Change

I've never been one for change. I don't particularly like it. I think I do. I think I am adventurous and want to live in remote and exotic locations. In reality a shady restaurant is more than I can generally handle. I like knowns and routines, which is partially why life with little M has been a struggle. However, it's not just Little M that brings change. Each of my children, as they grow and develop, will present different desires and needs that may alter our plans and change our priorities as a family. As my 5 year old continues to love school and develop socially, we are realizing that we can no longer put off a major source of discontinuity in our life. For 12 years we have commuted into church to worship with our friends and family. We have been surrounded by love and support and have grown in this environment. However, over the past 5 years we have felt a draw to be more involved in our local community. We want Little G to go to church with friends that live around us and attend school with him. That is only one of many reasons for a change, but an important one. As we start the new year in a new church, I hope that our decision reflects our love for our family despite my personal adversion to change. May God be honoured in our lives no matter where we worship or how we change. In fact, if there is one area that I long for change it is to be more like Him. I cringe at all the areas of my personal weakness but am thankful for a gracious and loving creator and the spouse He has given me to support me through it all.

The Ugly Truth

A note received from my 5 year old this afternoon:

Mom usess mos uv hur tim toking on the foon.

(Mom uses most of her time talking on the phone.)

Apparently, someone is needing a little more attention...we read a book together and that eased the guilt a bit.

Welcome to Holland

I was given a copy of this in my speech class this week from another mother.
It gives a different perspective to the way I feel and made me cry just at the knowledge that other people have walked this road and feel what I feel. Don't get me wrong...I did already know this...just appreciated the reminder and the reminder to enjoy little M along with my other kids...which I already do...very much.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

The Never-Ending Yo-Yo

I was listening the other day to a children's CD in the Caravan with the kids. The boys kept asking me to play a song ironically entitled "The Song that Never Ends". It truly felt like the song and the drive would never end. I feel like that is similar to the emotional yo-yo of life with Little M. Little M herself is mostly joy...temper tantrums have added a few moments of frustration. However, I am so happy and feel so blessed to have little M. However, dealing with therapists and doctors and trying to work on goals often leaves me in this constant swing of emotional good and bad days. The pendulum has at least slowed down and I would even say it spends more time on the up swing than down in the last 6 months. However, just when I think I'm content and have fully accepted our life now, I realize that it is not quite accurate. After a speech session last week, the therapist said how pleased she is with M. To which...despite knowing better, I couldn't resist asking, is there any way we can know yet if she'll speak. That seems to be a consistent issue with chilrden with Trisomy 8, so it is one of the nagging unknowns that I'm eager to reveal. The therapist explained that unfortunately it's too early to tell, but we've got a lot of things that make her hopeful. She already at a 10 month level. Now I think that those words were meant to be a comfort. She's progressing. They certainly shouldn't have been a surprise. We've known for over 15 months that Little M would be developmentally delayed...but something in me what still shocked and saddened by the 5 month lag. I think it is because in my little bubble, she rocks! She's a superstar. She exceeds my expectations and is absolutely amazing. and she is. If only we could live in a world where she really was never compared. Where there were no base lines or standard achievement levels. I can be in that world at home, but like it or not, it's not the reality when we step out in the greater world. People offer advice...saying just focus on her and don't compare...but they are not faced with the barrage of assessments and tests and even just the simply reality of watching kids her age and being unable to not notice their abilities. I'm glad that I have a hope that goes beyond the daily experiences, or I'm not sure how long I would last on this ride...although as a mother, there is generally no exit options...but there are spa retreats.

Choosing Joy in the Good Times

Little M's therapy this week was beyond my expectations. She met with her occupational therapist who she hasn't seen in a month. A month ago she was approximately 4 to 5 months delayed developmentally. She was working towards releasing toys, object permanence, crawling, trying to drink from a cup, trying to work towards solid foods and putting food to her mouth...to name a few goals. This session, she picked up balls and placed them in a gumball machine, releasing them consistently in the targeted hole and then pressing a button to have them travel down the machine. She then looked and found the missing balls...object permanence. She had started crawling, although that has not progressed this week. Then she drank half a sippy cup of juice. She has started eating small pieces of fruit and cheese and toast and is getting them into her mouth and eating them without chocking. As I talked and the therapist worked, she began to take notes and more notes. She finally said, I have to write this all down because I won't be to remember all the changes that I'm seeing. She is doing amazing. She is doing all the things that a child her age should be doing developmentally. Those words overwhelmed me...seriously...this was more than I could expect. The only thing that I was told by the specialists when she was born was that she would be delayed. She still is physically, but to be cognitively up to speed...what can I say. More tears of joy. I've struggled finding the balance between hope and acceptance. It is hard to accept when you don't know what you're accepting, so each day is a surprise. We try to live in the day...what a great day! It is easy to be joyful in the good times and I'm trying very hard to stay there. It's also easy to let doubt and fear of the future cloud those moments. I want to add a clause...but she still might not walk or talk. However, I think this is the other part of choosing joy. When you have moments when it comes easy, you still need to make a conscious decision to be thankful and focus on that...not rob those moments with anxiety about the future. God's got that in His hands too!

Faking It

It was school pictures a few weeks ago for Little G. He found last years pics a little stressful, so I tried to prepare him a bit more for this year...especially since he's been struggling with getting his picture taken. When the camera comes out, his eyes seem to squint and an awkward grimace forms on his face. He also has a habit of looking away from the camera. This has led to a serious decline in photos in his album...okay it's more the third child factor than the lack of good pictures, but the combination has definitely slowed the additions to his photo album. As I pretended to be the photographer and said smile, G continued to squint and look away. I tried giving clear directions...they didn't help. I tried showing him what it looked like after each shot...it didn't help. Jeff finally walked by and told me I was making it worse, at which time we gave up with the process with a final, "Just be happy". Picture day came and went and seemed to go well...thus saith the five year old. When the proofs came in I struggled with what to say. He did look at the camera, but had clenched his lips in every picture. I guess you just can't fake being happy...at least at 5. Nor should you. I think that's the difference between joy and happiness. Joy cannot be faked. It isn't an instantaneous emotion, it is more from the core...based on a Trust that goes beyond circumstances. As for the pictures, I happened to be volunteering in G's class on the day that the pictures went home and was able to view all the children. It seems that Little G is only one of a vast number of 5 year olds struggling to smile on command. I'm going to spare him the retakes and buy a picture to remind myself of him in this wonderfully honest stage. Plus lips or no lips, I still think he's really cute!

