tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22018976348271557032024-02-20T01:22:59.207-08:00My MirabelShem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-60140447251568202452010-11-26T20:29:00.000-08:002010-11-26T20:32:20.820-08:00Consolidating<span style="font-size:130%;">I've moved the posts from Mirabel's blog to our family blog, <a href="http://ton-tonandshemmy.blogspot.com/">here</a>. I haven't had the time to update one blog, let alone two! And while Mirabel's Down syndrome is an important, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">interesting</span>, and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">challenging</span> learning <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">adventure</span>, she doesn't need to be separated from the rest of the family because of it. So we'll see.</span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-30398301927772013182010-10-04T20:29:00.001-07:002010-10-04T21:35:36.252-07:00Stronger<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The latest illumination:<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsyWWK2TVV3fXE1TCv1cXqPZ-Dtmo53oVtLK5YUD78lLZSN-vMukhHFU7Y3qroYiCHY1MZMJEGilpPAuxc-08x5L5L8PZZ2pv3WEdD5q4j3j32RqyNuq0O3WPJ1gHdnuiqrcyK-O04Ik/s1600/DSCN2497.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsyWWK2TVV3fXE1TCv1cXqPZ-Dtmo53oVtLK5YUD78lLZSN-vMukhHFU7Y3qroYiCHY1MZMJEGilpPAuxc-08x5L5L8PZZ2pv3WEdD5q4j3j32RqyNuq0O3WPJ1gHdnuiqrcyK-O04Ik/s400/DSCN2497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524409904373369698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />At 8 1/2 months old, Mirabel is sitting up.<br /><br />And she's all, "What. What's the big deal? Yeah, yeah, I'm sitting up. Wait'll you see what else I can do!"<br /><br />And I can wait, because all this waiting, and working, and watching, and months of "extra baby," have been an insightful journey. She may take a little longer to do something, but she will do it. She will. And that's that. I can adapt right along side her, and cheer her on.<br /><br />We've hit all the goals - however seemingly simple - I've thusfar set for Mirabel. Holding up her head. Rolling over. Smiling. Taking a bottle. And now, sitting up is here. Crawling is next!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgDSenbEPpOzu7Vnd2g1uwtpvsT8a7CszxuK3GAVTDc0PXKzTRX7T6m3X-Jrh3xKXwH3C3pa_gSebrNtYl671J4xwd502H_2iv2M9OsQjFsM9Isp6zzXwxmVmuDEWzwBvNnJTMHQ6DZ8/s1600/DSCN2417.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgDSenbEPpOzu7Vnd2g1uwtpvsT8a7CszxuK3GAVTDc0PXKzTRX7T6m3X-Jrh3xKXwH3C3pa_gSebrNtYl671J4xwd502H_2iv2M9OsQjFsM9Isp6zzXwxmVmuDEWzwBvNnJTMHQ6DZ8/s400/DSCN2417.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524415916817508194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />We work with Mirabel's physical therapist every other week. We've got pages of notes on pressure points and massage techniques and strengthening moves, and we practice them all (though admittedly not as diligently - or daily - as we probably should). We pull out the vinyl "break dance mat." We press our fingertips along the muscles of her arms and legs, hands and feet. We spread our fingers wide over her little belly and do the "sun and moon" massage. We keep her legs flexed.<br /><br />Sometimes she doesn't like it at all.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQT81-EHYPkKdfe48yj8g4KyMbbJlcX9HgIHePK_4i7lf8pnE75cmCD3_yJrk4QTmiUf9DQUByavcteyYjoPZLaZ0JFRAHBf4mRk1jZ64yABAHoUgqe4dpL6DLl2HhoQ_ENESPjnBk9dU/s1600/DSCN2441.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQT81-EHYPkKdfe48yj8g4KyMbbJlcX9HgIHePK_4i7lf8pnE75cmCD3_yJrk4QTmiUf9DQUByavcteyYjoPZLaZ0JFRAHBf4mRk1jZ64yABAHoUgqe4dpL6DLl2HhoQ_ENESPjnBk9dU/s400/DSCN2441.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524412693964201938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And sometimes she's cool with it.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qJewB1pnlQZJn1mNJGcUvjgtI-Ja3uM3PvAgypf19JNYu2UsKDn1YmpU9UTye0YNJKBL8oUA8C74W6SjjSEB3FNHWTJNrbOeCx3tLQFdakdVmXShHiAlGywHjZfMlI7reXa3_1MzgMM/s1600/DSCN2321.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qJewB1pnlQZJn1mNJGcUvjgtI-Ja3uM3PvAgypf19JNYu2UsKDn1YmpU9UTye0YNJKBL8oUA8C74W6SjjSEB3FNHWTJNrbOeCx3tLQFdakdVmXShHiAlGywHjZfMlI7reXa3_1MzgMM/s400/DSCN2321.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524414310097076770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The point is, we're going to do what it takes. We'll do everything. Together.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-gQXsSlI3BxI73k5K5B9hEmHkFw0TCYGy5VESBTCGXyytmL-etwLnN5Els0DhK5HDRKnrQjSPJjOk64Xyewf6MeABt9tirUOShBKTk4wgEpXQr1t0CDSBppxsM7sTwgVLtYrjLJVIig/s1600/DSCN2427_2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-gQXsSlI3BxI73k5K5B9hEmHkFw0TCYGy5VESBTCGXyytmL-etwLnN5Els0DhK5HDRKnrQjSPJjOk64Xyewf6MeABt9tirUOShBKTk4wgEpXQr1t0CDSBppxsM7sTwgVLtYrjLJVIig/s400/DSCN2427_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524411125810710018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Recently, Mirabel and I started attending a sponsored Mommy and Me class at the Little Gym. (Thanks, Pat and gang!) Though her classmates are all crawling and reaching and bobbing and grabbing, sweet Mirabel is content to lie and observe. (Except now that she's sitting. She'll sit and observe.)<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1gctI84DkkeVphF5TrNNVTUpyTkqJllPv8zvE_HwGmbEn1GQC3Xhm5GOqmWM9tLf0dybfwrkSenyw6R45FCdTyP3PsCL-CfRsgAfRZFvqz_7Y4rU8YSSHazfNbOTIU3np7C7LANGcGo/s1600/DSCN2292.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1gctI84DkkeVphF5TrNNVTUpyTkqJllPv8zvE_HwGmbEn1GQC3Xhm5GOqmWM9tLf0dybfwrkSenyw6R45FCdTyP3PsCL-CfRsgAfRZFvqz_7Y4rU8YSSHazfNbOTIU3np7C7LANGcGo/s400/DSCN2292.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524414313011423954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />At the Little Gym we stretch and roll and put weight on our feet and ride the air trac and fluff the parachute. I can feel her little foot muscles flexing. I can see her tracking the brightly colored balls with her green-blue eyes. We can do just above all the activities, except for forward rolls. There is apparently an upper-spine thing we have to be aware of. But she digs it. It is good.<br /><br />Though her physical progress is slower than typical, Mirabel is growing and changing every single day. Her face is changing. Her eyes are brighter. Her grasp is stronger. Her thighs are fatter and more delicious than it seems possible for a baby's thighs to be. The milestones are there, and they're sweet as her favorite apples-n-apricot baby food. Keep it up, girl. Keep growing.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCMCkPB47R719KlnQXQZ88EAHOZKlL5EnPbzNJFcXLFy08DkJv_zKYTQ8A5keXb98QnIEt7xFZ9-WIFVpPGcPvdoSb9CTyGm218nB20d-GJw4uQg4SjqIcdq9j4f3CaOANX-i1TK_uqY/s1600/DSCN2391.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCMCkPB47R719KlnQXQZ88EAHOZKlL5EnPbzNJFcXLFy08DkJv_zKYTQ8A5keXb98QnIEt7xFZ9-WIFVpPGcPvdoSb9CTyGm218nB20d-GJw4uQg4SjqIcdq9j4f3CaOANX-i1TK_uqY/s400/DSCN2391.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524411129068138898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />You're amazing.<br /><br /><br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-47285505303360456612010-08-08T19:24:00.000-07:002010-08-09T21:37:34.700-07:00The Beholder<span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><meta name="Title" content=""><meta name="Keywords" content=""><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/emilynielsen/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I look at pictures of my daughter I have to make sure my mouth is closed. Otherwise, I’m afraid my heart might fall out and go flopping around all over the desk, and I’d have to swallow it back down again.
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVYp0ibZ1j6FCrui4Qu8jRSxjaDhgXqP5vsM6Mklo1d_QsbWR1rk5YeOpdaNasAY7LXkZ_X1VewbyG5hFsNYbn1XtNTcli1favededbR-BG00o1DqBalqqVlTqYInEDJRVtwub_6rfB8/s1600/mirabel-30.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503233083309647154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVYp0ibZ1j6FCrui4Qu8jRSxjaDhgXqP5vsM6Mklo1d_QsbWR1rk5YeOpdaNasAY7LXkZ_X1VewbyG5hFsNYbn1XtNTcli1favededbR-BG00o1DqBalqqVlTqYInEDJRVtwub_6rfB8/s400/mirabel-30.jpg" /></a></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I am stunned with love by this child.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkuEmQUaWDDcVk_I3QxNZX2YITdR4eMj3d9nNLURDCDo3FeWTsHAePdupZPcc5gAgCb2HtbYhpNusQ4fwfgl9LPaCoGN_HS6-iQJlD8vEpcCxMBIUsTgPVMLZNzfbvSJnuBbTscPahy4/s1600/mirabel-3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503232771382231986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkuEmQUaWDDcVk_I3QxNZX2YITdR4eMj3d9nNLURDCDo3FeWTsHAePdupZPcc5gAgCb2HtbYhpNusQ4fwfgl9LPaCoGN_HS6-iQJlD8vEpcCxMBIUsTgPVMLZNzfbvSJnuBbTscPahy4/s400/mirabel-3.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I am humbled by her peacefulness and grace. I am mesmerized by her open, consistent delight. I am hypnotized by her falling-deep blue eyes, the color of an autumn storm sea.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUyB9y6A8GKK50qDs-CybdN0ebmkERCiwcuNM69X6f2WvD4yKbf3wJoGtUjM_awa-Gn_D0QpMFfN7Kj7ZO0t1g84keNcfH5zvgQz7Z4Z7pF3DyB-LldEpd5YaUcOyruqfMttujBDM1xo/s1600/mirabel-6.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503232775485774770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUyB9y6A8GKK50qDs-CybdN0ebmkERCiwcuNM69X6f2WvD4yKbf3wJoGtUjM_awa-Gn_D0QpMFfN7Kj7ZO0t1g84keNcfH5zvgQz7Z4Z7pF3DyB-LldEpd5YaUcOyruqfMttujBDM1xo/s400/mirabel-6.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I have been changed because of a baby with Down syndrome. I am a different person.
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyF4ZH4T0VaTfRJmgMRezli1rii5oSg8TckktHiRHpWIjIZMvLcW3l9xbOfUjx-JkQ-wLVVwSkMWU6j1zJPbHxT7aTntZwsp-105t2BopyfIydDrUnJikWyiLLOVh6kolFbzfmEinyRgw/s1600/mirabel-9.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503233074708795042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyF4ZH4T0VaTfRJmgMRezli1rii5oSg8TckktHiRHpWIjIZMvLcW3l9xbOfUjx-JkQ-wLVVwSkMWU6j1zJPbHxT7aTntZwsp-105t2BopyfIydDrUnJikWyiLLOVh6kolFbzfmEinyRgw/s400/mirabel-9.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel, sweet, soft, wise and gentle Mirabel, is a plump snugglecake of True Love. She is an armful, a cheekfull, a deep double-lunged breathfull of Hope and Acceptance, all bundled up in a sixteen pound peach fuzzed giggle.
