Andy posing in his car seat.
Since I can’t put it off for any longer, I present to you, our annual Vaules Christmas letter, Minnesota Family Chapter. Get a beverage and make yourself comfortable.
I started last year’s letter with “If it is true that what does not kill us makes us stronger, then I am Superman, and I would like you to meet my Wife, Wonder Woman.” While truthful as well as a touch sarcastic in tone, who knew 2001 was a warm up act for 2002? I really hope 2003 is calm. Oh, that’s right we have a kid now – silly me. Considering our history, I dared not think of what this year’s Christmas letter would say, until now. Yes, I know I’m a tad tardy with the letter.
This year’s Christmas letter really started on Saturday June 22, 2002. This was when one of Renae’s cousins asked me about this year’s Christmas letter at a family wedding. Great, it’s June and I am getting pressure about the Christmas letter. I thought, correctly at the time, that I really had nothing to write about until Andy arrived in October. Little did anyone know he would show up one week later. I might have to avoid family functions for a while; bad Karma, you know.
So here I go, yet again leaning over and getting a firm grip on reality’s bootstraps to write the annual Christmas letter. Again, I write to you about the joyful lives of a couple in love, their new baby boy Andy, and their loyal dog Walt. I quote from last year’s letter, “To say this was a hard year would be putting it mildly. This has been an incredibly long year, with many events that have dragged at the hands of time. While I am able to grasp that many more people have had it much worse than we did this year, all I can say is that I can’t wait to see Dick Clark’s face. Goodbye 2001 and good riddance.” I’ll add 2002 shouldn’t wait for us to say goodbye, either. Onto the fun…
One thing about mass-produced Christmas letters is they tend to be impersonal, or brag about one thing or another. I actually like these letters, and find them interesting in an anthropological sort of way. They break down peoples’ worlds in all sorts of ways, and they really show how boring a family can be in one or two pages. Well folks, if you haven’t heard about our year (yeah, right), we do have one thing to legitimately brag about. We have a son; His name is Anderson Charles Vaules, and he is alive.
I won’t kid myself by thinking that no one knows what happened this year. If you are receiving this letter, I can assume you have heard most of the story of Andy’s arrival, so I won’t go ad infinitum into past details. Here is the skinny on the chubby kid as of now. After being released from the NICU, he had two additional hospital stays. One was for hernia surgery on November 5th, which we ended up getting the hemangioma (a big, mean birthmark) removed from his hip as a “bonus”. When we were there, and while Andy was still “under”, the ophthalmologist came to do a regular eye exam to follow-up on Andy’s ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity) laser surgeries done before he left the NICU. It was good they could do the exam while he was “sleeping”, because they are akin to something from A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, Warner Brothers, 1971). (Someone let me know how obscure I get in my references, please.)
While I really didn’t need to paint that picture for you, Renae and I have had to stand by during his weekly post-surgical visits while he is having it done while he is awake. Some post NICU things are really more difficult than what we experienced in the NICU, and a screaming child with clips holding his eyelids open has topped the list so far. What the doctor saw during the hospital exam was not good. Both of Andy’s eyes progressed into more severe levels of ROP, with his left eye being worse than his right. Since we were already there, I suggested we try and get the eye surgeries done while he was still admitted. Sure enough two days later, Renae and I found ourselves warming the seats in the surgical waiting room again. If you are keeping count, Andy has had 7 separate surgeries on 4 occasions.
So, we take Andy home after 4 nights and continue with all of the things we have been told to do (oxygen, medications, monitoring), hoping things start getting better. About 10 days after our second stay, our third hospital stay begins. The incision from his hemangioma surgery opened, and proceeded to “self-drain” (okay, ooze) and we were quickly back at the same hospital we were at for the original surgery for another 2 days. After some IV antibiotics, and a surgeon opening up the incision, we are sent home again. There was a chance of another eye surgery, but more on that in a minute. Total hospital days to date: 112.
http://andy.vaules.com
Andy has a website, and contrary to popular belief I have not abandoned it lately. I have a child to care for and I have been having a hard time putting in the hours. I have been trying to get the format as such so I can update it without having to go back and update ten other pages as well. Don’t get me wrong, the website is a great way of letting people know what was going on, but God forbid I skip a day and the e-mails flood in. There are people who know about what happened that we haven’t even met, and there are many friends of a friend who have written to us we hadn’t heard from in a while. I should have fixed the website from the format change by now, and you can get caught up on Andy’s happenings more often.
So, We Are Parents. Big Deal.
