EYElmost 5 years.

So, that was sort of a stretch for almost, but I like an "Eye" related title. 

We have been patching/survived for almost 5 years, which on one hand I find impossible because there is not way we survived the first week, much less five years; on the other hand, I say, how has it not been an ETERNITY?? Will I EVER know life without these patches stalking me? I just cannot imagine it. 

About a month ago (Excuse the delay, but life is winning, not the blogging) we made a visit to see our Alabama peeps, including Dr. Cogen. It was, by all accounts, pretty uneventful.

I just said that, so everyone please run and knock on every piece of wood that you can find. Thanks. 

I got exactly one pic during the 3 hour appt (it was way less than it is normally is) and it was this awesome one of Max playing in the window. I am happy I captured it because those little alligator shoes are my favorite. They have made many appearances in pictures because he has worn them everyday for about 6 months or so. We like consistency around here. 

Here is what we heard:

-"Well, as I keep saying, I have only good things to report."-Cogen

Tears-Me (Every.Single.Time.-when you are first told that "there is no hope that he will ever be normal,"  you cry every time you hear a positive. 

-His prescription has gone down and we cut out a day of patching. See you in 6 months. 

*Also, we did not actually cut out a day because he gets to take his patch off at school, so he doesn't always wear it 2 full hours in the mornings, so we are keeping that extra day to make up for it. Do we have options? Am I talking about OPTIONS here???

To all the imamas in the house-hang in there, HANG IN THERE!!!! Remember, that it has taken us FIVE YEARS to get to this point. We have literally raised a school aged band-aid and that is the greatest feat known to man. 

I actually had a new imom email me (If you're reading this-hello!) and she asked me how it's possible to patch her baby, her perfect baby who cries when she patches him. She asked how to avoid destroying his spirit by torturing him. My heart was breaking as I read her email because I remember the beginning all too well: the worry, the fear, the loneliness until I found my imoms, the loss of Anderson's eyebrows as he pulled them out while ripping off the patch. 

I told her in other words about our beginning: the struggle, the tears, the weird bone growth in my wrist from always carrying anderson to prevent him from ripping off his patch, public, the worry. 

Then I told her about our now, the now of 5 years later: a kindergartner who is learning to read, a flag football player who scores every game, a kid who not only didn't lose his spirit to patching, but has more spirit than most kids I know. It will not be ok for a long time, I told her. But, it will be ok. 

And, this is what ok (perfect?) looks like. Brothers, one patched and one not, sharing a snuggle, a chair and a cartoon before school. The patched brother still fighting the patch every single minute that he has to wear it, resulting in our going through a box a week, despite our required time being minimal. The patched brother still complaining that everything is blurry when he is patching, but sucking it up and patching just the same. Both brothers getting ready to leggo their eggos across the room and fight their mom on getting dressed, but being so cute in this moment. 

Here is to the longest FIVE years of our lives!