Sign me Up

After supper, I decided it was time to trim nails. I think it may be up there with laundry as a never-ending process. Little M had scratched me a couple times today, which is always a good sign that it's time. To make the experience as painless as possible, I usually put on a movie. Tonight's pick was a Baby's First Sign video that I borrowed from the local library. Little M's brothers joined us on the couch as the video began. I could not wipe the smile from my face as I watched the boys earnestly try to sign and eagerly show me what they were doing. They adore little M and try to make her laugh and keep her safe. Little G prays every night for God to make her stronger and has really taken to helping with signing and therapy. As much as I don't want that to be the boy's focus, I love the fact that we are a team. We support Little G and Little H in their pursuits and they support Little M in hers. More importantly they genuinely seem to enjoy each other. It just makes me happy.

Tears of Joy

It's been a while since I've blogged. Probably because things have been going well. It's generally at 1 am when I'm struggling through things that I blog to process. There hasn't been a lot to process lately except joy and hope. Funny enough that hasn't been keeping me up. I did try coffee at a speech course a couple of weeks ago, which did equate to one late night, but other than that...I've been getting some sleep. Little M has started the seasonal struggle with a never ending cold...4 weeks later we are at least at a clear runny nose and more random cough. We had an ear infection mixed in there, which is actually one of our biggest concerns for her this winter. A couple more ear infections and tubes become a real possibility. That said, glasses were a real possibility and a recent trip to Mac said she's doing great. She has astigmatism, but is doing great visually, so in a year we can probably cross one more department from our list at Mac. She is absolutely loving "walking" with us holding her hands. Hello backache...hello happy heart. She also started to sign "please" and is using it continually. Gotta love cookie motivation. Tonight as I took the kids up for bed and started a bath, Little M through a thrashing fit as I put her down to finish getting the tub ready. As I turned to glance at her, I saw her crawling...really crawling, not just dragging her body around. It was only a few feet, but she did it! As I put her in the bath and she splashed and kicked with joy, water covered my cheeks...but they were already wet. My heart feels so full. I look at her and see my wonderful daughter. I feel excited about her future rather than overwhelmed. I guess we're both growing.

Polka Dot Babies

A couple of weeks ago my boys developed a mysterious rash. They were truly covered from head to toe in tiny red polka-dots. A visit to the doctors and a throat swab later, we discovered it was part of strep throat. Sure enough only days later Little M became polka dotted herself and finished off the matching trio. After a week of amoxicillin the rashes were gone and the kids were back to normal...except for Little M adding an ear infection into the mix. Despite my love of fall and my increasing excitement over the coming Christmas season...yes, I'm already excited...I absolutely dread sick season. With lots of friends and family blowing noses and coughing, I know it's only a matter of time before the kids get sick again...especially with a sick Daddy in the house. I always struggle with the debate between living life and living in a bubble. We practically own stock in Purell and I try to be vigilant with hand washing, but with a son who licks everything in sight, sickness is inevitable. I think that play centers and public places will once again be limited as sickness increases, but at least with little M being stronger this year, we won't be quite so hermitish. It all comes back to that elusive balance. I will continue to struggle to find the balance this winter and to stay joyful in doing it. As days grow shorter and time spent indoors increases, choosing joy generally becomes a little trickier...as does peace and patience. However, it's still always a choice.

Bitter Sweet Acceptance

I have that distinct restless...sleepless feeling that means that things are building up inside and that I need to blog. Jeff is baffled by my blogging...not understanding why I would put all my thoughts down for anyone to see before I have finished processing them. He can't quite grasps that this is how I process them. It's not just a restless feeling, but generally stomach pain and mouth sores that tip me off to an increase in stress and a decrease in my ability to cope. Tears are also a good tip off, which were quick to spill as I watched M take her first steps with a walker. First I cried with pride and then a touch of heartache crept in. As exciting and daunting it is to fill out paperwork for her new wheelchair and walker and bath support...it is also another step in acceptance. There are so many layers to acceptance...my daughter has a genetic disorder...but I still don't know what that even means, so how can I really accept it? Will she walk? Will she talk? Still unknowns despite her incredible successes. I watched a gray-haired mother leading her adult daughter with disabilities by the hand at the pumpkin patch this weekend and I thought...will that be me? Will I be caring for little M forever? Does that mean bathing and changing diapers? I wanted to just enjoy the day out with my family, but even there, I cannot escape the painful process of acceptance. I do have faith in God's goodness. I trust Him and believe that Little M is exactly who she is suppose to be. That she is His child and that I am blessed to be entrusted with her care. I love and enjoy little M very much. I know that Little M will struggle to meet some of milestones, she already is. I know that I love her no matter which of those she meets or at what timeline she meets them. Those are the knowns and those are the things that I hold fast to and accept. The rest becomes a lot more tricky...I think it may just need more time. I don't think it's reasonable for me to accept that she may not walk...when she may. All I can do is love her and provide her with opportunities to help her achieve what she wants to achieve and take it a day at a time. I seem to remember learning this lesson a year ago. I guess I just need to repeat some lessons.

Mr. Independence Starts School

Last year was a tough September. My eldest began JK literally days after I returned home from the hospital. I had disappeared for a month and he had been shuffled between family members and spent visits in hospital waiting rooms and yellow gowned sterility. He was hurdled into a new environment barely able to put on his shoes and open his snacks. I questioned his readiness and ached as I watched him struggle and tried to help ease the transition in any way I could. My heart still hurts looking back, which may have lead to a few tears as school approached this week. I may not have been ready, but he sure was. There was no look of fear on his face as he lined up to go into the school. Despite a new teacher and set of classmates, he was happy and calm. He confidently had zipped up his backpack and put on his shoes as he headed out yesterday morning. He was a different boy this year. It is amazing to see how resilient kids are and how quickly they grow and mature. He still like his cuddles, but I'm starting to see his dependence on me slightly loosening its grip. I'll see how long I can hang on.

