I am a paranoid mother.  Ok, so I don’t know if paranoid is the psychologically correct term, if you are into that kind of thing (being psychologically correct), but  I do get nervous.  When confronted with a situation or a proposition, I think to myself, passively at first, “oh, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

At that point, my thoughts inevitably lead from a simple afternoon outside in the backyard, to one of my children being kidnapped and then who-knows-what else while I spend the rest of my life in an agonizing search for the baby I lost when I let him step out that back door.  So, the passive question, ”what’s the worst that could happen?” turns into a small anxiety attack, when chances are, that  whole mother’s worst nightmare scenario really isn’t going to happen.

My neighborhood has got to be one of the safest places in the world, my neighbors are lovely, and the crime rate resides at approximately non-existent, but is that enough?  Do the crime statistics, and the lack of a registered sex offender in my hood provide my with a false sense of security?  Is my optimism another form of ignorance?  Ugh, my crazy rantings sound even worse when they are staring at me on a computer screen! 

I don’t want to be a helicopter mommy.  You know them, the moms that hover over their children at the playground, never letting them experience so much as a scrape or skirmish.  But, I have this innate urge to protect my offspring.

Last week my kids were watching Winnie the Pooh.  I never thought that silly old bear would teach me so much.  In that particular episode, Rabbit had grown the perfect pumpkin.  The pumpkin was so perfect that he just HAD to protect it.  The gang started building a variety of contraptions to protect the pumpkin from all the ills of the world, but with each finished contraption another weak spot was revealed.  For instance, they built a fence all the way around the pumpkin, but it was left vulnerable on top.  Their efforts eventually led them to building a completely enclosed structure around and on top of the pumpkin.  Nothing could get in.  Nothing could hurt it.  I’m sure you can see where this is going, but I’ll finish the story anyway:).  Rabbit quickly realzied that his pumpkin was getting weak, the lack of sun, water, and fresh air made it frail and start to wither.  It turned out that smothering the pumpkin was actually killing it, not helping it.  And so it goes. 

If my kids are never able to spread their wings, take a risk, and be exposed to life, they will never be able to flourish.  If I never allow them to feel defeated, how will they know the joy of success?  I could do my best to never let them scrape a knee, or stub a toe, but at what cost?  What journeys will they be missing, and will they really be growing?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I firmly believe that there are times that I will need to walk along side my kids, I will arm them with the protection they need to fight their battles, but eventually, I’ll have to do it.  I’ll have to let go.  And I know if when I do, I will be better for it, and they will be too.

So until that day comes.  The day that I’ll have to let go, I’m going to do everything  I can to put all of my crazies aside, and watch my perfect pumpkins grow.

In my last post I featured the amazing Jen and her beautiful clan.  As I’ve said before, I think Jen is amazing! Not only is she a fabulous mother to her three beautiful children, she, along with her husband and family, have opened their heart to a beautiful little girl half a world away.  Baby Sofia.  Jen has been keeping a blog, Saving Sofia, documenting their journey towards adoption.  Her stories and feelings are poignant and captivating.  I know my feelings of anticipation about bringing Sofia home to her forever family are likely very dim compared to Jen’s, but as I read her blog, I can’t help but feel the anticipation grow within me.  Again, her blog is Saving Sofia, be sure to check it out, their story will inspire you, that I can promise!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Can I just repeat what I said yesterday?  I am SO excited about having the opportunity to feature Jen Sanchez and her blog Three’s a Charm.  Jen is married and has three GORGEOUS children.  On her blog she writes about the joys that accompany motherhood as well as her journey with her youngest son Joaquin, who was diagnosed with Down syndrome when he was three months old.  The Sanchez family is also in the process of another noble and fabulous event, which will be featured in pt. 2 of this series.  

As I read through Jen’s archives, there were many posts that I fell in love with, but The Boy That Never Was went straight to my heart.  I love Jen’s sincere and honest account of her feelings and emotions during the first few months of Joaquin’s life, and the invaluable lessons she has learned from him.  Don’t forget to check back to read the second part of the feature about the Sanchez family and a beautiful little girl named Sofia.   

The Boy That Never Was

When I look at my son’s face, I cannot imagine a more perfect little boy. He is exactly as he should be.

It wasn’t that long ago though that I mourned the boy that never was. I was inspired to write this after reading Adrienne’s blog post at Our Unexpected Journey. She gave me the courage to write about my early thoughts after receiving Joaquin’s diagnosis when he was three months old.