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH8NqqpnItPClf1iq45gzTlMXgEFIv8Df0Gbi_xJLNqY3fKJEc0fr7325veqOIkURe1a3TYwxo5SdoHV4Bjm-ozAp9A5LkdZwUuTS-UjM2Gs8OvuXoPhq5cSbh-NsUkiAHeYjK1PqtT4/s1600/mirabel-14.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503232783443875074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH8NqqpnItPClf1iq45gzTlMXgEFIv8Df0Gbi_xJLNqY3fKJEc0fr7325veqOIkURe1a3TYwxo5SdoHV4Bjm-ozAp9A5LkdZwUuTS-UjM2Gs8OvuXoPhq5cSbh-NsUkiAHeYjK1PqtT4/s400/mirabel-14.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">And it is the same when I peruse your blogs and read the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Ds-Baby-Shop/138384819519864?ref=ts">snippets you post</a> and look into the soulful faces of these life-altering little nuggets who are gracing this plant every 770 births or so. Do you feel it, too? It’s the eyes, isn’t it. It’s the tender tolerance behind those almond-shaped eyes. I want to scoop up all these children and nuzzle them for days and days.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </p></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">You parents out there wouldn’t mind, would you?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTh4zYjAlmV_iJ9GDELQ0RqkEMxwhgJhNmU7CZlD-AgkkTeOMO0GIoY9X3Pbdr-tKMMZhM8WzeL1yRItYHCpYGcMw4usvZOvSyHH_Sv3KIW8ln0d9vBfcMo2hFoRmUVagQg173lWPuXgI/s1600/mirabel-11.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503233722300481970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTh4zYjAlmV_iJ9GDELQ0RqkEMxwhgJhNmU7CZlD-AgkkTeOMO0GIoY9X3Pbdr-tKMMZhM8WzeL1yRItYHCpYGcMw4usvZOvSyHH_Sv3KIW8ln0d9vBfcMo2hFoRmUVagQg173lWPuXgI/s400/mirabel-11.jpg" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I am so grateful to the universe for gracing me with a child to behold with such profound leaps of wonder.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRn-8ltMR4Bb6gOhkoo5CyPu2XHHs7I1YpxWdelrSpj0JJ964DCTympnlFYB3BqHGSI49QUB8XK3jBIjVj0rOPIABZ2A-QZjkWSNHNByhGRmzEVNwAkHAMmgWH_D2KRGeirz7DDoGhJA/s1600/mirabel-19.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503233084211515730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRn-8ltMR4Bb6gOhkoo5CyPu2XHHs7I1YpxWdelrSpj0JJ964DCTympnlFYB3BqHGSI49QUB8XK3jBIjVj0rOPIABZ2A-QZjkWSNHNByhGRmzEVNwAkHAMmgWH_D2KRGeirz7DDoGhJA/s400/mirabel-19.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Blessed be.</span><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p>
<br />Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-72598190650786546202010-07-16T13:01:00.000-07:002010-07-16T13:14:38.505-07:00Proud Parents<span style="font-size:130%;">I created these shirts for John and me a couple weeks ago.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjd4rIQMXWmWO2AvWhEh9MSQqERCKUyKOOMZR4cXN6MdKpOA1VUXA6vMhM3dWsX_5F1snXVnt9vRSjzlpTEQyuDO_r9JSp4x60uGDFhThJ9-FPQNnfhrgHwacztsFNi1w8_8a-V9X07g/s1600/DSCN1498_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjd4rIQMXWmWO2AvWhEh9MSQqERCKUyKOOMZR4cXN6MdKpOA1VUXA6vMhM3dWsX_5F1snXVnt9vRSjzlpTEQyuDO_r9JSp4x60uGDFhThJ9-FPQNnfhrgHwacztsFNi1w8_8a-V9X07g/s400/DSCN1498_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494597945790115362" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I got so much positive feedback, I decided to run with an idea and open a little online shop.<br /><br />Introducing <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ds Baby Shop</span>: "Fun and unique clothing for children with Down syndrome and the families who love them!"<br /><br />Here are some of the designs I have added so far. Suggestions and comments are welcome! Thanks for taking a look, and helping to spread the word!<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeEMZJ5ZKRmVyNYqPJJtCUylw9TU-avM4Z3GwmhYnCsI6ntkXfoZF6uNOc8gOlznCtIktmadBLeSEyCF8fby3QIw11WGGkE8sXCEeGlxOWw29q_DiAddjC5zyMihyEWRNcdohp7-AVZQ/s1600/190.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeEMZJ5ZKRmVyNYqPJJtCUylw9TU-avM4Z3GwmhYnCsI6ntkXfoZF6uNOc8gOlznCtIktmadBLeSEyCF8fby3QIw11WGGkE8sXCEeGlxOWw29q_DiAddjC5zyMihyEWRNcdohp7-AVZQ/s400/190.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598405217685938" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGq34I4-Ff54ESQL4XHImwSiGnnM4SAd_0cGrrO4NPfCd3PecOq1VOhyphenhyphendGrIgnsZ8RyXZ9VRDUeP1-6I4g_mjcmuBU07uov_gUbpS4huzKw6GOPfWPjrLxlWvfP3UHLU8qNsTi1xWBhx8/s1600/213.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGq34I4-Ff54ESQL4XHImwSiGnnM4SAd_0cGrrO4NPfCd3PecOq1VOhyphenhyphendGrIgnsZ8RyXZ9VRDUeP1-6I4g_mjcmuBU07uov_gUbpS4huzKw6GOPfWPjrLxlWvfP3UHLU8qNsTi1xWBhx8/s400/213.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598424102380114" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz0zkTLJAwLPndK1IW_awEYIIcKEYPOPHbLuz1nDamyXuw2Ua9OIppf7VODqyagawIk17EMzDm16qF4ZI8EA8bzZSkDfFkdUiptmQ7XFONHQk1IcKucRGg5nrBl8wOJsP2I0IWhottKY/s1600/200.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAz0zkTLJAwLPndK1IW_awEYIIcKEYPOPHbLuz1nDamyXuw2Ua9OIppf7VODqyagawIk17EMzDm16qF4ZI8EA8bzZSkDfFkdUiptmQ7XFONHQk1IcKucRGg5nrBl8wOJsP2I0IWhottKY/s400/200.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598412140295650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21N4nKE3X9sCGDHVklyLjSVCnm98a7LBuLBEQPipAk-dDA_dPcE_LSm347kOVb3o7O71rvAvdnfMZhrL8RKr5aW54CM9czn8ASFpG_iP1cMl_htWqu3VvYDCRydDh71zEDTASy_u2-1g/s1600/208.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21N4nKE3X9sCGDHVklyLjSVCnm98a7LBuLBEQPipAk-dDA_dPcE_LSm347kOVb3o7O71rvAvdnfMZhrL8RKr5aW54CM9czn8ASFpG_iP1cMl_htWqu3VvYDCRydDh71zEDTASy_u2-1g/s400/208.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598432412014402" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtoZZkI-mjT7lkZPdZDI26KX76rmV5ZAkIfhFwCZZxKbw9w8hWzymo4Fgs-VzMYUYBRHz2sW35kDumMImuxtEye4cajx-iqy6XuC0hhAUbOe-mIkoyuBUYUK_yoEpjKVt0apbIcm2Wck/s1600/201.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtoZZkI-mjT7lkZPdZDI26KX76rmV5ZAkIfhFwCZZxKbw9w8hWzymo4Fgs-VzMYUYBRHz2sW35kDumMImuxtEye4cajx-iqy6XuC0hhAUbOe-mIkoyuBUYUK_yoEpjKVt0apbIcm2Wck/s400/201.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598426064414322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I also created a couple designs that are featured on several items:<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TadzrFtsVWkQW3IhSf70WRQq-rwkQzxrbdj9sEvmP9Uab9ORGRXWoUTw7oD65PDQsO3PxcAbWeAatzqYzE3_4iK3Aqk_av3EWPTPQrYWA2D-K3CatvCewGNIMLVLPY6z_LSVR0nYils/s1600/Updown2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TadzrFtsVWkQW3IhSf70WRQq-rwkQzxrbdj9sEvmP9Uab9ORGRXWoUTw7oD65PDQsO3PxcAbWeAatzqYzE3_4iK3Aqk_av3EWPTPQrYWA2D-K3CatvCewGNIMLVLPY6z_LSVR0nYils/s400/Updown2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598802994736178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZKNAuhwX4HwBucxTuzOlO1yEglZaiLnGmz300Nh1j5Hj7CDGLiXqtlTd5HWV8OmhTXvUGgptUhAiUCoaDE1oCPRh8fE_wqTMNTWqOc0_3SIhQ0AOOzHqAl7DGjJJ4gY6-rLMJkxaKcM/s1600/miracle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZKNAuhwX4HwBucxTuzOlO1yEglZaiLnGmz300Nh1j5Hj7CDGLiXqtlTd5HWV8OmhTXvUGgptUhAiUCoaDE1oCPRh8fE_wqTMNTWqOc0_3SIhQ0AOOzHqAl7DGjJJ4gY6-rLMJkxaKcM/s400/miracle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494598797987394850" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />You can visit the shop<a href="http://dsbabyshop.spreadshirt.com/"> here</a>.<br /><br />You can also <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Ds-Baby-Shop/138384819519864?v=wall&ref=ts">become a fan on Facebook</a>.<br /><br /><br />Many thanks to Mirabel, our beautiful muse, who turned six months old yesterday! We love you, Mirabel!<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajhEsEzcVMh9JyIcaL36VsInwVmv2C5jbZkjzRJ-ImsiZaSUNBfnK4GV4aFIQHt3Kg_bATy-Gn6hGwK1Yi3-fevvIbdgXWFfOXBp0uQSpoR86gsmX_lvkshM_dCeVt3eyGRj47vYSQd0/s1600/DSCN1516.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajhEsEzcVMh9JyIcaL36VsInwVmv2C5jbZkjzRJ-ImsiZaSUNBfnK4GV4aFIQHt3Kg_bATy-Gn6hGwK1Yi3-fevvIbdgXWFfOXBp0uQSpoR86gsmX_lvkshM_dCeVt3eyGRj47vYSQd0/s400/DSCN1516.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494600004622451394" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-62491720961328855572010-07-10T20:47:00.001-07:002010-07-10T21:17:25.639-07:00Mirabel Makes a New Friend<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Love the progression.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_iIaCe1yWYRbvg1OfHE059ekQyWnhZ_6vpVslCFLVD7uSoZAkOcbNhn02HFKEI0WkSJtsbEgl8BEVE52f30LGgKGtHPYqK28NyDFFgQkClmiLEB-kH8-ACEEllOXqb7auEDxiE5JOxw/s1600/DSCN1487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_iIaCe1yWYRbvg1OfHE059ekQyWnhZ_6vpVslCFLVD7uSoZAkOcbNhn02HFKEI0WkSJtsbEgl8BEVE52f30LGgKGtHPYqK28NyDFFgQkClmiLEB-kH8-ACEEllOXqb7auEDxiE5JOxw/s400/DSCN1487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492495784201788866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVf9uaLF1n6VKYuwcIVFvm956_giMAF4821K6OQdhREbqDWynuaIgaLGYSz7I5nSZqORuW_p9rklhyphenhyphenR9yHO_CJ31iYRMVznz5I6E0WLEYoclOAouYJvinsH9x5ZSjDzDt2WVuiALdtXt8/s1600/DSCN1490.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVf9uaLF1n6VKYuwcIVFvm956_giMAF4821K6OQdhREbqDWynuaIgaLGYSz7I5nSZqORuW_p9rklhyphenhyphenR9yHO_CJ31iYRMVznz5I6E0WLEYoclOAouYJvinsH9x5ZSjDzDt2WVuiALdtXt8/s400/DSCN1490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492496659346664594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4qNozjpJHM5hZ7duQAIKzUqY_GZTVAQKrc3S6QZmgEH5wq0owyFMd0FB1FjY2wBxtDBuboLf4j9nDWps-LA9EdW8lUvsAXmyJ8y6x0wvXcRzbMHs7JdwzS3_7EsAXbJgo7bJxfleipc/s1600/DSCN1491.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4qNozjpJHM5hZ7duQAIKzUqY_GZTVAQKrc3S6QZmgEH5wq0owyFMd0FB1FjY2wBxtDBuboLf4j9nDWps-LA9EdW8lUvsAXmyJ8y6x0wvXcRzbMHs7JdwzS3_7EsAXbJgo7bJxfleipc/s400/DSCN1491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492497490726189794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2QndDDava-F7ot5xBqxYZVPi8WlrLNql-G7qMs5mRaCfBQgL80ZXWwQSnu9wb_hZQGISWaWbbtSuSuqCImPeXhcJZ5bpNdJRl1vcnDtGRH7IJR6VUv_a3fFOLb7tLCerA1aV5hhwoUs/s1600/DSCN1492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2QndDDava-F7ot5xBqxYZVPi8WlrLNql-G7qMs5mRaCfBQgL80ZXWwQSnu9wb_hZQGISWaWbbtSuSuqCImPeXhcJZ5bpNdJRl1vcnDtGRH7IJR6VUv_a3fFOLb7tLCerA1aV5hhwoUs/s400/DSCN1492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492497500613635250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1BwchSCvrWyKfMImkMTC8F5HOx1qLKDg3qoT5i1Hd6eP_w6E-OpcK0NC9N_RK-bsw1PQQtI1xJiZSo5cekj9uFhBu3Dns_XbLmQhxAvQX7Ou0x1msayNPv7i_0kXK1itAiUBvfwGh3Y/s1600/DSCN1488.