When it comes right down to it, the end result of what we have gone through is that we are parents of a tough little kid. We are going through what every set of parents deals with in terms of a newborn. Yes, we have added challenges with Andy, but I do have to say, with each day, he is more and more “just a baby.” As of now, Andy is off oxygen, off the monitor, and off all of his medications. He really is, now, just a baby. I might regret mentioning our new nickname for Andy in the future, especially if it is used against him. We call him “cheeks” for the two whopping food storage areas on either side of his mouth, not because of his butt (or lack thereof – there is one thing he inherited from me). He is progressing well, and the follow-up appointment with the Neonatologist went very well. The Occupational Therapist was very impressed with his strength and movements, commenting he was ahead of schedule.
We still have to worry about the long term effects of the brain bleeds and all of the many things that could cause in the years to come. Yet, for now, we are worried about his eyes. He might need more surgery on his right eye, but the surgeon does think it is his strongest eye, and after his last exam he stated the eyes were stable. The retinas are both somewhat detached in each eye, so we will have to wait (a long time) before we really know how this will play out. The surgeon believes Andy has a 50% chance of “perfect” or “20/20” vision in the right eye, and 30% chance in his left. At the same time he warned us we are not out of the woods yet, with blindness being possible, and anymore surgery in the left eye would be very risky (more than eye surgery is to begin with?). We thank everyone for the prayers said for our family this year, but if you have the time please pray for his sight.
One last thing about Andy; He has been named Ambassador Child for the Twin Cities division of the March of Dimes. This means Renae, Andy and I will represent the March of Dimes at particular events, and speak to the need for more research into preventing prematurity, birth defects and other illnesses in babies. Remember not only was Andy a preemie, but he had a birth defect (the Artesia or collapse of his colon), and the post birth complications are reason enough to support their work. I have been a volunteer with the MODs for the past couple of years, and the irony over my involvement and Andy’s arrival is thick. I was recently named to the board of the Twin Cities division. Andy will be highlighted in the annual report for the National March of Dimes in April, and they are starting a campaign to cut the number of premature births by 15%. This spring, I hope to arrange a team for the March of Dimes Walk America in Minneapolis. If anyone is interested in joining “Team Andy”, please let me know.
There are other people in your family, right?
Up until the point Andy arrived, we had been having an uneventful, unemployed year. We were both searching for work, and picking up contract work along the way. Really, I don’t remember much before Andy arrived. I do remember going to a number of Renae’s prenatal visits and learned one thing: There is no “good” place for a guy to sit in an OB exam room. Other than that, 2002 is a blur for me.
Renae is feeling well now – considering Andy arrived early because Renae was very ill, we end up the year with all in good health. She is working at a medical device marketing company as the Director of HR. It is currently a contract position (no benefits), but we hope it will go permanent at the beginning of the year when sales begin to pick-up.
Our dog rocks. Walt (Walter Elias Vaules, an American Eskimo to be exact) has done very well with all of the commotion around him. At times, he has even clicked into “Lassie” mode to notify us of Andy’s crying, and insistently leading us to Andy so we can deal with him. (What Lassie? Timmy is in a well?). You will never convince either Renae or me that he is “just a dog”, he is family. We make sure he gets some “Walt” time, and he still sleeps between us most nights.
I am a “stay-at-home dad”, although it would be nice to work fulltime – outside the house. Andy keeps me pretty busy, and daycare is not an option at this point. I have been trying more and more to build a marketing consulting business on the side, and am also starting to see what writing has in store for me in the future. I think Renae believes I am having an affair with Microsoft Word. I have been seeing it sometimes more than her. She has been very forgiving (Renae, that is) and I have started off on a few writing projects and will try and get some things published in the not so distant future. I look forward to the rejection letters. I think I might correct and return the first few I get, just for fun.
And So We End…
This year has been full of tears of joy, and tears of pain, but no tears were wasted. I can’t say this year has not been without its firsts, but I can hope that its accounts for a lot of “lasts”. Being a father, now, all I can say is these letters are going to get much better. Did I tell you why the person that invented the “Diaper Genie” should be elevated to sainthood? Okay, that can wait.
We would like to thank everyone who has been so kind to us with your cards, letters, e-mails and such; it has been an overwhelming show of love and support. I promised myself I’d keep this down to two pages, so much for that. Another reason this letter is late is because of the family portrait. I’d hoped we would have it before the letter goes out, but the studio date is 12/23, so we will save the picture for another time. We hope life finds you well, and it still wouldn’t kill you to write back. We still have e-mail, you know…
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