The place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Celebrating 11 Months

She's eleven months today.

Hitting the 3rd percentile for length, somewhere in the neighbourhood of 15 - 50th percentile for weight, and the 97th percentile when it comes to head circumference.

Well, when you boast a length (or lack thereof) and a head circumference as above, you must most certainly be a Keizer.

To celebrate, a day early, we headed to Children's Hospital for a full specialist work up. (I truly hope, after all this time, you are picking up just some of that sarcasm.) All is well. For all intensive purposes our wee babe is as healthy as can be. A couple of tests will likely give way to some anticipated diagnoses and we'll quickly work to fix (rid!) those. I am so glad we have taken the extra time to see not only a GP but a Specialist. One who is intrigued, researched and more aware of all those "little" details...ailments...potentially hidden, when bringing a child home from her developing country.

Included in our visit today was blood work. Lots. Of. Blood. Work.

Seven wee vials, to be precise.

And not a tear. Thumb in her mouth, she turned to watch as the technician gently poked to find a vein with her fingers and then followed with the needle. "It's slightly smaller than a hair," the technician told me, when describing the size (diameter) of the vein.


The vein clotted after five vials and they gently manoeuvred the needle around in her arm. They got another vial. Not quite enough of the red stuff. They removed the needle, we turned her around and they worked on the other arm. ("This vein is a little smaller than the other" she said. How is that even possible, I wondered.) She fussed this time. In her defence they were pricking the arm which held, at the end of it, the hand with the thumb...The. Thumb. Her self-soothing device was unreachable.

I would have fussed too.

And then it was done. Just like that.

Home a month yesterday, today she's 11 months.

Each day we love her more than the last. Each day we don't think it's possible to love her more than in that moment.

And yet, we always find a reason...without even trying.

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