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1BwchSCvrWyKfMImkMTC8F5HOx1qLKDg3qoT5i1Hd6eP_w6E-OpcK0NC9N_RK-bsw1PQQtI1xJiZSo5cekj9uFhBu3Dns_XbLmQhxAvQX7Ou0x1msayNPv7i_0kXK1itAiUBvfwGh3Y/s400/DSCN1488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492495793449232754" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2qUitHG-rZgZcZroZljAFLWiVzbR-TKt5zE5WvTsSeU1qNHOSNnhyp83pPsWxY8vGv2RgzLa6m42f4huaFRAK-bAXpCYmiXEW0QDd9AhZl5S3i5wfD2FVnvbOKNrFAKV8h3BwNNupOY/s1600/DSCN1489.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2qUitHG-rZgZcZroZljAFLWiVzbR-TKt5zE5WvTsSeU1qNHOSNnhyp83pPsWxY8vGv2RgzLa6m42f4huaFRAK-bAXpCYmiXEW0QDd9AhZl5S3i5wfD2FVnvbOKNrFAKV8h3BwNNupOY/s400/DSCN1489.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492496645787107794" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-2930472430386831762010-07-09T10:22:00.000-07:002010-07-09T10:58:32.793-07:00How to Survive<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />A good friend welcomed a beautiful, healthy baby boy a few days ago, and I didn't go to visit them at the hospital. At first, I thought it was simply because I couldn't go when John suddenly had to go in to work, but then I realized I felt relieved. I am beyond overjoyed for my friend and her family. This little baby is a miracle for them and I cannot wait to meet him. But my heart was suddenly heavy. Same hospital, same delivering midwife... but not the same outcome. She is there with her baby. In her arms. And with friends coming to see her and wish her well. She is going home with him, and they are content.<br /><br />And I realized that my experience, in the same hospital, with the same midwife, was too different for me to walk in the doors again without tinges of sadness. I was alone, with no baby next to me, processing the shock of a diagnosis in fight-mode. I still think I'm in that mode - brave face, strong heart, positive outlook. I am not jealous of a healthy baby or wistful that my baby has Down syndrome and hers doesn't. Mirabel is a joyful-jolly-jubilant addition to my life and I am head over heels about her. But I do think there are some unprocessed emotions that got shoved in the nether regions of my gut the very second I heard the words "Down syndrome."<br /><br />Survive. Make it through. Go. We can do this. Look at her! She's amaaaazing.<br /><br />So. That day I started feeling a little blue and I couldn't shake it. I didn't join my friends when they went to meet the new little guy. Instead, the girls and I got out of the house and went down to the restaurant where their daddy was bartending. Once we got there, Luciya had to go to the bathroom, so I left Mirabel in her car seat at the table and took Luciya into the stall.<br /><br />"You go first, mama - "<br />"Okay, " I said,<br />" - so I can dance."<br /><br />And Luciya danced in the stall while I went pee, with her quirky little twirls and wrist rolls, her squats and flounces. When it was her turn to use the toilet she instructed me, "Now you dance, Mama." And so I did. And then we washed our hands, still bopping, and Luciya said, "Mama, dance back to the table, that will be fun." And I did.<br /><br />The two of us shimmied and bobbed back to the table, sideways diner glances be damned, and when we returned to the table I felt so much lighter. And it didn't escape me that the song that was playing through the restaurant speakers was "Crazy" by Seal (which is, in my opinion, one of the best songs ever in the history of everything). The chorus of the song goes<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." </span><br /><br />Dance. Shimmy. Enjoy.<br /><br />Here goes. I feel better already.<br /><br />We all do.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycqfd0jT4W5CXul-UQ8cSNtfoiA39zqbmt3TAgA8x4uL7WmwXzIPGslve6LPaNkIFs00EPX8qdbYmy-WcemGVKekjOB-bzuLdz6o323Q9M2uD6O5VxMJMhZvpd0uZmsBIB7VhPAk8h0Q/s1600/DSCN1400.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycqfd0jT4W5CXul-UQ8cSNtfoiA39zqbmt3TAgA8x4uL7WmwXzIPGslve6LPaNkIFs00EPX8qdbYmy-WcemGVKekjOB-bzuLdz6o323Q9M2uD6O5VxMJMhZvpd0uZmsBIB7VhPAk8h0Q/s400/DSCN1400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491967271119930738" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />{And many, many, sweet congratulations to Christina and family. We love you.}<br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-7657272477150221622010-05-29T20:26:00.000-07:002010-05-29T20:32:50.824-07:00Updates<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Oh, my gosh, it's been over a month. What to say? Simply that Mirabel is a marvelous, miraculous, mushy-gushy baby girl. She sleeps 11 hours through the night, beams with full-face smiles throughout the day, and spends the rest of her time eating, pooping, cuddling, playing with her big sister, and practicing her physical therapy. She is getting so strong and can roll in both directions. Her head and neck are getting stronger every day. She is peaceful, jubilant, and perfect. That's all I have to say. I'll let her say the rest.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ghPNa3c921x8CaQ9bwDRQxPxVcDGauyfOGaf7qaJhqJgFxq4b3FLI3VDsgYA0ArvqJBy2yr31D9UZvP-gTFG9Z4-2VvmLDAPyYM5JGZtML5tAUCgj2PBpQyMPowxP21oknAvqrD4wkg/s1600/photo+5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ghPNa3c921x8CaQ9bwDRQxPxVcDGauyfOGaf7qaJhqJgFxq4b3FLI3VDsgYA0ArvqJBy2yr31D9UZvP-gTFG9Z4-2VvmLDAPyYM5JGZtML5tAUCgj2PBpQyMPowxP21oknAvqrD4wkg/s400/photo+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900450781719122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLWipZ58P11j60rdaj7ScJIvmbzKcRmArmPOk-z4ZdFr0Wuqo4mH7In3bRW1REJPxz73uQwfFr58F2vceGL4i_WMiHpoAQyStwoNvIdM0zo4aSeT5knd-xtRMi_e4A4wLdTM9A_fqBSI/s1600/photo+4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLWipZ58P11j60rdaj7ScJIvmbzKcRmArmPOk-z4ZdFr0Wuqo4mH7In3bRW1REJPxz73uQwfFr58F2vceGL4i_WMiHpoAQyStwoNvIdM0zo4aSeT5knd-xtRMi_e4A4wLdTM9A_fqBSI/s400/photo+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900403632557826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAskhgZAovtqA4nrdvN_udOGMUnRi2-hmvkdxAyYb_SYx50Y514vaTuMqWiOwZaB1hjyaErqeT_JQ23SZ9OGKdhN8JSQTtYRxhnb2NpuOTZDzFBETJUw4fgG5eA1-3tXHd6yytnZICE0/s1600/photo+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAskhgZAovtqA4nrdvN_udOGMUnRi2-hmvkdxAyYb_SYx50Y514vaTuMqWiOwZaB1hjyaErqeT_JQ23SZ9OGKdhN8JSQTtYRxhnb2NpuOTZDzFBETJUw4fgG5eA1-3tXHd6yytnZICE0/s400/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900398576809234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBA0vntOm8HXCzvi4yru829zMXTMZIMneuYi8XYASgr6DHqUNQ0nDdhsGzXp-pZ9mwlZpiZiN_5O7GmqVhBjX0aHew988UQuf2MO4Fm_-07_n41_LJ7lgY5sx8pXaGfzXBPTG2sl4Okg/s1600/photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBA0vntOm8HXCzvi4yru829zMXTMZIMneuYi8XYASgr6DHqUNQ0nDdhsGzXp-pZ9mwlZpiZiN_5O7GmqVhBjX0aHew988UQuf2MO4Fm_-07_n41_LJ7lgY5sx8pXaGfzXBPTG2sl4Okg/s400/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900396185800306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6V8dFlgdwxf87u414RZ224fkKHg7w_dGHWFiiliP6Rw5jCJiHlG7U965BIENyzw-0dU-ZihwsMBegXFSYt172vj1-rOcBZK9e4czqSq0R4W7lSHOsIHCm27ebrSP_e2bW5_lCD7IbTg/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6V8dFlgdwxf87u414RZ224fkKHg7w_dGHWFiiliP6Rw5jCJiHlG7U965BIENyzw-0dU-ZihwsMBegXFSYt172vj1-rOcBZK9e4czqSq0R4W7lSHOsIHCm27ebrSP_e2bW5_lCD7IbTg/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900460585949602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I love you, Mirabel!<br /><br />Love,<br />Mama</span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-54411792717823149062010-04-30T13:17:00.000-07:002010-04-30T13:27:50.490-07:00Twelve Pounds of Heaven Butter<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">.</span><br /><br />I planted a pearlized peck on your plump cheek that now glows glossy<br />in the same shaded afternoon light that<br />elongates your wispy lashes with shadows<br /><br />we sifted powdered sugar onto gluten-free cake<br />you faced outward to make your neck strong<br />I am headstrong<br />and I know it<br /><br />I would spend time wondering<br />what your growing pains might feel like<br />but for now<br />I can't get enough of your knuckle dimples<br /><br />you are<br />12 pounds of Heaven butter<br />a scrumptious schmear<br />on the dense crumbly muffin that is my trudge<br /><br />you are<br />breathy boisterous powder-scented<br />nuzzly sugar-coated softweight<br />flung into my arms and onto my breast<br />growing first within me now<br />cradled all around me<br /><br />you are come true<br />spit shined and diamond crusted dreams<br />I didn't know I dreamt<br />but I never remember my dreams<br />so I'm content<br /><br />you are my shine<br /><br />and I thank you, thank you, thank you<br />for letting me be to you<br />who the ground is to me<br />when its sturdy stumbly paths through green light<br />make me look up and say<br />wow<br /><br />or, holy cow<br /><br />I can promise to offer you that same earth<br />for your crinkle-toed feet to peruse with great glorious confidence<br />I can promise<br />to watch these new skies of all colors<br />with you<br /><br />you are my bright<br /><br />I smelled you a scent of wonderment<br />a spice of soul-glide<br />you chose me and I hold you<br />and you are safe here in this light<br />and in all the other hues that filter through your<br />baby blue curtains<br /><br />I am your silky tube.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">4.29.2010<br /><br />Love,<br />Mama</span><br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-48443789232561112432010-04-29T21:24:00.001-07:002010-04-29T21:55:08.565-07:00My Mirabel: 3 Months Old<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">.</span><br />Dearest Mirabel,<br /><br />Can you really be three and a half months old?<br /><br />Get out of town, you cheeky cheek-faced cheek monster! She With the Cheeks That Are Cheeky. Mmm, I'm suddenly craving a nibble.<br /><br />{Excuse me.}<br /><br />Oh, that's much better. Deeeeee-lish.