The end of Ultimate

ultimate-frisbeeSummer season of Ultimate is done and I’m feeling a bit sad. My throws and play reads are finally getting consistent. The team is getting decent “flow” in the game. We’re doing awesome on defense.

As with every season, first couple of games were atrocious. I couldn’t run more than 30 seconds before gasping for air. Every throw didn’t get anywhere close to where it should have been.

We did get rained out for a month in June and July, and have had to play while carrying around 10lb of mosquitoes. It was a new sensation to play in knee high grass. The dives were super soft to land.

The season end tournament is this Saturday. It’ll be a good hucking time.

On little breaks

Every morning and evening I get to take a break from regular life and take our dog Hank for a walk.

Some days it’s easy, some days it’s a bit harder. Sometimes every blade of grass requires a sniff. Sometimes it’s all about the destination. Sometimes it’s about the escape.

On our evening walks I’ve seen some incredible sights. Couple of ospreys fishing. Great Blue Heron at 30 paces. Lightning unzipping the clouds on the horizon. Train drowning out thunder. Unbridled joy of a good chase.

Taking some time to quiet my thoughts. Enjoying a fresh cup of coffee. Getting a mini vacation.

Run Away

I wish there was money in savings to head on a vacation.  Nothing extraordinary, a few days in Disney World would be just about right.  Really, I  just want to get away.  Two years ago when we went, there was some whining spells and such, but really, it was a nice break from life.  Break from life!  That’s what I’m really after.  Everyone was happy, and we woke up each day with the excitement of knowing that, that day, was going to hold something new.  The shiny kind of new, a new/exciting/marvelous “something”.   Sometimes just getting away form your surroundings is enough of a refreshment to keep you plowing through life.

A vacation is plausible, a vacation is a realistic wish because what I would really like to travel far, far away from is reality.  Well, my reality anyway.  I want to go somewhere where babies don’t die, Grandmothers who are the epitome of love and who make the world a more beautiful place are ever aging and never leaving, where there is no Autism and the fear that it’s struck our family twice doesn’t exist.  Where I’m always doing and saying the things that will form my children into the kind of adults I wish I could be.

Two nights ago I couldn’t hold back tears any longer. It was 1:30am and all I could do was cry.  I got out of bed and drew a bath.  I can’t remember if the day was bad, or not, likely it was ordinary, meaning I was tired and the kids were needy.  I remember feeling for the millionth time that I am not the one to raise an Autistic son, that there is not enough in me to do it right.  Then somewhere in the night I remembered how my Babby used to hold my face cupped in her two hands, look up at me (she was a tiny person), and say:  “Erron you are a beautiful mother, you have patience, and your kids are so blessed to have a mother who is able to guide them with such love and patience”, and suddenly I was sadder because, surely now, from heaven she could see how untrue that was.  How when we are alone my patience is thin, how I fail when Elijah screams, or eats some bit of crap off the floor, or when he won’t stop running on the furniture, humming, or spinning. How I fail to be patient when Petra refuses to eat lunch and then 12 minutes later asks for a snack, and when the answer is no asks for a drink then.  How Natalia’s whinny baby bit makes me want to scream and how Micah…well I’ll get to Micah in a bit.

I will likely never get to take a break from Autism, but worst of all, neither will Elijah.  I want a recovery for him, so badly.  I want to believe that he can be normal.  Why can’t my kid be one of the ones who comes out of it? I want to try everything, and yet I’m afraid to.  What if we try everything and we can’t fix him? What if the age where one treatment would have worked is past us?  I have no idea what the future will bring, but I’m afraid it’s going to get harder, and we’ll just keep trying everything.

And there’s a terrible fear within me, that I may have to go through it all over again with this new baby.  The Lord may know the scale of my life better than I, but I don’t know if I can right the scale with another Autistic baby.  I spend most of my pregnancy aware of whether I’m nauseous enough, is the baby moving, always a flicker of fear, but always watching, wondering if  my baby is normal, hitting milestones, is just a way of prolonging my state of on the edge.

I feel like I haven’t taken a deep breath in years.

I think it has happened twice.  I don’t know.  For all of you who may have wondered if having another boy scares me.  It does, not just a little, it has me terrified.  I feel like it’s already begun.  He is a baby of extreme emotions very happy and very angry.  Most people see the very happy baby, because there are enough arms to always be holding him.  He needs to be held all the time, putting him down means he trashes about or cries, and yet, he pushes away and pinches when you are holding him.  He flexes all the time trowing his head back and arching his back as he screams.  He likes to bury is head into things.  He is all about vestibular movement.  He doesn’t sleep, good God, he doesn’t sleep.  He gets 9 or 10 hours at night often waking 4 or more times, never less than 3, and naps once or twice a day, sometimes only for 45mins, sometimes, on good days, longer 2-3 hours, but a good nap often means no second nap.  A baby his age should sleep 16 to 18 hours.

