Putting on the holiday pounds

I have a profound respect for fat babies.  Truly.

In a way that very few moms do.  Sure fat babies are cute.  Everyone loves them.  With the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man arms.  The chunky monkey thighs.  The tubby bellies.  But my respect runs far deeper than that.

Clearly, I am not endorsing obesity...  no, no.  It's not right for everyone.  And, let's be honest, it's the holidays.  We are all overindulging and will pay for it at the gym later in January.  (Groan)

Let me adjust the lens a bit.  Many individuals with CF have trouble maintaining a healthy weight.  And many CF clinicians believe that there is a correlation between nutritional status and lung health.  It goes for anybody... you eat well, you are well.  So to speak.  It's a little more intense with CF hanging around.  While their are different schools of thought on the matter, the directive is clear.  HIGH CALORIE, HIGH PROTEIN, HIGH SODIUM DIET.

As the rest of the world deals with the run-and-gun of the holidays... the fast-food shopping meals, the extra slice of pumpkin pie, the creamy egg nog, and the Christmas candy galore.  Before you know it, the skinny jeans are, well, extra skinny jeans.

How about a 600-calorie shake with Haagen Daas ice cream?  I can't even fathom drinking one.  These are encouraged for my kids.  We live in a totally different world.  I am always trying to figure out, "how can I add calories to that?" if it's something my kids like.  The cookie eating binges are legendary in our house.

Today on the way to a friend's house, in the car, the boys are chowing dried fruit.  Eating handfuls of it... instead of content that my kids are enjoying a natural, healthy snack, instead I wonder, what can I do to these to make these even higher calorie?

Basically, someone with CF often doesn't fully absorb all the calories their body needs.  But on top of that, they are burning calories at a greater rate because of continuous inflammation in the lungs and always warding off infection.  The body just isn't getting enough fuel and is always burning through it at warp speed.  My boys will some day need calories like Michael Phelps.  No joke.  We know many individuals with a g-tube (a gastrointestinal or 'feeding' tube so calories can be put directly into the stomach, often while the person is sleeping) is a reality.  Literally, some kids just don't get enough calories in during the waking hours, so they get calories while they sleep.

At plenty of tables across America, moms are focused on what their kids eat.  What types of foods are their children eating?  How much are they eating?  How can they eliminate sugar or sodium?  And we all know there are rules with eating with families... the "clean your plate" rule.  Or the "no thank you" bite.  Or mine was growing up, one glass of milk before anything else to drink at meals.

But my brain is re-calibrated.  I think of food differently (which, believe me, is not good for my own waistline).  Some recent examples...  I wonder if I can add half-and-half to that?  I can melt butter on that, and he'd never know.  I can spread butter *under* the cream cheese.  Honey, do you want to dip that in Cool Whip?  Do you want another custard yogurt?  Do you want a second avocado?

Leading up to Michael's hospitalization in early November, he isn't eating.  For a kid that has always been an eater, he isn't eating.  At a doctor's visit, they warn me that my son, who was a massive bowling ball of baby two years ago, has a growth chart that was now considered 'AT-RISK'.  It is the first time I hear these words.  Nutritional status.  At risk?

Okay, fair enough, he is a preschooler.  All kids his age go through eating jags.  But THIS IS DIFFERENT.  And before long, we learn how SICK he really is... and he is admitted to the hospital because of the dangerous lurking junk clogging his airways and the Staph infection doing its dirty work.  It is now evident why he isn't eating.

He barely eats in the hospital.  He barely eats the few days we got home and started the IV's at home.  He.  just.  isn't.  eating.  Not that I am paying attention anyway.

Once the medications and his little immune system aggressively start waging war on the Staph, it takes some time for the pink to return to his fair cheeks.  For the dark circles to disappear from under his eyes.  About five days after discharge from the hospital, Michael starts asking to eat.  Asking for snacks.  Asking when dinner will be ready.  Asking for another yogurt.  Another handful of chips.  Whatever it is, I am delighted that he is interested in food and I hear him ask for more.

So, as I amping up for this clinic visit, I keep thinking about how this all translates to his weight.  And what it means for his cough that blasts him first thing he wakes up.  Basically, clinic is a very lengthy, highly complicated "check-up".  I am quite sure that our CF Care Team braces itself when we descend on our clinic appointment, and takes a deep, wild sigh once we walk out the doors.  It is three long hours of dizzying information, my toddlers scaling the walls, and an exercise in patience that I can't even really do justice.  A glimpse is that Dylan punches the pulmonologist.  Twice.  Nice.  Real nice.

But it is an opportunity to review with a crew of caregivers who we almost consider family.  Review my kids' coughs, review their growth charts, review the medications and dosing, and review my sanity.  However, the last part couldn't even be confirmed as present during the visit.

This year, putting on some pounds at the holidays has a very different meaning.  Inside, my emotions are nervous, almost frantic...  And then the good news.  Michael for the first time in six months, gained about a half pound.  Oh the happiness!  And Dylan, I am proud to say is in scientific terms a big, ol' meatball.

While there is a lot more of the fallout from our clinic visit, this is wonderful news.

Ahh... the holidays.  A time for gathering.  A time for joy.  A time for gifts.  AND A TIME FOR FOOD.

And this Christmas, when you see that pudgy little baby at your family gathering, or you take an extra handful of chocolate sweets, please, smile for me.

Michael says to me today, "I want marshmawoahs."
I reply, "Marshmallows?"
Thoughtfully, looking up and nodding he responds, "Yes, I think we should ask Santa for marshmawoahs."

Now, if only can Santa figure out a way to add extra calories to marshmallows...  Hmmm...