School nurse calls me this morning to inform me that my daughter has hurt her knee in gym class. :gah: She says it’s swollen and it’s burning and tingling. Call PCP enroute to school asking what I should do. Any other time they’d want me to take her to the ER. Not today. Today, we have to go see the Ped and then decide our best action. She didn’t fall on it that she remembers, but there’s discoloration. Have no idea what she did and neither does she. Wish us luck.

UPDATE:
The gurl has a condition/disease called Osgood-Schlatter. It is believed that Osgood-Schlatter disease results from the pull of the large powerful muscles in the front of the thigh (called the quadriceps). The quadriceps join with the patellar tendons, which run through the knee and into the tibia, to connect the muscles to the knee. When the quadriceps contract, the patellar tendons can start to pull away from the shin bone, causing pain.
Basically, she grew too fast over the summer and has to rest it a little bit. No gym for a week and we go from there.

My GMa used to call my youngest a bonny wee laddie. Today, the baby that wasn’t is ten. Let me explain.

Mark and I are both divorced. He has a daughter from his previous marriage and I have two from mine. I had a lot of female problems. Cervical cancer, Endo, Fibroids, Adhesions and Cysts. In October of 1997, they removed the majority of my left ovary–it was damaged from a big Cyst. He scraped the Endo off the right and left and removed adhesions. At my follow-up, he explained to me that things didn’t look so good in there and the probabilty of me having another baby without fertility drugs were slim to none. The right ovary was functional, but the tubes and stuff were jacked up from the Endo. Mark and I were okay with that. We were only a year in in our relationship, plus, between the two of us, we had three kids.

The week of Valentine’s Day 1998. One of the ladies in the bakery of our local grocery store stopped me and said she had a dream Mark and I were having twins. :shock: Of course, I giggled and said, “So not happening.” I think that was on a Monday. Tuesday, I got to thinking about it and realized Mother Nature hadn’t visited me.

I always knew when I was pregnant. Even if I was in huge denial, I knew. I told Mark I suspected I was he said, “Noooo. You can’t be.”

I ended up buying a pregnancy test anyhow when I went to the store–the cheapest I could and took it that night. What are the chances? I thought as I peed on the stick. In twenty seconds, the line turned blue. Okay, I’ll wait the three minutes. It just kept getting darker and darker…blue. I started bawling. Took the stick to Mark and he still didn’t believe it. Called my Dr. the next day and I had to go for an emergency Ultrasound. There was no way that baby was where it needed to be if in fact I was pregnant. Lil man was right where he needed to be.

He also cleared up a few things, like why Becky’s son ( who was nursed )always wanted a bottle when he was with me at eight weeks old…. :duh:

I won’t say it was an easy pregnancy, because it wasn’t. He gave us a couple of good scares when I went into pre-term labor and he was way too tiny. But we made it. He made it. Almost a year to the day of my surgery.  And he’s been a blessing ever since.

This is my favorite picture of him.

Happy Birthday, Buddy!