'This, too, will pass.' Please know that it will. And please remind me of that if it cuts into our lane again.

I came to the startling realisation tonight that this month marks the third anniversary of Katelyn's closed reduction and pelvic osteotomy, following her late diagnosis with DDH in 2012.Despite being a girl, with a strong personality and with two older brothers, Katelyn didn't walk until she was 18 months old. And, when she did, it was bitter-sweet. We'd known, by then, for a couple of months that it wouldn't be long until those beautiful little legs of hers would soon not be trotting around our yard on a mischief-making-mission; rather, they'd be confined to a heavy, awkward plaster cast (a spica) for 3 months while her bones healed after her hip surgery.After the initial shock of the news, and after the fury around the missed diagnosis reduced to a slow simmer, I channeled all my energy into being the best-prepared Mum I could be. I joined (then fledgling) Facebook support groups so I could talk frankly and honestly with other parents in Australia and across the world who had dealt with the horrors of nightly muscle spasms (every three minutes to start with), and were experts in changing a nappy on a child in a spica cast (lots of fun!). I remain friends with many of those amazing people and enjoying keeping up to date with how they, and their children, are faring post-DDH. Already an enthusiastic gym-goer, I spent hours training at the gym before Kate's operation so I'd be able to physically bear the challenge of lifting and carrying a child in a frog-leg-spica (20-kilo-plus) everywhere. I was, and remain, great friends with the quiet of the early morning where I get to spend (sweaty) time on me. I devoured all the information and readings I could find on DDH and, after she returned home from a week in hospital, became re-accustomed to three-hourly night-wakings as Grant and I took turns to turn Katelyn and shift her position as she slept. I had to take time off from my communications career to look after Katelyn and found it really hard to adjust to being a stay-at-home mum with a preschooler, a toddler and an older baby in a plaster cast. I struggled, on a personal level, with the fact that having that time off work changed everything for me, because, professionally, things were never quite the same afterwards. I can see now, however, that that realisation was a blessing, and that it was life-changing.'Little Miss Giggles', today, is a 'force'. As the old saying goes, 'She is small, but she is fierce." Katie is bright, confident and has a wicked sense of humour. That little girl with the big brothers now gives as good as she gets, and while she simply 'must' accessorise every outfit, she's happiest playing 'wrestle footy' on the trampoline. All of that crawling she did in her cast has resulted in enviable upper body strength. She adores 'Mrs Blayden's Preschool', loves singing and reading, and is an exceptionally neat writer (thanks to fine motor skills honed while in her spica). Her delayed speech development has come along in leaps and bounds; yes, she's still behind, but she continues to improve and this month will recommence speech therapy to help ensure she's ready for school next year.We know there's a chance that Katelyn will need further surgery as she grows. I think as any DDH family can attest, it's always something that's in your  mind - every fall on a bike, every bottom-bounce of a trampoline, every 'My leg hurts' in the night. But, for now, things are good for us. For all our DDH friends, a phrase we wrote on our kitchen blackboard - 'This, too, will pass.' And it will. Please know that xx 

First ever Physie performance, Nov 2014

Physie, Nov 2014

A trophy! And a very proud big brother, Harry xx

Spreading the DDH word for Hope the Hippo in Cairns, Australia, July 2014 

Summer 2014 spent in the pool

Katelyn 1 / DDH - 0

Well, we're off the hook. And I am pinching myself.
Following Katelyn's checkup at age three and a half back in February, her hips look perfect and we don't have to have another checkup until - wait for it - she goes to school (Feb 2016).
This is entirely unexpected. You know the whole glass half-full or glass-empty person - well, the latter, sometimes, is me. I'm not proud of it, but that's just the way I am. I was expecting the worst.  I was so scared about the checkup appointment. Not just because I was unable to attend (due to the challenges of being a then-casual teacher) but because I was aware of what Kate's late diagnosis could potentially mean. It's really an uphill battle from the start.
When Grant called me on 6 February to say that Kate's x-rays were clear, I (rather embarrassingly) shed a tear outside the History staff-room. I composed myself and then bought a bottle of champagne, and some chocolates (for Kate and the boys!), on the way home from school.
We're not out of the woods, yet. There is the likelihood of further surgery as Katelyn grows up. But, for now, I am going to let her jump on our trampoline and have fun with her friends at Physie. 
Cheers! To my beautiful, brave and determined 'lil' girl, Katelyn xx

DDH - two years on

Smile! Ready for Katelyn's first day of preschool. Harry's been a wonderful big brother.

Gosh, so much has happened of late that I really don't know where to start.

With the new year has come a new level of crazy-busy-ness and, as a family, we're just taking each week (and day!) at a time.

February marks the two-year anniversary of Katelyn's DDH diagnosis. What a roller-coaster ride the last couple of years have been. Thrilling highs, and plunging lows. And so many unknowns and uncertainties which, for a (self-admitted!) control freak like me, can be hard to take. With our annual checkup scheduled for later this week, we're crossing everything that all is as it should be.

