Preterm Genome Project

Yesterday I had a phone call from Dr Jennifer Henderson of the School of Women’s and Infants’ Health (University of Western Australia) based at KEMH. She was calling to ask if I would take part in the Preterm Genome Project, which aims to see if there is a genetic reason why some women give birth early.

As it happens, my grandmother also had three premature babies, only one of whom survived (hi mum!) so I have often wondered if my genes played any part in Talia’s early arrival. We will never know for sure, but if it helps another mother in the future to be forewarned and maybe obtain some extra care to help her pregnancy last longer, then it’s definitely worthwhile.

The researchers at KEMH are recruiting 1200 mothers to participate in their study, where they will compare the DNA of mothers who had prems and mothers who had full termers and see if they can find any patterns which indicate that a particular gene or set of genes makes you more likely to have a prem. Later they will take part in an international study funded by the World Health Organisation and the March of Dimes where DNA will be collected from mothers in 5 different countries. If their research is successful, they hope to be able to predict who is at risk of delivering early. It may also help scientists develop new treatments to prevent preterm birth.

Today I went and donated a blood sample and answered some questions. It won’t change anything for me, but hopefully in the future it might help someone else - maybe even Talia.

We have a toddler!

When Talia started cruising the furniture back in June, I had no idea it would take quite so long before she was really ready to walk by herself.

She took her first hesitant little steps two months ago, and could often be persuaded to walk while holding on to our hands. It was clear there was nothing physical holding her back, but she seemed to lack either the confidence or the incentive to get up and just go, preferring to either crawl (quite speedily, especially if trying to get away from someone who wanted to change her nappy or put her to bed) or wait for her “staff” to come and carry her to wherever she wanted to go.

When we saw the physiotherapist at the State Child Development Centre in mid September, she told us that she regarded a child to be walking properly when they were also able to stand up by themselves in the middle of the room. We passed that milestone on Wednesday last week.  I was so excited I clapped and cheered.  Talia gave me a big smile, took three steps forward and fell splat on her bottom.

However, the the big day has finally come - drumroll please - as of Sunday 16 November 2008, we have a toddler.  Something clicked and she realised it was safe, easy, fun…  whatever it was, she’s up and walking and it’s a wonderful achievement.  Our only regret is that Talia’s Grandpa, who asked us so many times if she was walking yet, passed away just a few months too soon to see her in motion.  He would have been so happy.

A wonder week

Ages ago I read an interesting article about “wonder weeks“. Apparently babies go through predictable stages where they spend a period of time being fussy - unusually clingy and difficult - followed by a period of time when they are much happier after passing through a stage of development.

We’ve definitely had one of those wonder weeks! After several days of extreme crankiness, the last few days have seen Talia

- trying to walk dozens of times a day (whereas beforehand she went for days without trying) and usually managing at least 4 steps per attempt - sometimes up to 8.

- stacking boxes for the first time, including one 4 box tower. Previously she was only interested in destroying any sort of stack.

- standing up in the middle of the room (not pulling herself up on anything) for the first time

- scribbling for the first time (using an etch-a-sketch I bought second hand today)

She has been very pleased with these achievements, with lots of smiles and clapping, and as doting parents we are also very proud of her.

The joy of glop

About a year ago I started trying to give Talia “solids” - which is a crazy name for baby mush which is anything but solid! We called any mixed food that was more or less a puree “glop”. (Glop is the sort of sound it makes as it comes off a spoon and lands on a plate, or the floor. )

A year ago Talia was rejecting farex (and who can blame her?) We bought her a snazzy new high chair at the start of last November which was so big that we couldn’t use the tray because she just disappeared behind it. Here she is in early January 2008.

It took a while before her tongue reflex subsided and she started to enjoy a variety of home-made glop. I cooked up a storm, mixing veges with chicken, beef, fish or lentils. Talia grew steadily and I was so happy to have a baby who ate well.

Then just after her birthday, Talia decided she no longer wanted to be fed - the great spoon strike had begun. At first I worried a lot that she would starve, but thanks to some rapid improvement in her hand-eye co-ordination (one pea or corn kernel at a time), she was able to feed herself finger food and carried on growing.

Occasionally I would try to offer Talia food off a spoon, but my success rate was so low I didn’t do it as often as I probably should.

So today I decided to let her play with a bowl of custard and some spoons and see what happened. (She was driving me crazy anyway, so at least this gave me time to cook dinner!) At first she wouldn’t eat the custard, but enjoyed painting the tray of the high chair. Then she decided the custard wasn’t so bad after all, and fed herself as best she could - using the wrong end of several spoons, and then just trying to pick it up by hand. An entertaining half hour later, with custard spread liberally over just about everything, I decided enough glop had been consumed to call it a successful exercise in self feeding. And modern art.

Wheezing

We’ve just had our first case of respiratory illness since Talia came home.

When she was discharged from KEMH, we were warned that her chronic lung disease meant that it was very likely she could end up back in hospital with some sort of respiratory infection. So we took every precaution the first winter, staying away from shopping centres and zealously avoiding people with colds. It paid off - not even a sniffle. This year she had a flu vaccination and avoided all but a few minor colds. So I guess we should be very happy that it has been 16 months since she came home before she actually contracted anything even slightly worrying.

Last weekend Talia started coughing, a nasty chesty cough, and by Tuesday she had developed a most impressive wheeze. Maybe not quite as bad as Darth Vader, but loud enough that I could hear her breathing from the next room, over the top of my husband’s electric shaver.

When I called my GP on Wednesday morning they said they were full for the day - but when I said I had a one year old with a bad wheeze they managed to find me a slot very quickly! The doctor thought it might be bronchiolitis, but said that our options were limited. I could try and administer ventolin via a spacer (something I could see Talia struggling against and hating) or if her breathing became more laboured, I could take her to PMH.

Fortunately Talia’s condition remained stable and although the wheezing continued another couple of days and the chesty cough is still with us, I didn’t need to rush her to hospital (thank goodness!) She was tired and not the happiest of little girls, but otherwise handled the week very well.

Now it is a waiting game to see if she develops a wheeze with future illnesses - a possible symptom of asthma - but fingers crossed, hopefully not.