Feeling is Seeing
When we were initially finding out everything that was wrong with Adalynne, we learned there was a part of her brain that was missing. This part of her brain is what is partially responsible for receiving sight, sound and sensation. So, it meant that if it did not develop, she would be blind and deaf. This part of your brain develops between 19 to 20 weeks, and since she was two weeks behind in size, at twenty weeks they held on to hope that it would develop. I didn't and don't hold out hope. That was the last day I had an ultrasound. What was the point? After the initial abnormal ultrasound, the ones that followed only showed more things, abnormal features, things that should be in a place and weren't, missing pieces. With each look, it was like a piece of my heart was taken, and my pieces went missing.
Looking at the bigger picture, it did not matter. We were torturing ourselves with each acquired anomaly. Adalynne's tiny body is unique. It hurt, and enough was enough. We already know the prognosis, so torturing ourselves while she is here is not something I wanted us to endure.
Harrison is such a love bucket. He is so smart, happy all the time, and simply wonderful. I will be downstairs in the morning making tea when I hear him jump off of his top bunk and he runs downstairs. He is so happy to start a new day. I ask him what he would like for breakfast, and he always says he is not hungry. "Harrison, I can't send you to school without eating breakfast," I say bending down to hug his sweet cheeks and kiss his forehead. "I will have water," he says, thinking that'll be enough. "What do you want to eat, waffles?" I asked, and they usually do the trick. "Sure," he says with a smile. He is such an easy kid to raise. He is funny and fun to be around. His heart is so big. He always says the right thing, at six, it's like he knows if you're not yourself and he will say something simple and it makes you feel better. Doesn't push the boundaries when it comes to our family rules. He looks out for his mommy. Our family went to a football game last Sunday. This unfamiliar couple started smoking, right in front of our seats. And, Harrison went crazy. "You cannot smoke in LP field. You have to smoke behind the blue lines. Mommy hold your breath. My mom is pregnant." He was doing pretty well on his own, but daddy came in and asked the couple to put it out or leave. "My wife is pregnant and we have two small children plus you are not supposed to smoke up here."
Last week when we were at the Titan's game, Miss Adalynne was moving like crazy. It probably had something to do with the gallon of hot chocolate I had consumed, and she liked it! When the first set of fireworks went off, she was actively moving about in her limited space when the roar of fireworks engulfed our ears, and she became completely still. Could she hear? It really does not matter to me, but the fact that she just might, just might hear my voice, sent great comfort to my soul. Could she hear all my questions I asked upon my growing belly that represented her and her life; questions that are more like statements and could go unanswered? It could have been the vibrations of the fireworks. It doesn't matter.
A couple of nights later, Houston had one of his mini meltdowns; one that will go down in the books. I like to call his meltdowns mini ones, it sounds much nicer. It was 7:21 PM when it started. The only reason I know the time is because we were putting the boys down forty minutes before their scheduled bedtime; and I was hoping Harrison would not look at his alarm clock and bust me. Harrison and I were sitting on their bedroom floor with "The Great Turkey Race". It is an adorable book we all enjoy. I called out to Houston several times to hurry up, and he decided to take his sweet little time. So, I called out one more time, "Houston we are going to start the book without you, hurry up." Still no Houston. So, I started the book without him. Once he graced us with his presence, he wanted me to start over. I refused. I explained that I asked him to join us, but he decided to take his time. I wasn't being mean, but with all that is about to happen to our family, the boys need to feel safe and secure with boundaries, no matter how small; homework as soon as we get home, dinner as soon as dad gets home, bath right after dinner, playtime, time to take our vitamins, book and prayer time, and then bedtime. There are nights when it is all I can do to make it up the twelve steps that lead to our second floor, but keeping their routine is something I will not change, no matter what might be changing in our lives. It is security for not only them but me as well. Anyway, back to Houston... So, then he started with the whining. "Houston," I said very calmly, "if you continue to stomp your feet on the floor, you will not get your book read to you and you will have to get in your bed." It was a challenge he was willing to take on. And, he did it with all his might his little three-year-old body would allow; quite impressive. So, he had to sit in his bed. No book. He decided he was not finished pushing the limit. So, he kept falling off of his bed. Keep in mind, he is whining and crying the whole time, and poor Harrison is sitting next to me just wanting to know (he actually already knew) who was going to win the Turkey Race. I finished the book, kissed Harrison, and he climbed up in