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XFpTMcQk50E-oX6SYpsKeW2da_pKIH85ecXuRqky8iwY_vkY0k5K6EiVBDIZB2rIbfikAIfd3BSuYH6pDwfj_S1G8JNu69N3cY1de51mIrICNe1h5HWWX-hQMU1xhyphenhyphen7hTYTXJxEuE8E/s1600/DSCN0778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XFpTMcQk50E-oX6SYpsKeW2da_pKIH85ecXuRqky8iwY_vkY0k5K6EiVBDIZB2rIbfikAIfd3BSuYH6pDwfj_S1G8JNu69N3cY1de51mIrICNe1h5HWWX-hQMU1xhyphenhyphen7hTYTXJxEuE8E/s400/DSCN0778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465783590950237170" border="0" /></a><br />You scrumptious little ball of downy cheekiness, you leapt into my funny bone the other day when you laughed for the first time. It was just a syllable, just a hoarse, single chortle. A chort: "Henh." You were busy smiling away as I jiggled you and sampled the daily flavor of your cheeks (as I recall, it was pistachio), and I think the noise surprised and delighted us both equally. Your eyes got wide, like, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >what the heck just happened?</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, and I only succeeded in confusing your further with my own responsive bray.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Bc5V22Sx0nCO7WVaZBQxjzFTwZnibUQ405cK73AeLoRNEjr8LMFE-n4I16Hl2w90oDayLOsbnqNZeNNlfSUFnGuEFHfKRP0KGQCGRpYHTBXsmTFhUJUkYAA-_jZTPqpP3V0KCvda69E/s1600/DSCN0548.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Bc5V22Sx0nCO7WVaZBQxjzFTwZnibUQ405cK73AeLoRNEjr8LMFE-n4I16Hl2w90oDayLOsbnqNZeNNlfSUFnGuEFHfKRP0KGQCGRpYHTBXsmTFhUJUkYAA-_jZTPqpP3V0KCvda69E/s400/DSCN0548.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465783573549395394" border="0" /></a><br />This emotional display milestone rocks my world. You are a wonderful, happy, peaceful, dreamy, well-fed, well-loved, well-flavored bundle ball just brimming with bliss, and the fact that your smiles come more readily now somehow solidifies your space in my heart as a real person, a grinning infant, my daughter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YoHp43gr_GSKq6QyfbLhhPwcAVTTwgG9veI8h7PYzSpngjN8OTMwjgD2cwfjjOlToaiVj121tBiAtwR6_DRzOzozLWU4TTIMfw1bzQKDIwEbg2LvQTGtA1HiX33Nvyy4Cq3EcY8fX0w/s1600/DSCN0794.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YoHp43gr_GSKq6QyfbLhhPwcAVTTwgG9veI8h7PYzSpngjN8OTMwjgD2cwfjjOlToaiVj121tBiAtwR6_DRzOzozLWU4TTIMfw1bzQKDIwEbg2LvQTGtA1HiX33Nvyy4Cq3EcY8fX0w/s400/DSCN0794.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465783601531997186" border="0" /></a><br />Other milestones can wait [</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Do you hear that, Self?! No rush!]</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> - like, for example, holding up your head. So your head is still a little wobbly, despite hours of tummy time. So what? Why on Earth am I going to push you to be a head-holder-upper right now, when you are the World's Greatest Nuzzler, and your wee furry noggin nestles itself right under my chin when I pick you up? That? That right there? </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Bliss. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhc_xXtGCHbq3vgmfemM35hgmPu3pWwz5o7jsvOVsRczI0-tUUwVhvgnZYjRW89PQnxyGMC66Zq3rYmRyfAAI69HBAfeG-QEyK4B18DuewaHiqD4BSI7bEOaZ5Wpcp-tCaHcFMXCKUK6w/s1600/24718_1437828790221_1368045053_31162097_7870247_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhc_xXtGCHbq3vgmfemM35hgmPu3pWwz5o7jsvOVsRczI0-tUUwVhvgnZYjRW89PQnxyGMC66Zq3rYmRyfAAI69HBAfeG-QEyK4B18DuewaHiqD4BSI7bEOaZ5Wpcp-tCaHcFMXCKUK6w/s400/24718_1437828790221_1368045053_31162097_7870247_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465783564237230850" border="0" /></a><br />We tried visiting the Ds infant/toddler playgroup again this week, and again I just didn't feel comfortable, or ready. It's so hard to put a finger on the way I feel when we're there. The mamas are all very nice, and I think it's great that the playgroup exists, but it just isn't giving me the kind of encouragement I think I need right now. I realize there is a long and interesting path ahead of us, and that many bumps will come up along the way. But you're </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >three months old</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, and I just don't want to think about how your teeth will come in, and when I should start signing with you, and how long it will take to get you potty trained. For now, for these sweet and fleeting months, you're a baby. Just a baby, just a little sister, just a diaper-wetting, over-rolling, toy-grasping, foot-flailing, chubby-armed, soft-skinned, up-spitting, long-napping, nighttime-swaddled, daddy-cuddled, stormy-blue-eyed baby, who is learning to suck from a bottle and by Jove will get it down pat, because I'm leaving town next week for two nights, and - no offense - I hope to be going solo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqblVihm3_o5aATda_8rSbPUqpaWmtTot0MfaxgGNkt-eLW2tUt4sOmeNeGUUA_D-JTwHWQllOrCsa89uJDT16lLXmotMQz6V5WClhfDU2TUsiZXjT56skwdh-n5sj-T4Ui5iyFPAUBY/s1600/DSCN0564.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqblVihm3_o5aATda_8rSbPUqpaWmtTot0MfaxgGNkt-eLW2tUt4sOmeNeGUUA_D-JTwHWQllOrCsa89uJDT16lLXmotMQz6V5WClhfDU2TUsiZXjT56skwdh-n5sj-T4Ui5iyFPAUBY/s400/DSCN0564.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465783582170915346" border="0" /></a><br />I love you, Mirabel!<br /><br />Love,<br />Mama</span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-84429366905400155362010-04-14T11:29:00.001-07:002010-04-14T11:31:25.516-07:00Cheeeeeeeeeeeks!<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpZaP3JpnRCs5hXmWMuVwhw_yyEyTcRUvhcFOUsdFq_TjCA_oZGKCCAW87O18FFZudBTuUvEuuOYGg_1XHukoMMCkzlKP0dXifidF04iR-jh5zNAJoumwsDjpaF-cEyAMPjn_Y6nuLmk/s1600/25458_410377668133_702553133_5129730_2431935_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpZaP3JpnRCs5hXmWMuVwhw_yyEyTcRUvhcFOUsdFq_TjCA_oZGKCCAW87O18FFZudBTuUvEuuOYGg_1XHukoMMCkzlKP0dXifidF04iR-jh5zNAJoumwsDjpaF-cEyAMPjn_Y6nuLmk/s400/25458_410377668133_702553133_5129730_2431935_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460062048579122578" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-87475254760653429512010-04-13T20:00:00.000-07:002010-04-13T20:24:57.879-07:00Sisters<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I never in a million years thought I would have two girls.<br /><br />I never in a trillion years thought one of them would have Down syndrome.<br /><br />But here we are.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hkv7KMexqkWcOhcJ288uArZnEbwzShj13qK4dNcWdrwp5Ohyphenhyphen-oalFf6FORqOpw0FMs4158Qor5GRX5xaI2_dW2XBlP2g0dkZjk7q0VfkkjHHC6mPWTMUI1nRJX6oNnNZSKC0GGvpS9E/s1600/DSCN0146.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hkv7KMexqkWcOhcJ288uArZnEbwzShj13qK4dNcWdrwp5Ohyphenhyphen-oalFf6FORqOpw0FMs4158Qor5GRX5xaI2_dW2XBlP2g0dkZjk7q0VfkkjHHC6mPWTMUI1nRJX6oNnNZSKC0GGvpS9E/s400/DSCN0146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459828461197375378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And my heart overflows.<br /><br />Luciya will be three years old in a few days. She is vivacious, exuberant, feisty, and daring. She is beautiful and sensitive and totally hilarious. And she adores her baby sister.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4XXSVZMT9akI_eZZAvv21mF2dhSt4Nele-IOEAUU-3fsPE40ZXT84sksq2RrS69NC_2oGpcZg2GLGqqS6f9hcgFEsSgtNdzg9E7i6GK_L1yk0ywk5aSBuY_jo9QLWuL6ZuAQItd3hOw/s1600/IMG_8433.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4XXSVZMT9akI_eZZAvv21mF2dhSt4Nele-IOEAUU-3fsPE40ZXT84sksq2RrS69NC_2oGpcZg2GLGqqS6f9hcgFEsSgtNdzg9E7i6GK_L1yk0ywk5aSBuY_jo9QLWuL6ZuAQItd3hOw/s400/IMG_8433.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459828478994964754" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">She calls her "Little Mirabel" and loves on her every chance she gets. Luciya is helpful and kind and gentle and observant. She fetches me diapers and sings "Twinkle, Twinkle" when Mirabel fusses. She has absolutely blossomed in the past three months.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXfyh3p6vtIlgOTHKAjVG16G9kcQ9aSa8QX6KQd6XsvGA-nyuj0A7t5iYHNo8xQ5K0vRhTUDyNg2cCiMDJLbIXA_uIAah9B__Ok06VJUWBZhMolAT9xKTUheiXTWivShgJvVyMX4X6qM/s1600/DSCN0409.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXfyh3p6vtIlgOTHKAjVG16G9kcQ9aSa8QX6KQd6XsvGA-nyuj0A7t5iYHNo8xQ5K0vRhTUDyNg2cCiMDJLbIXA_uIAah9B__Ok06VJUWBZhMolAT9xKTUheiXTWivShgJvVyMX4X6qM/s400/DSCN0409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459828462046337634" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />These two squishy, lovely, stinky little butternuts are my truest delight. I am humbled by their beautiful light and so very proud to be their mama.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuKNVcY3Jf0jW3nqud94gY1CsSkql4bCRdHuHY9UIbePBEpQyihHzUUIogm1BD2MdWqjbTmOhINeuIpO5MIVRhrnwIFcvjzYodwtCx4fMhmJi6e-baXASdbfaezCal4Tu5BlNLWsHMik/s1600/DSCN0147.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuKNVcY3Jf0jW3nqud94gY1CsSkql4bCRdHuHY9UIbePBEpQyihHzUUIogm1BD2MdWqjbTmOhINeuIpO5MIVRhrnwIFcvjzYodwtCx4fMhmJi6e-baXASdbfaezCal4Tu5BlNLWsHMik/s400/DSCN0147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459828475028736450" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-46501314571475084532010-04-07T21:11:00.000-07:002010-04-07T21:41:08.816-07:00Honesty<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I lied.<br /><br />I'm not reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Gifts</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Roadmap to Holland</span>. I've skimmed one and started the other, and they're in a stack on my nightstand along with <span style="font-style: italic;">Babies with Down Syndrome</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Expecting Adam</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Your Baby's First Year Week by Week</span>. But I'm not reading any of those, either.<br /><br />I'm reading David Sedaris.<br /><br />I've even read this one before, and I had also read the 1,000-page novel about a Victorian-era prostitute that I just finished before, but when I'm in my snuggly bed before sleep overwhelms me, with Mirabel softly snoring and gently sighing in her bassinet, I want the words I'm reading to lift me away, to make me laugh... to let me escape.