Maybe some good will come of it...

I always entertain great hopes.

- Robert Frost

Today, my friend, Nicole, blogged about yet another scientific "breakthrough" if you will. There has been new research that may allow scientists to identify babies who may be predisposed to autism. As the article states, this will allow you to "avail yourself of reproductive options."

Translation....we are hoping that we can perfect this test to the point that we can definitively identify unborn children with autism, thus allowing their parents to abort them.

Honestly, all of this technology is pointless save for that reason. We can fix you, and your baby, they promise -- through annihilation of anyone deemed imperfect -- does this sound like any other time in the history of the world?

Think of all the ways that the millions of dollars that are being dumped into this research could benefit our world. Even if there was some magic formula that would make it mandatory for researchers to spend the same amount of dollars in education about such things as Down syndrome and autism as it does in the quest to remove these things from our world.

But, you know what I am hoping for? I am hoping that all of this media coverage, and all of these grand announcements that have been made lately will open the eyes of many, many people. I hope that it will start a moral and ethical debate that will flourish throughout universities, hospitals, doctors offices, clinics, schools, etc.

I have seen so many wonderful portrayals of people with Down syndrome in these last couple of weeks. I have read many accounts of people who are challenging this testing, and debating the need and purpose of it.

Perhaps we are selling our world short to think that just because the testing is there that everyone will subscribe to this "give birth to a perfect human" mentality. Perhaps it will actually make people stop and think...."if I seek out this information....what am I going to do with it when I get it?"

Maybe what we really needed was a little attention from people who might otherwise look the other way, and try not to think about the possibility of raising a child with T21 or autism.

Because you know what? I think we are doing a damn fine job "representin' " and I think our voices will be heard...loudly, proudly, clearly.

Its Only Words - Or Is It?

I am a lover of words. I am an avid reader, and a writer by nature and training. I have given lectures to students about the power of words.

Indeed, words can create immense feelings in us. Words have started and stopped wars, and have the power to invoke great feelings of love or hatred toward our fellow human beings. When used lovingly, words make us feel protected and nurtured; when used carelessly, words can make us feel vulnerable and frightened.

We live in a world where "politically correct" terminology seems to be the cause of the day. Yet, just last night, while watching "Studio 54 on the Sunset Strip," Matthew Perry says to his castmate, "Why aren't you getting this, I know you're not borderline retarded."

Almost daily, on the Trisomy 21 Board I visit, there is a post about the inappropriate use of the word "retard" or "retarded" in media, or every day life. Recently, the word "Wee-tard" was adopted to describe people who play too much Nintendo WIII.

Last week, Dakotah's teacher, whom I have a great relationship with, and whom I really like, used the phrase "That's really retarded" when describing something. She immediately corrected herself to say "that's really ridiculous" and then later apologized directly to Dakotah "because of Paige."

A few years ago, my brother-in-law was constantly using the word retard and calling people around him "tards." I adore him - he is my brother in every sense of the word. And when I told him it wasn't a word that we used around our house, he was devastated -- he never even made a connection to the word as a derogatory term. And he certainly didn't connect it to Paige.
He was embarassed and quite upset at himself.

In our house, for obvious reasons, the word retard is a "zero tolerance" word -- no one slips and uses it because no one would ever use it any way. When any of us hear it, we all bristle and take pause.

Even at the clinic for Child Development where Paige goes, "mentally retarded" is NOT allowed to be used to describe any of the children there, as there are so many negative feelings that are associated with it.

Among kids Dakotah's age, it seems as if the two words that are the most offensive, and the most widespread for insults are "retard" and "gay." Everything negative is called "gay."

I wonder at what point we will begin to understand that calling anyone a name that reflects an important part of our society in a negative fashion is not acceptable?

As I've written this post, I've considered using some of the other "hot" words that we are all so aware of - the ones that degraded people by colour, or nationality or religion. I imagine the gasps of anyone seeing those words on my blog, as those of you who know me know that they are not part of my vernacular.

Instead, what I hope is that we, the media and society as a whole will finally, finally start to gasp at the word retard. That we will not hear it on a show that has probably been through dozens of writers and script run-throughs. That our kids will not hear it on a playground. That we won't see anyone "acting retarded" on YouTube for a laugh.

The funny thing is, in my mind, its not an insult to be considered "retarded" or "gay" or "fat" or any of the other words we use to try and make ourselves feel superiour to others.

I've known many people who have had these labels thrust upon them.

Anyone who finds it impossible to see passed these labels is missing out on a huge, wonderful part of life.

Coffee Break!

"I probably drink way too much coffee. But if it weren't for the coffee, I'd have no identifiable personality whatsoever." - David Letterman

I saw this idea on a few blogs a couple of weeks ago...and leave it to me, I'm always dragging up the rear on cool ideas!!

If you are visiting my site, won't you stop and say hello? I'm curious to know who is reading what I am writing!

Sign my comments section -- and if you blog, please leave your address -- I'll be sure and add it my list over the weekend. (Jennifer, I'll add yours for sure!)

Thank you, Amanda Baggs

Amanda is the woman who is portrayed in the video below. In the past two days, I've read Amanda's Blog from beginning to end, including all the comments that have been left for her since she started writing.

I am hypnotized by her beautiful voice in the beginning of her "In My Own Language" video -- when I play the video, Paige comes running to hum along with her. Perhaps Amanda's next adventure should be to put that voice to a cd that we could soothe our babies to sleep with.

I don't want to use words such as inspirational or amazing, as I suspect that Amanda does not see herself as particularly extraordinary, but rather understands the limitations of those of us whom society labels "normal."

Indeed, I deserve the "handicapped" label much more than Amanda does. Because Amanda's limitations are more visible to our society, we judge her with many labels that do not even begin to tell us who she is as a person. But my limitations are much more hidden, and much more acceptable to the world.

We perhaps foolishly assume that Amanda needs to be fixed, and set out to fix her. I imagine many people over the course of her lifetime have tried to train her into being a more "normal" person. We go so far as to assume she would be happier, better off, if we could just achieve this state of normalcy for her.

Many of us do indeed see her as an unperson, as she assumes. We fall into the mistaken belief that what you see is what you get, and that, because she looks and acts differently than we do, that she does not have a full range of intelligence, human emotion, and personhood.

For about two or three months, I have been trying so hard to put into words the things that Amanda is telling us. I have been so bothered by the feeling that we are missing something in our "inclusion" quest for our children.

We want so badly for our kids to be a part of the big world that we spent inordinate amounts of time teaching and training and showing them the 'ways of the world' -- and while I fully understand why we do this, and also believe that it is a good thing that we do this, I am also worried that we will spend too much time trying to "normalize" our kids, and not enough time enjoying them for the unique, wonderful human beings they are too.

Five years ago, I would have insisted that Paige be fully included in a classroom of her same age peers for the entire day. I would have fought for that in any way I had to.

This year, my heart and soul have been leading me to a softer approach. Paige needs to be with people who are both different than her and who are like her as well.

She is not broken; she does not need to be fixed. Paige deserves educational opportunities similar to those of her peers. She is a smart little girl, who is classified as "low-functioning" by anyone who wants to label her. But she learns, and she learns well. I can see her observing her world, and trying to understand some of the things that still puzzle her.

She has many friends at school. And I think the majority of those friends are ones who just see her as she is...simply Paige. We have developed a sort of "reverse-integration" plan for Paige this year, where part of her day is showing the children in her classroom about her world as well. The children fight to be the one to spend time with Paige -- to do projects that are perhaps way below them cognitively, but are Paige-led and allow them to really know this wonderful little girl.

They are getting it -- they are understanding what Amanda has shown us in her video -- that we all excel in some way, and we all fall short in others.

Thank you, Amanda, for putting into words something that I could not, even though I am supposed to have a command of the one and only language I use. Thank you for translating it in a way that this limited brain of mine could understand. Thank you for showing the world your value, and shame on any of us who would have otherwise missed it.

Be patient with us, Amanda -- we still have so much to learn.

Please watch this video

I fixed this if you've tried to watch it and couldn't!

