 degrees here in Seattle today.)
He says the wood stove has been burning wood at a steady rate today. There was three inches of frost on the dryer vent that he had to knock off before he could dry the laundry. He reported that the house dropped 5 degrees in a matter of minutes when he opened the door to retrieve more firewood, and we both speculated about how the weather would affect his ability to safely retrieve Little Nugget and me from the airport. (Cars can have lots of trouble when it gets that cold. Not really very safe to embark on a 100 mile journey.)
I know it sounds crazy to WANT to be there, but I can't think of a happier place than to be settled at the kitchen table next to that wood stove, listening to clicking knitting needles and busy babies. I'm hoping it warms up enough for a safe trip back to Delta Junction, where the wood stove and the cabin are waiting for me.
I promise more exciting stories about Alaska living the next time around. For my loyal readers and those looking for more Alaska-ish banter, thanks for letting me babble on a much more personal note about our current troubles. Life will be returning to some kind of "normal" for us soon. I hope.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
What a week. Honestly.
Here's the long and short (mostly long, sorry) of the hospital news:
Little Nugget has had biopsies, various tests, and enough procedures done to make her burst into tears the moment she sees someone in scrubs or white jackets. And after all this, we are leaving Seattle with the same information we came with... essentially that our baby is not growing and is severely constipated. She hasn't gained any weight in over 9 weeks now. The poor Little Nugget had to receive THREE enemas and almost 2 gallons of something they call "Go Lightly" (which should be renamed Go Constantly), before she finally cleaned out her little bowels. When they put her back on the scale, it turns out that she lost close to an entire pound of poop. Talk about being "full of it".
They added a feeding tube to her list of things to go home with. The good news is that her tests did not show any of the very serious and or deadly diseases she could have had. The bad news is that the doctors still don't know what the heck is wrong with her, and they are "HOPING" that with emptied bowels and the feeding tube, that she will be able to absorb nutrients and calories and start gaining weight.
The science in that: the intestines are where your body absorbs nutrients and converts calories into the stuff it takes to grow. If that part of the body is full, there is nowhere to absorb those calories. By emptying the system and keeping stuff moving through, that means the body SHOULD be able to do it's job. The doctor sounded hopeful that the feeding tube would be a fairly temporary thing, and if his Empty Intestine Theory is correct, we should start seeing Little Nugget pack on the weight fairly quickly. Who knew pooping was so incredibly important?
Meanwhile, I'll be nursing constantly, pumping milk for supplementary feedings in between nursing, and trying to keep her from removing the feeding tube. She's not crazy about it. We couldn't leave the hospital until I proved that I could replace a dislodged tube (not too challenging, I should add). It brings a whole new meaning to "up your nose with a rubber hose".
Thanks to everyone that was praying for us and sending good wishes and good karma. Hopefully this works, because if she doesn't start growing, we will probably have to endure more testing and intervention.
Poor Peanut.
Living in the hospital for a week certainly lent some perspective though. We met lots of great kids and families in the hospital, there for all kinds of reasons. At one point, in the thick of our visit, I had a volunteer come sit with Little Nugget so I could take a much needed mental health break. (Your mind starts going a little nutty when you are tired, your baby is being poked and prodded, and you still don't have a WHY your baby is sick). I headed to the coffee shop in the hospital and was just starting to feel sorry enough for Little Nugget and myself to start crying. Another mom with an almost bald little toddler sat next to me and offered a hug (which I gladly accepted). "First trip?" she asked. "Yep," I replied, as I sniffed and wiped my eyes. The toddler was eyeballing me with curiosity. We exchanged stories, and I got a dose of perspective. She was there with her little guy who was undergoing chemotherapy. And just when I felt like an idiot for crying over my generally healthy but not pooping or growing baby, she said she really felt for ME. She thought having no answer was worse than having a diagnosis, even a really bad one. She sat with me for the rest of my break, our conversation about sick kids came to an end when she noticed my knitting bag, and we spent the rest of the time talking about normal stuff... how to knit in the round, fun places to see in Seattle, and what the rest of our respective family members were like. Being normal was what I really needed. When we parted ways, we both went back to our individual stresses, but a little more "normal" for our coffee break.
Watching a little guy bravely holding his mommy's hand on the way to chemo definitely gives you a little perspective about your own worries. Watching his mommy treat him like a normal toddler when he wanted to push every button on the elevator made it a little easier to return to Little Nugget's room without being afraid of her feeding tube and other equipment.
SO...
We are leaving Seattle with the same thing we got here with. A baby who won't grow and won't poop. I think we finally have the pooping part a little more under control. Little Nugget is slowly growing used to the feeding tube, and my new mission is to knit up some really adorable and fashionable mitten-like hand covers for her so she doesn't have to wear an ugly sock on her hand. (The sock keeps her from being able to get her nimble little fingers on the feeding tube, reducing the ability to pull it out.) I happened upon another fancy-pants knitting store today where I indulged in some adorable and fancy yarns just for this project (and maybe a few others). J was feeling sorry enough for Little Nugget and his tired wife who endured the hospital trip alone that he didn't question my (expensive) yarn purchases... simply saying that it was good for me to find something fun and enjoyable while I was here. (When he sees the receipt, he may not feel quite so generous. Ahem.)
We head back to Fairbanks tomorrow. I can't wait to see Beans and J again, and head back to my cozy Little Farm on the Tundra... back to the quiet life, the crunching snow, and the wood-smoked coziness of Alaska.
J sent a text this morning... 48 below zero at the little house. As I sit and watch a light rain mist over Seattle, I am aware of the nearly 100 degree temperature difference. (It's around 50 degrees here in Seattle today.)
He says the wood stove has been burning wood at a steady rate today. There was three inches of frost on the dryer vent that he had to knock off before he could dry the laundry. He reported that the house dropped 5 degrees in a matter of minutes when he opened the door to retrieve more firewood, and we both speculated about how the weather would affect his ability to safely retrieve Little Nugget and me from the airport. (Cars can have lots of trouble when it gets that cold. Not really very safe to embark on a 100 mile journey.)
I know it sounds crazy to WANT to be there, but I can't think of a happier place than to be settled at the kitchen table next to that wood stove, listening to clicking knitting needles and busy babies. I'm hoping it warms up enough for a safe trip back to Delta Junction, where the wood stove and the cabin are waiting for me.
I promise more exciting stories about Alaska living the next time around. For my loyal readers and those looking for more Alaska-ish banter, thanks for letting me babble on a much more personal note about our current troubles. Life will be returning to some kind of "normal" for us soon. I hope.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
