September 22, 2014 by Jolene

The cool breeze fix

Today is the kind of day to make your heart sing, just because the sky is a cloudless blue, the air is clear and a tiny bit crisp, the maples are hinting at color, the deer’s coats are turning a dark gray… I could go on, but you get the picture. Fall is in the air.

Seasonal allergies try to dampen my enthusiasm, but there’s no dragging me down today. I LOVE fall. I plan in a few moments to dig out the fall wreath and pumpkin welcome mat. We don’t do ghoulish, so we skip Halloween decorating and go for the berries, fall leaves and pumpkins. (The resident spiders at the new house render Halloween decorations superfluous, anyway.) Just writing about fall decorations has me suddenly craving pumpkin bars.

Jon came home from the office this afternoon in time to join us for a little picnic lunch in the back yard, and then I pushed the kids on the tire swing for a while. I think that might just be what heaven’s going to look like: pushing happy kids on a tire swing on a gorgeous, first-taste-of-fall day. I hated to bring them inside for naps.

There were the usual stresses waiting for me indoors, but I threw open all the windows. I’ve discovered it’s harder to worry too much about double mortgages (yes, STILL) with a cool breeze ruffling your hair.

September 14, 2014 by Jolene

And just like that, two years have passed.

Jon and I lay in bed Friday night reminiscing about the events of two years ago. Remembering Lina’s birth is a complicated experience. Sometimes, I regret that memories of her arrival are mixed with clouds of grief and chaos. We – and I, in particular, as Jon pointed out – faced some very difficult times two years ago. As we reminisced, I asked: “What if we had received a prenatal diagnosis instead of being blindsided at her birth? What if we had given birth in a hospital instead of at home?” But ultimately, I come back to the belief that events worked out for the best. We didn’t spend months worrying about potential health problems that never manifested. I was able to have a natural VBAC rather than a repeat C-section that would have required a longer hospitalization and recovery period. And even with the chaos, we spent those days falling in love with our baby girl and finding our way to bright hopes for a future that looked a bit different than we had expected.

Today, as Lina teeters on the edge of walking and every day finds new words and ways to express herself, grief no longer plays a role. The pride and joy of parenthood is sharpened into something even keener, thrown into sharp relief by its contrast with those early fears and worries. The story of Lina at two is not about Down syndrome; it’s about the awesome little person she is. It’s about how independent, curious, bright, funny and affectionate she is, how watching her smile and laugh makes the world sing. It’s about her arms around my neck and her sweet babbling voice. It’s about hauling her away from the dog bowls and toilet bowls and picking up the paper she shredded and spread around the living room floor. It’s about watching her grow and knowing how well she is doing.

That’s not to say there aren’t unique challenges. We still spend a lot of time driving back and forth to therapy visits. I struggle to be patient with her sensory-related habits of hair pulling and throwing items across the room. Sometimes there is a stab when I see her interact with other kids her age and come face-to-face with her delays.

I used to wonder how to find the right balance between pragmatism and optimism. Did I need to prepare myself for potential pain and disappointment? The answer for me is a resounding, “No.” I have come to believe that our unbounded optimism about her future will be the single most important factor in her success. There will be challenges, no doubt, but we will deal with those as they come. We focus on today, doing our best to equip her for success, celebrating every milestone with everything we have, believing her possibilities are endless.

I will post later about where she is with specific developmental milestones. For now, I just want to say how incredibly lucky we feel to be dazzled every day by our sweet Eline Katherine. Happy birthday, beautiful girl.

A little celebration at church

Post cake, pre nap

September 4, 2014 by Jolene

Labor Day birthdays

We spent Labor Day weekend celebrating birthdays for two pretty awesome kids. My nephew, Benjamin, is turning four, and Lina will be turning two in just a few days. The fact that the exact date is not here yet allows me to ignore this reality a little longer.