This is an AMAZING video about a woman who is autistic. Its quite long, but so worth watching -- it explains so much.

I am so humbled by this video, that I'm sure I've watch a dozen times. This woman also maintains an amazing online journal -- you can get the URL from the comments section of this post.

I've often been asked how we "communicate" with Paige, since she is virtually non-verbal. But she is so expressive that I forget sometimes that she doesn't have spoken words. They say that communication is only 5% words and the rest is body language, etc. -- that is so true in our house!

Take the time to watch this...

In My Own Language

Yay!

National Down syndrome Congress

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After careful review of ACOG Practice Bulletin 77, the NDSC has issued the following statement:


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact: David Tolleson
770/604-9500 January 23, 2007

ATLANTA - The National Down Syndrome Congress (NDSC) condemns recent recommendations by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) that convey tacit approval for terminating pregnancies where the fetus has Down syndrome.

The recommendation for first trimester screening of all pregnant women is a change from the current practice of primarily screening women over age 35 who have a higher probability of having a baby with Down syndrome. Women under age 35 are also being screened, often without their full knowledge or consent.

Among the concerns cited by the medical doctors comprising NDSC's Professional Advisory Committee:

The primary medical reason for first trimester screening is to encourage earlier diagnostic testing in "at risk" pregnancies, in order to facilitate early terminations. Other reasons for prenatal diagnosis, such as hospital selection and delivery management, do not require first trimester testing.

Based on ACOG's figures, the recommended screenings will produce numerous false positives, potentially leading to unnecessary patient distress and possible termination of pregnancies where medical concerns do not exist.

All screening or diagnostic tests need to be fully explained to patients, who should be provided the opportunity to decline or give their informed consent for testing. If patients decline certain tests, physicians and other medical personnel should respect the individual's wishes and not overtly or covertly pressure patients to undergo undesired screenings.

Recent studies by Dr. Brian Skotko, published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology (2005) and Pediatrics (2005) note that many doctors are inadequately prepared to deliver a diagnosis of Down syndrome, and often use negative language or out-of-date information. ACOG's recommendations do not address this situation, nor how it will be corrected.

Studies have shown that parents and siblings of children with Down syndrome overwhelmingly report that having a family member with that diagnosis has been a good situation. Early intervention and inclusive education have led to largely positive outcomes for children with Down syndrome. It is unacceptable that many obstetricians present negatives -- and seem to emphasize pregnancy termination -- rather than reporting the facts, which paint a much more positive picture.

Parents who receive a diagnosis that their fetus has Down syndrome should have the opportunity to meet a family that includes a person with the syndrome, a move in keeping with the spirit of the Kennedy-Brownback bill.

NDSC Executive Director David Tolleson notes that "Down syndrome is a serious diagnosis; however we have seen families thrive." "We empathize with obstetricians who fear 'wrongful life' lawsuits," Tolleson adds, "but the cure for that problem is tort reform, not preventing the births of a whole class of people."

Jeff Mattson, a man with Down syndrome, agrees: "People with Down syndrome want to live life to the fullest."

According to Tolleson, "the NDSC is here to support doctors in delivering a diagnosis and parents through the pregnancy, birth and life of their child."

Adoption Thoughts

With the latest recommendations from the ACGO & the SOGC regarding prenatal testing, and with my friend, Nicole's ( http://all4gals.blogspot.com/ ) connection to adoption, many of us in the T21 community have been thinking a lot about adoption lately.

I’ve always felt that I would have more children with T21 in my life – I don’t even know the clear path to how that will come about, its just one of those peaceful feelings that you sense deep in your soul.

And as Nic will attest to, sometimes it happens when you are least expecting it.

Even with that, I must admit that I have given relatively little thought to the adoption process other than announcing almost daily to my husband, my family, and anyone who would listen, that I would love to adopt a child with Down syndrome.

My views on adoption have always been very one-sided, as I am sure most people’s are. I imagine a loving family who desperately want a child finally being given that gift. I see the Hallmark commercial in my mind where that baby, or that child, is welcomed by a family so very grateful and so very happy.

Of course, as much of my life perspective’s have been wonderfully changed by Paige, I almost always relate that commercial to a baby with Down syndrome. (In fact, I relate every baby commercial I see to Down syndrome, but that’s a whole different post, and a whole other campaign we must embark upon!)

I know the statistics – that there are many families waiting to adopt a child with T21 – that these families are comprised of single parents, and married couples, and young people, and older people, and quite often, of people who’s lives have already been touched in some way by T21.

But through the beauty of Nic’s story, and through the very real contemplation of the fact that the medical community wants to identify ALL babies with T21 prenatally, I have now given much thought to those families who chose adoption for their children.

As a mother who screened kindergarten teachers just slightly less than the Secret Service screens people who will be near the President of the United States, I cannot for a moment place myself in the perspective of a parent or a family contemplating adoption for their child.

What a leap of faith it takes to make the adoption decision for your child. To do so truly means that you must face the unknown, that you must believe in a process and a system that will ensure your child will have the best possible future.

And all of these processes that are put in place are not infalliable. No matter what we do, no matter how many questions are asked, we are all humans, and that child will live with people who are not perfect.

At the absolute best, he or she will live with a family that makes mistakes, is grumpy sometimes, is overwhelmed, who faces hardships – financially or emotionally.

At the absolute worst, well, that is unimaginable.

So, how can we, those who are fighting so hard to tell the world about the beauty and wonder of people with T21, not embrace those who make the adoption decision? How can we not come together, with our hearts open, our shoulders available to lean on, our arms outstretched, to make this journey a bit easier for those who make this choice?

How can we possible not celebrate their decisions, commend their unselfish choice, and stand up for them against those who would judge.

Just imagine…imagine…having to make such a faith based decision – so unsure of the unknown for your baby or child, and then having those around you criticize you, judge you, tsk at you?

Imagine the strength that one must have to make this decision.

For some families who give birth to a child with Down syndrome, choosing adoption is a very real option. And we must embrace this option – we simply must do this. And we must do a better job at supporting those who make this choice.

I frequently write in my blog about how I feel called to this world of T21 – that it is my “ministry” and that I am very honoured to be a very real part of it.

Just as I have grown and learned and changed my mind about topics relating to T21 over the years, I think that we must acknowledge with great respect the fact that all of our stories are very different – all of us have paths and journeys that are exclusive and unique to us.

Just as I embrace and advocate for Paige in my own way, there are families who have touched by T21 who will find their own path – and that path may very well be the road less taken, just as mine has been – one that gives them strength and makes them pioneers in this adoption route – perhaps a child was given to them to show the world that families are made in many different ways. And perhaps their intended journey is to help all of us understand a little better how the decision to chose adoption for a child comes about.

Boof!

Kirby had a clean bill of health at the Vet's today! He weighed in at 38 lbs -- up from 16 lbs on December 9th! He is such a love puppy!!! Paige calls him "D-Dog" and can't get enough of him. Luckily he has a very sweet personality, and seems to enjoy all the tight hugs and affection.

He's been having a great time enjoying his first snowfall -- a very late arrival for Ontario -- and buries his head in it like an ostrich in the sand! He romps from one snowbank to the other, rolls in it, shakes, and does it all over again.

He is so eager to please and so easy to teach.

His puppy teeth are coming out, and Dakotah keeps trying to get away with putting them in the tooth fairy box, and tucking them under the beanbag he has adopted as a bed. I think I am going to fool her and put a snausage in it one night!

Of course, we take this personally

In the Ottawa area where I live, if you give birth to a child with Down syndrome, and you receive a Parent Pak from the Down Syndrome Society, you will find tucked inside a letter from me, talking about our journey into the world of Down syndrome, our family, and our experiences.

The letter is not sugar-coated; I speak of those first years of Paige's life that were so filled with many medial interventions, and of all the changes that we made in our lives to welcome this girl of ours -- the therapies, the changes in perspective that we made, etc.

But, I hope that it is a letter of pure joy that can only have come from knowing and loving Paige; one of the challenge of unconditional love in a way that some parents may never understand, but one that our family embraces every day.