Shoe Shopping with Smiles

My husband isn't one for shopping at all...never mind shoe shopping. However, he was easily persuaded when it came to purchasing Little M's first official pair of shoes. After Physiotherapy last week, the therapist said we would try little M in a walker next week, so I'd need to bring shoes for her. My heart was overjoyed...shoes..something so simple and so meaningful. We take so much for granted, but little M has taught us not to do that. We have never assumed that she would ever walk. We hoped for it and tried to support it, but the closer it comes to reality the more monumentous the feat. It is a hard line to walk between and hope and acceptance. It hurts to hope when those hopes don't come to pass...however, it hurts not to hope. I try to live my life choosing joy despite the circumstances. However, it is especially hard to do that when you live in a constant state of uncertainty. Little M has made it a lot easier with her happy demeanour and zest for life. She bit her brother today after he persistantly pressed his face to her face. Of course, I scolded her and reminded her brother to give her space, but I also smiled. She may never speak, but she gets her point across. She has spunk and spirit... and also a sweetness. A perfect combination for her circumstances. So we head off tomorrow donning the new shoes...not the shiny brown retro ones Daddy like, but little white and pink runners. Daddy may have come shopping, but he needs a little more experience before getting to make the final decision.

Ready or Not, Here I Come!

Little M just started to pull herself forward. It's not officially a crawl, more like a drag, but she's moving and motivated. As she drags her limp legs around, it seems a little sad to me, but also inspiring. She isn't waiting for her body to coordinate and she's certainly not waiting for her OT or PT to say she physically can crawl, she's just doing it. It's amazing to see someone so little fighting against her own limitations to go where she wants to go and get what she wants to get. I can't even imagine what the year to come will hold for her.

Cycling

Sometimes things just don't go as planned...in fact more often than not. Jeff organized and participated in Cycle for Life, which was a campaign to raise 100 blood donations for the Canadian Blood Services. For each donor he committed to cycle 5 km...making it a 500km 2-day trip that he would bike with a team to London and home. Last week was the ride after a year of planning and campaigning. The weather was good, the route was well-planned and the riders were exhausted but did amazing the first day. After 13 hours on the bike on day 1 the bikers went to bed early and were up at 6 to head out the next morning. Only an hour into their ride the second day, a biker's tires got caught in a railway track and the group had a crash. Thankfully there was no life-threatening injuries but Jeff and my brother-in-law, both needed to be taken to the hospital for x-rays. As I walked into the Emerg to see Jeff, I could see the devastation on his face. His planning and training and hard work would not be seen to fruition. He knew he had caused damage to himself, which would mean more work in my life. And was in a lot of physical pain. There are moments in life that just don't feel good. That are scary and painful and miserable to walk through. But that's the thing. We need to keep walking to get through them. Jeff could have stayed in that place of misery, it would have been justified. It's been a difficult year. He was doing something good. However, by the time he was released from hospital he sent me on my way to continue to cheer and encourage the other riders on the team and care for them as they finished the race. He stood at the finish line with his sling on cheering them in and celebrating their joint success, despite his personal set back. He took his eyes off himself to look at the bigger picture. I think that when we choose joy, we do have to take our eyes off ourselves. Joy doesn't come from within...so we need to focus on the source. We also need to focus on the good in circumstances despite our sorrows. When I saw my husband's cracked helmet, I chose to focus on thankfulness for his life...not the 6 weeks of extra labour...okay so I occasionally focus on that too. I'm still learning.

Bug Boy

I use to be a bug loving girl. I played with frogs and worms and newts. I liked bugs. However, somewhere along the way not only did I stop loving them, but I actually became afraid of most of these creatures. My three year old however, is not afraid, but rather fascinated by bugs. He spends countless hours searching for them and examining them and treating them as long lost friends. As his fascination increases, my fears are slowly dissipating and I've found myself holding spiders and potato bugs as I did many years ago. Don't get me wrong, they are still not welcomed guests in my house, but I do enjoy seeing them through his eyes.

Helmet Heartache

It doesn't seem to matter how hard I try, I seem unable to protect my children from all danger and suffering. I've joked about needing to put them in a padded room...especially as my sons were learning to walk and wobbling into doors and furniture. The joke no longer seems as funny as I discussed Little M's recent spills with my pediatrician and she discussed the possibility of putting her in a helmet. I thought to myself...don't most kids fall sometimes or throw their heads. However, the mother in me knows that it's more with Little M. Her body just gives out on her at times and her head crashes into anything close by. At times it is also her temper that assists it in thrashing into things. I try to keep her surrounded by padding and away from hard objects, but it is impossible to do every seconds, especially when caring for two other children. I will definitely try harder and be even more vigilante as the possibility weighs heavy on my heart. I'm not sure why it hurts so much...but it does...it still does.

As I watched her tonight, fight to pull herself up into sitting using her crib rails as support, I felt amazed and proud. When she tried to go one step further and pull herself to stand, she just didn't have the strength. She cried out in frustration and I cried inside. As she gets older and wants to move and explore, her low tone becomes a more obvious barrier. I am excited to start more therapy in September and work more with Physio on movement. However, it also means more appointments and more tears. The stress of it all has lead me to more sleeplessness and stomach pains and also back to my Bible. It is unfortunately when I am at my end that I finally really talk things over with God and take the time to study His promises. As I opened up the Bible tonight, He was faithful...as always...and I found verse after verse to comfort my broken spirit. He promises to be my rock. I don't need to have the strength to deal with it all, He does...and He is always with me. It doesn't always take the pain away, but it does provide comfort and the strength I need for the next moment or two.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!