We decided on a simple family picnic at a nearby park. Edwin Warner Park in Nashville has quickly become a new favorite, thanks in part to a nature play area where kids can dig in the dirt, make mud with water from the spigots and generally muck it up to their hearts’ content. This thrills Lina’s soul. She finds the nearest puddle, plops down in it and coats herself in mud like it’s her job. Nephew Luke discovered a shared love of mud, and the two of them ended up looking like… Well, you can see for yourself. Meanwhile, Corin and Benjamin embarked on a “paleontologisting” adventure, digging for T-rex bones at the top of the dirt hill. They made up ridiculous names for each other and generally had a great time all weekend.

The menu was easy: sandwiches, macaroni salad, avocado/corn salad, fresh fruit, and banana cream cupcakes and (very soft) ice cream for dessert. The weather forecast had been threatening thunderstorms, but we lucked out and had overcast skies and pleasant temperatures, with just a little sprinkling of rain here and there. We returned home in time to open gifts before my brother and his family had to hit the road back to Chattanooga.

There is something about these kinds of family gatherings that whispers, “Remember this. This is the stuff of life.” The squeals and shouts of little kids, the chaos of big meals, the mess of toys everywhere I look, knots of people deep in conversation, peals of laughter from the next room… This is family. There is nobody perfect here; it’s just a lot of people who love each other, celebrating milestones together and making some awesome memories in the process.

(My thanks to Ryan for taking quite a few of these pictures.)

Ben understandably felt the situation required a little observation first.

To the creek for a bath!

The vanilla pastry cream was delicious on the banana cupcakes, but trying to pipe it from a plastic bag did not make for the prettiest results. I recommend the ice cream scoop method.

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That kid really hates ice cream.

Cake!

Lina’s favorite part was the Tweety Bird card.

Thank you!

The new tire swing sees daily use.

Blowing good-bye kisses

I spy an airplane.

You know it’s been a good visit when you’re totally bummed about saying good-bye.

August 28, 2014 by Jolene

First day, and we’re okay

My firstborn headed off to Pre-K this morning. It’s a low-key Tuesday/Thursday program at a nearby Mother’s Day Out, but it felt like a pretty big deal around here. Corin was so excited, and definitely a little nervous. He was more emotional than usual over the little things. For example, there was a meltdown over using too much water to clean the yogurt from breakfast off his shorts, presumably for fear of a wet spot when he got to school. But true to form, he headed right through the door at drop-off with hardly a glance back. Those buckets of dinosaurs beckoned. I managed to avoid tears myself and am left to hope for more than one-word answers to questions about how his day went.

“Here’s a good-luck whack for you, brother.” (Actually, she was being sweet, and the really good news is she wasn’t trying to pull his hair. This is progress, people.)

“Put down the camera, mommy, and let’s get this show on the road.”

Lina misses him. She climbed into the little indoor wagon when we got home and waited for someone to push her around the house. (It didn’t happen – handle’s a tad low for mommy.) She has her first day of Mother’s Day Out on Tuesday. She’ll be going one day a week. This MDO program is just a few minutes away, and to our amazement, they have a teacher on staff with a Ph.D. in special education, focusing on Down syndrome. Several local kids with Down syndrome have gone through the program. We are looking forward to giving Lina an opportunity to spend a little time with some typical peers. Her therapists are pretty convinced she will be very peer-motivated in her development. I’m a big believer in kids doing most of their early learning in the home environment when possible, but I think one day a week will offer her a chance to explore a new environment and learn from kids her age. We are very lucky to have this option.

A busy holiday weekend approaches. Our family will celebrate Lina’s second birthday and my nephew’s fourth. We’ve planned a fun little picnic at the park, but thunderstorms are predicted. It may be a rather damp party. Stay tuned for pictures.

August 24, 2014 by Jolene

When you’re miles from normal

I remember just a few years ago being in the throes of fertility treatment hell and grieving the loss of the stereotypical family planning experience: have a lot of sex, wait a couple weeks, pee on a home test and watch the bright lines pop up. Hooray, we’re pregnant!

Instead, we waded through countless injections, complicated medical procedures, the agonizing wait for the blood tests and the phone calls from the nurse with the results. So many others have been there and know exactly what I mean, and many go through much worse. It was stressful, expensive, emotionally draining and – for me – physically taxing. Much of the emotional difficulty was coming to terms with how hard we had to work to get something that came so easily for many. I had a very bad relationship with home pregnancy tests.

