...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, May 12, 2011

18 Months!

Willie is 18 months old today! What a journey it's been! I could spend hours and hours staring at the screen trying to type words to describe what he means to me...but if you're a Mom, you already know. Don'tcha? Do you ever find that your special needs children occupy a slightly...more layered area of your heart? Not better, not deeper, certainly no more loved than your other children...just more...fast? Elemental? Immediate? Inherent? Penetrating? Your feelings for that child more...intrinsic? More connate? More utter?

I've been struggling to define just what Willie means to me that is different than my other two cherished babies. It alludes me. Ever since that first day of knowing, even before the positive pregnancy test, and waaaay before the positive ~ make no mistake, I mean shout-it-from-the-rooftops POSITIVE! ~ amniocentesis, Willie has had his adumbration sidled up to my heart, buried into my soul, my very being. But do I love him more? No. I do not. I love them all equally, but very differently. The relationship is different with each child. Just as I am sure their relationships with me are all different. Should I feel badly that they might each feel a different kind of love for me? A different layer of love for me? Then why do I feel almost sacrilegious trying to define what I feel for Willie? I don't know. Like the definition itself, the feeling of guilt defies me.

But that's not what this post started out as! It's supposed to be this:

Willie has a new tooth, on the bottom right, several spaces over from the next one. I don't know which one it is yet, and I won't know until it reveals it's shape, but it's #7 for Willie!

He's been cruising along furniture for a week now! I finally got to see him do it myself, even though The Dear Daddy and The Darling Daughter have been telling me he's done it for a week now!

I've already posted a gazillion pictures of him sitting up tall!

Willie once again weighs 21.04 pounds (21 pounds 2/3rds ounce!) and he is 30" long.

He is still wearing size 6-9 and 9-12 months clothes, and wears a size 4 diaper.

He can sign "more" and "all done" and Miss Katee taught him to high five!

And lest I imply that he's all sweetness and light, I must tell you, the boy has learned to pitch a monumental fit when every little thing does not go his way. This includes dropping a toy, being put down before he's ready, being put into his crib before he's ready, having anything taken away from him, the Mommy-dog walking away from him, the ball rolling away from him, his bottle getting away from him, that it might be Tuesday, or the clock struck ten or whatever...if it displeases him, he screws up his face all squishy and squinty and lets out a howl that hurts the coyotes' ears. And turns red. Very red. Limbs all out straight and rigid. A palatial fit to be sure. It's kinda comical that he can spew such wrath, but I bet it won't be for long.

So, sorry I waxed all sappy...didn't mean to. The boy has stolen my heart. I'm just sayin'...

Post Script: Toothlette #7 is a molar!

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