When I was pregnant with Joaquin, I fantasized about having my third boy and I was quite proud and excited to add yet another handsome, smart boy to the family. When we first came up with Joaquin’s name, I googled it to see if there were any other Joaquin Sanchez’s in the world and I was surprised to find a gorgeous and talented soccer player in South America. I immediately had images of my third son following in these footsteps- possibly becoming a famous athlete some day. I fantasized about the three of our boys taking care of us as we grew older, watching over and protecting their mom. I had the whole image in my head. That perfect little family picture.

Would he be the one to follow in his grandfather and great grandfather’s footsteps and become a doctor? Would he be the smartest of my three boys? Would he be an amazing athlete? Would he be even more good looking than my other two boys? I’m embarrassed and ashamed to even admit this stuff. It sounds so superficial now and it was.

Then, shortly after receiving the diagnosis of DS, I thought to myself….well, maybe Joaquin will be a superstar with DS. He will overcome all his obstacles, meet his milestones faster than most, and he would be different than others with DS. Again, I’m embarrassed and ashamed to admit this. It was almost as if we could wash away the DS part of him. I even flirted with the idea of testing him for mosaic DS because maybe somehow this was better than true Trisomy 21. What on earth was I thinking? I was still caught up in that perfect family image.

I would also stare at his face those first few days after the diagnosis and think, he’s so beautiful but would he have been even more beautiful if he didn’t have DS? I fought with my own thoughts about accepting and loving the face I was looking at but at the same time trying to imagine him without the extra chromosome and the tell tale facial characteristics. I found myself focusing on the photos without his tongue sticking out or without the crossed eyes. The ones where the DS was not noticeable. Maybe it would magically disappear. I’m certainly not proud to admit this.

Thank God I was given the opportunity to see what really is most important. Although I mourned the possibility of what I thought was a perfect child, my eyes have been opened to the fact that Joaquin and his “flawed” genetic makeup is more than perfect. He is beautiful. Inside and out. His true beauty comes from within and shines bright in his presence. He has already taught us more than we will ever be able to teach him. He may never be a doctor or a famous athlete but he will change the world. He already has. Our eyes are open to the richness and beauty in life that is unexpected. It’s like my buddy Forrest Gump said so eloquently, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.” And when it comes to chocolate, I have yet to meet a piece I didn’t like!

Now I want to share Joaquin with the world. THIS is the face of Down syndrome. THIS is what so many people fear. THIS is what some “caring” professionals want to eliminate with earlier prenatal testing. I want the world to see and know what I know now. THIS is the son I never knew I wanted or needed in my life. The boy that never was IS the boy that was supposed to be. Thank you God for blessing me with Joaquin. I am forever grateful.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a link to thisblog.  I have been reading Kelle’s adventures with her spunky almost 3-year-old Lainey, and new beautiful baby Nella for quite a while now.  If you have read her blog, or Nella’s birth story, you already know that Nella is a beautiful little baby who happens to have an extra chromosome. 

I have since heard that there is magic in that extra chromosome, and I have to tell you. . .I believe it. 

I have felt such an overwhelming feeling of awe towards Nella and the sense of perspective and hope that she brought into the world with her, that I have been pursuing more blogs written by parents who have BEAUTIFUL children.  Beautiful children who also have Down syndrome.  Again, I am in awe.  These special little children, along with their special families have taught me so much, and I have been nothing but a distant spectator admiring them as I lurked through the pages of their blogs.  I have been so inspired that I wanted to do a special blog feature mini-series highlighting one of these amazing families.  I am SO thrilled to have this opportunity. 

I was hoping to get the features up by March 21st which happened to be World Down Syndrome Day, but even though that day has come and gone, I hope that we can all become more aware of the fact that the people who happen to have an extra chromosome are more like us than we may realize, and that there truly is magic in the 21st chromosome.

I will be featuring a post tomorrow written by Jen, the author of Three’s a Charm.  Check back, it will be well worth it!

Happy Thursday everybody!  I am so excited about today’s blog feature.  I am excited to have the opportunity to feature Lisa from Adventures in Motherhood.  Lisa is a busy mom of six beautiful children.  On her blog she shares many of her joys, and struggles of being a mother.  She has graciously given me permission to feature this beautiful post, when you’re finished reading, please be sure to visit Lisa and her clan over at Adventures in Motherhood. . .