When we embarked on our journey two years ago, we were told at our first meeting with Katelyn's surgeons that we'd all be in each others' lives for a while. DDH doesn't just go away. Yes, an operation can fix the initial problem, but the spectre of further surgery and spicas could make an unwelcome return at any time. We will have an annual checkup to ensure Katelyn's hip has remained in place and that the bones around the area are continuing to grow at the same rate she does until she's eighteen. 

Katelyn's welfare, and the potential for more surgery, has been a major factor in my decision to change careers, at the age of 37, to a more family-friendly profession and to something I've always wanted to do - teaching. Following my acceptance of an offer of voluntary redundancy from my rapidly-shrinking government workplace, I've made the switch to secondary school teaching and have never been happier.

While I'm trying to give casual teaching my best shot, we have arranged for Kate and her brothers to initially be in full-time childcare. William is in Year One at school and Harry attends full-time preschool. Katelyn goes to preschool with Harry two days each week, to Nicole's for another two and stays with my Mum on Wednesdays. Following some initial toilet-training-troubles, Katelyn has it totally nailed and wakes each morning (for now, I'm sure!) with a dry nappy. Her transition into a structured preschool program has been seamless - no tears and no tantrums...except when it's time to go home! I guess one positive of DDH is that Katelyn has learned to be very adaptable and resilient. She also continues to improve her speech and communication skills in a big way and surprised us just this morning with some basic reading ability. Now, that was a shock! We're also looking forward to starting 'Physie' (physical culture) this month to develop Katelyn's strength and flexibility as part of their dance program for preschoolers.

But, first things first, Thursday's appointment. The control freak Mummy will be at school and unable to attend, but Kate will be in safe hands with Super Daddy. We'll keep you posted.

Harry's first day at his new (other) preschool, which is based at Will's school. Will is in Year One this year.

"I KNOW, Mummy!"

There's cheek, and there's attitude, and we're loving it.
While Katelyn emerged from her spica cast in August 2012, and started to walk again less than one month later, we're reminded everyday that our DDH journey is far from over.
Physically, Katelyn, is perfect. She can run, has started to jump, and displays awesome flexibility and strength. 
However, when she was two and half, alarm bells started to ring signalling that things were possibly not quite right.
As a girl, and the younger sibling to two big brothers, we had expected her speech development to be at last on par, or to overtake, that exhibited by Will and Harry at similar ages. But, at 2 and a half, and still not really talking, we began to worry that something was up with our lovely daughter. This was compounded by endless tears and tantrums (usually hers, but sometimes mine) as she attempted, and failed, to vocalise what she needed.
The rehabilitation process began about three months ago. It turns out that Katelyn is suffering from a mild speech delay - possibly (but, most likely, in my opinion) resulting from the trauma of her surgery at 20mo for late-diagnosed developmental hip dysplasia. My theory is that while in her cast for those three months, she missed some critical physical developmental milestones, which, in turn, impacted her development in terms of communication and language. There's no medical science or theory to back this up (at least that I'm aware of), but her therapist agrees with my hypothesis. 
And so began, back in June, our journey to bring our little girl out of her shell. We're seeing the fabulous Sally, through Hunter-New England Health, and I'm beyond pleased to report that our strategy of positive reinforcement and repetition-repetition-repetition ("Yes, Katelyn, you're right, that is a CAR! It's a CAR- a shiny red CAR! Look at that CAR! It's fun to drive in that CAR!") is working a treat! I've also taken a family/lifestyle-driven career break, and I believe Katelyn is benefiting from the extra one-on-one time with Mummy and/or Daddy.
Our initial monthly appointments have been stretched out to visits every second month in recognition of the great progress our beautiful daughter in making. And now, as Katie has not long turned three, it's a joy to be able to engage in a real conversation with her - perhaps not such a big deal for parents of other kids her age - but it means the world to us. There's plenty of attitude, spirit, character and assurances that "Mummy, I KNOW!", but it's music to our ears and a source of warmth to our hearts.

Almost full-circle...

I realised with a jolt this week that I hadn't actually updated my Blog with the good news we received back at Katelyn's six-month check-up. I mean, I'd updated my Facebook friends, but neglected to make note on my Blog THAT WE ARE OFF THE DDH HOOK...well, until next January, anyway.

We left our appointment with dazed, silly smiles on our faces and shaking our heads about how lucky we've been.

Katelyn's hip is stable and the blood supply to the area has either re-established or was more visible in this round of x-rays.

The surgeon is very happy with her progress, and we left with instructions to book back in to see him in a year's time. He was almost apologetic about our having to have annual checkups at least until she's ten years' old - but, seriously, who cares!?!!?!? When we started this journey almost a year ago, the surgeons made it very clear that this was the start of a long relationship with the pediatric orthopaedic clinic. Yes, the parking at the John's a pain in the you-know-what, but it's a small price to pay for our beautiful girl to remain free of pain and be able to enjoy an active, happy childhood. 

Baby Ballet, here we come!

Not sleeping...

