I am up. It is late, and I know the sun will dawn before I am ready to start a new day. The house is quiet, except for the once in a while creeks of settling walls that reverberate with the happenings of our day. I imagine the anxiousness it would feel, if possible, from the disarray of toys, laundry, and mail left unopened. I, too, feel it.  

Samuel has missed a week of therapy because of this 3rd round of flu, and he has become so much more attached to me in these past days. It warms my soul, but it also foreshadows what returning to his facility might entail. He will struggle, as his routine changes once more. Even more so because of the autism and his need for intense structure. A large slice of me wants to keep him here with me, where his hugs and slobbery kisses abound, and where I know he is in his zone of limitless comfort. But, there is a sliver of my heart that pumps erratically and beats against the walls of my chest when I am reminded that he will not progress if I don’t send him. Oh, how I long for simple choices. 

But, alas, I do not have the luxury of lazy, park-filled, picnic, or pajama days with my wee one. It is ironic that he is developmentally behind but must grow up faster than most children his age. Therapy is constant, hard work. He is working 40 hours weekly at 2 years old. Things, I fear, will never be simple for my Sam. But, I am determined that LIFE will be good for him. There is this immense pressure that I carry with me, knowing that I am his advocate for a better, productive life.  And, even at just 29 months old, I am required to think much farther into the future when it comes to him. And, I will. It is taxing and demands a mind set of optimism. I am a pessimist/realist by nature, but God is molding me into not only seeing the glass as half full, but realizing that it can be filled over and over again by His grace and goodness.  

 
Maggie is so very happy and in love with her Waddles. He has become a normal, every day member of the Bland home. He sits on the couch while we watch TV, and he squeals when we walk into the room. He purrs when he is petted, and he hops and shimmies when he has clean bedding and lots of vegetables. Who knew!
   
 Just my random thoughts for the day. 

To my Maggie, on her birthday: 
I never dreamed in a million years that today, in 2015, I would have a little person who is 10 big years old. It was only yesterday that I was this age, right? Margaret Grace Bland danced into our lives on July 7, 2005, and made our days richer, our moments funnier, and our hearts larger. She is so very smart, silly, and witty. She redefined my life by making me a mother. And, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy Birthday, Maggie. You are the 1st most special blessing I have ever received. You make my days 1 billion times better. Thank you for hugs, kisses, night time ‘nuggles,’ and infinite amounts of giggles. Daddy, Samuel, and I are so very thankful for the gift that is you.

In just a few, short minutes her double digit birthday will come to an end, and with it, another day closes with the flu in our house. 

I worried last night that, although Maggie’s party was last weekend, she might have a miserable birthday today. I knew we’d be couped up in the house and that Samuel would be miserable with fever. But, she just made me even more thankful to be her mama. We watched Little House and ate lunch together, while Sam slept. It was such a good day, and she was content. 

Our sweet friends had a guinea pig that they gave to Maggie for her birthday. She has wanted one for years, and we have always said no, but for some reason my heart changed its mind. So, Waddles made his way into Maggie’s world today, and she is smitten. 

   
 
He is really cute and makes such sweet noises. I think I like him, too!  

Over the 4th of July weekend, we had our annual waterslide fun at my folks’. Maggie’s party was a lot of fun, and she got to spend a few nights at Granna and Grandpa’s with her cousin, Avery. They are fantastic friends, and there were plenty of giggles during our stay. 

   
    
    
    
 
Samuel is seeing an immunologist soon, as a lot of Dup15 kids have mitochondrial issues and weakened immune systems. Having the flu 3 times in 6 months is abnormal, and some of his blood work came back elevated, so it looks like he may need some immunoglobulin therapy to help fight illnesses that come his way.  We are praying continously for answers. 

Next week, Mag, Sam, and I get to join Scott for a couple of weeks in Colorado, while he works. We are really excited about having a semi-vacation and being able to enjoy new scenery for a while. I can’t wait for mountain air and views, along with a new zoo to visit, and the quaint shops downtown. It will be a much-needed change. 

When I was a little girl, my daddy taught me to ride a bike in the driveway of a 2 bedroom house we moved into, rebuilding our lives after our house burned. I can remember him holding the back of my banana seat as I tried to pedal independently. I wanted to ride freely, like my sister and brother. In those few days, my dad and I talked about growing up and that one day I would be “double digits.”  Even now, I  remember every detail.  The smell of the wind hitting my face once that freedom was gained, the crunch of pebble and dirt as my tires glided down that seemingly infinitely long driveway. Those memories resonate, if I just close my eyes and listen. 