We celebrated baby M's 1st birthday this week. Despite fancy decorations and party plans...little M's birthday was very simple. She spent it with a runny nose and harsh cough and two sick brothers at home with mom and dad. There was a moment of sadness as I reflected over how much she has been through this year. We really could have used a celebration rather than one more hurdle. However, we tried to make the best of it and were able to celebrate in a simpler way. The day was slow to start, but once we got dressed the fun began. The boys picked out an ornate pink gown for Little M to wear around the house. It was a gift from her Great-Grandparent's sibling in Germany. I will admit that it gave me the giggles to put her in a glitter and lace covered dress because of the dress itself and because of her runny nose and matted hair. However, the boys eyes lit up as they told me to never change her from her beautiful outfit. Despite my original thoughts, the dress did look quite cute on her and we ended up sneaking over to the neighbour's ornate garden and taking some pictures. We were going to venture out to purchase a few helium balloons as a special treat, but were spared the trip as a good friend arrived with that very thing...along with a stuffed pink cow. Little M loved both gifts and played with them until nap time. During nap time, the boys and I determined to use some of our home grown zucchini to make a chocolate zucchini birthday cake for their sister. It was officially the first time that we successfully baked together. I continually hear happy stories of family baking time...but despite efforts have never achieved such a feat until then. We worked as a well functioning team despite a minor flour spill and made a rather tasty end product. Little M wasn't as thrilled as we were by the cake but enjoyed the singing and watching the candles. We saved her gift for the big family party that was to be held tomorrow, but was unfortunately cancelled due to all the sickness in our house. A good choice as brother #2 went to bed tonight covered in a matching rash and fever as that of brother #1. What a birthday! However, despite the deviation from plans and the fact that it is rather sad to see a sick baby...her birthday still was a celebration. I could have never imagined that journey that our family would have faced this year...however, one day at a time, by God's grace...we've not only survived her first year but had many wonderful moments. I feel like most days had moments of grief and trials mixed with joy and triumphs. It seems like we walk a fine line between the two...never sure which side we will step into at any moment in time. Little M herself is pure joy. I love seeing the progress she's made this year and the little girl she is being revealed to us. She is a happy girl and truly a gift to us. I am so thankful that God has allowed me to see her for who she is rather than the disorder. My perspective on her and her diagnoses has definitely altered over the course of the year. There are moments where I am still overwhelmed or saddened, but in general I do not feel that we are burdened. I feel blessed. I am so thankful for my beautiful daughter and God's sustaining hand. Hundreds of appointments, hundreds of tears, hundreds of smiles, what a year!

All Packed Up and Ready to Go

I'm always excited at the idea of vacationing as a family...that is until the reality of packing begins. It never ceases to amaze me how much stuff is required for our family to go on a trip. Some is necessity and some is probably my need to cover all my bases. I am prepared for sunshine, sunburns, rain, bug bites, asthma attacks, allergic reactions, hot weather, cool weather, cold weather, playing outside, playing inside, playing in water, and just about everything in between. I guess I'm just not a fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl. I think I could be without the kids involved...or maybe not. Now that the flurry of packing has finished with only small spaces to insert the kids remaining in the vehicle, I can finally take a breath and begin to unwind. It's a good things it's a 5 hour drive, it will probably take every minute of it to get out of preparation mode and into vacation mode...unless we hit a traffic jam...then it's on to diffusing Daddy mode. It's ironic how even in times of abundant blessings...vacations etc. we can still end up stressed and grumpy. Joy is always a choice...even in the good times.

Where Art Thou Balance?...and Niceness?

I struggled today with being nice. As my husband spent four hours bike riding this morning and is preparing to fly to Germany for a week tomorrow, I realized that I may be a little resentful. Resentful of his freedom? His ability to come and go? I'm not really sure. Approaching a year of breastfeeding and 5 years of being a stay-at-home mom, that may be the case. I love being at home with my kids. I love watching them grow and being a very active part in that. I also understand the reason some don't want to be home. It is an endless cycle of work which can be physically and emotionally draining and in which you are never off duty. The teacher in me had dreams of having theme weeks and special science days or cooking days with my kids. I thought I'd be energetic and creative and adventurous as a mom. Instead most days I'm tired, dull, and holding on for dear life. I realize that there are stages and having 3 kids 4 and under is a busy one. I'm still not sleeping through the night, which has proven to be a big factor in my coping ability. However, I wonder how much is perspective? If every morning I reflected on the gift of just being alive that day...would I still struggle so much? I also am finding that as much as I rebel against the "you need time for you" philosophy of life, I'm realizing there is truth to it. Everything in balance. How do I not be a selfish mom, but still take care of myself enough that I can continue to give to my family without being impatient or resentful? I wish there was a magic answer...a set number of hours or an activity that would help with finding that elusive balance I so crave. As the next few weeks bring some big birthdays in my household, I pray that I can lose the grumpy pants and spend way more of my day enjoying the beautiful children I've been entrusted with...it really does go too fast. And take one step closer to finding balance.

Hidden Talents

One of the things I love most about being a mom is getting to see the individual talents and personality of each child revealed. I remember thinking when I was pregnant, "What will my baby look like? What will he/she be like?" It is neat to see the answer to both of those questions unfold as they grow. My oldest son is playing t-ball this year. We tried soccer for the past 2 summers, but he seemed really intimidated by the mass attack of the ball. We let him choose a sport to play this summer and supported his choice of t-ball. Now I am the antithesis of athletic...my body was not made for sport. I have no flexibility, no coordination and no quick reflexes...not a good combination for baseball. In fact, I am slightly afraid of the sport and completely uninterested...until I saw it through G's eyes. He lights up as soon as supper is drawing to an end and we tell him to go get changed into his uniform. Not generally eager to help out, he is ready to collect his ball and glove and bat and helmet without even being told. His enthusiasm is persistent on the drive, during fielding practice, waiting to go to bat, at bat, and as he chases the ball around the field. His brother cries from boredom and his mother would not be far behind, except for my enthusiasm in watching his excitement and feeling that awesome sense of pride. He doesn't need to do anything but stand there and I'm just proud of him for being him. I love that baseball is not something that either his father or I particularly like. It is not something that has been forced on him. It is just a genuine interest and ability of my uniquely wonderful son. Joy comes in a lot of unexpected experiences and places...so take me out to the ballgame. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Lowering Great Expectations