Time has brought a new perspective. It was hard, and there have been a lot of hard times since then. And to be clear, feelings of loss are, well, normal. It’s just that now, with the luxury of time, I can look back and value what makes our story unique. I can recognize the incredible gifts that have come to us as a result of an off-the-beaten-path experience.

My dad is blind due to a biking accident in 1980. He wrote an article once called “Unusual Gifts.” In it, he explained why he believes his blindness is really a gift in disguise, allowing him experiences and purpose he would not have found otherwise. I realized recently that I feel very much the same about the unusual pieces of our experience. I wouldn’t have chosen them for myself, but that’s why I’m glad I’m not in control.

My daughter is the sunshine of my life. Truly, I can’t even explain how much joy she brings me. I sit and watch her, in awe of the beautiful little person she is. But someone prominent – I refuse to name him and provide further undeserved publicity – recently suggested that it would be immoral to knowingly bring someone like her into the world. She isn’t “normal,” and to a lot of people, that makes her unwanted. To me, she is priceless, perfect, a major part of the meaning in my every day. And thanks to the unusual path we took to her, we have a whole new branch of this crazy family tree to enjoy. Our lives would be poorer without those incredible people to love.

My son is four and growing up SO fast. He cracks me up with his wild flights of fancy, his funny observations of the world, his caution and bossiness, his need for his idea of order. (He recently organized the hangers in his closet by color.) He dazzles me with his adult vocabulary, his sweet affection, his curiosity and growing intellect. If it wasn’t for the hordes of doctors and nurses, the labs and procedures, he wouldn’t be here. Our firstborn would be someone else – equally loved, no doubt, but not this strawberry-blond boy walking around with my heart in his hands.

We have met so many amazing people through our experiences, and been able to share so many highs and lows with an incredible support system. We’ve had to learn faith of a truer kind, with nothing left to do but lean on the only One who knows the future. We’ve had to build a marriage that can withstand a pounding and another pounding, shuddering and rattling but holding firm. We are, without question, better people, because we’ve had to be; because that’s what God can do in the midst of the far-from-normal.

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: I do not mean to suggest God sends hardship. He is not the author of pain and heartache. We live in a messed-up world where things do not go according to God’s plan. There are some griefs that are far, far beyond explanation or reason, the senseless result of a broken, hurting planet. But God does have the ability to pick up the pieces and build them into something beautiful and good, something better than we could have chosen for ourselves, a monument to who He is and what He wants for His people.

I suppose none of this is really new; it’s more along the theme of this blog’s title. I guess I just want to say this: normal is overrated. In all the ways it has manifested in our family, the abnormal has become beautiful. If you find yourself miles from normal and wishing for something simpler, let me offer you hope that the path less traveled really can be breathtaking in all the right ways. Acknowledge pain, grieve loss, but then, look up. There really is joy ahead.

August 19, 2014 by Jolene

Invisible strings – continued

Coordinating dresses bought for the girls by Laurie on a recent trip to Mexico

August 18, 2014 by Jolene

Invisible strings

My heart is full.

We spent this past weekend with family of a new kind. Four people already very dear to us flew all the way from San Antonio so we could meet in person for the first time. Dan and Laurie and their two children, Andrew (who is five) and Claire (who is almost four), are Lina’s donor family.

Yes, that’s my son resisting photos with all his might.

The weekend surpassed our hopes. The time we spent together was amazing. It’s staggering to realize that a profile containing a few pages of personal data was the basis for a connection like this. We had fun together, taking the kids on adventures, hanging out at home and staying up until 1 a.m. talking every night. Lina took beautifully to Laurie and the family, and the kids had a blast together at the splash pad, playing in mud, roasting hot dogs over a Saturday night bonfire, and catching fireflies with plastic bottles in the back yard. It was a lot of quality time with some truly lovely people.

