...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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Sunday, June 14, 2009

He Who Takes the Child By the Hand...

...takes the Mother by the heart. That is a Danish proverb and it is absolutely true. And tonight in a late evening phone call, I find out from The Youngest, Soon-to-be-Middles' first grade teacher that he will be getting an award tomorrow. His first ever award. For the kid who gets suspended more frequently than Elmo says, "Ohhh, that tickles!" Notices were supposed to be sent home days ago and weren't. And I can't be there. I'll be having surgery. Crap. No, double crap. With corn in it!

So I lock myself in my bathroom for a good round of nearly hysterical, pregnancy hormone induced, life is not fair, oh the injustice of it all sobbing. My little fireball of sunshine and dynamite is getting an award and his Mommy should be there to see him get it. I think about calling The Beloved, but realise that my hysterical crying is only going to alarm him. He won't understand a word I'm saying and he will rush 90 miles at 110 miles an hour, to leave work to get to me. And the whole reason he's at work tonight is so he can be home early tomorrow to take care of me without irritating The Boss too much when he takes two days off for the amniocentesis. Bosses are like that, ya know...they expect their employees to actually show up and work. If the Dear Daddy can't be in two places at one time, I really shouldn't ask him to try for three...So there's little else to do except to continue sobbing hysterically...unless...

A few frantic phone calls later and not only will The Other Mommy be there to see the fireball beam with pride, but Grandma Emmie will be there too! Okay, so life is good again. If I can't be there to cheer on my son, he will still have his own cheer leading squad! He's already worried about The Mommy going to The Big Hopspittle to have AN OPERATION for crying out loud, and I'm worried that his obvious conclusion will be that I'm not there because I died. The Other Mommy and Grandma Emmie will be there to convince him otherwise. I will explain it to him, but he will still forget between now and tomorrow. God bless Grandma Emmie and The Other Mommy!

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