#Microblog Mondays: Leave-takings and homecomings

The new keys have been collected, the boxes arrived and the unpacking and settling in begins again.

I've hinted that changes were afoot, and now here they are upon us.

And so, farewell to England.

More than a decade after I first set out for these shores as an eager young graduate student, through all my sojourns elsewhere, I always returned to you; you were the closest thing I had to a home outside the country where I grew up.

Although (hardy Canadian that I am), I often bemoaned your rather hysterical response to 'extreme' weather conditions, and your unique, occasionally callous brand of the welfare state, we had a good run, you and I.

You instilled in me an unshakable appreciation for an orderly qeue, and a lifelong confusion over the use of words like qeue vs line, lift vs elevator, pushchair vs stroller. You made me love chocolate. Your quirky neighbourhoods and streets taught me valuable life lessons, took me on many adventures, and consoled and distracted me through ill-advised romantic entanglements.

On your soils, I gained a PhD, a soulmate and life partner, and the most beautiful daughter imaginable; you answered prayers I didn't even know my heart was saying, beginning all those years ago. Here too I experienced the most profound of losses, the most harrowing days of my adult life. In all these, a part of you will rest in my being forever. I cannot look on your gentle countryside without imagining S lingering there in your beauty. This brings me great comfort.

I guess it's fair to say, I grew up under your watchful eye.

And now, here we are, four minus one, to begin anew.

In H's home town, a city famed for schnitzel, strudel and Strauss.

And the adventure continues. The growing continues.

Written as part of Mel's Microblog Mondays. Check it out here to participate.

#Microblog Mondays: The tyranny of pink

Okay,  okay world, I get it; I have seen the error of my ways. My daughter doesn't wear nearly enough pink or frills or dresses. Because (gasp!) without those aids, she might not understand her prescribed social role. <Aaahhh!! Gender confusion!!>

It's not that I oppose pink per se. I probably even own a few rose tinted garments myself.

But I guess, since long before Girl Wonder made her appearance, I've been a strenuous opponent of the tyranny that is the pink-and-blue-dichotomy. (And since first finding out she is a she, I confess I have lived in fear of facing the moment of the Disney Princess Effect.) Because, well...shouldn't we all resist this? Shouldn't I raise my daughter with an appreciation for the possible fluidity of identities and the empowerment that can arise from that? Shouldn't she have the opportunity to develop her own sense of femininity, or to discard that notion altogether if she sees fit? And just as importantly, isn't this pink-or-blue, pastel-tinged universe just a tad... creepy boring??

I guess it's fair to say we were always going to be subscribers to the Riley school of childrearing as it pertains to gender ascription. Too bad not all gift givers can be like Riley though.

For now I just have to figure out what to do with all these frills, because it feels like a nursing home somewhere may be missing its lampshades.


 





 Written as part of Mel's Microblog Mondays. Check it out here to participate.

Remembering

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. This means that tonight at 7pm, as every years since S left us, we will light a candle in memory of he and all those babies whose lives ended far too soon, and in solidarity with all those families they left behind.

Today, as every day, we think of S and miss him. We wonder about the two little lives who left us even sooner after he went away. Three babies who will always remain a mystery to us.

One year ago yesterday, we found out Girl Wonder's tiny heart beat fast and healthy. As I type this today, she lies cuddled in my arms; an amazing, unbelievable feeling. She has brought us so much joy, but she cannot ease the sense of loss we will always feel, for the big brother who should be here, full of protectiveness and jealousy.

Tonight, we remember all those tiny lives, those of our three babies and of all others too. We honour them, and we thank them for the beauty they have brought to the world, even if only in their parents' imaginings.

Updates, updates everywhere but not a moment to type

How did it get to be October already?! ?(I know, I say that, like, every time I log on.) Definitely one of my favourite months of the year, though also the season I get most homesick for all things autumnal. Nobody rocks autumn like they do in Canada, friends.

October 1st <<2nd? I totally started this post last night> marks the beginning of Down syndrome Awareness Month, and thus the start of the 31 for 21 Blog Challenge. It aims to raise awareness of Trisomy 21 by introducing readers to the everyday lives and realities of families who experience Down syndrome. At  first I thought of participating myself and, full of good intentions and best laid plans, even got so far as adding the button to the right >> (That counts, right?)

This seemed like a good thing for me to do this month because a) we're in the middle of an international move, b) Girl Wonder is growing and changing in leaps and bounds, has many medical appointments this month and will begin her early intervention program in a few short weeks, c) I need to brush up on my German, d) am recovering from surgery on my left hand that makes tasks like typing slow and arduous, e) <as a consequence of points a through d> I am seriously short of time, and f) I'm clearly insane.

But then, well, in the *cons* column for this idea, there is also all of the above. My proverbial plate is full not only with all these grand transitions and minor causes of mayhem but with delights and simple pleasures and rare delicacies. Yes, (lover of a mixed metaphor that I am) my cup is full but my plate runneth over! Or...something like that? So anyway, 31 straight days of blogging ain't happening any time soon. On many of those points I shall endeavour to update you all in the coming days weeks oh ok, years.

