...And in the air, the fireflies, our only light in paradise. We'll show the world that they were wrong, and teach them all to sing along; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive...

- Nickelback, If Everyone Cared

For All The Right Reasons Album

And I'm singing Aaa-ayyy-men, I'm alive!

William Leonidas November 12th, 2009
My only regret is that I cried so many tears while I waited for you.

"...I'll try ~ but it's so hard to believe. I'll try ~ but I can't see what you see. I'll try and try to understand the distance between the love I feel ~ the thing I fear ~ and every single dream. I can finally see it. Now I have to believe all those precious stories. All the world is made of faith ~ and trust ~ and pixie dust. So I'll try ~ because I finally believe. I'll try ~ because I can see what you see. I'll try, I'll try ~ to fly..."

Jonatha Brooke "I'll try"

Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Isaiah 41:10

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you..." Jeremiah 1:4-5

For Thou didst form my inward parts; Thou didst weave me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to Thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Thy works, and my soul knows it very well. Psalms 139:13-14

Monday March 5th, 2010

So Why Stinkerie?

It's simple, really. It's the first thing I whispered against my newborn little Dumpling's temple as I held him alone for that very first time. "There's my Little Stinkerie." And all was right with the world as I brushed my lips across his delicate dewy soft newborn-pink skin and sniffed at his sparse smattering of downy soft hair. Corny and sappy, huh? I can't help it when describing my new Little Puppy. But don't get used to it - I have been told I am "irreverent."

Anyway, it just came out and he's been Stinkerie ever since. As well as Stink Pie, Stink Pot, Stinkey Pete, Little Stinks, Stinks, Puppy, Ducky, Baby, Baby Head, Baby Head Jenkins, Jack, Jack-Jack, Jackie Boy, Jax, Snork, Snorkis, Snorkle, Billy Boy, Billy Bob, Bobby Sue, Billy-Joe-Jim-Bob, Will, Willie, Willister, and the name given by my mentor turned friend Beth - Snake. When I write to her I call him either The Snakester or Slither! And of course, Dumpling, because he is my Little Dumpling - warm and soft and comforting. It's alright to combine comfort food with baby names, right? Have you ever watched the movie Where the Heart Is? If you have, you'll know why I mention this in my defense!

Long story short, you're likely to encounter any one or more of these names in a single post. Because I can. It's my blog!

Something to Consider

Bad decisions make good stories.

Something to Think About

With any pregnancy, there are concerns. With any child, there are worries. When you have a diagnosis of Down syndrome, you know what to worry about. You know what to look for. You have a plan of action. With your typical child, there is no limit to the things that can 'go wrong' or 'happen.' There's no place to focus your worry and concerns. 'IT' will always be out there, waiting. You'll always be on guard. Even when the child is 55 and has grandchildren. With Down syndrome we have a battle plan. With Down syndrome, there is a finite number of things that can go awry. With a typical child, there's isn't. It's a crap shoot. I'm sticking with the Ds and taking the other two back to the hospital for a refund.

Head Above Water

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Monday, May 4, 2009


My 'adoptive' parents are visiting from their new home in Idaho. They've been Mom and Dad since shortly after The Oldest was born, in a comfortable progression that went from Aunt L and Uncle J to Grammy and Grandpa. It wasn't long before they were including me in their batch of kids and my daughter in their batch of grand kids. And I really want to tell them the news but I don't. For one thing, the kids are at the table and I can't think of a discreet way to say it that the kids won't understand. We're in a crowded noisy restaurant for another. And it's a whole group people there besides Mom and Dad. And I'm still bleeding. Why tell them this news if I'm only going to have to tell them different news later? To the inquiries as to why I am not working, I have replied in an almost truth. I am off work right now until I can get my blood pressure under control. That is the truth, but it is not the whole truth. There is that matter of a small stroke I had the previous November. Coupled with that and my giant calves and thighs and the lie is plausible. I just can't put myself through that awful experience again of telling everyone that our baby has died. And since I am still bleeding, it is just better to wait. The pregnancy can be my secret for a little longer. At least until I am more sure about the pregnancy surviving to become The Newest.

Not telling the whole truth is sometimes different than outright lying. Like I did with the kids recently. The Littles came into my bedroom. The Oldest says in a very mature fashion, "Are you having another child?" I divert my glance and continue dusting my room. And I lie. "Honey, Mommy and Daddy are too old to be having babies." And it's true. We are too old! The Youngest is no longer interested and goes off to play with his toys. The Oldest is still not convinced. She says that the bottle of vitamins I take every day has the word PREGNANT on it.

Okay...think fast. Send a silent plea to all the pathological liars that my bloodline has been graced with. I go get the bottle of vitamins and the bottle of Methyldopa. I explain that the BP medicine depletes a vital element that women need, and that vital element can only be found in prenatal vitamins. I even show her the tiny print that says how much folate is in the prenatal vitamins. And I lie through my teeth again. "Honey, Mommy is 44 years old. That's too old to be having babies." She is satisfied with this answer and I send a silent vow to eat something chocolate and decadent in homage and thanks to The Pathological Liars. The oldest leaves to go play and I breath easier. Dodged the bullet for now.

I really did want to tell The Littles. I wanted them to be excited and to feel their excitement. I wanted their excitement to infect me and replace this awful feeling of dread, of always holding my breath. I wanted to feel happy. With The Dear Daddy still not willing to talk about anything, I really don't want The Littles bombarding him with talk of another baby. A baby who might not live. There was a very good reason we hadn't told The Littles about Hannah. Yes, better to wait.

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