A Little Magic

When Kevin, my 13-year-old, was very small and occasionally had trouble going to sleep, I used Magic Sleep Dust on him. It was so long ago that it’s hard to remember how I even came up with it. I would have him lie down in his bed and close his eyes, and then I would pull some Magic Sleep Dust (invisible, of course) from my pocket and sprinkle it over his closed eyes, ever-so-gently tickling his eyelashes so he could feel it. “Now, you have to keep your eyes closed or it won’t work,” I’d tell him. “You can’t open your eyes until morning, no matter what, okay?” He would nod his little head, with his eyes screwed tightly closed and a grin on his face. And it never failed to work. Of course he would keep his eyes closed so the “magic” could work, and he’d fall asleep.
 
Somewhere along the line, I lost this. Over the large gap of time between when Kevin was very small and susceptible to magic and the time when the next child came along, and amid the ever increasing chaos of bedtime with the steady increase in the number of kids who need to be put to bed, this little magic trick was forgotten.
 
The other day, out of the clear blue, apparently feeling nostalgic, Kevin said to me, “Mom, remember the Magic Sleep Dust?” And a little shockwave went through me as suddenly it all came back to me. Of course! Magic Sleep Dust! How could I have forgotten that? How is it that I’ve never used that on any of the other kids aside from Kevin? It made me feel sad, actually, and even a little mournful, to realize that such a long time has passed since Kevin was still in footie pajamas and open to magic, and that I allowed something so simple and yet so special slip through the cracks.
 
Last night, we dealt with the usual bedtime craziness. A little while after all the littles were tucked into bed, Lilah, our 3-year-old, crept out of her room. “Mama?” she said. “I can’t go to sleep.”
 
So I took her by the hand and walked her back into her room, settled her into bed, and said, “Okay, I have just the thing. Close your eyes, and I’m going to sprinkle them with Magic Sleep Dust. But it only works if you keep your eyes closed all night long, okay?” She had the biggest grin on her face! “Are you ready?” I asked. She nodded “Okay, close your eyes . . .” and I pulled some invisible Magic Sleep Dust from my pocket, sprinkled it over her eyes, ever-so-gently tickling her eyelashes, and then I kissed her forehead and got up to leave the room. I looked over and both of her sisters were sitting up in bed, watching raptly, speechless.
 
I didn’t hear another peep from Lilah for the rest of the night. Of course it worked. A little mommy magic always works.
 
It felt like a gift. Like this mommy still has a few tricks up her sleeve.

~Thanks Lisa!  I am most definitely going to try that one on my own kids tonight!

Today Ellie ripped off her diaper, pooped on my bedroom floor, and dug through her poop with Luke’s toothbrush.

I didn’t take any pictures.

You’re welcome.

I am smitten by this blog.  It was there that I read this overwhelming appropriate quote:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

I. love. it.  I really do.  On this day, this blissfully “normal” day, my four-year-old son rushed into the kitchen and with a sense of urgency declared, “I’m going to be doing something that’s going to keep me VERY busy!”

“What might that be?”  I asked

“Science.”  He responded boldly and confidently

I quickly shot back, “Wow, what kind of science?”

“The kind that has never been done before.”

Ok. 

With that, his older brother decisively declared his desire to join in, then the fun began. 

They quickly got to work gathering their supplies which included: 

• Various Parts of a Breast Pump,
• Several Halloween Cups,
• Bottle Nipples
• Medicine Droppers
• Measuring Cups
• Soap
• Water

What more could aspiring scientists ask for?

As for Ellie. . .She couldn’t have been happier.

This is her best friend, Cow.  Yes that’s right, her best friend happens to be a giraffe.  A giraffe who seems to have no problem being named  “Cow.” 

Thank you normal day.

Sometimes I get frustrated that there just never seems to be enough space in the house.  Every room we have serves a purpose.  Aside from the basics ie. bathrooms, kitchen, etc. . . we have bedrooms, an office, a playroom, and an exercise room.  Each room houses things that I wouldn’t want  displayed in our common living area, so I really don’t want to change my set-up, but there is one major thing we’re missing, a place for our guests to sleep. 

I have been complaining about this issue from the dawn of time and the complaining  just hasn’t gotten me anywhere. . .go figure. 

I decided to use a little creative thinking and figure something out to solve my problem.  I would like to add a sleeping space in the office since it seems to be a little more welcoming than the alternatives.

There isn’t much room for a regular size bed, at least not to be there permanently, so after some research, I have decided that a futon just might be the best way to go.