Often, I get calls from families who have just given birth to a child with T21 - who have read my letter, and want to talk. I know how difficult that first call can be; as I remember finding out prenatally that Paige had T21, and speaking to a wonderful person from the DS Society here in Ottawa.

I remember her telling me stories about her son, and feeling so free to ask questions that I could not ask anyone else. And none of those questions were shocking to her or strange to her. She was just a normal mom, raising her son.

It was very comforting to me, and I hope that I have made this journey easier for many families during the last 10 years. I know that I have built friendships with some people that will never end because of that letter -- my friend, Camille, and her absolutely amazing daughter, Emma, who will be a part of my life until my days are over. And our mutual friend, Carol, and her daughter, Olivia, and so many more...

And so, it is, of course, my hope that my "ministry" has made a great difference for many people. I hope that people see me not so much as inspirational, but as a regular ol' mom who shows them that they too can take this journey.

I've also remained relatively active online throughout the years, with breaks when my heart was overwhelmed and overburdened because there are so many people still to touch and connect with.

There are times when the debate has gotten not so pleasant. There is a woman whose daughter was born with Turner's Syndrome, and the same congenital esophageal birth defect Paige has that still spends lots of time on pro-termination boards. She is bitter and angry that she gave birth to her daughter, now about 8 years old, and was not given a choice to abort her. She openly says she would have chosen abortion had she been "warned."

Her and I have gone back and forth thousands of times, as I fear that she is doing a great deal of damage by making this her agenda -- virtually stalking prenatal boards and urging people to terminate.

She paints a horrible, sad picture for people to see, of a child with a great many needs; how it has ruined her life, her marriage, her career. I believe that she needs a great deal of help and worry so much about her child; it seems as if she is quite well cared for, but is she loved and adored?

And she would say the same thing about me; that I am too close to Paige, that I don't "have a life", that I paint too rosy a picture.

I don't know; I guess if I had to live one way or the other, I'm glad I chose this way.

I'm sure that I haven't always made the difference I've wanted to make. I know that I have sometimes spent hours speaking with people online after a prenatal diagnosis, and they have still chosen abortion. I know in my head that I was not their deciding factor; surely they would have had more people, more connections, and more contemplation than that of what I had offered to them.

But it is still painful and personal to me when we lose "one of ours." Its very hard for my heart not to ache, and my head not to wonder what I could have done differently; what I could have said; how I could have reached that person with what I believe to be the real truth -- that our children are so, so much more than a diagnosis.

About 6 years ago, I got a called from a woman who's partner was pregnant with a child who had just been diagnosed with Down syndrome. I spoke with her on the phone a great deal; e-mailed them, and finally invited them to our house to meet Paige and our family.

I knew that they were an alternative family; and that this child was very much planned for and wanted. They were intelligent and friendly, and also very pragmatic. They were indeed doing their research, and readily admitted they had not decided what they were going to do yet.

When we met, they were about 10 days away from their "deadline" (what an ironic term) -- after that, abortion would no longer be an option.

To be fair, they did the footwork -- they had read a ton on the internet; they had interviewed the doctor who runs the T21 Clinic in Ottawa; they had told their families about their son, and the fact that he had Down syndrome.

We spent hours together that day; and I learned a lot about them; about how they had fallen in love; how they had to tell their families that they were gay. They had a wedding ceremony, and one of the women had a daughter from her first relationship.

They were, by all observations, a very loving couple. I gave them a copy of "Expecting Adam" and dedicated it to their baby.

I compared their lifestyle with the upcoming birth of their son; how it would be hard to tell people in the beginning; how some people might judge, and look at him strangely, but, in the end, how the people who mattered would embrace him and adore him.

They shared honestly with me that they had been very lucky to conceive on the first attempt at artificial insemination; that it was a costly procedure that they could not afford to do over and over again, but that they felt somewhat cheated that what might be their only chance had so many unexpected complications.

They considered abortion because they wanted a "normal" child, and did not feel as if they had the gift of time to do it again after he was born.

At the time, Paige was not well. She had just had surgery to remove her gallbladder after a very, very sick winter where we did not know what was going on. We came close to losing her that winter, and she was frail and delicate.

Paige is quite low-functioning, and at the time, was pretty shell-shocked from so many medical interventions. She wasn't bubbly and outgoing during their visit, but rather quiet and aloof.

I felt as if they looked at her rather than to her -- they seemed to be observing, pondering, wondering. I didn't see a connection to her made, and that bothered me very much.

Like all mothers, I wanted them to see her as the beautiful, sweet child that I embraced. I wanted them to see beyond her limitations, to the fact that we knew that she would soar no matter what.

Perhaps it was too early for them to see that, or perhaps they really did see it.

I will never know.

Later that week, I received a final e-mail from them telling me that two days after they had visited, that Beth had gone into labor and delivered a stillborn baby. They asked me not to contact them again, as it was too painful for them.

I will never know if she did in fact go into labor or if they decided on abortion. I will never shake the feeling that I may have failed them.

Lately, I have been particularly haunted by them; as my friend, Nicole, has been touched by the adoption of a child with T21. I didn't even consider it; didn't even mention the possibility to them.

Perhaps that would have made a difference, and perhaps a family would be embracing that child now.

We praise and embrace people who chose to adopt, but we have so far to go to support the families who decide to give these children to loving families.

They're Coming To Take Us Away

First They Came for the Jews

First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.

Pastor Martin Niemöller

Last week, the American College of Gynecologists and Obstetricians, as well as the Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologists of Canada announced that it will soon be offering screening for Down syndrome to all pregnant women, regardless of age.

They are widely touting this testing as a way to ensure pregnant women that their babies are "healthy." All of us who's lives are touched by Down syndrome know better. If the concern was for the health of a child, the intensity of this testing would be focused on better ultrasound screening of a unborn baby's heart, or digestive system, or any number of anomalies that would be apparent on an ultrasound.

A test for chromosomal count does absolutely nothing more than give a chromosome count. That's all. Yet, propaganda dished out by many medical professionals to vulnerable pregnant women convince them that they are ways to ensure a perfect child...that these tests will somehow give them insight into their child's life for the next 20 or 30 or 50 years.

Even the most accurate of tests will tell them very little about their child's future, regardless of whether or not that child has a typical chromosome count.

This week, my nephew and his wife gave birth to a perfect, sweet little baby boy named Cameron.

Cameron's Mom is Jewish, and Cameron will be raised with the Jewish faith and all of its traditions.

Although no one else in our family is Jewish, I can tell you that at just 5 days old, every one of my family would lie down their lives to protect this sweet angel baby. Our entire society would be absolutely appalled if he were to be treated differently because he is Jewish.

History has shown us some very horrible lessons, and we would never, ever, ever, tolerate the eradication of a unborn child because of his religion.

Please pray with me, for my daughter, for the many, many friends she has with T21, that we will be just as appalled at the thought of anyone suggesting for even a moment that our world would be more perfect without them.

Please let our families find a way to get the correct information out to expecting parents; to reach out and share our stories, and to fight the "big guys" -- the medical statisticians who need to see the humanity of what they do.

I did not have Paige because I didn't know. I do not want her despite the fact that she has Down syndrome - I want her because she is my daughter. She is not a burden to our family or to her classmates, or to our society.

She cannot speak a word.

But she has a message.

A message that will not be silenced.

He's here! He's here!

Tonight my nephew, Craig, welcomed his first child into the world.

Cameron William Stevens weighed in at 8 lbs, 6 oz., the exact weight his daddy was when he was born. I am beyond thrilled, and cannot wait to meet baby Cam.

Once Craig has updated his blog, I'll link to it, so you can read the story of his name, and his birth.

Every child deserves to come into this world wanted, loved, cherished, adored. And Cam certainly is. We are already so in love with this little guy, and so proud of his Mom and Dad for the amazing people they are.

I can't wait to see this tiny baby grow into a little boy with the most perfect parts of each of his parents shining through.

Welcome to the world little one. Its a better place for having you here.