That’s not to say it was all exactly easy. It was emotional for all of us, but particularly for Laurie, I think. I put myself in her shoes and imagine what it would be like to hold Lina, to see my older children in her, to love her deeply, and then to head home without her, knowing she belongs to another family. I certainly had fleeting moments of wondering, “What if Lina decides she prefers her biological mom?” Perhaps in some ways, it would be easier to keep a greater distance. But we have collectively decided that for us, the benefits far outweigh the risks. Our time together proved that we are all richer for the relationships that have grown out of this crazy-weird situation.

Laurie and Dan made the decision several years ago to donate their two remaining embryos because they knew they didn’t want to go through fertility treatments again but recognized the value of those tiny clusters of cells. They gave Lina the opportunity for life, and now our families are connected in a way that defies explanation or definition. We are grateful to them, and I know they are grateful to us for being the right family for Lina.

After our guests departed yesterday morning, we found they had left us a book. It’s called The Invisible String. It’s the story of a mother who explains to her frightened children that they are never really separated from her because they are connected by an invisible string made of love. The children realize how many invisible strings connect them to all the people they love. There was a note for us in the front, and I barely avoided tears as I read it to the kids.

I am truly grateful for this particular set of invisible strings.

Our guests shared a fun Mexican tradition with us: cascarones.

Pictures continued here.

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For anyone reading this blog who might be exploring the option of embryo donation, I want to be clear that our arrangement with Lina’s donor family is neither required nor typical. This relationship has grown over the course of long correspondence. This kind of arrangement will not be right for everyone, and donors and recipients are able to determine how much – if any – contact they wish to have with each other. We can personally recommend the National Embryo Donation Center for anyone interested in learning more.

August 13, 2014 by Jolene

Farewell, bottles

Lina has hit a major new milestone. We just marked one week of absolutely no bottles. She is drinking all her fluids from straw and sippy cups.

Infant feedings were painful with both my babies. Corin has his own story of excruciatingly difficult feedings and nearly a full year of exclusive pumping so he could enjoy the benefits of breast milk. Lina started out pretty well with breastfeeding but didn’t have the oral muscle tone to get what she needed. Even the bottle was a long, hard struggle. You may remember the anguish of trying to find a bottle she would take, and then the many, many months of difficult feedings where she leaked out as much milk as she took in (again, poor oral muscle tone). I once more found myself tethered to that loathsome but necessary pump. We jury-rigged latex nipples to make them faster-flow as she got older, and then those got old and stretched out and we jury-rigged some more, until all of a sudden she would take the silicone Avent bottles we’d used with Corin, and life got easier. Then began the LONG process of introducing about two dozen different types of sippy cups. We saw a feeding therapist a couple times, but Lina really just needed time and practice.

Ultimately, she has been successful with the exact same cups Corin preferred – the Munchkin straw cups and the Avent soft spout cups with the no-spill valve removed. At first, she made a huge mess drinking from them. We would have to hold a towel under her chin to avoid soaking her entire body. But in the last few weeks, those oral muscles have strengthened, the coordination came together, and she is drinking milk and water with very little spillage. She holds the cup herself and handles the whole thing like a pro (except for that whole throwing the cup thing).

The last step was figuring out how to deliver her thyroid medication. It had always gone in her morning bottle, and my finicky girl won’t eat applesauce or yogurt. Thanks to a great suggestion from grandma, we tried mixing it into a little pudding, and wa-lah – farewell, bottles.

As she cruises around the house behind her push toy, I’m realizing that my baby is very quickly disappearing. There has been something nice about her babyhood taking a little slower pace, but it may have lulled me into forgetting that she really is growing up so fast. She will be turning two in exactly a month. TWO!! She is fiercely independent, on the go and into everything. A few days ago, she discovered she can remove the HVAC vent covers and stuff things down the vents. I pulled several shoes out of the duct yesterday. This is unlikely to end well. But then she crawls to me, pulls up on my legs, puts her arms up, and wraps her arms tight around my neck as I hold her close, and I almost stop breathing to better savor the feeling.

And so goes the parental dance, celebrating the milestones with pride while mourning the loss of a little one who is every day a little bigger and a little more independent.