<br /><br />Wait, is that right? Is that what I'm trying to do -- escape? Nah. Well, maybe. But I'm not saying <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh my life is so horrible, just let me escape!</span> Heavens, no! I actually think my life is uniquely wonderful right now, full of opportunities and hope and baby's breath. Mmm, my baby has baby's breath and it is so yummy. She's a baby. I am relishing her baby-ness and smelling her baby skin and taking huge bites out of her fat baby thighs.<br /><br />The other books are there, in a stack, waiting patiently, saying, "We're here if you need us. Mirabel has been welcomed in to a world where you will read and receive all the support and encouragement she needs. Crack us open if you need a dose of hope and reassurance. We're here. We'll wait."<br /><br />Thank you, books.<br /><br />And while we're on the subject of honesty, let me throw out some props to my strong, stoic, supportive husband and baby-daddy, John. John loves to talk things out. I'm serious! He's all, Let's get to the root of this, let's talk it out. He listens, and he <span style="font-style: italic;">apologizes </span>(if he needs to). Lord help me, sometimes I think this man is too good. So when Mirabel came around I looked to him for the raw honesty I would need. And I saw him struggle on that first day, and I saw him come as close to tears as I ever have in 8 years. "I just want to be a good father for her," he said. And then he spoke some of the most beautifully honest words ever:<br /><br />"I think Mirabel is here to teach us to slow down."<br /><br />True <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>. Not that we have been able to slow down as much as we'd like, but Mirabel doesn't seem to mind. She's patient, too. {Case in point: We were all in the car the other day and I turned to Luciya to ask how Mirabel was in the back seat. Luciya's reply? "She's just chillin'."}<br /><br />But Honest John did come to me, worry in his brow, and thoughts in his brain. Because whether we immerse ourselves in the literature or not, Mirabel's diagnosis is perched in every nook and cranny of our lives. And Honest John apologized before he spoke, but he did share The Thought: "You never want your children to die before you do... but part of me hopes that Mirabel does live a long life but does go before us, so that we don't have to worry about her."<br /><br />And there you have it: shocking, simple, heartbreaking, and ultimately difficult to even express out loud. And we went and marveled at our baby in all her baby glory, and decided to slow down and enjoy every minute we do have.<br /><br />And then I showered Mirabel with all the blessings I could muster, and I fluffed my pillows and settled in and read some silly stories about the silly South Carolina childhoods of David and his siblings, and I went to sleep.<br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-72118604222836272332010-04-05T08:11:00.000-07:002010-04-05T08:49:35.456-07:00My Mirabel: 2 Months Old<span style="font-size:130%;">Dearest Mirabel,<br /><br />I am crazy about you.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vSM7l01b13OxVPT6dGmStanXfmeT9Oc43SvjT_jnclzVSc1DvqdUrlsiSBmKHqoKM1CRUfzl48Uvv0E-2qZZ8arUmWb_42U-lFi0PjAOGbsw7C_PEtzHif4kPysF0A9UjJCGn4vzE6A/s1600/IMG_3047.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vSM7l01b13OxVPT6dGmStanXfmeT9Oc43SvjT_jnclzVSc1DvqdUrlsiSBmKHqoKM1CRUfzl48Uvv0E-2qZZ8arUmWb_42U-lFi0PjAOGbsw7C_PEtzHif4kPysF0A9UjJCGn4vzE6A/s400/IMG_3047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456680274863215426" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">You *finally* started smiling socially last weekend - on my birthday! - and the transition from newborn to infant is slowly taking place and it makes me happy. You're becoming less of a delicate blob and more of a sweet-smelling babe who just wants to nuzzle.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfZ-ZgqD1kuP8ddnN1cZpTTOlhmNrkV1cTwFsFcdhqAzbMzNTtFxfJ89u_ZSYOQ_zhOyTG4d3B2Up-pUGjxcjv-QrlH1dz4xWUA4hVVxUwvvedqzHKImiB1Mb9f0uzZ2APt-EG8oMr00/s1600/DSCN0020.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfZ-ZgqD1kuP8ddnN1cZpTTOlhmNrkV1cTwFsFcdhqAzbMzNTtFxfJ89u_ZSYOQ_zhOyTG4d3B2Up-pUGjxcjv-QrlH1dz4xWUA4hVVxUwvvedqzHKImiB1Mb9f0uzZ2APt-EG8oMr00/s400/DSCN0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456677699364357826" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">You are a top-rate cuddler, and it allows me to just marvel at you, with your buttercup cheeks and edible elbows and downy hair. I cannot look at you without seeing A Baby with Down Syndrome, though, and I often find myself asking you why. Why do you have Down syndrome? Why did you choose me? What is this going to mean for all of us?<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaY2q3TLSgLSGLnx9r_R59_3BEjheMIJEYWEApCZexmOoTsm2LVvl6UUSPIGjRyFk0TkmB-kp6xqQfxx1tuic2jtQwxnaMaReTb30576kA_eeQCyTKyBSkE_cjZROct1g4c1bInYWf7Hc/s1600/IMG_8444.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaY2q3TLSgLSGLnx9r_R59_3BEjheMIJEYWEApCZexmOoTsm2LVvl6UUSPIGjRyFk0TkmB-kp6xqQfxx1tuic2jtQwxnaMaReTb30576kA_eeQCyTKyBSkE_cjZROct1g4c1bInYWf7Hc/s400/IMG_8444.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456679096658657442" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">When I was pregnant with you, I was so positive you were a boy. (Hence, the blue-and-brown motif in your bedroom). I was so sure of it; I could just <span style="font-style: italic;">feel</span> it, and that should have been my first indication that you were a girl, since I was so sure you sister was a boy, as well. During my 22-hour labor with you, I sighed and rolled my eyes in mock exasperation a few times, saying <span style="font-style: italic;">This little guy is going to keep us on our toes!</span>, after your sudden flip to breech position, your varying heart rates, and the fact that you just couldn't seem to find the way out.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GyXnc4lD3-5jS2TXuGnQfyxPOx_XBqzKuMvPhcTxKn4SGtJPsjBVG2FTH5lXNEHarY7JaWNwQImLbDc0jmG-9DiFdZO328wqVfTep_7DKuw-vwtjYtnDo_AQvQOTc8aN1VGnPJsS3Iw/s1600/DSCN0174.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GyXnc4lD3-5jS2TXuGnQfyxPOx_XBqzKuMvPhcTxKn4SGtJPsjBVG2FTH5lXNEHarY7JaWNwQImLbDc0jmG-9DiFdZO328wqVfTep_7DKuw-vwtjYtnDo_AQvQOTc8aN1VGnPJsS3Iw/s400/DSCN0174.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456677699998561426" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">But here you are, and you're Mirabel. You were Mirabel all along. You were Mirabel when I got stuck in that awful traffic jam last August. You were Mirabel when I had an emotional breakdown in September. You were Mirabel inside of me, my winter miracle, rolling around and filling me with wonder. You are Mirabel, my fighter, my champion, my cuddle bug, my smiler. My daughter.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKYKMFZCkmojBASM-p6EYYDcN1pXDhydaZDjXO7N1iNvTakc87qYwOdzVs48lMGRLUczu7-QIXUaLmFBOMbO96uWgg5N68wc89ZkgK_piDo2gEmYAjbto4_h_aLmyoGsMkcl7B_Rkb84/s1600/IMG_3132_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKYKMFZCkmojBASM-p6EYYDcN1pXDhydaZDjXO7N1iNvTakc87qYwOdzVs48lMGRLUczu7-QIXUaLmFBOMbO96uWgg5N68wc89ZkgK_piDo2gEmYAjbto4_h_aLmyoGsMkcl7B_Rkb84/s400/IMG_3132_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456680280138311954" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />It was you all along, and I am honored to be the one who carried you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy. I promise to love and live alongside you forever.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4wnI6LqQhuIm-RU1WClXv0VZVz0IYfOhvVQJc38IHGT5C6XvYxC2nRHBR0rPkfyeaIc0DLd0GV9aGd9VM4nYclXViH5AqUOl-fMH2SNxijyrlC0V_dN2K6gYVYmWJz7a9ElAyZM6CFQ/s1600/DSCN0131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4wnI6LqQhuIm-RU1WClXv0VZVz0IYfOhvVQJc38IHGT5C6XvYxC2nRHBR0rPkfyeaIc0DLd0GV9aGd9VM4nYclXViH5AqUOl-fMH2SNxijyrlC0V_dN2K6gYVYmWJz7a9ElAyZM6CFQ/s400/DSCN0131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456677690368810818" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I love you, Mirabel!<br /><br />Love,<br />Mama<br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-29047888742153509332010-03-24T21:15:00.001-07:002010-03-24T21:30:20.281-07:00Physical Therapy<div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Though the two weeks Mirabel spent in the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:130%;">NICU</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> were so trying and exhausting, one blessing that came from the whole experience was the outpouring of support and resources we received from the social workers on staff (thanks, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:130%;">Roni</span><span style="font-size:130%;">!). We were led in the right direction down the overwhelming paths of Social Security, Medicaid, Katie Beckett, home care, the Infant Toddler program, etc., etc., etc..... Mirabel's diagnosis of Down syndrome automatically qualifies her for many services, which I am so grateful for, and which I am going to fully take advantage of.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Today was Mirabel's first appointment with a physical therapist from the Health and Welfare department's Infant Toddler program. Katie was very sweet, smart, and supportive, and we began what will be a federally-funded experience for the first three years of Mirabel's life. </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZW6E02kwgxtSebl92JKly4iRxBMP9piEsWlJhuSmPqkq7kzn1s9db_rQukoCeIiBOHmYpKOdHSkRKWUk2IPnpwJQR4puYpiP9RyK-v2gA1d437BTFHiMvdFjcLy_Zf0x_60ugFeXNsw/s1600/photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452423139304520802" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZW6E02kwgxtSebl92JKly4iRxBMP9piEsWlJhuSmPqkq7kzn1s9db_rQukoCeIiBOHmYpKOdHSkRKWUk2IPnpwJQR4puYpiP9RyK-v2gA1d437BTFHiMvdFjcLy_Zf0x_60ugFeXNsw/s400/photo+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel is only 9 weeks old, so there is not much to be working on just yet. But, we did discuss the importance of tummy time (which she doesn't seem to mind too much - as long as it doesn't go on too long. She rolled over twice the other day, but I think it's just because she was peeved to be on her tummy for so long!) Katie seemed impressed with the strength that Mirabel does have, and encouraged me with her exclamations at how well Mirabel squirms when she's awake and alert. Squirming! Who knew that would be such a cause for celebration?