A wee bit of heaven
drifted down from above-
A handful of happiness,
a heart full of love.

The mystery of life,
so sacred and sweet-
The giver of joy
so deep and complete.

Precious and priceless,
so lovable, too-
The world's sweetest miracle,
baby, is you.

-- Helen Steiner Rice

I Seriously Get No Respect

About 50% of the time when I answer my phone at home and it is a telemarketer, I hear, "Hi, is your Mom home?" More than likely she is home, but she doesn't live with me!!!!

So, tonight I answer the phone and its Wayne.

"Hi, let me talk to Mom."

"I am the Mom."

"Come on, I'm driving - let me talk to Mom."

"I AM THE MOM!!!"

I'm still not sure he believed me even after he hung up!

I wonder, can one grow a grown-up voice at 42?!?!?

I'm Baaaaaaaaaack!!

Well, after the craziness of the holidays, the kids home for two weeks, and a computer that died and couldn't be revived, I'm really itching to post on my blog! I don't know where to start!

So, look for posts about our holidays, and the different ways we celebrated this year, about our new puppy, about our newest family addition, my nephew Craig's son, due to be born at literally any moment now.

And also, I really want to get my thoughts down about the American College of Gynecologists new recommendations for prenatal testing. As you can imagine, I have some definite opinions and thoughts on that. And, I have some ideas that I hope to put into practice that may make a difference for people receiving the news of this testing.

I'm in the process of trying to self-create a job for myself -- as if I need more on my plate :) -- I'll post more about that as I go along.

I hope all of you who read my blog had wonderful holidays -- and know that I checked in frequently to see how everyone was. For anyone looking for amazing inspiration in motherhood, please click on the blogs on my sidebar -- I'm very blessed to know some very, very amazing mothers.

What A Nice Day

This morning, Paige slept in after we were all up and ready to go off to work and school. It is very unusual for Paige to have to be woken up, as she is quite the early riser.

Dakotah and I went into her room, and she was laying on her pillow, sound asleep, with her hands behind her head. This was quite unusual as well, as Paige usually sleeps with her face planted somewhere between her toes!

We were looking at her sleeping, and Dakotah says, "Isn't it amazing how perfect she is?"

Can you imagine how much I loved both of my children at that very moment?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight, we decorated the Christmas tree. O.k...Wayne and I mostly decorated it, as the kids got bored somewhere in the first half hour of production!

Paige laid on her belly and swung her feet behind us, and just looked at the lights and all of the ornaments while we were decorating. Dakotah played with the dog, took 20 pictures of herself on the digital camera, played Christmas music for us, etc.

And...I had an incredible deja vu moment. After suggesting that we anchor the tree to the wall to my husband for the 100th time -- "Look, all we have to do is tie a string around it, the hook is already there!" -- the inevitable happened -- one ornament tumbled the tree!!

So, off to the van he goes to get the twine that we needed. Suddenly, I was transported 10 years back in a very real way. Almost 10 years ago to this very day, Dakotah was 3 years old, watching Frosty the Snowman on TV, Wayne was at the gym working out, and our tree took a tumble.

I sent Dakotah off to get the phone and bring it to me so I could call Wayne as I held the tree in place. As she went to hand it to me, it rang.

It was my ob/gyn with my amnio results. "I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. L, but its Down syndrome."

At nearly 28 weeks, the conversation continued, with her offering me the chance to abort -- explaining that in the case of genetic problems such as this, therapeutic abortions can be offered to mothers because of the stress involved, and the risk to the mother's health because of this great stress.

I don't know that I had a reaction to her suggestion of abortion -- I was more interested in knowing the sex of my baby -- a GIRL!!! just what I had wanted! And thoughts swarmed my head of what she would look like, how her life would be, etc.

All this as Frosty played in the background and I held onto that tree for dear life.

When Wayne came home, we talked about the baby, and the news we had gotten. I think I was stunned, and suddenly very conscious of my role as a Mom - that this was our child, and our destiny was about to change in a very big way.

That night, my little girl once again put my life into perspective. As I tucked Dakotah into bed, she kissed my stomach, as she did every single night of my pregnancy, and whispered, "good-night babydoll, I love you."

In that moment, I realized that the baby I was carrying was the exact same baby that she had been the day before, the week before, the month before. Nothing had changed, except I knew a little bit more about her.

In the weeks that followed, I would have many ultrasounds that would show us over and over again that the baby had no functioning kidneys or stomach -- that she was surviving simply because she was inside of me.
Our hope for her became the hope that she would live long enough to be able to harvest her organs and give the gift of life to some other newborn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What a difference those 10 years have made! If I were to ever get that call again, "I'm sorry, Mrs. L., its Down syndrome -- and a little girl" --- I would have to drop that Christmas tree right where it stood, so I could fall to my knees and thank God for this great blessing -- this very, very perfect child.

At the same time...these 10 years have not changed everything. Dakotah still sees her little sister as a beautiful, perfect little girl.

And I still thank God every single day for both of these children, created just for me, perfect for me in every way.

This is my friend, Camille

I've written a few times about my friend, Camille. I want to tell you a very sweet story about her that carries a wonderful life lesson for all of us.

Yesterday, Paige's Living & Learning Class had swimming in the afternoon. I take the kids over to the pool, and Camille meets us there.

Yesterday, Camille also had her friend, Melissa with her. Melissa has two little girls, Bella and Maya. Bella has a progressive, degenerative disease that is fatal. She is a beautiful little girl, with skin as soft as the most luxurious silk your mind can even imagine.

Melissa and Bella and Maya decided they were going to swim with the kids! How fun!

Because Bella needs to be held and supported in the water, Camille offered to go in the pool with Maya.

The "rest of this story" is what I want to tell you about...to see what a special person Camille is.

She did not have a swim suit with her, nor did she have time to go home and get hers. So...she went to St. Vincent's, which is a 2nd hand store that sells clothes to raise money for the poor, like the Salavation Army.

And...she bought a bathing suit. Any old bathing suit. She just held it up, hoped it would fit, and away she went.

When she tried it on, it was short for her, and didn't fit her well. Most women, in their vanity, would have said "forget that." Most of us wouldn't get caught dead in a suit that we didn't think looked good on us, or that we felt uncomfortable with.

Not Camille. She didn't even hesitate. She shrugged it off, laughed, and said, "Oh well, we'll have fun...that's what matters."

This is my friend, Camille...who always sees the bright side...who walks on the sunny side of the street.

She found a moment of simple childhood joy -- splashing in the water -- and seized it without hesitation.

What a wonderful way to live. What a wonderful person.

Christmas is coming!

Its such a busy time of year, its no wonder my head is swimming with so many ideas that I'm having a hard time organizing them well enough to post in my blog.

Christmas is fast approaching, as it always seems to do for me. I'm a very organized person, but time is such a premium in our fast-paced lives that I have many last minute details that need to be tended to.

My house is very decorated for Christmas, sans Christmas tree, as we are not entirely sure how Kirby is going to feel about a tree. Actually, we are pretty sure he is going to really love a tree, lol...thus our hesitation to put one up until the kids are out of school and he can be tended to full time.

He's been an amazing puppy so far. He visited Paige's school this week. He is very sweet and quiet and loves attention. He is very smart, and is learning commands already. What a good dog we have gotten. So good in fact, that I'm considering training him as a therapy dog, to go and visit elderly people and some of the people who live in our area group homes.

Our vet has told us she thinks we got much more Newfie than we thought -- we thought he was just 1/4 Newfie, and the rest lab, but she says he is Newfie through and through in his personality.

So far, my Christmas plan to celebrate with our children is working out well. We are talking about family traditions and memories of past Christmases, and are making plans for everything that will end up in our scrapbook. Its been a good season for us...

Introducing...

"Kirby Jamal"

Isn't he just the cutest?!?! He is 10 weeks old, and is a black lab with about 1/4 Newfie mixed in.

He looks like a little bear cub when he is playing in the snow.

He is such a good little boy -- no accidents in the house yet, and he is so laid back. He likes to hang out and be near us.