...but lots of dreaming.
But, they're not the good kind.
We have Katelyn's six-month checkup with Dr's Ho and Tewari on Thursday, where we'll find out how her hip is looking (please let it still be in place) and if the previously-diminishing blood supply to the area has miraculously managed to reestablish itself over the past four months' since our last checkup.
It's been a tricky few months while we 'wait and see'. 
The surgeons reckon we'll know, one way or the other, on Thursday. Katelyn will have another supervised x-ray and they'll be looking for a condition called avascular necrosis (AVN) - in simple terms - a loss of blood flow to the hip joint, which would, eventually, cause it to lose all mobility and die. Our last x-ray suggested a hint of the condition back in October, but the condition can sometimes correct itself, so we're beyond hopeful for that.
DDH continues to be a roller-coaster. On one side, we have what we've affectionately termed, 'the running girl' - our Kate doesn't walk anywhere, she runs - perhaps because for the sheer exhilaration and joy. We watch her like a hawk for the primary symptom of AVN - excruciating muscle soreness or stiffness - but, as we know, this is the girl who lived with the pain of an undiagnosed dislocated hip until her operation at 20 months, so we know that beyond the angelic face and the cheeky smile, there's a fighting spirit and unwavering stoicism. So many people share their delight in her achievements and her recovery, and I smile and agree - but, the reality is, I'm shit-scared about the potential AVN - and, especially, my inability to protect her from its development. Her operations, so far, have possibly just been service stops on the long surgical road to recovery, and I guess in the wakeful hours before dawn I'm yelling in my nightmares, "Stop the car, I'm wanna be sick!".
Till Thursday....xxx

Pardon my tardiness...

...as it's been a while since I last posted ;-)

It's been a pretty full-on few months. Katelyn's first steps since being released from her spica cast coincided with an extended family camping trip to Mudgee (Central West NSW), and it was wonderful to celebrate the joy of her achievement and strength with her grandparents and aunties, uncles and cousins. And perhaps a few celebratory wines and beers, as well. She started to walk just shy of one month after she had her hip spica removed, which, from what I hear from her specialists, is quite exceptional. We've also been caught up in the flurry of everyday life with a young family - preschool, birthday parties, Little Athletics and Kindermusik - while work, for both of us, has proved to be more than a little challenging.

Our home life has seen a return to the 'lock-down' state which is synonymous with having a mobile toddler in the house. The fridge is clipped closed, items in the pantry have been moved above little-hand-height and the magnetic cupboard door locks have made a (most unwelcome) return. The toilet brush is seldom housed in its protective casing and it's not unusual to have to rescue an array of teddies and dolls fearfully awaiting a spin in the washing machine.

The princess herself currently spends her days tearing around after her big brothers, climbing atop tables (and freaking her parents out) and parading a never-ending procession of bags, hats and shoes. Compared with other children her age, she's not as steady on her feet, is physically slower and appears to have stalled a little in terms of her speech; although, with much encouragement, she's improving everyday. On the flip side, her fine motor skills are exceptional and she seems to have a talent for music and dancing, showing a surprisingly good sense of rhythm and timing for her age. 

We went back to see our Surgeons about six weeks after Katelyn's hip spica was removed.
The good news is that Katelyn's hip looks good - the femur's back where it needs to be, meaning that the closed reduction was a success.

The possibly-bad news, however, is that the Katelyn's hip and femur is currently showing evidence of trauma, and an indication of some loss of blood supply to the area. This could potentially develop into a condition called Avascular Necrosis of the Hip, or AVN. It's a hard condition to explain, but, basically, bones are living tissue, and like all living tissue, they rely on blood vessels to bring blood to keep them alive. Most living tissues have blood vessels which come from many different directions into the tissue. But certain joints of the body - like the hip - have only a few blood vessels to bring in blood. If the blood supply gets damaged, there is no back-up, and the bone can die.  

Cheeky Miss. Wearing my old pinafore from 34-odd year ago. Serious vintage.

Fancy a bikkie?

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Riding in the rain at Mudgee

"Don't!" One of Kate's fave words.

AVN is very rare - but it can happen. It was one of the scary things the Surgeons told us about when they talked us through the potential risks of Kate's surgery. It generally takes months to develop and be properly diagnosed, so, until more x-rays in January next year, we're in a bit of a holding pattern until we can know more. They're not telling us much at this stage, but what we do know is that there's nothing much we can do to reverse the condition. It's come about because of Katelyn's late diagnosis. Her hip was dislocated for so long that those crucial blood vessels supplying the bone became irreversibly damaged. On probing, Kate's Surgeon admitted that the treatment for AVN is surgery - many more surgeries - to reconstruct her hip as she grows - but that we can potentially look forward to twelve months' off from the Hospital, with no surgery likely to be scheduled for 2013.

So, I guess that's the real reason I haven't posted in a while. I guess I'm, to put it impolitely, a bit pissed off. Okay..a lot. But, at least we knew of its potential to develop, so it wasn't too rude a shock, I s'pose. It just makes me angry. She's a good kid, and she doesn't deserve it.

We're trying to stay upbeat. Really trying. We know things could be much worse. Meanwhile, it's nice to see her acting like a normal (naughty) two-year-old...even if we can never leave the fridge unlocked again!