bed. It was far too noisy for him to fall asleep so I told him he could fall asleep in my room, and daddy would carry him back to his bed once he fell asleep. I laid down next to my crying three year old rubbing his back while he screamed and cried, "Read me a book. I want my book." I would say very calmly, "Houston, I am so sorry but you decided not to listen to mommy and you can't get what you want when you don't listen and when you act like this." I was so proud of myself for not giving up. Understand, by this time of night, it was all I could do not to resist the temptations of my bed calling my name. The cool sheets that feel like butter that envelopes my entire body when I climb into them. My pillow and bed wraps around my body and it is so heavenly. However, I was committed to stick this tantrum out. Houston said I was mean. It was the first time in his life he has ever said anything other than wonderful things to me. It made me feel horrible. He went from wanting his book read to him, to wanting daddy (who was working downstairs from our computer), to being thirsty, and having to go potty. "I am sorry you think I am mean Houston," I would say in the calmest voice I could muster, hoping it would calm him down; it didn't. "If you're thirsty, you can go to the sink, in your bathroom, and get some water," I knew what he was doing, trying to get out of bed, "I want milk." "Houston you can't have milk this late, you will get sugar bugs on your teeth," I was rationalizing with the irrational. But, it made me feel better. "Daddy is working honey." "Okay you can go potty." I felt so terrible, that I reached over to comfort him stroking his cheek and there were no TEARS. I am such a sucker.
Well, all along, while this tantrum was in serious execution, Adalynne started moving around, more than she had ever moved in her short life. She has days where I don't feel her move around a lot and then some days she moves probably as much as a healthy baby. She moved and punched and kicked, rolled around and around the whole time this tantrum went on as if to say, "Get my big brother some milk, read him his story, his story is about Pirates and I want to hear it, he wants milk, he has to go potty, where is our daddy, ?!" It was as if she was sticking up for him and having a tantrum right along with Houston. Can she hear? It made me have more patience than I normally have. It made me cherish this tantrum that lasted from 7:21PM until 8:57PM. Eventually, Houston wore himself out and so did Adalynne. They both quieted down and went to sleep at about the same time. Houston lasted a bit longer than Adalynne. I got up, putting a bunny and a pillow in my place. There was a sense of calm I'd never had after enduring such a long tantrum. It was like they had a special moment.
Houston loves my belly. I never knew two siblings to get jealous over a fetus, but mine do. "That is my baby," Houston informs Harrison. Every morning, dragon breath and all, he kisses me and then he places one on my belly for Adalynne. When I drop Houston off at school, he has to give me ten kisses, "this many," he says as he is holding up ten fingers; and then he places another one on my belly for Adalynne.
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched-they must be felt with the heart." -Helen Keller
Harrison is such a love bucket. He is so smart, happy all the time, and simply wonderful. I will be downstairs in the morning making tea when I hear him jump off of his top bunk and he runs downstairs. He is so happy to start a new day. I ask him what he would like for breakfast, and he always says he is not hungry. "Harrison, I can't send you to school without eating breakfast," I say bending down to hug his sweet cheeks and kiss his forehead. "I will have water," he says, thinking that'll be enough. "What do you want to eat, waffles?" I asked, and they usually do the trick. "Sure," he says with a smile. He is such an easy kid to raise. He is funny and fun to be around. His heart is so big. He always says the right thing, at six, it's like he knows if you're not yourself and he will say something simple and it makes you feel better. Doesn't push the boundaries when it comes to our family rules. He looks out for his mommy. Our family went to a football game last Sunday. This unfamiliar couple started smoking, right in front of our seats. And, Harrison went crazy. "You cannot smoke in LP field. You have to smoke behind the blue lines. Mommy hold your breath. My mom is pregnant." He was doing pretty well on his own, but daddy came in and asked the couple to put it out or leave. "My wife is pregnant and we have two small children plus you are not supposed to smoke up here."
Last week when we were at the Titan's game, Miss Adalynne was moving like crazy. It probably had something to do with the gallon of hot chocolate I had consumed, and she liked it! When the first set of fireworks went off, she was actively moving about in her limited space when the roar of fireworks engulfed our ears, and she became completely still. Could she hear? It really does not matter to me, but the fact that she just might, just might hear my voice, sent great comfort to my soul. Could she hear all my questions I asked upon my growing belly that represented her and her life; questions that are more like statements and could go unanswered? It could have been the vibrations of the fireworks. It doesn't matter.