I learned how to ride that pink and white bike, and I gained that tiny, yet enormous, amount of liberty. And, when I rode, I would shout, “One day, I will be 10! I will be double digits!”  And, magically, one day, in the blink of an eye, I was. The day of my 10th birthday, my daddy came into my room and whispered in my ear, “You made it. You are double digits today. You will never be a single digit again.”  I was so thrilled at this accomplishment– this day that I had yearned for. 

As I type now, I smile as I reminisce of those simpler, little girl days. We didn’t have a ton of money, but my siblings and I had a daddy who loved us and taught us and hugged us at bedtime each night. 

Maggie will be 10 years old in just a few days- her own double digits await. I want to tell her to not rush. Hold on to your bike riding days for as long as you can. Enjoy your own daddy guiding you through childhood, and remember the sounds and scents of your days of simplicity and unadulterated inhibition. 

Even now, I miss that daddy of yesteryear, but I am so very thankful to have him in the present. And, whenever I think of him, I can still feel his hands steadying me for those challenging days that would come. And, I know he will never truly let go- not even when my double digits are 37. 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. 

Maggie finished her 4th grade year on such a great note. She medaled in the science fair and won the mathematician, scientist, art, and manners awards for her class. She was so excited, especially for being voted  Miss Manners by her fellow classmates. I am thankful I was there to see her precious smile. 
   
 

She is excited about VBS, Sibling Week with Samuel at his therapy facility, and her birthday weekend coming up. I am happy to have her home with me during the summer while Sam has to stay in therapy all year. 

Samuel has been busy growing and learning more and more. He can say “uh oh!” And he learned this week how to climb onto the couch. He is behind, but he is becoming more mobile daily. His gross motor skills have improved immensely. He is still pretty much non-verbal, but he knows how to hum “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” It is so sweet. I am still praying for the day that “Mama” escapes his little mouth. Here is a video, in our disaster of a living room, of him climbing for the very 1st time. Glad I caught it!

Scott’s company put in a bid to a Denver company wanting them to build another project. If Scott’s bid is approved, we will be moving to Denver for a couple of years. We should know something in the coming days. I am determined not to think about all the things that will need to come together for this move to happen, until we know for sure. 

I have not blogged in a while. It almost feels foreign to me. This past month has been pretty rough for us as a family, but I will touch on that later, when the words come together in my head.  For now, I am grateful to be here and to see my husband and children every day. Thankful for my life. 

I am typing while listening to a worship song that Michael W. Smith came out with years ago.  Rain drops dance intricately with one another on my window panes, creating patterns that will never be duplicated by the next storm.
Let it Rain.  Take a listen. 

I, as most of my friends and family know, have such a fondness of rainy weather, that I am almost disheartened when the sun reappears. I am sure that is not how I would feel if I were Noah, nor probably how I would feel if I were still living in North Texas right now.  I am pretty sure the people there are as clean as they are going to get.  Rain has such power in the lives of all creatures and crops.  It is cleansing, quenching, and brings a sense of renewal to our cities, especially when there are long periods of dryness.  For me, this song produces those same benefits to my soul. I feel cleansed by Christ, quenched by His mercy and goodness, forgiven and renewed. 

But, rain can be harsh and violent, too- much like our tongues and actions.   God used rain to wipe away nearly all mankind because it was so riddled with sin. Hurricanes destroy and flood. Katrina was the worst of its kind. It was devastating. It was disastrous. 

We, as people, can bring a renewal to others, yet if not very careful, we can wreak havoc on another’s day or even their lives. Our words are extremely influential. When gentle and genuine, they have the deftness to bring such ethicality into this broken world. When spewed and indignant, words may destroy mankind’s ability to trust, to have and display compassion, simply because of who speaks them. 

I plague myself with worry, at times, trying to remember this while mothering and in day-to-day life. I am a miserable failure some days. But, I know that when I start my day with God’s word, He reminds me to be temperate and disciplined, even when my tongue doesn’t want to comply. I want to raise empathetic, compassionate children who have love that abounds from their hearts and tongues into others’ lives. I implore their actions to be gentle, peaceful, and purposeful. I want their rain to yield fruits of the spirit and to embolden others’ lives.  I never want their words to harm or flood others with doubt or tribulation. There is too much hurt on every web page and newsfeed in the world already. 

We have the capacity to rain mercy, goodness, optimism, help, encouragement, kindness onto this world.  Christ assures us this. With Him, great things are possible. 

