Just because.

This picture is too good not to post. One of St. Jan's high school cronies knitted this sweater for Ems (thanks Kathy! She's a regular reader) and it is a fine-looking garment. I know...it's light blue. The color of little boys. You know what? I don't care. We've dressed her in fluffy pink bunny suits and it doesn't stop people from saying how handsome he is. Come on, people...grab hold of the reins!

Conflicted.

Mornings can be tough. 

There are times when this is the nicest, most peaceful part of the day. I take the dogs out, eat some breakfast, and sip coffee while perusing current events (as evidenced by my earlier post.) Meanwhile, the ladies sleep, the sun shines in the office and Miles Davis quietly commands the room. Sounds nice, right? Are you with me? I think you are. However, it's not always right out of the Folgers commercial. 

Today would be one of those days. Ordinarily I might fret about going to the gym or getting a household project done. I mean, there's always something. Usually that something is quite manageable and can be whisked away in a matter of seconds as I hear my dad in the back of my head scoffing about what I deem important. 

But as we sit 20 days away from Emily's next orthopedist appointment, I cannot help but be consumed by the unknown. Last time we checked in with Dr. DeLuca, he was optimistic and encouraging with even a worst-case scenario that we could all live with. We didn't want to live with it, but we could. 

Right now, I bounce back and forth between playful confidence and gloomy doubt. I want to believe her leg will grow and through only brief surgical interventions, she will come out of this as a shining example of the miracles of faith and modern science. She will never know the pain or embarrassment that those with PFFD once did. It will be something we all look back on and wonder what we were so afraid of. 

That's one scenario. 

Unfortunately, I tend to spend most of my time on the other side. I don't want to. It just happens. I cannot escape the image of her trudging into the house and sadly asking why she can't keep up with the other kids. I worry about my beautiful daughter being shunned by some clique who can't think of a better reason than her limp or her prosthesis. I once had someone tell me, "Just don't think about it." Good one! I'll give that a shot. 

Then there are stories like that of Sarah Reinertsen (this is her website.) Sarah was born with PFFD and had her leg amputated above the knee at age seven. Nobody would have faulted her for shutting down and becoming a bitter woman, shaking her fist at life for cursing her with just one good leg. Instead, she trained her ass off and ran the Ironman Triathalon. And finished it. 

It's not an islolated story. ESPN the magazine published this piece on the future of prosthetics in sports. The last line of the story is "Shed a tear for the "disabled" today. Tomorrow they might pity you." Well then. 

Where does that leave me? Probably in the same spot I was when I sat down to write this. Conflicted. But hopeful that she'll be stronger than me. Hopeful that she'll see this as a challenge. And that she'll want to prove herself, pehaps by running the Ironman. As a supportive father, I would be there for my little girl. 

Have I mentioned it's in Hawaii?

Theonion.com hits the nail on the head.

"Dear Lord Baby Jesus..."

We got a call this week from the woman who is now the director of Trinity Church's annual Christmas pageant. Thinking I was a little too old to reprise one of the many roles I played as a child (seriously, I covered almost everything...Joseph, Herrod, shepherd, townsperson, narrator, all three wisemen...I had chops!) I instinctively knew that something different was up. Would young Emily be interested and/or available to play Baby Jesus in this year's pageant? Well, we spent a few days trying to get a hold of her agent, her manager and three of her "handlers" with no luck. So we just said, darn it all to heck, she can do it!
Sunday, December 21st Emily makes her stage debut as Jesus. As far as acting jobs go, I gotta believe it's all downhill after this.

As promised.

Let's try this again.

Anybody who just happened to be checking my blog last night between 10:30 and 11:15 might have seen an ever-evolving post with multiple pictures and a brief summary of recent events. Because the folks at blogspot make formatting posts a somewhat arduous task, because I'm still a rookie at this, and because I have some pride in my work, I couldn't get things to come out quite right. Therefore, I would post, edit, re-post, rinse, repeat. A lot. This, of course, leads to the painful realization that it's now 11:15, the alarm is still going off at 5:30, which is followed by some cursing and one big definitive delete before I stomp off to bed. I'm SO mature.

So here's what we're going to try. Whenever there's good stories to tell or anecdotes to share, I'll take the time to work on the literary side of things and maybe throw in a picture for good measure. If there's not a lot going on, I'll just flood the place with recent pictures of our girl. Deal? You actually don't have to agree to it if you don't want. It's going to happen anyway. Sucker!