A couple of weeks ago I had an interesting discussion with my husband. We were talking about life and how much I was enjoying it...or not. I was saddened to hear that his perception was that about 80% of my days were "bad" days. I was ready to pipe in that he was way off because he only sees the end of my day when I am running out of steam...etc...but realized that at the end of the day, he was probably right. The strange part was that I feel happy. I love my husband and kids. I have great friends. I have a nice home and all my needs are met. I feel content with life and I truly feel peaceful. So why was I feeling like so many days were "bad". As I thought about this some more, I realized it was because at the end of the day, I was rarely meeting my criteria for a "good" day. I felt like a "good" day required one on one meaningful play time with each child and some significant work towards house cleanliness. Most of my days, though fairly happy, were spent on only surviving. Providing basic care for all the needs of my family. I realized that I couldn't change the fact that at this stage, with these children, basic care is going to take most of my day. The only option I had in changing the outcome of how I felt at the end of the day, was by changing my expectations. Instead of having one-on-one time daily with each kid playing...I try to engage with them and enjoy the moments I have caring for them. We decided that instead of having me try to vacuum and dust and clean bathrooms to no avail throughout the week, and then feel like I failed every day, we would make it priority to do those things every other Saturday. Although this is much less often than I would consider necessary, I am learning to let go of some things in order to find balance. It is amazing how happy I've been the last two weeks. I have truly felt like 95% of the days have been good..great even. Amazingly, I have even found a little time to vacuum and play, however, I am learning that those are not the foundation for a good day. I need to love my kids and demonstrate that love and joy through the daily tasks...that's all. I guess with that in mind, I can hardly consider my expectations lowered, just shifted...and finally attainable.

Off to the Races

I feel like June is literally flying by. When I look at the calendar, it is a flurry of various ink colours combining to make for an incredibly busy month. I'm not sure if it is the busyness, teething, reflux, a new stage, or an unknown reason, but Little M's sleep seems to also be upside down this month. She seems to think that a 15 minute cat nap is enough for her afternoon nap. She will smile or coo or scream, but she will not go back to sleep once awake. Whenever a new stage begins, I usually fearfully think..."Is this part of her disorder?" I will admit the thought did occur with this, but was quickly replaced with the thought, "Here we go again." My kids don't like to sleep. I hear of these children who love their 14 hour nights and lengthy naps...however, they are a completely different species than my own. Mine are never the first to sleep through the night and always the first to give up their naps. Now little M thinks that she wants to go to one nap at 10 months and that 9pm to 5am is a sufficient nights sleep. She's happyish for the most part and had it not been for my fatigue and the darkening circles under her eyes, I'd almost buy it. I know about bedtime routines and calming the child before bed and set sleep times...I'm doing all of that...she just won't sleep. I've tried walks and car rides and cuddles...I've read the books. They just don't love to sleep...at least they all seem to stay asleep once they finally get there. As I am writing this at 11pm...I just heard Little M calling for some sweet loving...so much for my previous comment. With a full calendar and a baby who doesn't want to sleep, I am finding it really hard to just do the basics of life. Does one really need to brush one's hair in a day? When tiredness takes over, it is even more important to make a conscious decision to be joyful in my day...if only I could catch up to it.

Beautifully Flawed

Let me first start with an apology. I couldn't help but laugh when I went to my blog and saw the post...we are flawed. It sounded rather dramatic. (I've deleted it, in case you've missed it.) The part that made me laugh was that I had unintentionally posted it rather than save it in my file for ideas to write about at a later time. That's sleep deprivation. I often jot down ideas of things I want to process later when I have the time and energy...which was what that comment was. What it represents is a conversation that I had with a friend. We were talking about children with disabilities and how it is hard as a parent to not feel sorry for yourself or for them at times. At which point, she mentioned the idea that we are all flawed...we all have areas of weakness or imperfections according to worldly standards. With Little M or other children with disabilities they may just appear more obvious or in a more uniformed manner. I was thinking about how I would rather have a daughter who struggles to walk than one who struggles to be kind or honest...although she may do both. It had me thinking through my purpose as a mother and the goals I have for my children...my dreams and desires for them. I pray that they would love God...not just know about Him, but really know Him and love Him and that I could model that for them. I hope that they treat others with kindness and respect. I want them to have empathy and love and thoughtfulness and to be generous and content and joyful. Amazingly, as I processed this, I realized none of these things had to do with schooling or careers or physical abilities. It was good to look at Little M in the same light as the boys, to have the same goals and dreams for her. I don't want to look at her as a burden or a hardship...just another one of my kids...uniquely wonderful and beautifully flawed.

Finding Balance

I've hesitated to write this blog because I don't have a final thought to tie it up or a conclusion. I think that finding balance is one of the hardest components of any life. I struggle to find balance in meeting the needs of every member of my family including myself. I struggle to find balance with my time and schedule on a whole. How much time do I spend on the children's physical care, physical activity, academic development, playing, creative activities? How much time do I devote to cooking? cleaning? tending the garden? How much time do I spend on the phone? Going out for coffee? Hosting play dates? How much time do I spend on my husband? Myself? Devotions? Not to mention stretching and therapy for Little M. There truly is not enough hours in a day to meet all of these needs despite my attempts or endless lists and planning. I thought I was close to finding balance prior to having a third, but have not even caught a glimpse of it since. That's not even discussing finding balance on a smaller scale...as a parent with discipline...how strict? how permissive? Or with finances...the list can keep going. However, none of these areas of finding balance has been more on my mind than finding balance in my expectations...of myself and the boys, but more so little M.

In an attempt to guard my heart from more pain or disappointment, I think I've lessened my hopes for Little M. I've resigned myself to the fact that my daughter may not walk, that she won't marry and that she'll at least have an EA in class if she attends a public school. If she wasn't only 10 months old there may be some validity to that. However, I realized that I should hope for her like I do for the boys and have expectations of her. She needs to know that I believe in her and will challenge her to be all that God has designed her to be.

I watch the children cry in therapy and struggle with the level to push a child. How important is it for a child to walk? How much are you willing to do or willing to put your child through in the attempt? How many hours of therapy? How many programs do I pursue for her? Finding balance in this realm is proving to be my greatest struggle. I don't know the balance. I don't know that fine line between accepting her and letting her know she is enough just as God made her and pushing her and challenging her to achieve more. I guess that line is tricky with any child. However, with most children you have some markers, some general expectations that can guide you as a parent...from which you alter to your specific child's abilities. For little M, there is no general expectations...it's just a great unknown...scary, but also a little exciting. I still don't have any answers. Every day I ask God for wisdom as I raise these children that He has entrusted to me. Every day I do the best that I can...okay most days...and I pray that despite my lack of answers and my mistakes that they grow to see my love and more importantly Christ's love for them. Maybe the rest isn't so important.

