Tuesday, April 5, 2011

i have a dream. follow me.

I saw an interesting statement on a blog yesterday. It said I cannot afford therapy, therefore I blog. I had a little giggle about that, because that struck a small chord in me, but it's not the only reason I blog. I started writing to share. To vent. To communicate. To have lifeblood in a vein of creativity flow from me and through me and to ease pain and infection-of-sorts and to connect with you, my dear readers - to pour over pictures of my little loves and soak up more of the moments that make up our lives - and to write it down like my mom always said I should - so that it doesn't go unforgotten. That being said, I feel like I am about to repeat myself. Again. 

I am pretty transparent both on the blog and in my real life. I have all kinds of ideas to dump out here, about life and love, humor and sadness, my children, your children, marriage, photography, cooking, home decorating, artsy crafty stuff, and so much more. I use the word dump most purposely due to feeling one part not having enough time to do anything, one part uninspired, one part bone-weary, one part still befuddled about what time of year it is and I wonder when we should pull out the Christmas ornaments? Oh dangit, Laura, it's nearly Easter, not Christmas... but, there are a few little teensy areas that I don't, or won't, or can't talk about here. If I could, the inspirational lifeblood would be spoutin' forth to the beat of my heart and revitalizing the words I write here, believe me, because it is what is on the forefront of my mind. Instead I am forced to focus on other things, equally as meaningful but not as... as pulsating. So forgive me if this post is weird. Girl's got stuff on her mind. Soon enough, but for now...

Joel is home. However, he's leaving again in a few short days, but he happily took the chance to go out with the three oldest offspring, swimming at the 'poo'. That's Jacob-ease for Pool, just in case you were wondering. The littlest cherub and I were going to go along and 'swim'. That's mama-ease for Sit Alone For Two Hours In A Shallow Pool With A Wee Baby Smacking At The Water And Falling Asleep In Your Arms While Still In Said Pool And Waiting For Bigger Kids And Dad To Be Done So We Can Get The Baby Out Of His Wet Swim Diaper And Into Dry Clothes. Then I thought maybe not - maybe instead, we could go along, bring my macbook and I'd catch up on the old blog whilst the little one might nap in his car seat and I could snap some photos of the swimmin' clan... but he was just so content to just be while the others scampered excitedly around the house, getting ready to go...

I thought some quiet snuggle time at home, comfortable clothes and sipping warm drinks, time playing on the floor with just the two of us was in order. And I could work on the blog at home. He is just such a delight and so laid-back, his quiet presence is so soul-filling and deliciously wonderful that time just slips away when we are enveloped around each other, his eyes locked on mine, both of us fully in love as mama and baby. After all, he was a piece missing from the fabric of my soul, all along, my entire life. Staying home was a lovely decision. 

Oh, these Designer Babies.
Amos's therapist Rosalie invited us to be a part of an infant massage class, both for its benefits to the wee ones and to meet a few other local mamas with babes with designer genes. I spoke with Joel beforehand about my slight hesitation at seeing if the other babies with DS would be farther down the developmental cobble-milestone-road than our Amos...
but when I arrived, I walked in the door, kicked off my flip flops and unpacked my babe from his nest of a seat. We were welcomed in and as soon as I saw the first little one's face, I melted. I was a puddle.  She looked up at me, searched my soul with the same deep enduring gaze of my little man, but this time the eyes were framed by this precious little feminine face, with delicate little features and the shock of dark hair was pulled to the side with a pink clip - and oh, her face - her precious face. I told her mom "I'm going to cry, she's so beautiful". Honestly, I gushed and melted some more and oohed and aahed and revelled in the realization the all of the other DS mamas I have connected with are on facebook or through the blog world - and I am in love with each and every one of their children - but to see another precious one in real life, right in front of me, with that precious light and wisdom and magic shining out onto me - well, I was done. I was floored. I was smitten. Then the other little girl arrived. And I melted all over again. I seriously could not stop swooning over these two little girlies.

This little one, sitting up, her shiny black ponytail on top of her head, her little yellow cardigan buttoned just so, her head cocked ever so slightly to the side in curiosity at the presence of Amos and I in front of her.

Ah, I was just awestruck with an absolute sense of certainty that these children have to be something like angels in human form. They are just too precious and too special and too amazingly beautiful to not be. I gushed and gushed and wiped happy tears of wonderment away as I went on and on about how beautiful these little girls were, and their mamas giggled and replied how beautiful my son was and how beautiful each others' daughters were, all as the therapist Rosalie continued to exclaim "Didn't I tell you? All of your children are the most beautiful. Didn't I tell you? Isn't he gorgeous? Isn't she though? Aren't they the sweetest little angels ever? See, I told you guys." So we had our moment, this intensely precious moment before the rest of the mamas coming for the class arrived. That moment was a gift. I can't wait to go back to class Wednesday. Maybe I will ask permission to snap a few photos of those little cherub girlies. Goodness, are they gorgeous. I am smitten, even more than I was before.