Everyday I worry.  Everyday I beg whoever is listening, God, the universe, whoever, not to burden me with 2 spectrum kids, but we all know it doesn’t work that way. We’re not all dealt a equal portion of hardship, so we could be the ones who have two.

Maybe I’m over analyzing, maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there because I’m afraid.  Maybe I am.  I hope I am.  I hope it’s all craziness and fear.  I hope I look back, and think ‘I wish I had enjoyed his infancy more, instead of  investing so much fear into it’, because if I have to think ‘I wish I enjoyed his infancy more because I know things are gonna be this hard forever’ I don’t know how I’ll press forward without falling apart, without wanting to run away.


I’m Totally Stealing: Pansie Wussy Bambi Pie

So this funny thing happened.  People read my blog.  People I don’t know.  Why am I surprised you may be asking yourself.  Well you know, I’ve had a few comments from strangers and I never could figure out how they got here.  I have search engines blocked, so they would have had to click from a friends blog roll, I think.  I always found it intriguing that my life would be of any interest to anyone other that those who know me, but I guess it is on some level.  I know Cliff’s sister Pam read a few of my posts during last years summer blog challenge, and had some super sweet and supportive comments, she was my first unfamiliar commenter.  Since then there have been a handful of others, some I could trace back to other people, others I couldn’t.

Every year I do a Summer bog challenge, the goal is to write 30 posts in 30 days.  I like it because it gets me writing, but also because I get to read the awesome blogs of the other bloggers who join the challenge.  One blogger is Chad, who is more of a friend of a friend.  We would hang out sometimes in a group, but he’d never call me on the phone and vice versa.  I like Chad, he’s one of the politest people I know.  One of his posts Summer Blog Challenges was about finding his sisters blog Over The Not so White Picket Fence and learning that she had been reading his blog and some of his friends’ too.  Now I figured that likely didn’t mean me, boy was I wrong.  This was the most recent post when I clicked over:  Greatful. It was a post about me.

Then my cousin’s wife asked if she could recommend my blog from hers and wrote this post Sending out a S.O.S using one of my posts to write about her.

So two people wrote about me, two people I didn’t know read my blog.  And they were moved by it.  This lead me to question weather I should make my blog public.  Not that I thought hundreds of people would flock to my sporadically written blog, but I am worried about what sorts of comments I might get.  I’m sensitive.   Some of my writings have some personal opinions, some of which I don’t want to have to defend to a stranger who doesn’t know me.  Two nights ago though I did open it to search engines. I figure if I can touch someone else’s life then it’s worth it, and who knows who will touch mine (thanks Lisa for the kind email).

I would like to say that my life isn’t all woe or hard fought struggles.  It’s pretty amazing sometimes, I’m truly loved by my husband, and the troubles in our marriage are small we argue about dishes, not infidelity.  My kids are sparkling little humans, they radiate pure childlike love, and I am so grateful for each of them.  I live in a beautiful house and we want for very little.  Sometimes I do question why me, why must I endure so much?  And while I may be Lisa’s example of why she should be grateful, I have a mom-friend who makes me feel as though I have it easy.  She lost a baby boy named Cody, has an extended family who walks all over her, has a son with Autism, who doesn’t speak, and is feed via G-tube (that they are having some complications with) because of a second diagnosis of Eosinophilic Esophagitis, she has put herself in financial peril to provide her son with treatment and therapy, and because she lives in the states she pays for it out of pocket.  If you have heard me complain that it costs us over 10k a year to give Eli the therapy he needs, and felt badly for us, she would love for it to be just 10k a year, they pay 2k a month.   I would send you over to her blog, Recovering Brady, so you could read about her life these days, but if she has had time to blog recently, you can add that to the reasons why she is my hero.

Angela, you have it hard, I think of you all the time, I often daydream that if I came by a big chunk of money I’d send you plane tickets for your family to come stay with us, so I could take care of you for a while.  Maybe one day it will happen, I wish there was some way for me to make your life easier. You are no Pansie Wussy Bambi Pie.

Oh and if you’re wondering what the heck Pansie Wussy Bambi Pie is here you go: Pansie Wussy Bambi Pie. (Oh and by the way Lisa, I’m totally Pansie Wussy Bambi Pie about that subject I’m convinced it’s the other shoe that’s waiting to drop in my life)


It’s Okay Not To Be Okay

I know that you read my blog.  I have so much I want to tell you, but mostly I wish I could hug and comfort you.  I have never been through what you are going through right now, so I won’t preach that I know what you’re going through, I don’t, but I know what it’s like to hurt.