Roll Over

Months and months of therapy to achieve...success...annoyance...rolling over. Little M has rolled over before, but two days ago she began in earnest...and she hasn't stopped. In response to being put down on the carpet, she let out an angry cry and began to roll, and roll and roll. Upon discovering the ability, she has continue ever time that she is put down to roll...including nap time. Unfortunately, she hasn't coordinated the arms completely, so she usually rolls, pushes up on her arms and bellows until she is turned over. Which repeats over and over again. Some may find this annoying...but I see it as success. I am learning to see the body in a new light. Every body part that moves is amazing and requires work and coordination. It is by watching it in slow motion and pain staking effort over months of occupational therapy that I have come to appreciate each movement and really rejoice in this giant feat.

Dear God

"God", "Do I start with Dear God, Mommy?"

"Sure", I reply

"Dear God, Thank you for animals. The best thing you made is the chameleon. I want to buy one, but we bought a game instead. Amen."

Choosing joy isn't always easy, but there are usually things in a day that show God's provision or goodness or at least just make me smile. These are the things I need to dwell on and surround myself with. I'm not ignoring the fact that there is pain and problems in my life and those around me, I'm just choosing to dwell in another place.

Purple Polish Admiration

I went away overnight with some friends and found myself spending the morning painting my fingernails...something I haven't done in years. I examined two bottles of polish, one in hot pink and one in purple weighing out which would be most admired...not by the world at large, clearly not by my friends, and honestly not really by myself, but in the eyes of two little boys waiting at home for me. I finally chose the shiny purple option (slightly less offensive) and even finished it off with a white stenciled flower on each thumbnail. I felt excited and a sense of beauty when I admired the finished product...I think I caught a glimpse of it through their eyes. They did not disappoint. They immediately clasped my hands and expressed their admiration. "Why couldn't you do your toes purple too?" they wondered..."Mommy, can I have purple nails?", they inquired. This continued through the evening and into bedtime. The last thing little H did tonight was to reach out and grab my hand and take one last look. As I struggle with self-image as an extra 25 lbs holds onto my body and blemishes shine through the foundation, I try to remember that that does not matter to my boys and it does not matter to my maker. I want to live a life full of things that bring myself and others around me joy...may my life reflect Christ and my security in Him...if it happens to line up with current fashion, that's a bonus.

Hope Remains

I find that I'm never down for too long. Not because of a continually joyous and optimistic disposition...although Pollyanna is a personal hero of mine, but because of continued displays of love and hope. I believe that God has continually sent the right people with the right words and actions at the right time so that I have never had good grounds for dispair. It's really hard to complain when your every need...even the new ones with Little M...are being cared for. We have not had a week without helping hands or a meal in the freezer or fridge. We have not had a week without a word of encouragement or a show of love or support. Well hope struck again. Even when doubts were beginning to overtake me and anxiety about the future...you'd think I'd learn...the very next day two e-mails were waiting for me in my inbox. Two children with Mosaic Trisomy 8...who could talk and walk and were joys in their parents lives. One 4 and one 15. Both examples of why we should keep hoping. Will Little M do everything they do?...maybe...maybe not...but now I have some concrete examples to hold my hope up and a reminder of love from the one in whom my hope is found. I'm right back to thankfulness and trust. It's nice to be back in the land of joy.

Reality Ain't So Bad...Most Days

I was wanting to write some more on my blog, but with a husband away for work, my time and emotions were stretched. Instead, I jotted some ideas into a book to remember for when I had a few moments. The moment is here, but unfortunately the sentiments of only days prior are no longer the same. That's the thing. I have good days...mostly good days and bad days. Unfortunately, yesterday was a bad day and I'm still in that weepy place of feeling emotionally raw. It didn't help that I read another blog that took me right back to the emotions of the beginning of my journey. My blog idea was that the diagnosis is often more frightening and heart wrenching than the reality. If you can live in the day and I can hold my sweet girl and play with her and feed her and watch her smile at her brothers...when I feel her sloppy kisses on my cheek and wiggle her toes into the feet of her sleeper...life is good. I played a game with the boys and even read them a story, I got a load of laundry in and talked to a friend, supper was ready when Jeff returned home and it was delicious. Life is good. Nothing is so difficult or unusual about my life compared to someone else. It's just my perspective. If I look at it as a hardship, it will be one. If I just focus on my day and the blessings of the day, it is a good life. Don't feel bad for me, don't act like there's a problem...I'm okay, life's a little different than I thought, but good. THEN the bad day came. It started ironically with Little M watching the light fixtures. Only days a go I wrote about her wonder at the light fixtures and how I wish I could appreciate the small things like she does. Instead of appreciating her wonder at the lights, I began to fixate on how much she was watching the lights. She wasn't responding to me or what was happening around her, she wasn't looking as I called her name, she was cooing at my bids for her attention, she was watching a light fixture. The unknown started to creep in and overwhelm me. What if that is all that she will be able to do? What if she never replies back to my words? What if she sits in a chair as a grown woman still cooing at light fixtures? I feel broken inside, sick to my stomach. Somehow hope had slipped back in and I had begun to imagine her playing with friends, cuddling with me watching movies, painting toenails together, talking. I don't care about how much she succeeds in school, if she goes to school. I want to give her opportunity for success and to support her, but a letter on report card means nothing to me. I've even come to grips with the fact that she may never walk...but I had imagined her with an awareness and an ability to interact with me, that I realized may not be reality as I watched her face glaze over. Now yes, it may be. Yes, she is surpassing original expectations in all her areas of development. Yes, there is reason to be thankful and hopeful. And even if she sits and stares and that is all she achieves, that will be enough. She is a beautiful and wonderful creation and she is enough. Some days those words flow freely and filled with joy and hope...some days my heart hurts as I tearfully choose to still utter them.

Eye Anxiety

We headed up to the children's hospital today to meet with an eye surgeon. It looks like Little M's eyes are getting stronger and may not need surgery. Just a reminder for me to not worry about the future. I've wasted too many moments being anxious about things that never come to pass. God has proven that He will give me the strength that I need when I need it.

