welcome 200 STITCH PATTERNS FOR BABY BLANKETS !
Baby breath monitor. Sign language for babies. Baby product trade show.
Baby Breath Monitor
- tall plant with small lance-shaped leaves and numerous tiny white or pink flowers
- Baby's breath is Yukari Tamura's third single, released on August 7, 2002.
- Gypsophila —commonly known as Baby's-breath in the United States and Canada, "soap wort" in the United Kingdom, elsewhere Gypsophila —is a genus of about 100 species of flowering plants in the family Caryophyllaceae, native to Europe, Asia and north Africa.
- proctor: someone who supervises (an examination)
- admonisher: someone who gives a warning so that a mistake can be avoided
- An instrument or device used for observing, checking, or keeping a continuous record of a process or quantity
- A person operating such an instrument or device
- A person who observes a process or activity to check that it is carried out fairly or correctly, esp. in an official capacity
- keep tabs on; keep an eye on; keep under surveillance; "we are monitoring the air quality"; "the police monitor the suspect's moves"
What does unconditional love mean? Baby's Breath is a groundbreaking novel about a mother-daughter relationship shattered by a crime so horrific that even in our jaded culture few speak of it without an involuntary shudder. None of us thinks it could happen in our family. Leah Pacey, however, is not allowed the luxury of such denial. For her, the only notion more unthinkable than Alyssa's act is that of abandoning her daughter.
Leah's search for understanding is as halting as our own. She persists only because she must.
As we all must.
Baby's Breath is an unprecedented story of human suffering and human redemption. Sometimes art takes us where we have not imagined, where we do not go of our own accord, and in doing so becomes an instrument of social change. In this meticulously researched work, Hugo and Villegas patiently open our hearts to see beyond the surface of one girl, beyond the surface of sensational headlines. Important literature is rarely easy and this novel is no exception.
My Yesterday, His Tomorrow - Disneyland
This is my son, Justin…We share a lifelong love of Disneyland and more recently, we enjoy photographing the Park and its many different aspects of architecture, beauty, and fantasy. I have many fond memories of Disneyland from my youth and from my adulthood. Disneyland is like a second home to our family, a place we can always go and feel comfort, joy and relaxation amid occasional thrills and exhilaration among glorious settings, landscapes, and lights. I love this place, and I am proud of my kids and how they respect and enjoy Disneyland as much as I do.
If this image looks familiar, it is because I decided to revisit an HDR image I made a year ago; though I used a different set of brackets this time around…I took this series of shots last October during a nice evening of photography with Justin at Disneyland. October is an important time of year for our family. October means to us a time of giving back, and of saying “thank you” to the people and the institution of Children’s Hospital of Orange County, known here locally as CHOC.
If you are a fan of my work here on flickr, or a friend, or just visiting my photostream, please let me tell you a story about my son Justin and about my inspirations for photographing Disneyland…
21 years ago, my son Justin, pictured here on the balcony of Innoventions, overlooking Tomorrowland, was born with a potentially fatal birth defect called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, with a survival rate of 1 in 3500 at the time. Justin’s case was one of the most severe, him being born with all of his organs in his chest, having been sucked in from a hole in his diaphragm that did not fully close. His lungs had no room to form inside his very crowded chest cavity, and he was left to survive with only one very small and hardly functioning lung upon his birth. We were completely surprised and so was his birth doctor, who monitored his gestation very carefully…Diaphragmatic Hernia was very hard to detect at the time.
In the NICU, I was able to look at an XRAY of Justin’s tiny body…what I saw literally took my breath away. Here was a baby silhouette, with a completely crowded, almost white chest cavity, and totally black abdomen with a tiny worm of intestine snaking through it. He couldn't breathe and was suffocating to death. I nearly fainted. It doesn’t take a doctor to figure out that something was terribly and horribly wrong with that picture of my newborn baby boy.
It was quickly determined that Justin would need care beyond the community hospital we were at. In fact, the NICU staff were certain that Justin would require a new experimental treatment if he were to survive. At this time, in 1990, there were only a few places in the country where Justin could get this treatment, known as ECMO. Like a tiny ray of sunshine on our blackest day, CHOC which is located just minutes away from the hospital , said that they had a bed that had just become available. I traveled with Justin in an ambulance to CHOC within an hour of his birth to hopefully save his life. After 4 hours of corrective surgery to repair his diaphragm and re-adjust his insides, Justin’s recovery was not looking good.
ECMO is a procedure that replicates the pulmonary and respiratory functions of an infant suffering from certain conditions at birth. (much like a heart bypass machine for open heart surgery) In 1990, ECMO was highly specialized and used only in dire situations. Because of his dire condition, Justin was placed on ECMO and became one of less than a hundred infants at the time to undergo the procedure and survive his initial corrective surgeries, which is exactly what ECMO is for-to take over these critical and exhausting biological functions so the newborn can have a better chance for survival and healing wounds. After 5 days on ECMO, Justin was removed from the machine and it was do or die time literally…Incredibly, he was able to sustain himself on one lung and survive the initial ordeal.
Four weeks later, while Justin was still at CHOC and progressing well, we heard of CHOC’s brand new fundraising campaign, a walk-a-thon sponsored by Disneyland that was to be called the CHOC Walk. Tracy and I knew that we were indebted to the entire staff of CHOC for saving our son’s life, and that the CHOC Walk would be a great way to give a little help back to the hospital. That very first year of the CHOC Walk, we raised some money and walked the course through Anaheim neighborhoods around Disneyland while Justin was still in the hospital. We have walked every single year since then, along with Justin and his brother Daniel. Disneyland has been partnered with CHOC since the beginning, eventually fully sponsoring the event with a course that meanders through both Disneyland and Disney California Adventure Park. Near as we can tell, our family has raised nearly $40,000 for CHOC since we began and we do not intend on stopping!
Justin grew up in Disneyland, as his mom and I are both lifelong fans of the
Someone sent this to one of my subscribed listservs. It made me cry... I wanted to share.
This is a reminder on Mother's Day, to thank God, to thank your mother, your wife, to pat yourself on the back... to live life furiously, completely with an open mind and soul, for only God knows what lies in the hearts of mankind.
Happy Mother's Day: Mothers Lie
By Lori Borgman
Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't care what
sex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.
Every mother wants so much more.
She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button
nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.
She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being
She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps
right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column
Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by
She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points
that are the envy of the entire ballet class.
Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a
spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn't close.
The doctor's words took your breath away.
It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see
the kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.
Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even
years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for a checkup, and
crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating
It didn't seem possible.
That didn't run in your family.
Could this really be happening in your lifetime?
There's no such thing as a perfect body.
Everybody will bear something at some time or another.
Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be
unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery.
Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.
Frankly, I don't know how you do it.
Sometimes you mothers scare me.
How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day.
How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a
hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the cliches and the platitudes, the well-intentioned
souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if
God is on strike.
I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-saluting you,
painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary.
You snap, you bark, you bite.
You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood
"Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."
You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in
perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack.
You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding onto the
delicacy of a daffodil.
You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July,
counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability.
You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law.
You're a wonder.
Lori Borgman is a syndicated columnist and author of All Stressed Up and No
Place To Go, her latest humor book now available wherever books are sold.
Texture by NinianLif
baby breath monitor
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