Mostly I want you to know that life is lived forward and reflected on backward, some day in the future you’re going to look back and think: I made it through.  You’ll likely even find that it was character building, and that you  gained something from the experience.  But there is nothing worse, than going through a miserable patch only to be consoled by future promises.  How can you live today, and even the not so distant tomorrow, if you’re always reaching for next year when it won’t be so bad?  Life throws punches that leave you winded, you can’t suck it up, because you can’t breath.  Go ahead be emotionally injured, you’ve been hurt, it continues to hurt.

We are purposed to experience pain, it’s the only way we can love, and enjoy happiness.  With nothing to contrast against the best in life, there is no pendulum up swing.  When you hurt, it’s okay to hurt.  It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be miserable for a while.  Being sad doesn’t mean giving up happiness, it means you’re sad, sometimes we are sad for a while.  It means the pendulum is headed in it’s backwards motion.  Grieving isn’t just for when people die, it’s when something that existed, or was meant to exists, is no longer possible, or no longer is.   Sometimes we have a say, sometimes we don’t, and even if the choice was yours, it doesn’t mean it’s not supposed to hurt.

I don’t know your whole story, but I know it’s difficult right now, I’m always here to lend an ear.  I know you’re hurt, sad, angry, and questioning it all.  As long as you don’t get stuck there, as long as you don’t make it who you are, it’s okay not to pretend everything is okay, or to hide it well.   I’m confident you won’t get stuck, it seems you have good people.  I’m glad you do, I’m glad you think I can be one of them. See you in 2011 oxoxo


Of Rights and Wrongs

I believe in democracy. I think it is important that people have a say in who gets to tell them what to do. I don’t have a better solution than the current system. That doesn’t mean that I like the system that is in place.

Signs clutter the sides of roads. Commercials say incredibly mean-spirited things about people. Smiling, well-dressed people say things designed to make them look good. It is a popularity contest. Or a sporting event where people, easily identified by their colours, are cheered and supported by others, based on geographical location, or historical loyalty for some coincidence of geology.

I have no interest in politics. The power-mongering, the back-stabbing, the corruption that is the worst that people can become. I turn my back on it, whether it is the shiny-toothed slickster hoping to win your trust with a well-placed baby-kiss, or the critics, calling down someone for being an incompetent. Is he incompetent? I don’t know, but I certainly can’t trust the critics, who are paid solely for saying that he is.

I am cynical, by nature. I don’t like salespeople, I don’t like being sold things. The lead-in to election time is one city-wide (province-wide, nation-wide) sales pitch. So I turn my back on it. Does my one vote matter? Maybe. Maybe not.

I’m not ignorant to the blessing that is my right to vote. I appreciate being allowed to have a say in who gets to tell me what to do. I think that people who have strong opinions on the subject should definitely take a pencil in their hands and have their say. I am not one of those people.

There are those who would censor me based on my choice not to vote. They would say that since I chose not to vote, I don’t get to complain because I didn’t do my duty. I say that is dangerous talk. The stripping of a person’s rights goes pretty far from the things that make Canada a great place to live.

How long until the line is that you can’t complain unless you serve in the military? Unless you vote for candidate X? Unless you drink Diet Pepsi?

It’s easy to say things like “Vote or you can’t complain,” because they feel right. They feel patriotic, and they feel democratic, but think about this: the right to complain about government and the way things are is a right that is guaranteed under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Heroes uphold rights. Villains suppress them. Which one do you aspire to be?

Disclaimer: This is not to say that anyone ever has to pay attention to anything I have to say regarding politics. As I said, I’m ambivalent, partially ignorant, and probably talking out my ass. If I say anything about it at all, which I probably won’t. And, “That guy? Yeah, he’s saying stuff, but he doesn’t know anything. He didn’t even vote.” is a perfectly sensible rebuttal to anything I’d have to say on the subject.

Liam

Because of Her

Our lit candle

I have no idea how many candles have been lit tonight because of Katie. I don’t think there is a way to know, but I do know it’s more than I thought. There are all of those from the comment section in my last post Light it up, but the word of mouth numbers I can’t count.  Everyone (well nearly) is on Facebook these days, and most people I know had some sort of message about lighting a candle tonight.  Some from people I didn’t expect, many from people who have never lost a baby.  And from the comments of friends posts were friends of theirs who vowed to light candles as well.  How lovely.

I think the most rewarding consequence of having a baby who died, is the community I have of friends who have shared their losses with me.  A sadness shared makes for a lighter heart, I think.  I know of three more people who share my sadness now because of my Facebook posts about October being baby loss awareness month.  I can’t tell you how honored I am to hold your children in my heart with Katie.

Today could have been a terrible day, full of tears, instead it was beautiful, I felt supported and truly loved.  Today was beautiful.

