...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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Thursday, November 12, 2009

What?

I'd gone to both the PHC visit for my regular check and NST, and I'd seen the endocrinologist today. I was starving by the time I got home, but I was also really tired and needed a nap. The Beloved had taken another out of town film crew job and I called him before settling my weary self down for a nap. We were engaging in chit chat, the small talk of what had made up our day here at home when my call waiting beeped. It was the PHC. They never called me after my visits. Never. I hung up with The Beloved to take the call. And then I called him right back. Dr someone-I'd-never-heard-of-before had been reviewing my labs and called the Beloved Dr S. They were both in agreement. I had gotten to 36 weeks successfully. I was maxed out on all the BP meds they were confident in giving me. They thought the baby had baked long enough. It was time to go to the hospital. Now. It was go time. And The Beloved was hours away. Crap!

What followed was a fury of phone calls and packing for The Littles and The Newest, Soon-to-be-in-my-arms, and myself. The baby shower dress I'd finally found wound up in a heap on the floor while I madly stuffed the remaining things I'd need into my borrowed suitcase. And I was going to miss my baby shower. I whipped out a fast email to everyone who had RSVP's telling them that we were off to the hospital again and not to come until they heard from me again. Crap!

Miss K, one of the gals from the ART who visit the Kidlets four days a week, helped me install the car seat and pack the van. Miss Susie was here to turn The Littles over to The Other Mommy. And off I went alone, having kissed and held The Littles one more time, promising that both Mommy and Daddy would be home soon and we'd be bringing Little Jack with us. I was really hoping the docs could get my BP under control again and that I'd stay pregnant. If Jack was born now, he'd be almost a month early. I guess I'll miss my 36 week ultra sound. Crap!

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