Now, don’t stop here, I know what you’re thinking.  You’re probably visualizing a cheap metal frame holding a lumpy old cushion right? However, there are several different styles of futons, and each part has many options, making it easy to customize the furniture to something that will fit my needs and perhaps more importantly, my decor.

Take for instance, the frame. While many futons do have a metal frame, they’re also available in wood. Wooden not only look good, they are sturdy too.   Another thing I like about wooden frames is that they use slats to support the mattress which results in a more even and therefore a more comfortable surface to lie on.

Mattresses themselves have certainly come a long way. I wouldn’t dream of putting my guests on a terrible excuse for a mattress when they come to visit!  You can get them with an exterior made of several fabrics, including leather, and a ton of different fillings. Some have bed springs like traditional mattress, while others are made of space-age memory foam. They come in all levels of firmness from the most soft to the most firm.  Pretty impressive, right?

Then there’s the futon is the futon cover. Most people don’t even know that futon covers exist. However they are an essential part, because they keep the futon safe and clean. They come in a wide variety of materials and designs.

So as you can see, just by changing my attitude and looking at the possibilities instead of the problems, I have opened my eyes to a new world of possibilities.  I never would have guessed that they would come in the form of a futon, but hooray for that!

Valentine’s day is fast approaching.  I’ve come to believe that I have never taken advantage of the holiday like I should.  For fear of having to put some effort into finding a gift for my husband on a holiday that focuses mostly on flowers and chocolates, we usually just succumb to the old tradition of going out to dinner in lieu of presents. 

To be honest, I think it’s time for a change.  I love going out to dinner with my husband, but I am in the mood for something a little more special.  I want to feel pretty.  This past weekend I went shopping for a dress.  I have learned to despise trying on clothes.  Nothing fits as well as I visualize it fitting, and a fun outing quickly turns to drudgery. 

That’s when it hit me, jewerly never makes me feel fat.  It never fits wrong, and always makes me feel pretty.  So, that is officially my Valentine’s request, I would love a beautiful set of pearls.  I know the old saying claims that diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but there is just something elegant and timeless about pearls that I can’t get enough of.  I mean seriously, just get a load of this article, and you’ll see where my obsession is coming from

This past week I took my little girl to see the family doctor.   I took her in for her well child check.  For some silly reason, I am always a little excited about these appointments.  Our doctor has been my doctor for nearly as long as I can remember.  He saw me when I was young, he’s been my doctor through my pregnancies and the births of my children.  He is now their doctor as well.  When I take my kids to see him for their well child checks, it’s almost like show and tell.  I get to show him how much the kids have grown up, what they have learned, and how darn adorable they are. 

He always sings their praises, acts impressed and amazed at their accomplishments, and asks me sincerely how I’m doing. 

That’s why I was excited.

I couldn’t wait to show him how my adorable baby girl has turned into a spunky little toddler.  My grandma volunteered to babysit my two boys so it was just me and the little princess.  She was perfectly charming and very well behaved while we waited in the lobby.  Then when the nurse weighed and measured her she didn’t put up a fight at all. 

I was thrilled.

Then Dr. O. walked in.  He was excited to see her and immediately commented on how big she had gotten.  Then he playfully got down to business.  “Hey cutie, can you show me where your eyes are?”  I was grinning on the inside because she has known the answer to this basic question since she was a year old. 

She immediately pointed directly to the ceiling in response. 

The ceiling? 

I quickly piped in saying, “you know this, where are your eyes?” Another enthusiastic point to the ceiling.

He moved on.

Where is your tummy?  She had shown him that trick the previous year when I took her in for her 1-year check-up.  This time she didn’t point to the ceiling, instead she triumphantly slapped her knees.  She had a big grin on her face as I urged her to try again and show Dr. O. where her belly was.  Another slap on the knees.  

I couldn’t believe it.

Finally he asked her where her ears were to which she responded by pinching her cheeks.  I didn’t bother trying to help.  She didn’t say a word the entire time, and spent most of the visit sitting on the exam table with her tongue sticking out.

She was crazy.

By the end of the visit, Dr. O. was explaining what the signs of autism were and what I should be watching out for.

He told me that she should be able to say simple words like cat, and dog among other things.  I tried to assure him that she did, but when I asked her to repeat it she made some unintelligible sound then stuck her tongue back out.

Soon the visit was over and Dr. O. left the room.  Immediately my little princess picked up a magazine, proudly pointed at a picture of a dog and exclaimed “puppy right there!  woof woof!”

Oh well, I guess there’s always next year.