My good friend Tricia, who’s Sons Ryan and Joshua also died the same year as Katie, wrote this to me tonight

Remembering Katie with you tonight and although I wish we had no reason to know one another and that our sweet angels were here with us I am so thankful she brought you into my life. ((Hugs))

And I feel exactly the same .  The people I know because of Katie are special indeed.  They held me up when there was no strength left for me to hold myself up.  They wiped away tears, gave me a safe place to laugh again, and brought me back from a place where no light shined.  They are the women of AAHH/OATH, Parent Care and those who share their stories with me.  Because of her I have friendships of great meaning and substance.  Because of her I am more compassionate to those who grieve.  Because of her I love more deeply.  Thank you Katie.

Stillborn

I carried you in hope,
the long nine months of my term,
remembered that close hour when we made you,
often felt you kick and move
as slowly you grew within me,
wondered what you would look like
when your wet head emerged,
girl or boy, and at what glad moment
I should hear your birth cry,
and I welcoming you
with all you needed of warmth and food;
we had a home waiting for you.
After my strong labourings,
sweat cooled on my limbs,
my small cries merging with the summer air,
you came. You did not cry.
You did not breathe.
We had not expected this;
it seems your birth had no meaning,
Or had you rejected us?
They will say that you did not live,
register you as stillborn.
but you lived for me all that time
in the dark chamber of my womb,
and when I think of you now,
perfect in your little death,
I know that for me you are born still;
I shall carry you with me forever,
my child, you were always mine,
you are mine now.
Death and life are the same mysteries

Lenonard Clark


Nothing. What’s up with you?

I knew that when the blogging challenge was over, my blogging would go back to sporadic, but I didn’t intend it to be like this.
In an attempt to undo the damage that not blogging and not blogging has caused, I am going to update you on what I have been doing.
I have been…

Pumping Iron

I threw my hat into the P90X ring and I followed the formula for the first month.  I saw results, I was in better shape.  And then…

In Pain

I hurt my back.  This seems to come back every time I start an Lose Weight Exercise program.  I saw the chiropractor, and he set things right-ish.  Now I should be good to go with phase 2 of P90X.

Reading

I’ve read four books since the end of the blogging challenge: Way of Kings, Hawkwood’s Voyage, A Betrayal in Winter, and The Dragon and The George.

Cross-stitching

I cross-stitch.  People think it loseWeight Exercises me my man-card.  Secret for you:  I never got one of those.  Or a set of rules that determines whether I get to keep it.

Plotting

Not for the novel.  But the novel is involved.  I’m trying to figure out what I want to do.  P90X is a good challenge for now, but it’ll likely get scuttled in November for NaNoWriMo.

Shaping the hearts and minds of the leaders of the future

The scouting season has come upon us.  I have returned to Beavers to reprise my role as Bubbles.  Crafts, songs, games, and more!
I love these kinds of blog posts.  The best part is they don’t feel awkward at all.
Until more later on,
Liam

P90X Update

My schedule and my feelings about it so far:

Day 1 – Chest and Back

Pushups and pull ups.  I was using honey jars for Lose Weight Exercises, since I didn’t actually own any, other than Kim’s small guys.  I have since remedied this situation.  I felt good doing this one, felt like throwing up after, but it was okay.

Day 2 – Plyometrics

Jumping and twisting.  I felt like, in the first squat-thrust, that I pulled my hamstring, but as I worked through the video, it eased into it.  Probably just a case of doing too much too fast.  They have their warm-up routine, and I do that one, but I should probably make sure that I’m warm before actually starting.  Felt like throwing up after, again.

Day 3 – Arms and shoulders

Weights.  I felt good all the way through this routine.  Yes, my arms were tired, yes they were sore, but this was probably the routine I have felt the most comfortable with.  My arms were on fire the next day, for sure.

Day 4 – Yoga X

Plank and bend.  I missed this on the day it was supposed to happen.  It was a Saturday, and I had initially planned to do it during the day, but that got interrupted, and never got restarted.  So I did it the Sunday instead.  So, now, I’m a day behind.  I liked this one.  It was really hard, especially toward the end of the plank stuff, and some of the balancing with one hand in the air, bent over on one foot.

Day 5 – Legs and back

Lunge, kick, pull up.  I did this one last night.  My legs feel fine today, but they were burning last night.  Shaky, very shaky.

Day 6 – Kempo

If I’d managed to keep up with the schedule (see Yoga X) I would have done this last night.  As it is, I will get into it tonight, and hope that it doesn’t kill me.

Day 7 – Stretching X

Having seen the pretzel that Yoga X made of me, an entire day devoted to stretching should be something to experience.

I’m not sure what the schedule holds after that, but I’m well on my way, and, if I’m in the worst part of it, I should be able to make it all 90 (now 91) days.