A brief Girl Wonder update though (because let's face it, I'll take any opportunity, however fleeting, to wax ecstatic about this kid): she is thriving. She's still super tiny (wearing size '0') but growing up way too fast for my liking. And, though I kind of loathe the terminology and the fast-track, normative, chronological-development-preoccupied mindset that it encourages, she surprised all her caregivers by rolling over at only 10 weeks old and hasn't looked back since, hitting each 'milestone' as she goes. Her head and neck control are still weak, but she is so determined to be up and looking around and that has spurred her on. She spends so much of each day 'talking', telling us long stories full of adventure and glee and sometimes moaning over all of life's little injustices (e.g. her horse being left behind when we make an outing). She is the master of the full body smile, the entirety of her being wriggling with paroxysms of delight when she feels the moment take her; I have never seen anyone smile like she smiles and you guys, it is truly infectious. 

Five months into this whole adventure and 2.5 months out of the hospital, we are reaching some level of normality, if we are nowhere near normalising just where our lives are. For that I am so so grateful; a dozen times a day, H or I will turn to each other and say

Can you believe she is really here? 

That she’s ours and we’re hers? 

That we get to keep her?

We've lucked out in more simple ways too: Girl Wonder is, despite her rocky start in life, an exceptionally laid back and happy baby, taking everything in her stride and rarely fussy. She's accompanied us to wine festivals and concerts, gallery openings and fancy schmancy restaurants, and though I am sure some think us crazy for it, as we'd hoped, she hasn't limited our adult lives at all, only tremendously enhanced them. She rolls with it, a tiny Buddha baby for sure. She is perfection.

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In the interest of awareness, (since many of my readers may not have much experience of Down syndrome)  I'll leave that button up, though I kinda like Meriah's challenge for us to move beyond mere awareness to embracing acceptance. Let's take up the challenge!

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#Microblog Mondays: On the road

She is the daughter of this vagabond family, alright. At last count, we've called five countries in the last six years home-or-something-like-it. And in her 4.5 months of age, Girl Wonder already has six seven countries under her belt, courtesy of a west-to-east trans-continental road trip that's been part of planning our future whereabouts.

She took it all in her stride, intrepid barricade stormer that she is. (And was kept in happy company by a much beloved toy gifted to commemorate her Year of the Horse arrival. She loves that horse, but when we realized its magical, mood-changing qualities, stopping tears in their tracks, we loved it more).

Thousands of miles by car with an infant. Crazy, you say? Yeah, that's just how we roll.

Written as part of Mel's Microblog Mondays. Check it out here to participate.

#Microblog Mondays: Family of four

'How are the three of you doing?' 

'The three of you'; they say it so innocuously.

Or, 'Is this your first?'. An innocent query from a passerby. I stumble, pause for a second too long. Guilt. Sadness. Pride. Uncertainty. Love. So much love. How do you reply?

I have become resigned - after so long spent loudly and furiously grieving - to the fact that people can't won't don't acknowledge or remember our first born. Though to H and I, this is a family of four.

He is there in his sister’s sparkling eyes; in her secret dreaming smiles.

He is there in his parents’ impossible-to-realize determination to let no moment go unnoticed, unappreciated, uncelebrated. We want to stop and savour; to capture everything.

For babies grow so fast, you know. Except when they don’t. He never will.

And yet he is here. We are a family of four, but one of us - a son, a brother - will always be missing.

Written as part of Mel's Microblog Mondays. Check it out here to participate.

So right

So yes, I am totally that cliché. My communications post-baby have faltered, and I no longer feel like I have the time to post regularly, never mind constructing lovely sentences to adequately convey our here and now. I marvel at those mamas who continue to post with regularity through early parenthood. There are posts I write in my head several times a week. Things I want to say, or record for posterity, or share. The thoughts come, sometimes even the words, but I struggle to find the time and space for such pursuits. Part of me still feels attached to this space and the outlet it has provided, while another part feels it is inextricably linked to a past from which I've been wrenched by these momentous past months. Months that were sometimes horrendous, but which have become filled with delights large and small with increasingly regularity.

And so I find myself back in this space to update on one such of the larger variety. Girl Wonder had her first long-term follow-up appointments last week, at a new hospital, to review both the situation with her ventriculomegaly and the possible consequences of the CMV. We knew this was coming but in the final delight at having her home, have tried to leave it to one side as we enjoyed family life for the first time.

In brief: everything looks wonderful. Her heart scan showed only minor anomalies (all of which are resolving as they should), and her brain scan found no signs of calcification, while her ventricals are measuring at the right size and growth rate for a baby of her size and age. We were thrilled. Prosecco was consumed at yet another chance to celebrate our amazing wonder of a daughter.

On leaving the hospital, having arrived with the first light of day for an early appointment and spent many long and anxious hours into the afternoon awaiting procedures, transferring clinics, and then waiting again for meetings with specialists who would interpret all the results for us, we were exhausted and elated. There was the briefest of moments when we looked at one another and felt a strange kind of disorientation.

H turned to me and said: 'Do you realize this is the first time in what feels like forever that we came to the hospital and received nothing but good news?  

It's true. Almost from the start, hospital visits kept throwing us for one loop after another. I think part of us both expected someone to say: 'I'm sorry, but we're going to have to admit her again'.

But they didn't. And she's doing awesome. The experience did indeed feel a bit (delightfully, intoxicatingly, ecstatically) strange.

I was reminded of that Paul Simon song. To paraphrase: getting used to something so right is going to take some getting used to.

And that's an endeavour - short as we are on time these days - that we will joyfully run towards.