Light fixtures, Bling and Other Shiny things

I was watching little M smiling at the light fixture and telling it tales of her admiration and I couldn't help but smile. There is just something about shiny objects and light fixtures that she finds irresistible. I was thinking to myself of how easily amused she is. I have bins of toys and books and feel the need to be stimulating her constantly and yet she finds pleasure in simply lying on a floor beneath a light. I've watched my boys do the same thing. Lately, Little H is fascinated with bugs and spends hours trying to find and hold ants. There really is something to be said for the simply things...or in Little M's case, the shiny things in life. I want to spend more time appreciating the things around me. Perhaps if I had a minute in my day to lay on the floor beside her, I too would find the light engaging...then again I may fall asleep. It's a hard balance to care for the many needs and demands of each day while still being present and appreciating all the parts that make up the whole. One more thing to work towards. Thankfully I have teachers and guides in every shape and size.

Another kind of bear hunt

As I was writing my previous post, it got me thinking that searching the internet is kind of like going on a bear hunt. My analogy may be weak, as I have never been on a bear hunt, or intend to for that matter, but I think the two may connect. When we were waiting for Megan's diagnosis I tried hard not to search the internet as I didn't want to make myself scared with all the possibilities of what she may have. After the diagnosis, I still tried to avoid it as the reality was also scary. I was learning a lesson about living in the present as the future really was more than I could handle. However, the lure of trying to find someone who could relate to me and some idea of what to expect occasionally drew me in. Here's where the analogy comes into play. A hunter goes in search of his prey, his prize. I too was after a prize...information and had to wander through a pretty crazy forest in hopes of finding what I was looking for. Sometimes I would get lucky and find something relevant or to give me hope...I'd spot a bear. And sometimes I'd leave empty handed. The worse part is that in my excitement to find my bear, I didn't realize what it would do to me once I found it. It could truly tear me apart...emotinally in my case, especially if I let my guard down. Knowing the future can be actually scarier than the unknown. I found a pattern of sleeplessness always following my hunts. Autism, eye surgeries, wheelchairs and low IQs...Lord, I don't know if I can handle what may come. That is when I am reminded that I have been given strength for today...not for all my maybes and tomorrows. Having a rare disorder with no answers has been forcing me to live in the day...it's all I can handle. And when I live in the day, I realize that most my days are actually good. I'm happy. I'm doing it. I should say we're doing it as there is a whole team involved in my daily living. Although the internet can be helpful in giving me an idea of things to watch for and finding some people to connect with, I do need to explore it hesitantly...entering it not with a spirit of fear and insecurity or else it's sure to eat me up.

Going on a Bear Hunt

There's a children's song that talks about going on a bear hunt. When obstacles come up, such as swamps, the song says "can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it". When I recently heard about another young family who just had a baby with a genetic disorder, my heart hurt for them. My heart also just hurt. It brought me right back to the weeks in the hospital. They felt surreal. They felt dark. I loved my new baby and definitely had moments of joy during that time. However, there was a lot of heavy thoughts and feeling to also process through. I had to grieve the daughter that my expectations had given birth to and my reality had shattered. I had to come to terms with the road set ahead of me and learn to cope in the black hole of uncertainty. I'm still doing that some days. As I thought about this young family having to go through the same, I so badly wanted to fix it or make it easier for them. That's when this song came to mind. There is no way around the process of grieving and acceptance. It is hard. It can hurt. But you just have to go through it to get to the other side. Don't get me wrong God did provide peace and joy during that time. However, despite trusting Him and His goodness...which was also a road to get to...my heart still hurt. I know that I can't take the pain from this family, I just hope that I can let them know that they are on alone on their journey.

It's Raining, It's Pouring, the Ribs are Burning

They say when it rains it pours. Well it did that literally and figuratively this afternoon. After putting off cooking ribs in the fridge for a couple of days, today was the day to get down to business. I don't love the handling of bulky raw meat, but occasionally make ribs as a labour of love for my husband. Wouldn't you know that today I got the call that he would be working late...really late. With preparations underway, I used a gigantic pot to boil the ribs...I found an "easy" new way to try making ribs...then put them on the BBQ. I should have let the meat rot...or at least thrown it in the crock pot for a 9pm dinner. Hind sight is always 20/20. However, I continued with the challenge. Let me say that learning to BBQ while caring for 3 kids under 4 is not the best scenario. It got more complicated in that the heavens opened up and started pouring and I needed to collect the children in from the rain. This is the part where some butter...don't ask me about the butter...ignited on the BBQ and began to charcoal my entire meal. By the time I had the kids settled and I refocused on supper, there was little to salvage. A trip to Mr. Sub later, the kids were fed and I was about finished with this day. I did get them to bed...all later than I intended, but they did get to bed, with a story and hugs and kisses to boot. At 6 o'clock I was feeling my joy pushed to the limit...I was feeling everything pushed to the limit, but as I sit here in my still house, I realize that somehow we made it through another day. Some days there are stickers and stories and singing and playgrounds, some days it's closer to survival. Either way, tomorrow always comes and brings with it a new opportunity for me to choose the way that I am going to live. I choose to live in the moment...most of the time. I choose to be joyful even when I have reason to cry and sometimes do. And I choose to trust God's will for my life...burnt ribs and all.

Water Baby

Today the sun in shining, the baby is napping and the boys are actually playing well together. A really good day. Unfortunately that is about to change as I go don my spandex swimsuit and head to the knee deep waters of the children's centers swimming pool. Three c-sections and way to much chocolate later, a bathing suit is about the last thing I want to wear, especially without even the slight mask of water to cover my bulging belly. It must be love. I think that is the only factor that would lead me into this situation every Monday morning. The fact that little M seems to turn into a floppy noodle when she hits the warmth of the pool only makes this scenario less appealing. She is suppose to be doing Physiotherapy in the pool to combat her low muscle tone...however, it seems to have the reverse effect. However, we persist. Call it commitment, stupidity or stubborness...we persist. I think as long as I feel like I am doing something to help her, I can continue to feel hopeful. I know that my hope needs to go beyond my efforts, and it does, most days, but I'm still learning to rely fully on Christ strength, realizing that He doesn't need my help. My hope needs to be based on His unfailing love, not the successes or failures of therapy with Little M. As I head to the pool, I pray that my soul can be as relaxed as Little M's body as it hits the warm waves.