</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Katie taught me some simple </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:130%;">exercises</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, mainly a way to guide Mirabel onto her tummy to get her used to rolling over. </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq5fSKZnQVHf089mUmJsJTDAipiA5iouEpb5hfoyt8GCBiXthPzvTS55psuKR3COyNr_4I1INDYbKNImGEBsIw9Oo1XF7isrxIsijVIfuKen_kx_h5kWm4k-vi4MckFn5bMj1SDx9KdM/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452422861227879410" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq5fSKZnQVHf089mUmJsJTDAipiA5iouEpb5hfoyt8GCBiXthPzvTS55psuKR3COyNr_4I1INDYbKNImGEBsIw9Oo1XF7isrxIsijVIfuKen_kx_h5kWm4k-vi4MckFn5bMj1SDx9KdM/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Next week we're meeting with a Developmental Therapist from the same program. Go, Mirabel, go!<br /><br />.<br /></span></div></div></div></div>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-72867986207054189772010-03-21T19:28:00.000-07:002010-03-21T21:08:49.327-07:00The "R" Word<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I saw this comment on a thread from one of my fan pages on Facebook.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseljE6nvZrH0QnBvRlQy6zlm8z6k38O8T0RZtUSKQ4fo1V3CpQcMJ6VHWbbilkzHrwUIhconecKtaX_56zvVEYv-pysqljt4kYA9UuQFV7TY9DSo1bAhmkl-l66cYRJTiMoNtW0Nljm0/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseljE6nvZrH0QnBvRlQy6zlm8z6k38O8T0RZtUSKQ4fo1V3CpQcMJ6VHWbbilkzHrwUIhconecKtaX_56zvVEYv-pysqljt4kYA9UuQFV7TY9DSo1bAhmkl-l66cYRJTiMoNtW0Nljm0/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447955249733719042" border="0" /></a><br />Anyone else want to send Jason a little note? Ask him what part of the quote is "funny?" Ask him if there is anything else he finds "horrifically offensive" that he's just willing to toss out into cyberworld because chances are it will still get a laugh? No, because that would only be proving the essence of his point (which could have been said in much more intelligent, creative, and useful words.) So let Jason go. And I'll remain a fan of Regretsy. For now.<br /><br />I've never liked the negative use of the word "retard" or "retarded," even when I was very young. So to see it flung around so carelessly, abundantly, and ignorantly makes me feel painfully indignant, especially since the birth of sweet Mirabel just nine weeks ago.<br /><br />So, what can I do? What can we do? We can <a href="http://www.r-word.org/">make a pledge</a>. We can teach our children, and let them teach their peers. (Watch as 7th grader Kevin <a href="http://finniansjourney.blogspot.com/2010/03/kevins-speech-live.html">makes a speech</a> in front of his whole middle school. Seventh grade! Is there a more difficult, awkward time in childhood? This kid rocks!) We can just be aware. Don't refer to something ridiculous, tedious, or boring as <span style="font-style: italic;">retarded</span>. Even though "mental retardation" has been replaced with the more-PC "intellectually challenged," the slang still springs from the diagnostic term.<br /><br />I don't want to become one of those suddenly-sensitive and/or self-righteous types who becomes an outspoken naysayer just because I have been personally affected by something. So I won't rant or rave. Like I said, I've never used the "r-word" negatively or condoned its use. I am just now so keenly aware that it's harmful, and hateful, and so dang prevalent.<br /><br /><a href="http://downwithoz.blogspot.com/2010/02/50-24-carat-retard.html">This post</a>, by a father of a toddler with Ds, is raw and uncomfortable at times. But he says better than I ever could just why we need to "spread the word to end the word."<br /><br />And it's always nice when a celebrity has something to say.<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PE_5_BbZlbI&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PE_5_BbZlbI&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy National Down Syndrome Day! With my thanks to Mirabel for opening my eyes when you opened yours.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YoZ4xpQ0M0Nl4yo7td1fKdOO12nz-Yxl701J65rJUvN950vPsiuC924zHoTmAM3EIFsIYISwxRhnR1WjbTVm9OUA9cJZJf3d4R0o3ZkBFJjYSobUgS_mhPMQe9Kk_NeZaoY6dNem73M/s1600-h/photo+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YoZ4xpQ0M0Nl4yo7td1fKdOO12nz-Yxl701J65rJUvN950vPsiuC924zHoTmAM3EIFsIYISwxRhnR1WjbTVm9OUA9cJZJf3d4R0o3ZkBFJjYSobUgS_mhPMQe9Kk_NeZaoY6dNem73M/s400/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451304370667068162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWDTRia3NLkGhaZPz5gWzUoUjAUPRKxT1uzwBuA_zZWVVw9UcOIeHGG3wauZGQrqpGzOSQHpO0iFOSvxwygHdTeC7au4NrrXdw8knHy5-xqa65nynKFHlE0IVZuLKxsocMqh2Kb43FEE/s1600-h/photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWDTRia3NLkGhaZPz5gWzUoUjAUPRKxT1uzwBuA_zZWVVw9UcOIeHGG3wauZGQrqpGzOSQHpO0iFOSvxwygHdTeC7au4NrrXdw8knHy5-xqa65nynKFHlE0IVZuLKxsocMqh2Kb43FEE/s400/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451304365643237890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yOV4y1v4XtIo6ydIvuIv_uzlAHZbJpZFNhd9HIgwBNOKUhoIsUy0SENG0VLEmTSQhuFDQS-WVjBFgxjxA5uOd9AhpQ0OKqlPfS54e7J46-YrDOe-Lc27v_mu3dXeS7HeDeflO9e6gsY/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yOV4y1v4XtIo6ydIvuIv_uzlAHZbJpZFNhd9HIgwBNOKUhoIsUy0SENG0VLEmTSQhuFDQS-WVjBFgxjxA5uOd9AhpQ0OKqlPfS54e7J46-YrDOe-Lc27v_mu3dXeS7HeDeflO9e6gsY/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451304377376096514" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-1826045301780803832010-03-13T19:52:00.000-08:002010-03-13T22:07:35.587-08:00Positivity<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Naturally, I'm up to my ears in books and articles about Down syndrome, and I've also discovered a delightful cornucopia of resources and blogs online. The way the information is presented is all across the board, and since Mirabel was born I just haven't been able to be terribly traumatized by the diagnosis, so I'm tending toward the more positive vibes out there. One of the first books we bought at the bookstore is called <span style="font-style: italic;">Babies With Down Syndrome</span>. I tried to wrap my brain around the science of the first chapter, which was full of explanations and the words <span style="font-style: italic;">chromosomes, cells, genes,</span> and the like. Um, yeah, I tried to understand that part. But as we all know my brain tends to start fluffing when it tries to comprehend anything on the math or science side of the spectrum. (I saw this great tee shirt on Mental Floss recently: <span style="font-style: italic;">"I'm an English major (You do the math)."</span>)<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKIE3h-dhM7w8ePrF2kgH-6P580CIFCq-Z6wacQsXRPR-IhDbdtwC97PPbMnRmSMSPI2WZ4Ne1tRC3QiQtx40P9O6yFPvMx3TR4e42zFwVsTsM65wgLrDp81Yotu4NpCAFL9a4kDSbrM/s1600-h/IMG_8199.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKIE3h-dhM7w8ePrF2kgH-6P580CIFCq-Z6wacQsXRPR-IhDbdtwC97PPbMnRmSMSPI2WZ4Ne1tRC3QiQtx40P9O6yFPvMx3TR4e42zFwVsTsM65wgLrDp81Yotu4NpCAFL9a4kDSbrM/s400/IMG_8199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448336774432405970" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The second chapter of that book was full of words like <span style="font-style: italic;">anger, regret, denial</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">rejection</span>. I put the book down mid-chapter and haven't picked it up since. I know there is some good stuff in later pages, but for now I'm reading one called <span style="font-style: italic;">Gifts</span>, which is a beautiful montage of stories written by parents about how children with Down syndrome enhance their lives. Then Libby, the woman behind <a href="http://blessingsandglory.wordpress.com/sharing-our-blessings/">Blessings and Glory</a>, sent me - for free - another wonderful tome called <span style="font-style: italic;">Roadmap to Holland</span>, which is a mother's first-hand account of raising her son. Both of these books are touching in their simple truth: having a child with Down syndrome can actually be a pretty amazing thing.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxarwRBwx6yQhinkM_apaqyZj1v83GWTsXSF5JTIPc6myXQtRWjwPIv4FbHGinFNro5Hko5NbnOwTF44xp2DZflsE-j1WSTmmAUgo63VTpcYCqAKnorgcLbFaHQn_vBBWIkpjhe53FI8/s1600-h/IMG_8202.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxarwRBwx6yQhinkM_apaqyZj1v83GWTsXSF5JTIPc6myXQtRWjwPIv4FbHGinFNro5Hko5NbnOwTF44xp2DZflsE-j1WSTmmAUgo63VTpcYCqAKnorgcLbFaHQn_vBBWIkpjhe53FI8/s400/IMG_8202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448336781500123138" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I thought <a href="http://www.babycenter.com/0_welcoming-babies-with-down-syndrome_1817.bc?showAll=true">this article</a> on Baby Center was a wonderful overall description of DS, and I particularly liked the positive vibe and descriptions throughout: "beautiful almond shaped eyes," and "exceptional social intelligence."<br /><br />And then, there's this. Yesssss. There's this.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sKUkj7Pmk_0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sKUkj7Pmk_0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy 8-week birthday, Mirabel! I am so excited for our journey together.<br /><br />.<br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-13455036289464692462010-03-10T14:40:00.000-08:002010-03-10T15:03:10.100-08:00Meet Mirabel<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgW9T2Irnwjxcq1og0BDL9_HMPTHmaBl-Xqt0-S73ClPe77BTwoggJi4bGPRED9YTB75PQz4C1opSfG89FHCqf6T40OMsotJn7nuiK8Xjv5agWnGNJ-4KvqphIaoSrfL6g7Q2afijtIw/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgW9T2Irnwjxcq1og0BDL9_HMPTHmaBl-Xqt0-S73ClPe77BTwoggJi4bGPRED9YTB75PQz4C1opSfG89FHCqf6T40OMsotJn7nuiK8Xjv5agWnGNJ-4KvqphIaoSrfL6g7Q2afijtIw/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447142898738197858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel loves to nuzzle. She loves to ride around in the sling or the Bjorn so she can nap nice and snuggly.