At Home.
As you may or may not know, we have four children, two of which are pretty young. 

They are both still in diapers and I am in no way committed to commencing potty training. And I am fully aware that potty training, at least with typical children, is somewhere close to 99% training the parent, 1% training the child. However, the cherub baby who used to sleep through the night, but now there are times (like this morning) where I was up literally 8 times between 5:56 and 7:22. That's a lot of times. I know that once I am getting a tad more sleep, I will have the energy to commit to toilet training my Jacob. myself. Um, gettin' it done. Until then, I am at peace with two little cloth-covered bottoms. Completely. Especially since my loving husband hooked me up with a diaper sprayer that connects to the toilet. Who would have ever thought that something as odd as a bathroom tool for removing poop from cloth diapers would make me fall head over heels in love with my Man all over again? But it did.

Needless to say, and I have been very honest about this before, the house gets messy, gets cleaned, yes, and gets really cleaned sometimes, and then gets messy again. And our Man of the house travels away a lot for work, so I am here, frequently alone with the children these days. With all there is to do and to get done, to be done, today tomorrow and the next day - that when it comes to naptime, I find I react a bit like I am caught like a deer in headlights, I freeze and become completely unaware of what I should do. Much like every other mama and woman - I find I have that narrow window of time in which I need to:
organize my home.
spend time with the breast pump.
rest. (ha!)
decorate beautifully.
recapture a hobby.

Any wise women out there have any pointers for balancing? Please tell me it's not just me. Sigh. 

Everything in me is crying out for time to stretch and sweat and pant and run and knit and paint and shove furniture around and get my hands in the soil and roast my face in the sun with my eyes closed - but run and run and run while my heart pounds and my muscles scream and burn - hence my shout out for a treadmill. No takers ...er... givers, yet. Got a treadmill you want to donate? Or loan?

Each photo above taken by Jacob, then Isaac, then Egan.

I Have a Dream.
With great power comes great responsibility.
Uncle Ben - Spiderman

which, according to wikipedia, stems beautifully from Scripture.
To whom much is given, much will be required.
excerpt from Luke 12:48

When Amos was still growing in my belly and we learned that he had his extra chromosome, and then over that whole long first month in the hospital, saying I was so scared is an extreme understatement. I needed and took the time to grieve through that.

Where I am today, so far down the road on the other side, seeing the beauty that is inherent with Down Syndrome, or any other syndrome for that matter - realizing that it is a gift and not a burden as our world would have you believe - I see now because of the greatness of the gift, how great of a responsibility I have been given - and the great power that comes with it to work toward increasing awareness for these beautiful, soulful, and angelic people. 

So I have a dream. What I'd really love to see is such a change in our society that a new mama learning of her baby's diagnosis of the presence of that extra chromosome - that she would not have to be scared. Would not have to be angry, would not feel a need to cry for hours or days or weeks or months - that she would feel even a portion of blessing, a portion of goodness, a portion of happiness and celebration - instead of only mourning this diagnosis.

That's the small dream of mine. We are coming up to the one year ago date of our lives being forever changed in such a momentous way by the arrival of our tiniest wee and most precious babe. Posting a fundraising event for sweet Kirill is a hint for where I feel I am also being led, I guess. My blog world hero pioneered a campaign that I talked about here in honor of her designer Nella's first birthday, a bold and successful effort to raise funds for the National Down Syndrome Society in the US - to raise awareness of Down Syndrome. I want to do something like this, too. She has a much, much larger (seriously - much much larger) following than I do - but I am hoping and dreaming of being somehow able to reach people to be able to do something bold and successful to raise more awareness for these special people who have more to teach us than we can ever know or can ever teach them.

Will you help me? Can you become a follower of my blog? And invite your friends, and their friends, and their friends - to follow my blog? It's a small step, with such little feet, and I don't know how else to do it, but do know I am excited. Together, I want to see what we can do. 

Come on, follow me.


  1. Do it!
    Start a program for parent's...call it Amos' Dream...or something...I am in! I will donate...I will do whatever needs to be done!
    You could do so much Laura...every mother needs a support group...no matter what the scenario!
    I love the idea...I feel it...you are going to cause a snowball effect!!

  2. Two things.
    I want to follow you.
    I want to make your heart happy.
    In that order.
    Blessings to you & your family.
    I think you're pretty cute. ;)

  3. *I am following you :) and have told sooo many people about your blog!

    *Nope, you are "not alone"....

    *And hurray for poop turning into love! So saying that you're "full of sh*t", could actually be a compliment now---hahahaha!

    You are precious!

  4. I'm in...but you already knew that.
    I will help anyway I can.
    Love Sarah

  5. I'm there for you Lulu! You **can do this..you *are* already doing this !!hugs


make no mistake, I am smitten with your words. please say hello, or pour something out - you will make my heart happy.

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