Ups and Downs

My three year old, Little H, is stuck in the middle and with the barrage of appointments that his younger sister has and the excitment that JK has brought for his older brother, he may have drawn the short stick this year. Fortunately, he doesn't realize it and infact he is a really happy kid. To my husbands chagrin, I chose Little H to spend time with me helping me put on my make-up this morning. I thought it would give me a few minutes alone with him and spare the impending fight with his brother over Lego. He is really into painting and crafts these days, so I let him paint on my cover-up and then grab the blush brush and paint on my blush. I even wore eye shadow, which was not planned, just to give him another canvas. As this portioned finished, I asked him to tell his father that I was about 5 minutes away from departure. On his way out of the bathroom door, he stopped and asked me to pause for a minute so that he would not miss any of my face painting while he ran my errand.
It's easy to be full of joy in these moments.
It's was a little tougher later in the day. After 8 months of looking, I finally found a support group on facebook for Mosaic Trisomy 8. I was actually really excited to find a group. However, as I scrolled through pictures and came face to face with a similar looking child, I was flooded with an ill feeling. I want her to look like me or her brothers, I don't want to look into her beautiful face and have to think about a disorder that I do not understand. I want to claim back her nose as her unique and perfect nose, not another trait of this rare disease. This is when the choosing joy become a little more tricky. Joy doesn't bubble out naturally in this scenario, it is a choice to trust God and His will for Little M's life and my own. As I sit and type at 1 in the morning, I realize that I have not perfected this. My heart still wrestles with this choice, some days more than others. However, I know that when I surrender my fears and hurts, again, I will come back to the place of peace and joy and get a few hours of sleep.

When Things Don't Go As Planned

*I always wanted to be a mom. I can't say I really pictured what that would look like. I can't really picture anything in my head for that matter. It's probably just as well, in that all of my expectation would have been shattered over the past 5 years. Okay, that's a tad dramatic...only most of them.

*After a few years of marriage my husband and I decided to have a baby. I still think it a bit ironic that we thought we had control in this realm...right down to the month that we wanted to have the due date. It actually happened quicker than anticipated. I convinced my husband that it would take months for birth control to leave my system...not so much. Before the trying really began, we were expecting our first. I realize now as I watch a close friend struggle with infertility not to take this for granted...I'm learning not to take anything for granted. With that said, we began the journey into parenthood. Full of tears of joy and excitement, equipped with What to Expect When Expecting and a registry at Babies R Us, we were ready for our new adventure.

*Here's where things start to go downhill. I can truly say that Pregnancy and I did not coexist very well. The "morning sickness" began almost instantly. Again having seen others with worse situations, I really shouldn't complain....but I will. It was a little rocky until I discovered the precise timeline of soda crackers ingestion required to keep my head out of the toilet. Then it got better. The nausea remained and was joined by shingles as I headed into second trimester. Who knew? With shingles under control, my blood pressure decided to rise and with it a tide of water retention. I'm not exaggerating when I say I was not a pretty pregnant woman. I puffed up like a blow fish. I could no longer put on closed shoes and my nose reminded me of a pig. And so it continued until I was placed on bed rest until I was induced. To make a long story short 30 hours of labour, 3 hours of pushing, and 1 gush later; I was rushed into a complicated emergency c-section. Welcome little G.

*I thought I would know my baby as my own instantly, but little G looked nothing like my husband or myself. In fact, he defied genetics and came out blond hair and blue eyed to a brown-haired, brown-eyed couple. He also defied the stereotypes and did not spend his first 6 weeks sleeping. I'll have to write another post some day about Colick. Some say that it is a myth and that all babies cry. Well until one spend 18 months getting up through the night and spend 7 hours a night for many, many nights, handing off a screaming baby to whichever person in the house is most sane at the moment...you or your partner, one should not speak to the validity of colick.

*It was truly a year full of ups and downs. Exhaustion does funny things to one's mind and personality and ability to cope. However, so does a beautiful baby boy. Despite thinking that it was insanity to have more than one child after our experience, we welcomed little H into our home 19 months after our 1st. Again my pregnancy was riddled with nausea and complications. The front runner being complete placenta previa. This required bed rest which was a struggle with a one year old at home. It really does take a village...and a TV. After another complicated delivery, Little H had respiratory distress and needed to be intibated and whisked away to another hospital. With some tears, I spent my first night as a mother of two, separated from both my babies. Little H is a fighter and was able to get home within a week of his hospital stay and despite a rocky first winter, seems to have overcome a lot of his respiratory concerns.

*Now one would think that perhaps I would have figured out that pregnancy was not a good thing for me, but I just felt that there was one more addition that our family needed. With a lot of prayer and discussion, we hesitantly decided to have a third and final child. A condition called Polyhydramnios was the only real concern in my last and best pregnancy. However, it foreshadowed an early delivery and second trip to a higher care hospital. This time it was not respiratory distress, but rather low tone that alarmed the medical personal and sent my beautiful baby girl out of my arms and into NICU care.

*I pray that no other parent has to experience what we went through in the first couple of weeks of Little M's life. There were tubes coming out of all of her parts, specialist to consult, her heart needing to be shocked, tests and more tests and a final conclusion. My daughter has a rare genetic disorder called Partial Mosaic Trisomy 8, which includes a neurological problem called partial Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum and in her case sever hypotonia (low tone). Unfortunately, the NICU unit was full, so I know that others have been through this and worse. I can only pray that the strength and comfort that God granted to us during this time would be extended to them.

*Since Little M's homecoming...after 3 weeks in hospital, life has been full of appointments and therapy and a whole lot of uncertainty. However, there is also laughter and laundry and Lego and macaroni. Things didn't go as planned. In fact, they have made me leery of plans and thinking too much of my ability to control things. Instead, I am trying to focus on choosing joy in each day and living in the present. The future is uncertain and overwhelming, but I am given the strength for today and more than that, the ability to be have joy and peace in this day.