<br /></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfcaytRFoXJS6dzx_kWTzNXD00G41bfO79eJfSzlAgr4Sw-AkvUkJHHj1xxd_x4VMiO-gLSNp6j5_NxsNL34ZgsCQywCevUVgrSG5T44LPI-VNjo8WbKNWDKBAWFW5qilL3VitGzG6fk/s1600-h/photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfcaytRFoXJS6dzx_kWTzNXD00G41bfO79eJfSzlAgr4Sw-AkvUkJHHj1xxd_x4VMiO-gLSNp6j5_NxsNL34ZgsCQywCevUVgrSG5T44LPI-VNjo8WbKNWDKBAWFW5qilL3VitGzG6fk/s400/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447142890618942562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel rarely cries. She is gentle and wise. When she wants a cuddle, she bleats once. "Ehh!"</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9y9cW-RtYPmRnKW4KfeIc_4JUHky_lymEh8hLgBEsip2HP5vl_fuF5sNO662WUDEIl8eObnFtPT1Z5OF0bIi-x8kfCjd3yL6pXuCLLVIf6tBdtdK18Cj5XkkjoSXVzogKT1t1XWLIaY/s1600-h/photo+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9y9cW-RtYPmRnKW4KfeIc_4JUHky_lymEh8hLgBEsip2HP5vl_fuF5sNO662WUDEIl8eObnFtPT1Z5OF0bIi-x8kfCjd3yL6pXuCLLVIf6tBdtdK18Cj5XkkjoSXVzogKT1t1XWLIaY/s400/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447139204450743698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel sleeps a lot. She loves to be swaddled. She has fat little soft hands. </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcyWb6w4eNXxSPY_w6ufsDOqY8DAIGHDtOBnWJNaa8GV0YbGxQIlQa4DdEYtanWx74PAFnYETH7Drw2EVxZqHMTNGutsZMeJMfOwIK2eG186AkEBwW_gN9YGjcnzaGdtrdqOkJYciT2Q/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcyWb6w4eNXxSPY_w6ufsDOqY8DAIGHDtOBnWJNaa8GV0YbGxQIlQa4DdEYtanWx74PAFnYETH7Drw2EVxZqHMTNGutsZMeJMfOwIK2eG186AkEBwW_gN9YGjcnzaGdtrdqOkJYciT2Q/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447139200495741826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel has some serious cheeks. These cheeks don't mess around. These cheeks have been known to rest on her shoulders, and I'm not even kidding.</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpHH4flmqTz2S9nKTBZ2-pMBuIwE8mEiVIzhqe9hPnUjeFzymwIPoIsU_aTBvE9s06IH48CxzFzwKgiT-9Gh5bYasWsEADAKc7Kj6bAk9iJXgtoiHDPjdjLZR6joz8lherPwjw2i4w1o/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpHH4flmqTz2S9nKTBZ2-pMBuIwE8mEiVIzhqe9hPnUjeFzymwIPoIsU_aTBvE9s06IH48CxzFzwKgiT-9Gh5bYasWsEADAKc7Kj6bAk9iJXgtoiHDPjdjLZR6joz8lherPwjw2i4w1o/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447139195742133010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">When Mirabel is awake, she is often quietly alert. Her eyes are deep stormy blue, with bright rings around the iris. They are always darting around, and when she pauses and looks into you it takes your breath away. She sees something deep. She sees your light and knows you are good. </span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wcPNCXH7eHcdMFXg5dA5MvgaL2Tab6ycxhkwTYiT8CWJcg8TzCbAVpAchdrLlmMpCDndCmUj1KdkoFvJAIWt81f_vDF6D99HFRDw-XVqSttYfxP_nt8-oB5GE2afyfhhTZEctoclKbU/s1600-h/photo+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wcPNCXH7eHcdMFXg5dA5MvgaL2Tab6ycxhkwTYiT8CWJcg8TzCbAVpAchdrLlmMpCDndCmUj1KdkoFvJAIWt81f_vDF6D99HFRDw-XVqSttYfxP_nt8-oB5GE2afyfhhTZEctoclKbU/s400/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447139187261413682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel has a delicious belly button. Nom, nom, nom</span>.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGHUJI1YxfxNP01kUw0NVwoEX9tUCxAwlYrS2NH9rl-sgIkiGuCePI2KyuNJ375_wAT9_TMJ-55GiFSMaGTjoULBNmKPX4vfAznr5r3oeY2l7zDGf2BlQuQisK8GgqS_rPG3U1W8bVTo/s1600-h/photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGHUJI1YxfxNP01kUw0NVwoEX9tUCxAwlYrS2NH9rl-sgIkiGuCePI2KyuNJ375_wAT9_TMJ-55GiFSMaGTjoULBNmKPX4vfAznr5r3oeY2l7zDGf2BlQuQisK8GgqS_rPG3U1W8bVTo/s400/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447139178496871778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mirabel says, "What's up, World? I'm so happy to be here!"</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">.<br /></div></div>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-23686100058383701982010-03-07T21:06:00.001-08:002010-03-10T09:58:46.190-08:00Community, or, Nice to 'Meat' You<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Mirabel and I went to a lovely baby shower yesterday. She wore <a href="http://ton-tonandshemmy.blogspot.com/2007/05/elle-one-month.html">a dress that Luciya wore to a baby shower</a> when she was a month old and looked just precious. She was sweet, and everyone wanted to look at her. But I came home feeling a little blue. I couldn't help but feel that people wanted to see her because they know she has Down syndrome. I really can't blame them; I would want to see the baby too, and certainly not in a malicious way. But she's different. And though everyone gushed "She's beautiful" (and she is), she's not beautiful in the quintessential way. Her skin is blotchy and her hair sticks up and she's got the defining characteristics and I know this. There were three other little babies there, all boys. I have a number of pregnant friends right now and they will most likely all have boys. Another thing that sets her apart.<br /><br />It was hard to try and put a finger on these feelings, because I fully recognize that my family and I are so blessed to be loved and surrounded by an absolutely compassionate community who will support Mirabel forever. I just felt a little strange, a little isolated.<br /><br />And then, tonight, the girls and I were grocery shopping at Fred Meyer and something happened that I've read about but have not experienced until now.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHohoPEkm0l_A6MdNy0rHVo_PbeUqmINpDXx1-QomYIz4j2zpiGT5jo-VaNfXPRz33grTydyqQvssu81Zg-Sh7TLb_NfGS32wzlImpH24vl83eVa5GXkxg1ni-abHvu1ZJ-n8o9Lx2Cw/s1600-h/26449_1386771873830_1368045053_31050371_6179234_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446132244963623714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHohoPEkm0l_A6MdNy0rHVo_PbeUqmINpDXx1-QomYIz4j2zpiGT5jo-VaNfXPRz33grTydyqQvssu81Zg-Sh7TLb_NfGS32wzlImpH24vl83eVa5GXkxg1ni-abHvu1ZJ-n8o9Lx2Cw/s400/26449_1386771873830_1368045053_31050371_6179234_n.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />We were in the meat section and I had just put some sirloin in the car cart (for Luciya must always "drive" at Fred Meyer), when I did a double take of the little girl in the cart next to us. Wait, let me see her ears. Are they small? The way her almond-shaped eyes peeped at me from under her bangs. I hesitated, then cleared my throat and looked at her mom.<br /><br />"Excuse me..." She looked up.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Now what??</span><br /><br />"Um, does your daughter have Down syndrome?" She nodded. My throat closed up and my eyes welled with tears. "Um, I... I never... my baby has Down syndrome, too."<br /><br />"Oh!" she exclaimed, "You have a baby! Let me see!" And she went around the cart to look at and gush over Mirabel and then she came over and gave me a hug.<br /><br />Her name is Amy and her three-year-old daughter's name is Emily (!). And we ended up standing there, cart-to-cart, in the meat section, and talking for fifteen minutes. "I used to do this, too," she said, referring to approaching complete strangers with children with Down syndrome. It was my first time.<br /><br />And what a wonderful first time experience. Amy was open and kind and realistic and peaceful. Her daughter was as sweet as can be, and Luciya entertained her with bagel crisps as we chatted. I commented on how the local DS infant/toddler playgroup we attended once was more frightening than connecting, and she totally shared my sentiments. She told me of some other local resources. We shared birth and NICU stories. I got to know so much about this woman, and she so easily read my need, and I felt <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">better</span>. I felt good.<br /><br />Then, on the way out of the store I saw a man holding two little boys by the hand. One of them had Down syndrome. Emboldened, I mentioned, quickly, that my baby has Down syndrome and just moments earlier I had approached another parent for the first time. His wife came out of the store then with two other children in a cart and asked what was up and her husband said "That woman's baby has Down syndrome." Well, Nicole (this was her name), rushed right over to coo over Mirabel. She was warm and jovial and said she was very involved in the community.<br /><br />Community.<br /><br />It's out there. I felt it -- it's like a sweet, connecting secret that I will be able to have and hold and find, because one in 733 people out there will share in this diagnosis.<br /><br />And maybe someday when Mirabel and I are in the store a timid mother will do a double take, and approach us, and I'll give her a hug.<br /><br /><br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-8837930928300730672010-02-12T18:47:00.000-08:002010-02-24T10:05:50.656-08:00Birth Announcement<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C6WgI69p6xd2sDxHWGdEM4JhfCmym1KgbHGEkTwPAm34QE4vlTa3hah226_KXVuKEndqmdVgmasYgWzV6JiC3DQ6mfJKeHHXOA8n_KWjGPNmmgQM_E93q6PIfS4a18o66Caeoj-4XEs/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 380px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C6WgI69p6xd2sDxHWGdEM4JhfCmym1KgbHGEkTwPAm34QE4vlTa3hah226_KXVuKEndqmdVgmasYgWzV6JiC3DQ6mfJKeHHXOA8n_KWjGPNmmgQM_E93q6PIfS4a18o66Caeoj-4XEs/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437554357399683426" border="0" /></a><br />I finally made a birth announcement for Mirabel! You should be getting yours in the mail soon! She is four weeks old today.<br /><br />Photos by Shady Lane Studios on February 10. She got her oxygen off the very next day, but I am glad we captured the look she had for the first 3 1/2 weeks of her life!Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-54004769263038861402010-02-10T10:46:00.000-08:002010-02-24T10:47:38.153-08:00Love, Love, and Love<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Our favorite photographer, Lauren Harms, came over today to take some surprise pictures for Daddy for Valentine's Day!