Archive of ‘honesty’ category


In late May of 2011, I wrote this post, “I am days away from change….)possibly less” two days before Evan came into this world all wrinkly and purple, having used his umbilical cord as a jump rope.  I remember sitting here at this same dining room table on my yoga ball bouncing away and typing about my fears, excitement, and memories of my dad.  

  And little did I know as I bounced away on that ball, impatiently waiting for our son to arrive- that my whole life was about to change so dramatically. My days and nights would be turned upside down, my relationship with my husband would be rocked all over the place with incredible joy and frustration, and everything in between.  My heart would bleed with love and worry, and guilt and pain, and connection. I would no longer think of myself first or consider my needs as being my only priority.

Todd said it really well the other day.  We were talking about how we seem to be arguing a little more lately than we have been in a while.  I thought it might be due to Evan’s diagnosis and all the appointments and his difficult GI issues.  Todd said he felt like he was sharing more with me about his emotions and that in all honesty he felt better than he has in a long time as far as anxiety, etc was concerned. I said in response, you are probably right- we are both being more honest with each other. And then he said a golden truth- “We are just “more” in general, we are parents now, and we have to be more…….just “more.”
Who knew on the couch while we were about to watch our not so guilty about it pleasure- Big Brother- that he would spill out such a jewel.  He is right. We do have to be “more.” But with what we have to be- we also gain “more.” 
More love,
more tears,
more carpet cleaner,
more on our receipt at BJ’s.
More laughs,
more smiling for no reason,
more appreciation of our precious time together as a couple.
More time sitting on the carpet than standing,
more back aches,
more short fuses,
more bruises on our feet from toys,
more yoga pants in my wardrobe,
more of a mess in our front room.
Heck, more of a mess in our whole house…
The list could go on and on. 
 On May 27, 2011, we became parents. And no matter what happens in our lives from here on out- that title will stick. That title will dictate many, if not most, of our decisions, thoughts, and feelings.  
More……I am okay with that. I am more than okay with that.

Our Bug’s Story

Written on August 29th, 2012 for a feature on the awesome Pickled Bean.

We had spent about 4 months of dealing with up and down digestive issues with Evan that had affected his growth and concerned our pediatrician. He displayed aversion to food with any type of texture other than watery puree and could vomit up to 5 times a day, without any real pattern. Three days after Evan’s first birthday (May 30th) we went to a geneticist at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia and were told that our son has Williams Syndrome.
 In a word, we were blindsided. We had no idea that the issues we had been facing for the past 4 or 5 months of our little guy’s life were due to a genetic condition. I had been assuming all along that he had issues in his esophageal tract or that he might have some slight sensory issue but nothing major. He did not have the typical early detection of serious heart issues, in fact when it came up that we “might want look into genetic testing” as the pediatrician on the feeding team said in late May- the doctor even said she was 90% sure nothing would come of looking into it. Probably not the best thing to tell a parent. But she changed our lives that day in that little, cramped, stark white office. She questioned whether it had ever occurred to us that our son does not share our facial features. I literally felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. My father passed away a few months before we found out I was pregnant with Evan, and our son is a mini Bobby G, my Dad. He has the same droopy cheeks and big huge smile and personality. And I have clung to that fact very tightly. So hearing the doctor suggest that he does not look like us hurt more than she could know. A day later- she gave us the term, Williams Syndrome- which neither of us had heard of. I have been in special education for over 11 years and I have never encountered a student with this condition, nor had I read about it. So of course, after shakily entering the term into my keyboard and coming to the WSA page, my heart just sank. I remember not being able to focus on the information as a whole, I only could see certain words popping out at me, like, “low IQ, 75% have mental retardation, have successful jobs as greeters at grocery stores, need one-on-one aides, etc.”
 I remember collapsing into the recliner and calling my husband crying. Somehow he had already found the term online when typing in some of the issues we had run into and things that came up at the feeding clinic appointment. Both of us had trouble having the conversation and I just said that I thought his life expectancy was not different than a typically developing child. I hung up the phone and went up to Evan’s nursery and picked him up out of the crib where he had been fighting a nap for a little while. I held him and rocked him the recliner, which I had not done in quite some time because he doesn’t wake up over night much anymore. 
 And I lost my s***. 
I am not one to curse unnecessarily and I apologize for that, but I did. Plain and simple. I started wailing and could not stop. And the funniest thing happened (which now is so incredibly symbolic), Evan picked his head up off my shoulder and looked at me and started giggling uncontrollably. He thought my wailing like a banshee was laughter. And he thought it was was the perfect time to laugh right back! So he kept laughing and sucking in air and squealing. Of course I immediately smiled and felt my heart start to lift.

15 months in OBX

and that infectious laughter –
is really at the heart of our new story with our son. He is fine. He has a few less genes than the average child his age which makes him less likely to walk before 2, or be in a regular education class without assistance, or love to eat chicken nuggets and grilled cheese right now like his little toddler friends. But those missing genes have done nothing to his HUGE personality. He is
and just so very loving.
He has already taught us so much in 15 months, and I know he will continue to for as long as we are blessed to walk this earth alongside him. If I am being honest,  (which I know I appreciate)smile, of course I am still scared. Yes, I get angry sometimes when I think of how his future might be affected by WS. But the thing both my husband and I keep trying to remember is that we are far more worried about how his future looks to US. We are concerned over how his life is going to be different from what WE want for him. He is pretty darn happy with how things are going for him right now. Eating his sweet potatoes, chasing our choc lab mix around the house, climbing up the steps over and over no matter how winded it is making Mommy. I do wish people would stop saying they were sorry to hear about Evan’s diagnosis. This isn’t a sympathy card worthy circumstance in my book. I know when there is difficulty finding the right words to say, “I’m sorry,” might pop out. 
But please know, it’s really okay. We know there aren’t any magic words you can say that is going to make it all better. Because we don’t need it to be all better- Evan is our son, he is our reality, and although we didn’t expect it to include a genetic syndrome, it is okay that it does.
 So many very deserving, amazing people cannot have children or lose their children at a a young age. I had a miscarriage before Evan, I know how devastating that is.
Evan is here, in our lives,and as I keep repeating, he is more than okay, he is a rock star.
 And that is not me just blowing sunshine. That is me being a proud mama.
 I am so thankful for the community of parents I have “met” online and I truly wish I lived closer to everyone so we could all hang out and celebrate our awesome kids.
I also want to say thank you to our family and friends who are truly amazing. They lift us up with words, laughter, glasses of wine and beer, tears shed, and just by loving us.  Thank you to all of you.

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