He's going to be a big boy, who probably won't realize it, because he's such a love. He already tries to get into his water bowl and go for a swim! He actually paddles in it with his front feet, it is hilarious.

We are all head over heels!

Watching the Westminster:

Reflections of a Birthday Party

Yesterday, Paige went to a birthday party for her friend Macky. Macky turned 8 years old this weekend. He is nearly two years younger than Paige, but because of the way their birthdays fall (school cut-off is December here), and the fact that Paige didn't start school until she was 5 (normally, kids start at 4), they are in the same grade -- Grade 3.

Macky is autistic, and shares most of his day with Paige - They go to the regular grade 3 classroom together, and then are in the Living and Learning Classroom in the afternoon, where they work on life skills.

At Macky's birthday party yesterday, there were 10 children. Macky and one other little boy, Damien, are autistic. Damien is an amazing child to watch. In one aspect, he is very developmentally delayed, and has some very difficult problems to overcome. He doesn't have a wonderful family support system, and he is very far behind socially. When you say to him, "Hi, Damien! How are you today?" He will most likely answer by simply repeating back to you what he has heard. He is not greatly conversational.

However, he is six years old and can read incredibly well. He could read an encyclopedia from front to back. He couldn't put any of it into his own words, but if you were to take a passage and change the words around, he could surely find that.

The mind of a person with autism is immensely fascinating--to try and deciper the thought processes of these kids, and how to "re-fire" their brains to connect in all the right ways must be a very daunting task. I tip my hat to the researchers who are trying to find the answers for people with autism.

Also at the party were 8 "typical" kids from their Grade 3 class. All kids that Macky and Paige have been in school with for the last 5 years.

I never stop being amazed at how much a part of the class Macky and Paige are. The kids all play together, and all have great fun together, and no one seems to even notice the differences. All of them are immensely patient with Paige and Macky, and readily accept their quirkiness as just a part of who they are.

Its a great life lesson that the children who go to school with Macky and Paige have been given -- one that will indeed change the world for them and for their children. They have learned lessons that many of them cannot even fully understand yet; lessons of compassion and acceptance and love.

I have often wondered if this attitude of embracing Paige and Macky would change as the children got older, as the differences became more apparent, and as the kids no longer looked like cute "babies" for the rest of the school to oooooh and ahhhh over.

But...like all relationships that begin with love, it has only grown stronger -- this tie between all of these children. Most of them have never been in a classroom where there wasn't a child with special needs -- they do not see that as unique or different -- they see it simply as it is.

These are all Paige's peers -- the ones who are "typical" and the ones who are not. They are all people who will touch her life in one way or another. They are the people who will stand up and cheer for her when she accomplishes a new task, and the ones who will patiently wait while she tries the same task over again.

That, to me, is what true inclusion is. Its not about insisting that she sit in a classroom of kids her own age to give the appearance of inclusion. Its about letting her be the included one sometimes, and letting her be the one to include at other times. Its that balance that makes it successful.

I often think abou this when I read about families having problems with integration or schools that are not cooperating to actively educate all children.

What better "resource" than to have a child with Autism or Down syndrome, or any other physical or developmental delay in the classroom?

In a world where it is critical that we teach very important life lessons very early on, any school system that would not embrace this opportunity should not be educating anyone.

I'm Decorating!

I'm trying to make it look like Christmas around here, in case you were wondering :)

We are very excited about the Christmas season in our house this year. We have decided to make this a "Memory Christmas."

Like many of us, I am so struck by the commercialization of our Christmas season, and like many of us, I have bought into it since my children have been born.

This year, it seems almost sinful to indulge ourselves in our every whim. I was at the Mall yesterday, and it was crazy how much *stuff* people are buying.

When did we get to the "here's a very expensive present, see how much I love you?" part of our lives?

Christmas is a happy, yet melancholy time for me, as I'm reminded of all the people who will do without; of all the children who will not feel joy during this season, and of all the parents who's hearts will be broken because they cannot provide for their kids on Christmas morning.

And yet, in the end, very, very few of my best Christmas memories have anything to do with gifts. Even my children could not recall what their gifts have been with great accuracy -- some stand out for Dakotah, but not many.

So...this year, we are building our family a Christmas to remember. And one of the ways we are going to do that is to take the concentration off gifts.

Its not easy to do; some people whom I've told about this plan raise an eyebrow at me, and think I should be able to pull off my "game plan" AND fill my tree with gifts for my children.

I don't think so. They are well provided for; we have many luxuries, and if we get passed the "what I want for Christmas" thing, we will find great joy in each other.

This year, our gift to our children will be the gift of time and love. We will trade the "Christmas rush" in for time spent with them. We will make homemade Christmas cards, and decorations for the tree, and go out in the woods and chop that tree right down, just the 4 of us. We will bake and give to neighors, teachers, and friends. We will adopt a family, and grocery shop for them for a week, and provide gifts to their children. We will sing Christmas songs and look at lights.

And along the way, we will talk about our favourite Christmas memories. Wayne and I will tell stories of our childhood Christmases, and tell our children over and over and over again how much we adore them.

We will remind them of Our Saviour, who was born during this season, and how grateful we are to Him for everything.

And...we will document our entire journey, with pictures, stories, etc., that we will put into a big family scrapbook.

Yes, there will be stockings filled, and a few presents under the tree Christmas morning, but the most special gift of all will be that scrapbook that we have made together...a precious, precious keepsake of this wonderful time in our lives.

Half full - Half empty -- you be the judge!

Bad news:
So...as I posted earlier, our car died. What a big, fat pain it was trying to function in a one-car world. We are two people who both live a "need to be in two places at once" world, and having one car to do that was very stressful and annoying.

Good news:
We bought a new car - a kinda rustish coloured Pontiac Sunfire. Its cute, and fun to drive. Its a lot smaller than driving ...yes...I admit it...a mini-van.

So, now we play rock, paper, scissors to see who gets the van and who gets the car, lol.

Bad News:
Last Saturday night, we were shopping in Ottawa. It was cold and pouring rain. Paige has severe arthritis, and was very lame that day. So, we used our handicapped placard to go into the store. We never use this thing...but she really needed it that night.

We come out of the store, and there's a ticket for $300 on our car for parking in a handicapped spot without a placard. WHAT?!?! On the ticket, it says that we must appear in court in order to fight the ticket. Ugh...its an hour away, and will mean someone taking time off work, etc.

Good News:
I called the city bylaw people right away, and told them I would wait there with Paige for the bylaw officer to come back--so that he could see we had both the placard and Paige with us. About 8 calls later, we (I hope) have had the ticket cancelled without having to go back to Ottawa.

Bad News:
Wayne was refused entry in the US yesterday. We were going to NH to a baby shower for my niece. As we went through customs, the guy asked a ton of questions, including, "Have you ever been fingerprinted?" Both of us replied yes...I had been fingerprinted in the early 80's when my company hosted the Presidential Debates in Manchester. I had to have FBI security clearance to be able to participate.

Wayne was fingerprinted when he was 18 -- he was in a bar with a bunch of friends from University -- drinking underage. It was raided by the police and they were all taken in and fingerprinted. No one was charged with anything.

Well...apparently, because he did something "illegal," he now has to get a waiver that cost $400 and requires an insane amount of paperwork -- documentation from employers, letters from the RCMP (Canadian Police), letters of character,etc.

AND...it takes 6 months for this to go through.

Unbelievable...he has been to NH 4 or 5 times a year for 20 years...even got married there, and now this silliness.

He has a spotless record--not even a speeding ticket!

There were about 25 people denied entry yesterday as we sat there -- we were told that this particular customs spot had been selected to basically rip everyone apart...that they do these randomly, and when it happens, its utter chaos at those stations.

One guy who was denied was going to a family reunion, and was the entertainment there. Because he gets paid as a part-time musician here, he was told that he was stealing an American's job (even though he was going to play French Canadian music!), and because of that, he has been denied entry for the next 5 years. Crazy stuff.

Good News:
Well...I guess the good news is that Wayne was not detained, other than the couple of hours there, and when we crossed the Canadian border, I was not hassled as an American.

