Tonight at our dinner table was like dinner at most dinner tables of families with toddlers. Lots of "no's" and "one more bites" and "no you can't have candy corn for dinner." (Doesn't everyone say that?) On tonight's menu...chili. It's one food I can usually get Noah to eat. But like any two year old, just because he liked it last time it was served, it holds no guarantee for tonight's meal. And so, like any good mom, I loaded it up with cheese, tried to hide the tomatoes, and held my breath. It was touch and go there for a few minutes, I may have had to do a head lock for the first bite to convince him, that yes indeed he actually did like chili and should at least try a bit, but finally we convinced him it was good! There were cheers...no literally, cheers with each bite, and there was candy corn rewards at the end, and Tom and I breathed a sigh of relief for one more meal down.
Unfortunately, not every meal is this successful. Not every headlock reminds my son that he likes a food and not every meal gets eaten. What you don't know is that a few weeks ago his doctor was forced to give him the label "Failure to Thrive" after not gaining any weight over 3 months and once again falling off the growth curve. And that's what has started this crazy meal time excitement in our home.
It was a well visit like any other, wrestling two kids, praying they didn't catch the leftover germs in the waiting room, and pulling out all the bells and whistles to keep a 2 year old and 9 month old entertained. You know, totally normal stuff. Then after the pleasantries were shared we stripped the kids and headed to the scale. Jonah went first and weighed in at a whopping 18 pounds! Then Noah followed in at 21 lbs and 14 ounces....exactly what he had weighed 3 months prior. I was concerned and waited for his doctor. When she finally came in, we had the talk, and she said the words that no mother wants to hear...his diagnosis "Failure to Thrive."
And do you know what I heard??? Failure. Failure.. Failure...Failure...
Somehow despite my headlocks, Pediasures, beggings, pleadings, olive oil hiding attempts, my child had gained no weight and was deemed a failure, and therefore, as his mother, so was I.
And do you know what I did?? I cried. For two days. Every time I looked at that happy, smiling, crazy two year old who loved life, I cried. Because somehow, despite my best efforts and intentions, somehow by these medical standards, the little boy I am totally crazy about wasn't "thriving." That one stung.
And after a few days and multiple vials of blood drawn to rule every disease out there out, I pulled on my big girl pants and we began to seriously focus on fattening this little guy up. Do you know I can make scrambled eggs with roughly 30 grams of fat in them? I cook everything in butter or olive oil that I can. If it doesn't have fat in it, Noah doesn't get to eat it. (Well, that's mostly true. He does get apple sauce since it's the only fruit he will eat.) I've searched the internets for high fat recipes and have unsuccessfully attempted to hide avocado in some foods too. (Little stinker found me out...)
I did all of this, because that's what we mothers do. We rise in the face of adversity. No one is going to call my kid a failure and get away with it.
Luckily, all of his blood work has come back normal and we have one final test coming up to rule out a highly improbable diagnosis of Cystic Fibrosis, and so we thank God for that. But I've gotta tell you....it's exhausting. All day long, I'm adding fat grams in my head. No more glasses of water, only milk. Racking up number of mini muffins he's had (with 2 grams of fat in each) Not caring if we've already had McDonald french fries this week. He eats them and they are fatty. Feeling beyond frustrated when he doesn't eat because not only is that normal toddler behavior annoying, it means I'm gonna have to try even harder at the next meal.
But today I needed to remind myself that even though our little miracle child isn't "thriving" in terms of his weight, he is thriving in so many other things. There are just 4 letters left before Noah is able to identify each by name (H, Q, W, and Y in case you're wondering.) After not walking for so long, our little guy is not only running circles around us, he's mastering slides, stairs, and his Little Tikes car! He's a wiz at the "Find It" books and each day he's adding to his vocabulary. He is loving, caring, funny, and an overall happy child.
And those things mean he is thriving! He's thriving at life. And you know what that makes me?? A pretty good mama. Because I've got to be doing at least a few things right in raising such an awesome kid. I needed to remind myself of that.
And maybe that's why I needed to write this. Your child might not have the label of "Failure to Thrive," but maybe it's another label. ADD, ADHD, LD....or maybe there is no label, but there certainly are struggles despite your best efforts. To you moms out there (and to myself, too) Let's be a little kinder, a little gentler with ourselves today. Let's remember that we are all doing our very best with these complicated creatures that have be entrusted to our care. We will continue to fight and advocate for our children. I will continue to fatten up every meal I can. We will seek advice and read all that we can, but at the end of the day what matters most is that we loved. That's what they will remember amidst their struggles, a mama that was there with them every step of the way.
Fast forward 14 years, and now I am a wife and a mother to 2 rambunctious little guys here on this earth. Our days are mostly filled with Thomas the Train, ABC's, Daniel Tiger, books, puzzles, mischief, and detesting most foods that aren't cheese crackers or muffins. My little guys spend their days learning new skills, playing/annoying one another, and protesting most forms of sleep. This is their world. They know unconditional love from their mom and dad and for the most part wear smiles on their faces. 
So when the terrorist attacks occurred this past Friday in Paris, I turned on the news while making the boys dinner (something I don't usually do....the news...not the dinner) and I watched in horror as once again the terrorists had seemed to win. Terrorists had once again killed innocent people in the name of Allah. And do you know what my boys did? They threw their food on the floor and protested their hot dogs.