A couple of nights later, Houston had one of his mini meltdowns; one that will go down in the books. I like to call his meltdowns mini ones, it sounds much nicer. It was 7:21 PM when it started. The only reason I know the time is because we were putting the boys down forty minutes before their scheduled bedtime; and I was hoping Harrison would not look at his alarm clock and bust me. Harrison and I were sitting on their bedroom floor with "The Great Turkey Race". It is an adorable book we all enjoy. I called out to Houston several times to hurry up, and he decided to take his sweet little time. So, I called out one more time, "Houston we are going to start the book without you, hurry up." Still no Houston. So, I started the book without him. Once he graced us with his presence, he wanted me to start over. I refused. I explained that I asked him to join us, but he decided to take his time. I wasn't being mean, but with all that is about to happen to our family, the boys need to feel safe and secure with boundaries, no matter how small; homework as soon as we get home, dinner as soon as dad gets home, bath right after dinner, playtime, time to take our vitamins, book and prayer time, and then bedtime. There are nights when it is all I can do to make it up the twelve steps that lead to our second floor, but keeping their routine is something I will not change, no matter what might be changing in our lives. It is security for not only them but me as well. Anyway, back to Houston... So, then he started with the whining. "Houston," I said very calmly, "if you continue to stomp your feet on the floor, you will not get your book read to you and you will have to get in your bed." It was a challenge he was willing to take on. And, he did it with all his might his little three-year-old body would allow; quite impressive. So, he had to sit in his bed. No book. He decided he was not finished pushing the limit. So, he kept falling off of his bed. Keep in mind, he is whining and crying the whole time, and poor Harrison is sitting next to me just wanting to know (he actually already knew) who was going to win the Turkey Race. I finished the book, kissed Harrison, and he climbed up in bed. It was far too noisy for him to fall asleep so I told him he could fall asleep in my room, and daddy would carry him back to his bed once he fell asleep. I laid down next to my crying three year old rubbing his back while he screamed and cried, "Read me a book. I want my book." I would say very calmly, "Houston, I am so sorry but you decided not to listen to mommy and you can't get what you want when you don't listen and when you act like this." I was so proud of myself for not giving up. Understand, by this time of night, it was all I could do not to resist the temptations of my bed calling my name. The cool sheets that feel like butter that envelopes my entire body when I climb into them. My pillow and bed wraps around my body and it is so heavenly. However, I was committed to stick this tantrum out. Houston said I was mean. It was the first time in his life he has ever said anything other than wonderful things to me. It made me feel horrible. He went from wanting his book read to him, to wanting daddy (who was working downstairs from our computer), to being thirsty, and having to go potty. "I am sorry you think I am mean Houston," I would say in the calmest voice I could muster, hoping it would calm him down; it didn't. "If you're thirsty, you can go to the sink, in your bathroom, and get some water," I knew what he was doing, trying to get out of bed, "I want milk." "Houston you can't have milk this late, you will get sugar bugs on your teeth," I was rationalizing with the irrational. But, it made me feel better. "Daddy is working honey." "Okay you can go potty." I felt so terrible, that I reached over to comfort him stroking his cheek and there were no TEARS. I am such a sucker.
Well, all along, while this tantrum was in serious execution, Adalynne started moving around, more than she had ever moved in her short life. She has days where I don't feel her move around a lot and then some days she moves probably as much as a healthy baby. She moved and punched and kicked, rolled around and around the whole time this tantrum went on as if to say, "Get my big brother some milk, read him his story, his story is about Pirates and I want to hear it, he wants milk, he has to go potty, where is our daddy, ?!" It was as if she was sticking up for him and having a tantrum right along with Houston. Can she hear? It made me have more patience than I normally have. It made me cherish this tantrum that lasted from 7:21PM until 8:57PM. Eventually, Houston wore himself out and so did Adalynne. They both quieted down and went to sleep at about the same time. Houston lasted a bit longer than Adalynne. I got up, putting a bunny and a pillow in my place. There was a sense of calm I'd never had after enduring such a long tantrum. It was like they had a special moment.
Houston loves my belly. I never knew two siblings to get jealous over a fetus, but mine do. "That is my baby," Houston informs Harrison. Every morning, dragon breath and all, he kisses me and then he places one on my belly for Adalynne. When I drop Houston off at school, he has to give me ten kisses, "this many," he says as he is holding up ten fingers; and then he places another one on my belly for Adalynne.
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched-they must be felt with the heart." -Helen Keller
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