Settling Down

Challenges

Well -- we promised "in sickness and in health" and God has decided to put us to the challenge.

I've been battling some pretty funky gynecological problems in the last few months, and have spent as much time in my OB/GYN's office than I did when I was pregnant for Paige. I have felt very "unwell" for months now -- freezing cold all the time, getting waves of exhaustion that I cannot even describe, horrible menstrual irregularities, etc.

Hopefully what I'm dealing with is PCOS and a rather large fibroid tumour that is causing lots of very unpleasant side effects. I expect biopsy results back in the next few days.

Paige had ear tube removal two weeks ago, and caught a nasty sinus infection afterward. She still has this icky rash on her face that I cannot conquer. And Thursday, she came home with pink eye, that she lovingly passed on to me.

Our 2nd car died a final death this week, and although it served us well, its another thing we have to think about this weekend.

And, after so much teasing and begging, and threatening, and cajoling, Wayne finally went and had some much needed bloodwork done this week.

He has had high blood pressure since he was 30 - and has a very strong history of diabetes in his family.

He also hates needles, and has a horribly irrational fear of having blood drawn. Year after year, he has put it off, after lectures from his doctor and me.

Well, I've seen him really change over the last 6-9 months especially, and I wasn't having anymore denial.

Without going into the drama of having this test done, including two trips to the hospital, me basically calling in the Army to hold him down, etc., he relented yesterday morning, and had a two hour glucose test done.

As I arrived in the door from work, the phone was ringing. Normal fasting blood glucose is between 2 and 4 - Wayne's was 29. We were told anything over 14 is cause for concern for a diabetic coma.

So...we begin.

He's pretty ticked off at me right now -- of course, if I hadn't pushed it, he could still be ignoring this. It will take him a few days to realize we probably just saved his life.

He has to test 3 times a day now, for the rest of his life. Medications have been added and changed, and our pharmacy bill last night was nearly $500. He is having none of it -- won't read about diabetes, isn't wanting to learn about what he will do to keep healthy, wouldn't go to the crash course on using the meter, etc.

But, he will learn. He has to. He has no choice now. He does not have the choice to let himself die - its not fair to me, to his children, his parents.

  His "if I ignore it, it will go away" policy has also been instituted on me over the last months, and my feelings are terribly hurt that he acts so apathetic to the reality that I have some challenges as well.

I pray that he gets on top of this. And I also pray that when the shock is less, that he will understand my passion for forcing him to do this bloodwork this week was done out of love for him.

I pray that he decides to find strength in me when he needs it, and that he offers it back to me when I do.

Happy November 1st!

Paige had her best Halloween ever last night. She was dressed as a little Pioneer girl, but everyone kept saying, "oh, look at the little Dutch girl."

O.K. -- so maybe her bonnet was just a tiny bit pointy. Whatever, people.

She hung in there for 3 hours with big sister, dressed as a hippy, tugging her along. She walked so much, and went up and down so many steps that I'm sure her little hips were screaming to stop by the end of the night.

I've never been a huge fan of trick or treating...I can't ever shake the feeling of knocking on someone's door and asking for something, lol. And I'm not a lover of excess, so this really takes the cake in that department.

But Wayne love, love, loves Halloween, and its become his night with the girls more than mine. Neither of the kids are big candy lovers either, so we always end up with so much that is wasted.

At any rate, they had fun, which I guess is what its all about.

Highlights of the night include going to the Sisters' House -- they adore Paige and brought our family in for a short prayer before handing out candy and sending us on our way.

Paige's old Physio Therapist was totally bald, and she loved rubbing his head when she was little...so much so that I'd be like, "Ok, enough already!!!"

Well...we go to the house of the jeweler in town. He happens to be a dwarf, and is a bit shorter than Paige. He is also totally bald.

You guessed it...Paige grabbed a hold of him, and pulled him in for a big hug, and started rubbing his head, "awwwwwwwww...." It was sooooo funny!!!!

Wayne knows him well, and he took it all in stride, but it was totally hilarious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After we got home and got everyone finally tucked into bed, I dove into my November challenge...the write a Novel in November Challenge that I talked about earlier.

So...approximately 2,119 words later...I'm in.

I decided not to write about our life, and Paige's journey, as I want to be respectful of that, and give it the time and attention it needs.

Instead, I'm just going to write a goofy story that is basically evolving as I write. I'm going to use the basic setting of my relationship with Wayne, but the characters are going to embrace the worst of our characteristics, and will never beexactly happy or content.

Some of the events will be relatively true, and some will be crazy and completely made up.

I'm previewing the first night of ramblings if anyone wants to read it...but after that, you might just have to wait.

If you want to see it, e-mail me (BetsyBiskt@hotmail.com)or leave your e-mail address in the comments, and I'll send it along.

I can tell you...the crazy story about the female main character meeting her somewhat identical twin sister in the form of a boyfriend's wife actually DID happen to me...very strange indeed!!

The Ultimate Tag - You're It!

Are you up for the challenge?!

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

O.k., so I'll either thank Tara Marie for this or I'll haunt her after my death, lol...but won't you join us?

November is National Novel Writing Month. Click on the link above, and get addicted, just like I have! Can YOU write a novel in November? Can you pump out 50,000 words just to prove you can? Can you drop any self-criticism, and just write, write, write?

Be a part of our mania. Send us late night or early morning e-mails cursing us for your lack of sleep. Post excerpts of the Great American (or Canadian) Novel for us to read...let's challenge each other to push the writing button and see what we come up with!

Sign up now, but don't start writing until November 1.

And for the record -- I'm tagging my very good friend CAMILLE!!! She's definitely got 50,000 words to share in November!

Restless

I have been so restless the last couple of weeks. I think its because I have this kind of pseudo "list" of things in my life that I'm supposed to do. I'm so antsy, for lack of a better word. Often when I feel that way, I feel very overwhelmed by my everyday life...the frustration of the time I spend doing mundane things really gets to me.

Always, but particularly since Paige's birth, I have felt like I have been called to do certain things in my life. I feel as if I have been given a message that I am supposed to be sharing.

My friend Camille and I spoke about this the other night, as we often do. She is such an amazing person...someone I look up to so much. She has such a full plate, yet never ever turns down a friend in need, or forgets to check in on someone who might need a hug.

This week, she helped a very sick friend of hers get through a very rough patch in her life. She took extraordinary steps to make sure her friend would be o.k. and to help her friend try and remember the beauty of life.

Of all the gifts having a child with Down syndrome has brought to me, Camille is so high on that list of blessings.

And like we often do, we try to figure out how we can make this "ministry" of ours profitable, lol!!!! Because unlike God (not that He isn't pretty busy, haha), we also have to take care of so many everyday things...laundry doesn't do itself, someone always has a dentist appointment, and no matter how many times we feed our families, it seems like they need to eat again just a few hours later, darnit.

Although we both live very nice lives, and have everything we need and then some, we also fret about income, and worry about our family's financial futures, like everyone else does.

So, we're always wheeling and dealing ideas back and forth to one another about how we can earn money without it actually taking any time or effort away from what we really want to do.

I have a part-time job -- and although its a job I like well enough, and can do well enough, I am constantly resentful of the time it steals from me. I thought if I did something totally removed from the "realness" of my life, I would feel like I was getting a break.

I was wrong. I NEED to be doing something of importance -- something that is significantly touching the lives of other people around me. I have a message to share, and its starting to scream louder and louder at me.

And...I have a book in me. That I know, and have always known. I cannot remember a time when I didn't say I was going to write a book. Certainly as soon as I learned to read at 3 or 4 years old, I fell in love with words, and never stopped loving them...I cherish the power they have to fill hearts and souls with hope, and love and gratitude.

So...I'm trying to make peace with this restlessness, and trying to hear the message that it is sending me.

Perhaps its time I stop daydreaming about "someday" -- someday when I have more time, and someday when I don't have as many obligations, someday, someday, someday...maybe that's what I'm feeling lately.