Scott and I met with Samuel’s therapist at his autism school. She is a nice lady named Kathleen, and she was very encouraging. We discussed the targets that they are currently working on with Sam. Communication is one of the key elements. They are trying to at least have him sign the words that he recognizes and knows the meaning to. His receptive language (words he responds or shows the meaning of) is still lacking a great deal, but he is making more noises verbally. The charts that should have blue markings are all so empty, compared to the vacant spaces. He is basically about a year and 3 months behind in every area, except gross motor skills. His walking is so much better, as well as his balance. He is also starting to climb on some things, which makes him look more like a little boy than a baby. It makes me smile.  He is also imitating more actions now. That is reassuring. The thing I am happiest about is his eye contact, tracking, and discovery. He is looking in our eyes now, watching our movements, and discovering others’ movements. It really has grown him up a good deal. I am thankful for his school.

Today, Samuel had a follow up with the autism neurologist. She gave us the full report on his 23 hour eeg. There was no seizure activity during those hours, and we are beyond grateful for that. However, the test came back with abnormal “overlying fast Beta activity.” His brain waves are moving at a faster rate than is normal. His ammonia levels came back high, as well. Both of those things are indicators of a metabolic disorder.  And, it is common for children with Samuel’s chromosome duplication to have other issues like this arise.  So, they have ordered a repeat of labs, and then they will send us to a specialist for what will be next. It upset us, naturally, but if these fast waves are, in a sense, clouding his ability to develop appropriately, then we need to know what to do to help him. So, I am thankful for the report, as well. I have to admit, that we were really aggravated that it took so long for the doctors to realize they had not communicated this with us earlier, as we have called and asked. We are trying to stay on top of it all. 

Maggie came home with a fantastic progress report and reading report from school today. I am proud of how hard she works. She is ready for SUMMER!

I am having some issues right now with exhaustion and my depression. I am just so tired, and I am having trouble sleeping. Scott will be gone the entirety of next week, so I am praying for rest. I have a doctor’s appointment soon, so maybe he’ll prescribed the ocean. I’ve heard that does wonders. 

I met a young, new mother a few weeks ago at Methodist Hospital in Katy. She was having trouble healing from her birth. I didn’t want to be intrusive, but she was in tears, and I felt such a need to comfort her. 

When Maggie was nearly 3, I got my foot in the door of Katy ISD by becoming a home bound teacher for young mothers who were still in school. It was rewarding, yet heartbreaking a lot of the time. Some of these sweet girls lived in near squalor, and their lives were very difficult. Add a baby to their already burdened situations, and I could not imagine being in their shoes.  Maybe being a mother myself, or maybe remembering what those young women went through, or maybe even both, pulled at my heart strings. 

I decided to take a seat beside her and her husband. I put my arm around her, and she just leaned into me with a kind of sadness that is hard to describe. We began to talk, and I learned that she is just 19 years old, newly married, and she was hell-bent on nursing her baby. I admired her determination. She had this sheer, undeterred strength about her that I am certain I had no concept of as a teenager. 

We talked about nursing, and she was worried about her baby boy having enough milk. I talked to her about supply and demand and pumping. She said that she couldn’t afford a pump but that she wished she had one for times when she would have to be away from baby. 

We exchanged numbers, and I decided to give her my pump. My mother purchased it for me, as it was a large expense for a us at the time. 

So, today, I took my Medela out of its box, cleaned it, and made sure all of the parts and adapters were there, along with the owner’s manual. I washed and sterilized the flanges, ordered her some new tubing, and packed it all together. 

I have nursed and pumped for 2 babies, always wishing that I would have more. But, my pregnancies were nothing close to easy.  My tubes have been lasered, and my age is increasing. I never expected to have such a hard time saying goodbye to this “friend,” that I had such a tumultuous relationship with. On one hand, I absolutely despised the every 3 hours, 8 times a day pumping regime I took on, but on the other hand, had it not been for this amazing device, Samuel would have never been able to benefit from his mother’s milk, as he had so many problems eating and nursing. 

It was the final farewell to my days as a mother of an infant; tis that will never be again. I will never again buy tiny onesies, wee washcloths, or newborn diapers.  I will never hold another baby to my breast and nourish them, knowing I have everything they need for now. I am sad, but I am so very grateful for the history of midnight feedings, morning snuggles, and the bond that I helped to create between my children and me. I am glad that this precious mother will be able to do what her heart desires, even when her bank account says no. 

Samuel is melting down so intensely. I have tried everything I know to calm him. I have rocked, bathed, rocked, sang, rocked, sat, sang, walked, fed, and done it all again. Scott has finally just walked through the door, after a long day, and he has taken over. I can only pace, as I have done all in my power to calm his overstimulation. And, as I pace, I type this blog. And the more I type, the more anger seems to creep.  I pray that God calms this within me.