</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3bpkaC2KXx977zzBVvv4y8s_kJYEtZCNmnyd-R0-8mv2OqX_f6bnG1jsuTUPbkr7BZaCL7rrKSFcELGAcyaUuEeZbiPDeQbsUBe9W-ZhUdYtZhRmlxPxi0YP76zhv-7XR2dL5uZXBs4/s1600-h/22041_465127515060_145391465060_11070458_394961_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3bpkaC2KXx977zzBVvv4y8s_kJYEtZCNmnyd-R0-8mv2OqX_f6bnG1jsuTUPbkr7BZaCL7rrKSFcELGAcyaUuEeZbiPDeQbsUBe9W-ZhUdYtZhRmlxPxi0YP76zhv-7XR2dL5uZXBs4/s400/22041_465127515060_145391465060_11070458_394961_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441883420730062098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPPGRvFvzbuqUE66WoGNiT09qmJ5BdApRW_UnTaVIPMosqx_cvx-GE53H0rNt7oztWG2Yn0IzxnyM61qc6eNd812uTUyqgVwtI1Xhfa8lytbaO0FEK7PuOXjq_bi4XrcS-fA2InQbg7o/s1600-h/22041_464910040060_145391465060_11069087_7575612_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPPGRvFvzbuqUE66WoGNiT09qmJ5BdApRW_UnTaVIPMosqx_cvx-GE53H0rNt7oztWG2Yn0IzxnyM61qc6eNd812uTUyqgVwtI1Xhfa8lytbaO0FEK7PuOXjq_bi4XrcS-fA2InQbg7o/s400/22041_464910040060_145391465060_11069087_7575612_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441883416712875042" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl27JYwMWjgbzpHHc25uiaTcWMI_dGXeNKdT1VHbd_n5oVafPHVheswyKqT0S409I7Iv01OG3r6R55DHSHC5uPQq3iP8WJ_mwwfl-bee8XG5EfaVugSIbeV1mjmIEWr5XP02-sKwen5iA/s1600-h/18441_465613695060_145391465060_11072837_6336146_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl27JYwMWjgbzpHHc25uiaTcWMI_dGXeNKdT1VHbd_n5oVafPHVheswyKqT0S409I7Iv01OG3r6R55DHSHC5uPQq3iP8WJ_mwwfl-bee8XG5EfaVugSIbeV1mjmIEWr5XP02-sKwen5iA/s400/18441_465613695060_145391465060_11072837_6336146_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441883406667019794" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-19455810419032590762010-02-05T22:42:00.001-08:002010-02-24T10:11:27.650-08:00Three WeeksShould I lament the fact that so many things didn't go according to plan?<br /><br />Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to sit down and write about all of this. When Luciya was born, I blogged every day, twice a day, and marveled at everything and shared it with anyone who wanted to read all about the miraculous marvelous details of my perfect little baby.<br /><br />And granted, I have less time and more work now, and perhaps that really is the reason I haven't written down all these smashed up, surreal details of the last three weeks...<br /><br />Or maybe it's just been my way of staying strong. Because when I think back on that first night in the hospital, alone, exhausted, with a soft and poochy tummy that just hours earlier had been carrying this little wonder I was so very eager to meet, I weep. Because I was so lonely, and so afraid, and so... just, processing and not knowing where to begin. And it was dark and the bed was plastic and my body was completely different and in the other rooms up and down the hallways I heard the other new babies cry as they discovered the new atmosphere of Earth, with their mamas beside them.<br /><br />And so I ventured out of my room and up to the NICU and I sat next to her isolette and put my head down next to it and I cried. And the nurses shut the curtains and let me have my time with her and I don't know if I prayed or begged or just tried to hold on to the notion of breathing but I went back down to my dark and empty room and I did not sleep, though I've never been more exhausted.<br /><br />So should I lament the things that should have been that weren't?<br /><br />I am so grateful to my midwife for not letting me get the epirdural - though I screamed and begged for it at the end - because, as she later put it, we had to follow at least some of the birth plan. The birth plan that said I preferred no internal monitoring (hello, scalp monitor and internal pressure monitor), the plan that didn't want Pitocin (hello, stalled labor), the plan that stated specifically that I wanted to have immediate and prolonged skin-to-skin bonding with my baby once it was born.<br /><br />Well.<br /><br />I didn't get to hold her. I hardly got to see her after I reached down and pulled her tiny body out and up to mine and noticed, with the nurses, that her lips were blue. Before I could understand, before my placenta was even out of me, there were suddenly no less than eight nurses in the room with her, and they took her from me, and John was with them, and he saw Mirabel's face, and he knew.<br /><br />And I was still in the daze of <em>holycowIjustgavebirth </em>and I just wanted my baby back. And it took forever and then John was by my side and the nurses were still rushing around and all over my baby and our midwife turned to her and said, "There are some signs that your baby may have Down syndrome." She said it kinder than that, and gentler, but in the same frank, caring way she told us 11 months ago that we had lost a pregnancy.<br /><br />This is when John told me he knew, that he had seen her face and knew, and this is when I suddenly remembered a bizarre scenario that had run through my head only the day before: an image of raising a child with Down syndrome.<br /><br />And I did not cry, and I was not sad. Instead, it was the strangest peace. I still was longing to hold and meet my new child, and they let me - for one minute - before rushing her upstairs to the NICU. And I saw her face then and I kissed her soft soft cheek and then she was gone, and I tried to absorb the news again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMWPswxhVNJ9gOjUCcl7yDMw-KGaSkkLpZTLfLzDeU5ylC0jzCP5DRBk53VjrfKxEF_4IsfTtsynjSTVJYfZBJs90ahwBHbpdizwxBagd5Lfsj1ZEMtvEhdH1EHW-T2dMiIou8lBnRzQ/s1600-h/IMG_7933.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMWPswxhVNJ9gOjUCcl7yDMw-KGaSkkLpZTLfLzDeU5ylC0jzCP5DRBk53VjrfKxEF_4IsfTtsynjSTVJYfZBJs90ahwBHbpdizwxBagd5Lfsj1ZEMtvEhdH1EHW-T2dMiIou8lBnRzQ/s200/IMG_7933.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441874144543516146" border="0" /></a><br />Have I lamented the changes? Have I regretted the diagnosis? I haven't. Do I wish that I could have had those moments back with my brand new earth angel? Yes, I do. But now she is three weeks old and I have her here, and she in sighing next to me in her newborn sleep and I love her. So I can't find that regret now, and I can't find cause to be sad anymore.<br /><br />Mirabel is home. She is here and healthy and has a round belly and a dark brown swatch of hair that sticks out in all directions and a callus on her upper lip from nursing and deep blue eyes that will soon be brown that take in everything around her when she is quietly alert.<br /><br />Does it pain me now to look back on the night of January 15th? Hell yes it does. I will never forget it, and it is the night many things changed inside and outside of me. But I <em>knew</em> then, as I still know now, that Mirabel and I were not alone. Even though we didn't have - couldn't have, in Mirabel's case - any visitors and even though the night was long and deep and dark, there was love pouring in. Enough to keep me from screaming, enough to let me feel safe. It came from you. Whatever you believe in, however it may be manifested - be it the Earth and all the stars, our guardian angels, Allah, the heavenly father, the Source, nature, God, Goddess, energy - was there with me and held me tightly. And held Mirabel, too.<br /><br />She spent two long and overwhelming and tedious and surreal weeks in the NICU. In those two weeks my small family learned a lot about patience, and schedules, and Down syndrome, and enemas, and reglan, and oxygen saturation, and breast pumps, and bilirubin, and hypothyroidism, and advocacy, and sleep deprivation, and gliders, and IV placement, and holy cow my child is the champion pooper of the NICU. Those two weeks felt like an eternity in a milisecond, the strangest irony, and now, here, they are behind us, like I knew they eventually would be, and we have been home for a week and I get to hold her every single day.<br /><br />I open my shirt and place her inside next to me. I wrap her up and cuddle her. I marvel at her tiny hairy ears and crooked fourth toes. I gaze at her. I gaze for hours. I amazed already at how <em>much</em> she has grown and changed. Just like my heart.<br /><br />And I find no cause for sadness.Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-57255584554174031562010-01-30T10:01:00.000-08:002010-02-25T07:00:15.803-08:00New Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj3eJ0Oo_gUampGAHJ6p-tcdeZUCHPAWORiKtbYhVtC4Cn-K9Ua3qpCwP0FN4K8mMLpRrrmOrOH041QL-pOQsmURECIyVSMIMmkmlr-Yy_qXW642pIC3kVXqhjGRb36O7LK_EGbQCk6Q/s1600-h/IMG_7997.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj3eJ0Oo_gUampGAHJ6p-tcdeZUCHPAWORiKtbYhVtC4Cn-K9Ua3qpCwP0FN4K8mMLpRrrmOrOH041QL-pOQsmURECIyVSMIMmkmlr-Yy_qXW642pIC3kVXqhjGRb36O7LK_EGbQCk6Q/s400/IMG_7997.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441871958064470370" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-67577885215174087902010-01-29T13:14:00.000-08:002010-02-08T13:14:47.981-08:00Nice to Meet You!<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FHpUFSbLEjo&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FHpUFSbLEjo&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-79247402880898718832010-01-29T10:12:00.000-08:002010-02-24T10:13:52.752-08:00Thank You.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWxKyMXhG3RLTUnhiB4apAL5bmmkycZzsdryGOCVUw5icl0FyzlgWRhKnEw2r_dwcL0-3jw2_00Mj5XFCH50Fzk__xkr2rmE5pvmnrlrj6BF4MnEuDsau0xdOI6mOMtf3YELjZ9nMmIs/s1600-h/IMG_7989.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWxKyMXhG3RLTUnhiB4apAL5bmmkycZzsdryGOCVUw5icl0FyzlgWRhKnEw2r_dwcL0-3jw2_00Mj5XFCH50Fzk__xkr2rmE5pvmnrlrj6BF4MnEuDsau0xdOI6mOMtf3YELjZ9nMmIs/s400/IMG_7989.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441874671371186466" border="0" /></a>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2201897634827155703.post-18187246936138237312010-01-28T09:59:00.000-08:002010-02-24T10:03:52.702-08:00Mirabel is Coming Home Tomorrow!<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Tonight, John and I are spending the night in the NICU with Mirabel. Tomorrow, we are bringing her home.<br /><br />She will be coming home with oxygen, a nasal feeding tube, and heart and respiratory monitors. But she will be coming home.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Shem the Wrenchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05700657055460909815noreply@blogger.com0