When my life is over, and my days are done, I want to be remembered and cherished for being a good person, for making a difference, even if its just in this tiny part of the world I live in.

I want to have lived an extraordinary life. And God, in all of his goodness, has given me all of the tools I need to make this life quite extraordinary.

This weekend, Wayne is away, and I am home for a quiet weekend with the girls. My soul has felt pretty tired lately, so I'm going to give it a good rest, and spend these two days listening to what it is trying to tell me.

Moral of the Day

This is a very busy weekend for us. Dakotah will be turning 13 on Tuesday (and Wayne will be 43 on Wednesday!).

So, this is Dakotah's "Birthday Weekend". Last night she went to her first ever dance at school - I'll write more about THAT another day! This morning, she had a toll painting class with one of her favourite teachers from her old school.

Tonight, we are going to "McMaze" - a big farm of cornfield mazes, and haunted buildings and scary trails with about 8 of her girlfriends, who are then (Lord help us) staying overnight here.

Anyway...this morning, Dakotah is in class, I have showered, blow dried my hair, etc, and Wayne has not been in the shower yet. We are doing the last minutes stages of cleaning that must be done before guests arrive.

Wayne is vacuuming away, and I am organizing knapsacks in our hallway. *Knock, knock, knock* at our door.

OH NO! I'm about a foot away from the door, and am in just a t-shirt and undies!! No pants!!! I jump a mile, grab Wayne's arm, as I run to hide in the dining room..."Someone's at the door!! Someone's at the door."

Just then, Wayne realizes that he is stilll just in boxers, as he hasn't showered yet. So he runs to join me in the dining room.

Realizing we've made a strategic "wrong move" because our stairway to our upstairs is actually the other way, where we will now have to pass by the front door in order to actually attain clothing, we are trapped!!!!

But, the vacuum cleaner is still going! I peek around the corner--its Wayne's friend Mike, who now sees me. I put my finger up like "Wait a minute" only he interprets it to say "Come on in!!!"

We are now stuck in our living room, scantily clothed, while I am laughing hysterically, the vacuum cleaner is running, and Paige has gone to say hello to Mike.

I finally tell him to turn it off so I can talk to him...and explain our predicament, much to our embarrassment!

He was like...o.k...half-naked with the vacuum cleaner running -- I do NOT want any further details.

We are never going to live this down, lol.

Two lessons of the day:

Never clean house half naked.

After 17 years of being together it really IS quite possible that all you were actually doing was cleaning!!!!

Freedom's just another word...

On Monday, at dinner at my brother and sister-in-laws, we started talking about my sister-in-law's niece, who is 27-years-old and handicapped.

When I first met Wayne, my SIL spent lot of time with her neice, who was then much younger of course. Since then, there has been some dissention in the family, and she doesn't see much of her niece.

So, we were just chatting about her, I was asking how she was doing, etc. She is basically non-verbal, and prone to some pretty violent rages. Periodically, she is placed in one of the many residential homes in our area for people with developmental delays and disabilities.

I asked my SIL what her diagnosis is, and apparently, it has been pretty hush-hush, although most of the family suspects fetal alcohol syndrome.

My MIL has often referenced her when we get into discussions about Paige, and I am always rather annoyed by that, because it seems as if she just lumps Paige in with this woman because they both have developmental issues.

Frankly, I don't like the concept of lumping any child in with any other, so its just "the point" that bothers me about it. My MIL seems to think this woman's life is my future...in some ways, it may be, and in others it certainly will not be.

Just in a fleeting comment, my MIL says, with great pity in her voice, "Its too bad, you know..she's 27 - she could have been married by now, had her own children..."

In one way, it IS too bad if this woman is a victim of fetal alcohol syndrome--a completely preventable condition. But, by all accounts her mother has not drank for many years, and loves her daughter dearly...dotes on her and misses her so horribly when she places her that she always brings her back home.

And my MIL expressed great sympathy for her--being forever "burdened" by caring for this now grown woman, who still acts very childlike. She said, "its so sad...she will never be free. She will always have to care for her."

Although I've heard that statement many times before from my MIL, I have thought a lot about this "parental freedom" she refers to.

What does it mean to have our freedom from our children? And...do you really want it?

My mother is free from her children. By her own choice, and own actions, she has conducted herself in such a way and victimized herself so much that her three children, save one who still contacts her periodically out of guilt, have come to know that they can not rely on her for even the most basic of "mother" care...we have had to make conscious decisions to stop her manipulation and attention-getting ways by stopping contact with her.

We have had to say "no" to all of the times she has disappointed us by not showing up to an important event, or telling so many little white lies about us that it leaves us with our mouths hanging open.

So...she is free. She no longer has to "mother" any of us.

There is not enough money (or chocolate) in the world to make me crave that freedom for even a split second.

I chose to bring these children into the world. And God chose to give them to me to raise and love and cherish for every moment of my life.

I intend to do that. At various times throughout their lives, my children will need me in differing degrees. Sometimes, it will be hard to meet their needs, and it will feel heavy on my shoulders. I pray during these times that I will be reminded of their inate joy, and that will carry me through.

Their needs will be much different throughout their life times. But neither will be more troublesome or burdensome than the other. My ache for freedom from either of them will be limited to needing a few minutes to stop and breathe, or say a little prayer that I find the right words or the right actions to support and meet their needs.

I still ache for my children when they sleep -- I sneak into their rooms and watch them sleeping peacefully, although one of them is already nearly a head taller than I am.

Freedom...freedom is the ability to reach out and hug my kids.

Happy Fall!

This is my favourite time of year. Well, not counting "strawberry season" of course. And if that isn't a real season, it should be!

This is also the time of year I miss living in New England the most. There is nothing more beautiful than autumn in New England - driving through the White Mountains, and seeing all of the changing colors of the trees on the mountains is just spectacular.

My favorite colors are all of the natural colors of the changing leaves - brilliant oranges, deep reds, golden yellows -- colors that only nature can make perfectly.

There is no joy more pure for a kid than raking up a big pile of leaves, and just jummmmpppiiiiiing!!! Seldom do we find any other time that we are totally free of all worries and lost in the moment of childhood.

I love these crisp mornings when there is just that threat of frost, and the fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet. You don't quite need a winter coat, but your favourite fall sweater is a welcome addition to the wardrobe.

All of you who live in a "seasonal" area know the challenge of the furnace -- where you try to go just one more day before you add heat to your house. Somehow we always remember what day we finally gave in the year before, and try to hold out for just one extra day.

When I was a teenager, and young adult, I declared October 17 as my favorite day of the year. I would hold yearly "October 17th" parties for my friends. I thought it was just short of fate when I met Wayne and his birthday was the 18th -- just shy of my "best" day.

How wonderfully ironic that Dakotah would be born on October 17th, even though her due date was the 4th, and I went into labor with her on the 15th.

Dakotah even brought a extra nice Fall surprise to me. During my pregnancy with her, I craved squash & pumpkin -- something I never liked before. Now, its a wonderful treat to eat warm butternut squash, with salt and pepper on top--yummy. And every year I find some new pumpkin recipe to try -- pumpkin pie, bread, pudding, etc. Last night I had a taste of a pumpkin blizzard from Dairy Queen...too good!

This morning, Paige and I are the only ones up so far. We snuggled under a quilt and caught an episode of Arthur together before she wandered off to play with her Leap Frog toy.

Our weekend will be spent simply as a family, before the craziness of birthdays and day surgery comes upon us next week. This is the first weekend that we've not had something planned (baseball, etc) for months, so I've got a great big list of things to do for all of us.

I love those "at home" weekends where we work on house projects. The rest of my family, eh, not so much. But its a good feeling of accomplishment as we begin to transform our house to the next season...taking out winter clothes, tending to flower gardens that are being bitten by morning frost, raking leaves...

Its a good reminder that life passes us by quickly, that one season, one year, turns into the next in the blink of an eye, and that we better take the time to go fishin' once in a while, to stop and smell a rose, to marvel at a bright orange leaf.

You've read it a 1000 times...