Although, I’m not going to lie: I don’t miss those bottles.

July 29, 2014 by Jolene

A little farmers market joy

I hit a low last night. We got some discouraging news about the house (not the new one – the old one we can’t quite seem to get rid of), and I was struggling with not being able to both unpack and keep the house clean or even something resembling neat, not to mention the stacks of laundry piling up and the full schedule of appointments over the next several days. My insomnia is back, and it all felt like too much.

This morning, we rushed out the door for Lina’s 9 a.m. physical therapy appointment. I ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things to get us through the week and returned to the therapy center to find Lina had screamed through the whole session. (She had been doing so much better about that!) We came home for lunch, and I crammed food in my mouth while popping up a dozen times to address the various needs of my kids, which included mopping up a full cup of milk dumped all over the table, chair and floor.

Normally, Lina has speech therapy on Tuesday afternoons. I discovered a couple weeks ago that a fantastic farmers market runs weekly at exactly the time we pass on our way home. The speech therapist canceled for today, but I decided to take the kids up to the farmers market, anyway. It’s a bit of a drive, and I wasn’t sure it was the right call. But within minutes of pushing the stroller onto that little field of produce stands, I felt the weight on my shoulders lift and my cloud of gloom dissipate. The weather was incredible – low-80s, sunny, a light breeze – and the fresh air, the gorgeous piles of produce, the live John Mayer covers, the families on their picnic blankets, the couple dancing by the food truck, the throngs of children playing in the dry creek bed and swarming the playground equipment… Somehow, it was the perfect reminder of how little it matters that my house is dirty and still piled with boxes. For the cherry on top, Jon was able to meet us there for a little food truck grilled cheese before heading to a late work meeting.

Life is so messy and busy. It gets HARD, and not always with the big stuff. Sometimes, it’s a lot of everyday stuff piling up and smothering my joy. Today, the laundry and cleaning waited while I found my joy somewhere between the peaches and the purple okra.

Also, Lina totally kissed a boy.

July 21, 2014 by Jolene

Guess who’s coming…for the weekend?

The tickets have been booked, so I’ll say it: Lina’s donor family is coming to visit!

It’s been in the works for quite a while, since Lina’s donor mom asked me months ago how we felt about the idea. She said she realized she really wanted to see Lina while she is still a baby (a time that is quickly fading), and their kids are old enough now to remember and really enjoy the trip – their first on an airplane. We were absolutely game to meet the people who have come to feel like extended family.

If you had told me several years ago that this is what we would be doing, I might have called you crazy. I know it probably sounds so weird to most people. This is not a common scenario (although I have met a surprising number of people who are familiar with embryo donation). The old me might have thought it would be threatening somehow to have another mom of any sort in the picture.

But the me who has lived the last three years of this experience knows that we’re just lucky to have more people in our lives who love our daughter and our family. There is no territorialism here, but a shared bond. I can’t wait for them to meet Lina. I can’t wait for our kids to play together. And yes, I admit, I am a little nervous. My inner school girl really wants them to like me!

It can admittedly be a little tricky to explain to kids who are still too young to fully understand our connection. Obviously, it’s not an issue for Lina yet. Corin knows that babies start out as tiny embryos and that Lina’s embryo came from another family, but that she grew inside mommy. He is familiar with her donor family and has seen plenty of pictures, especially of the kids. We’ve mentioned several times that they are coming to visit, and we’ll talk more about it as the visit gets closer. Lina’s donor parents have told their kids that Lina is a special kind of sister who will grow up with a different family. They felt – and I agree – that applying a false label, like “cousin,” just didn’t fit.

I think I can safely say it’s the hope of both families that our children will learn to appreciate this connection, and that they will care about each other all through their lives. At the very least, I feel it is a tremendous advantage for all of this to be in the open, freely talked about and made familiar. We have the opportunity now to get to know each other in person, a relationship built from opposite ends of a shared experience.

So, coming mid-August: The blog post where you get to meet Lina’s donor family!

A Dash of the Unexpected

a story unfolding