A miracle and a trophy

On July 8, 2006, I heard some pretty life changing phrases to the tune of "I do" and "Introducing Mr.&Mrs. Brandon Glover." 

As it turns out, that day really likes me, because my life changed dramatically for the better again on July 8, 2013 with a few phrases sounding an awful lot like, "2-3 hours a day" and "guaranteed success."

Let me start from the top. 

For almost 3 years I have worried about, obsessed over, cried about, researched, talked to anyone who would listen, bonded with people I've never met, planned my day around, and all in all, had my life consumed  by one thing: the patch. 

Only the imoms (& the igrandmas) really know what this means. Literally, every single day. And, day implies that there have only been 700 or so times to worry. Really, when you are talking about a patch, every hour, every minute, every second counts. 

We were patching for 14 hours for almost 2 years.

FOURTEEN FREAKING HOURS OF KEEPING AN EYEPATCH ON A TODDLER. Shud.der.

Then we got to go to about 10 last summer and I literally felt like a new person. 4 hours off of the patch  was maybe the most life altering thing that has every happened to me. 

Until now. 

As you have figured out, we went to see Dr. Cogen on Monday and it safe to say, the visit was a success. 

First up: this guy, Mr. Max. 

Anderson was telling him about the eye drops. Brotherly love. 

Max's eyes have been checked by every pediatrician in the practice and by the Knoxville Ped. Op., but I would not rest until Dr. Cogen gave me the all clear. Every doctor reminded me that this is not genetic and the odds of both of them having one are slim, but I couldn't let the worry go. 

Dr. Cogen poked him with all kinds of stuff and gave us the all clear. "Perfect" was the word he used. (See, I'm not the only one who thinks that) 

Knowing what I now know about vision and how it develops, I think it is a true miracle that anyone can see, so I chalked Max having clear vision as a pretty awesome miracle.  

Next up: this guy, My Bug. 

First, I always try to have him wear a patch/glasses shirt to the doctor visits because that is just too much of a theme opportunity for me. He really was SO good during the almost 3 hour long visit. 

To get out some energy, at one point he was doing jumping jack in the hallway while we waited for Max's eyes to dilate. (They take a lot longer when they are babies, but the baby drops don't smell as gross to me)

First, the nurse had Anderson answer all kinds of questions-he identified the phone, the hand, the cake, the duck, all of it. 

He did letters for the first time (P...F...Z) and identified all of the numbers in this book with patterns. I was so proud of him. He was sitting in the chair all by himself, just answering questions. 

Then we went back to wait some more for the drops to do their thing. 

 I am so familiar with the waiting room. The rocking chairs with the ugly pattern, the TV always on Nick Jr, the sign advertising Adoption books for $10, the sticker station. It is sort of a comfortable place to be, but I was still becoming more and more anxious. 

Finally we got to see THE Dr. Cogen. While Anderson acted perfect in the chair (where is this kid when we are at home?), Dr. Cogen used different lenses and lights on his eyes and read off a bunch of numbers to a different nurse. We held our breath and sort of stared. At one point, Brandon & I agreed that it didn't sound good. We were nervous.

Turns out, we do not need to go into eye medicine because we were wrong. Anderson's prescription has decreased, which means he is growing into his lens. This, apparently, is exactly what we want to happen. And, if it keeps growing this way, he might not even need glasses as a teenager!

Then Dr. Cogen said, "I am going to dramatically decrease your patching therapy." My first thought was, "He's never called it patching therapy; that's weird." Then, I let myself think, just for a split second, "what if we get an extra hour off?"

                                           "Let's go down to 2-3 hours a day."


                                               (pause. remember to breathe)

We sort of stared at him. "What do you mean we get to live the rest of our lives on an resort island where everything is paid for and we never have to work again and everything is perfect?"  He repeated it. We still stared at him. A tear filled stare at this point. I think he was waiting for a response because he said, "I think we can say he has guaranteed success at this point."

I honestly wish I could remember what my thoughts were when I heard this, but I can't. I was so, so unprepared to hear this. My mind NEVER has even remotely wandered anywhere close to hearing this, so I had nothing there. I know I was crying, Brandon was crying, I think Max was crying and Anderson said, "So, does this mean I was good and get to pick out a toy at Hobbytown?"

Guaranteed Success. I don't want to jinx it, but Dr. Cogen is immune to the jinx gods, so I think we are safe.

Two days later I am honestly still processing this news. I cannot fathom what this means even though we have had time to adjust. He will be done patching by about 9am every day (he wakes up by 6 usually).

In just the last days, I have started to realize how much the patch consumed our lives. I find myself staring at him in the rear view mirror waiting for him to take it off in the car. He learned how to take it off himself at about 13 months, so the car was always our worst enemy. I find myself adding hours in my head, "He has it off now...that's 20 minutes, plus the 15 from earlier...if he is asleep by 9, then...." Since we always had a # of hours off and not a # of hours on, I was always having to do math problems in my head, which is not pleasant or accurate for anyone, so the set amount is pretty awesome for my brain cells. We went swimming and I had to keep reminding myself not to stalk the time in order to know the exact number of minutes that he had it off, to make up for it later.

 Everyone said, "It's a miracle" or "You won the lottery." And, while this news has literally changed our lives, it is neither of those things. Miracles and lottery wins are out of our hands; they just happen.

Guaranteed Success does NOT just happen.

 A Bobble chasing around a non-napping 15 month old for 14 hours trying to keep an eyepatch on him and keep her sanity at the same time happens.

A Daddy listening to said Bobble cry with worry and that same Daddy being stern about keeping the patch on, even when it is breaking his heart, too, happens.

A Noni being a rock star and entertaining the baby/toddler/preschooler all day to keep the patch on, all the while never once complaining happens.

A GG offering love and support  and keeping the eyepatch on the energetic kid happens.

A certain Bug being a trooper, resilient, amazing and the best thing in  the world happens.

I find it fitting that on our anniversary, the day we celebrated becoming a team, we were given a trophy in the form of "Guaranteed Success."