Once more for all of you with heavy hearts and heavy burdens today -- this poem has always made me feel peaceful.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love - for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Such A Little Mother Hen

Paige has become quite the little mother hen of her Living and Learning class. Her EA reports that she 'tends' to the other children in her classroom all day long. If she finds a random lunchbox, she must deliver it to its owner; if they are having snack everyone must have something in front of them before they are allowed to eat.

When Brooke has a seizure, Paige insists on being the one that sits beside her, rubbing her back and cooing at her until its over.

But...today she may have overstepped her boundaries, lol.

When Damien was put in time out for some not so nice behaviour, Paige kept going over to get him, and pulling him away from his spot, proclaiming "All done"

After a few attempts at pulling Paige away, she finally relented only if she could stand beside him and hug him during his time of need, lol.

What a kid...

There's Nothing Worse Than A Warm Pickle

It was 1975 - my sister had just gotten married, and we were making our first trip to Prince Edward Island, to stay at our summer cottage that my parents had just purchased. I was 11 years old.

About halfway there, our car broke down. It needed a transmission or something else very expensive. We were stuck in a small town while waiting for a mechanic to go and pick up the parts we needed to keep going.

We had missed our ferry to the Island; the only way to get there. We were going to have to stay in a Hotel for the night, and obviously, my parents had to incur an expense they didn't expect. It was a time when few had credit cards, and some 500 miles away from home, they probably just wrote a check for the damages.

As we were waiting, we were eating dinner at McDonald's - again something that wasn't very common in my life in 1976. My dad had a cheeseburger or something like that, and he took a bite of it, and pulls a pickle out of his mouth. He was like, "YUCK!!! There's nothing worse than a warm pickle."

Right at that moment, he and I, sharing the same slightly sarcastic and ironic personality, burst into laughter. What a silly statement--a bazillion things going wrong -- of course, something has to be worse than a warm pickle!

So, that became a funny phrase between the two of us when things went wrong over the years. And the strange thing was, the worse things were, the funnier the line got to us. Many times in my life when I've felt badly or saddened by something, I've heard my father's voice reminding me that, at least, it wasn't a warm pickle.

I've had lots of warm pickle moments this week. I was deeply moved by the memorials of 9-11 -- a time when I realize that I am not living in my own country and feeling all of those feelings of senselessness all over again.

And on Wednesday, with the shootings in Montreal at Dawson College, I was again reminded of how we just never know in this world...

A post from another blogger this week who is facing a very challenging time with her own daughter has touched me deeply. I feel her words, and wish that I could pack up a hug and send it along to her. I feel the heaviness in her post, as she struggles with the reality that she has no choice but to pick herself up by her bootstraps and plod through the mud.

I've felt very protective of my children this week--more so than usual. I admit that my greatest weakness as a mother is over protectiveness. I fuss over them and fret for them, and want to jump in at every chance to take care of them. I was, and still am one of "those moms" - conscious of what they eat, what they wear, of their friends, etc.

My worry is deeper for Dakotah than it is for Paige. That has not always been the case. Of course when Paige was young and often very ill, she was the one I fretted over. But always there has been that nag that I'm going to let my guard down with Dakotah and get blind-sided by something I cannot control--an illness, an accident, etc.

I can still protect Paige better, watch over her. Dakotah is at the point in her life where I must begin to give her freedom, and let her learn the lessons of life.

Its hard to let her "hang out" with friends at the park, just two blocks from here, when I still breathe a sigh of relief every single day when she gets off the school bus.

Its hard to let her spend hours chatting with school friends on the internet, although I've put all the protections in place...she knows if she erases histories, that she has lost her privileges until her 16th birthday. I don't even read them, but she needs to understand that they must remain. Her usage is monitored, she has been lectured over and over again about the dangers of the internet.

Yet, every time I watch an episode of Dateline with the internet predators, I feel my heart race -- for every creep they catch, there are probably hundreds who are successful in their quest for young teens on the net.

She tells me every detail of her day, and for that, I should be grateful. But I over-analyze it, and want to fix whatever I feel needs fixing, even when she is fine.

She does have to grow up in a way that is much different than the way I did. That's not to say that there weren't things in my teen years that my parents weren't way better off not knowing...

But, this week, they had "practice lockdowns" at school...they have been given very real scenarios of what could happen in her high school. Periodically, the drug-dogs are brought in for random locker checks - a procedure that we have to agree to before our children are allowed to enroll at the Catholic High School where she goes.

I have had to have very frank conversations with her, because I know that she is hearing information from other kids at school. Her group of girlfriends are popular and beautiful and oogled at -- a double-edged sword to say the least. I want her to be well-liked -- just not so much so, lol.

In the end, I can only give her tools and roots -- she must put them to use and learn to fly on her own.

And all of my life lessons and examples are basically left to a prayer, a whisper in the night that she will come through it all gloriously and beautifully -- a set of crossed fingers that the worse that will happen to her is that warm pickle in a cheap cheeseburger at McDonalds.

9/11

Today, millions of people will look back to September 11, 2001. There will be many moving tributes, and memorials, and for those who lost loved ones that day, I imagine it will be a milestone that they will prefer to have behind them.

Like everyone else, I can recall with exact details what I was doing when I learned the news. Paige had OT that day, and my mother, and then my mother-in-law called as the towers went down. I was scheduled to give a lecture at the University of Ottawa that afternoon to some medical students about Down syndrome.

Our OT and I sat and watched in disbelief as the events unfolded. Like so many families, we quickly learned that the Pentagon had also been hit, and my nephew was nearby, unable to get out on a cell phone, and unable to get home as all public transportation had stopped. It would be hours before we knew that he was safe.

My friend Kate who works in Manhattan was among the thousands of people who walked home, covered in soot and dirt and dust. Ironically, her cellphone did not work in NYC, but she was able to call here, in Canada, and I was able to call her family in the city and let them know she was o.k.

I'm sure everyone is full of many thoughts about the events of that day. It is still with disbelief that I know that the men who chose to drive these planes did so thinking they were heroes, that Allah wanted them to do something so horrific. It is hard not to hate the people who did this, but I believe they had been led to belief they were doing a good thing.

And with crazy propaganda in the Middle East, I'm sure many people there believe that our soliders are doing the same thing now - killing for their God.

Perhaps its just hard to wrap my brain around such abject hatred of someone because of their nationality, their colour, etc. Its hard to understand that anyone could be so brainwashed to not be able to see the forest for the trees - that this was a cowardice, malicious act against innocent people.

Everyone's lives changed that day -- our children will not remember a world prior to 9/11 - as we live in a "before and after" mode of that day. Travel is much more complicated, and I sometimes have a tiny little nag inside when I'm at a concert or a baseball game, or any event with large amounts of people.

In order to still enjoy our freedom, we must live with that nag but still find a way to live. There is a fine line between safety and paranoia sometimes, and if we allow ourselves to fall on the wrong side of it, the terrorists are still winning at their game.

I hope that today doesn't become another political debate day -- where we argue the rights and wrongs of their actions, and ours, where we struggle with war and its affects.

Let today be their day -- those who lost so very much.

Today, I pray for ALL the families who were touched by this tragedy. For those who are still deep in their grief who have had to face personal and financial loss; for those who cannot find an answer to "why"; for those who now must raise a family as a single parent; for those children who lost a mom or a dad, for the moms and dads that lost a son or a daughter.

I honour all of these families, and stand in awe of those who have persevered -- who have been able to heal to the point of realizing that they must continue living, for themselves and for their loved ones. For those hearts that grew much larger with grief and unimaginable pain, who have found a way to begin to fill that gap with joy and happiness again. For those families who have learned to begin to love and trust and laugh again -- for the children who didn't deserve to lose a mom or a dad -- that their families have found a way to bring light back to them.

I truly believe that our life is set out before us in order for us to learn crucial life lessons along the way. I find great personal peace in trying to look deep inside of myself to find those lessons -- both good and bad, as I constantly learn from my life.

But for the heroes of 9/11, the ones who survived, and the ones who didn't, I cannot begin to hold a candle to their strength and courage.