Which brings us to the past week. Big things were happening for Ems, including her first halloween, her baptism and a historic presidential election. Halloween was quiet this year as Kate went off to work, leaving me, Ems, Moose and Piper to handle all candy distribution. With Ems napping and the dogs penned in the family room, that left me to witness the magic that is seven-year olds being driven by their parents from house to house to collect free candy. Next year I think we're just going to skip a step and inject all our trick-or-treaters directly with diabetes.

On a more positive note, Emily's baptism was a truly wonderful experience. Friends and family came from all over to share in her big day. She was mellow as can be during the service and even smiled and giggled when Rev. Fiddler poured the holy water over her head. Was she pleased being awash in the holy spirit? Was she laughing at our feeble attempts to curb her wicked potential? Only time will tell...

After church, everyone joined us back at Camp Sweatpants for food and merriment. It was wonderful to watch people politely elbow their way to the front of the line so they might hold our little girl. Kate and I felt truly blessed to be surrounded by so many caring and generous people. It's hard not to be optimistic about Emily's future knowing the love and support she will always have. She will be great and it will be because of all of you. 

In the meantime, we have our next appointment with the orthopedist four weeks from tomorrow. Not that we're counting. 

That's all. Pictures to follow.

Just a quick one.

It's been a minute since my last post and for that I deeply apologize. I know there are literally...um...a few of you who actually check this blog regularly looking for pictures, stories, inspiration...knowledge...advice. I don't know. What are you looking for, anyway?

Regardless, we're prepping for a big weekend around Camp Sweatpants. Kate will be at work Friday night leaving Emily, Moose, Piper and I to handle all candy distribution. Sunday will be a nice day with family and friends as Ems gets Christened at the same church where Kate and I got married. Saturday we might hit Bed, Bath & Beyond....I don't know if there'll be enough time!

I promise plenty of good pictures next week.

Two months? Really?

It's true. Emily turned two months old on Thursday. (On a completely unrelated note, we've clearly turned a corner. It's just after 10 pm on a Saturday night and I'm on the computer. Kate's feeding Ems on the couch. The only one drinking out of a bottle right now is the kid. I mean, what the hell? How did we get here? But I digress.)

Two months is fun. She's smiling when we come into view. She's holding her head up. She's discovering her hands and feet. But it's not all fun and games. Her gas has reached a new adult level. Between Daddy, Ems and Moose, it will be a small miracle if the house doesn't go up like a roman candle one day. Hard to believe more people don't stop by.

Of course, two months brings another doctor's appointment complete with three shots. Ems was not a fan. She let everyone know. 

Ah, but there's a light at the end of this particular tunnel. When Emily was born she was 22 inches long on her left leg and 19 on her right. This checkup showed she had grown a little over two inches on both sides. 

Now, in case you hadn't picked up on it yet, I am not a doctor. I know proximal femoral focal deficiency is a rare condition with various intricacies involved that are unique to each individual case. Her right leg will not catch up to the left without divine/surgical help. Still, I can't help but think that as long as her legs keep growing at the same pace, that's gotta be a pretty good sign.

Let's hope the real doctors agree.

I shouldn't have introduced her to the Cubs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart...but there's always next year."

Emily, the Cubbies and God.

Yes, they're all related. How, you ask? Well, settle in, Bubba and I'll tell you. 

As I was saying my goodbyes to the family this morning, Emily briefly woke up and looked up at me with a twinkle in her eye.

"Daddy, do the playoffs start today?" (Yes, she's seven and a half weeks old. She's our little prodigy. It's really something.) 

"Yes, Ems, they do," I replied. 

"I'm going to wear my new Cubs tee shirt 

today. And when you get home from work, we'll watch the game together." 

"That sounds wonderful. I can't wait."

It was quite a moment. Nice way to start the day. 

Moving ahead to this afternoon. The good Rev. Andy Fiddler stopped by to discuss the plans for Emily's upcoming baptism. While he was here, UPS rang the doorbell to drop off a package. I excitedly tore open the wrapping paper to discover the authentic Mark Grace Cubs jersey I had ordered last week. I had not expected it to arrive until maybe October 3rd at the earliest. "It's a beauty!" Exclaimed Rev. Fiddler.  I asked him to bless it. He chuckled. I wasn't kidding. 

My point is this...my prized jersey shows up prior to the Cubs' first playoff game while discussing the baptism of our daughter with a man of the cloth. 

I think it's a good sign. 

Go Cubs.