I have known for so long my little babe would need surgery. More than one actually. More than two. But back then, now seemed so far away.
I must preface this with the deep compassion I feel for parents who are forced to risk so much more. Who endure unimaginable paths. Who never thought they would be forced into such deep pain. Who embody the word helpless. Holding your child in helpless arms is a cruel torture no person deserves.
That isn't us. And for that I know we are lucky.
Lucy's first surgery is a common procedure. That is my mantra. All of Lucy's proceeding surgeries will be common procedures. There is no great risk. Though risk, of course, exists. In the everyday, but with this, it feels so intensely raw. Never have I known a more vulnerable feeling... to pass over my love, my treasure, the little Lucy that no one can love the way we do. To pass her into the arms of strangers, who will put her small, sweet body to sleep and hold her in the fine balance of painless slumber and death.
Please hold her gently. Please hold her strongly. Please don't let her go.
And when they wake her she will hurt, and I hope I will know how to give her comfort. I hope I will be able to restore her sense of security, I hope she will feel our love. I hope it will be enough.
In the scheme of possibilities our ordeal is minor. But my heart doesn't know any different.
Since Lucy's arrival we have needed help. I have humbled myself and accepted it. I have said before that Lucy brings light into our world. Through her I have seen our friends and community more clearly, seen how beautifully they shine. Accepting help has shown me the hidden wealth in our world and I am deeply grateful.
And now I humble myself further and ask you for help. A far more difficult task than accepting.
I dread the waiting. I dread handing her over, but it is the time between, the time my arms are empty that I can't bear to think about.
So, please help me. If you have been reading our story or popping by to check in - you can help me!
Through writing I have made connections with people all over the world. I receive private emails, Facebook messages and comments in response to my writing. This is always rewarding and inspiring.
I am asking that you please leave me a comment here on this post. If all comments are left here in one place (as opposed to multiple private messages) I will be able to save them up in one place and not read them until Lucy is in surgery. Until I am waiting.
So, I have seven days to save your comments and create a secret stash for myself. I will have something meaningful to focus on during the time when she will feel so far away. When my nerves will be on fire.
You can tell me your name (!) or write anonymously. You can wish Lucy June love, which I will most certainly pass along to her. You can tell me a story. If you are a friend I haven't spoken to in a long while you can tell me all about your life - I really want to know! You can tell me a joke. I don't care what you say, just please say it so I have something to read that isn't a tattered magazine.
It will fill me up and I will share it with my family.
Thank you.
*** To comment, once you are finished writing your message select a "Comment As" option before pressing "Publish". The "Anonymous" option is probably easiest. Many people have said they have had trouble being able to leave a comment. Hope that works and THANK YOU!
I can do this for you! Of course I can! First of all, you are such a great mother and Lucy and Ava are so dang lucky to have you as their mommma! Seriously! Nothing but unconditional love and acceptance flows from you Danielle! I have been grateful that you have been sharing your journey with me, with everyone. It feels good as a friend, even one who hasn't seen you in a while, to know what is going on. I miss you and still care about you so much!
ReplyDeleteTwo of my kids have both had medical issues and had surgeries and I have been amazed by both experiences with how amazing the doctors and medical teams are... and also how quickly these little kids bounce back. The day after Sophie's surgery she was back to normal. Kids are so much stronger than adults with these kinds of things. SO much stronger!!
We are doing great here in Calgary, I still miss the Island though. There isn't a lot to report on my end, I still stay at home, which is great! And I feel so lucky for that. But really not much to report! So I will tell you a few terrible jokes, since I can never remember or even really get the good ones...
1. Where did the wasp go when he was sick?
The waspital!!
2. So this man walks into a psychiatrist's office wearing nothing but saran wrap, and the psychiatrist says: " Well, I can see your nuts!".
3. How do you get picatchu onto a bus?
Pokemon.
That's all I got. You can do this and so can Lucy! you both are very strong ladies! We are so lucky and so blessed to have the medical advances and medical geniuses that we do.
I will say lots of prayers on my end for you AND Lucy! Loads of love!
i can definitely help. and I can't wait to finally meet Lucy after she is recovered from her first surgery!! Camera in tow, we will have a fierce photoshoot. Perhaps you could ask her to practice her best "Blue Steel" in preparation? I have lots of soft blankets and props that i'll bring along. I also have some lovely vintage winnie the pooh books ("when we were very young" and "now we are six") that are very photogenic props.
ReplyDeleteSadie loves watching Ava videos on the computer....and i love reading her dialogues. I always share them with other members of my family and we all LOVE THEM. we really do have to get the girls together soon - whenever works for you.
yes - i went to New York for work.....stories of K&P prospects that are better told in person. But 2013 proves to be an exciting year! (and also i want to move to new york :P ....with my family of course)
so as i write this there's 1 hour and 40 minutes left of the year. I have a sheet of caramel corn baking in the oven (cause that's how we celebrate new years eve now???) but it's likely got nothing on Rocaine. oh how i long for that sweet, sweet drug.....
K, if you want some inane hilarity head over to http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.ca/
take care and we're all thinking of little Lucy.....I'm sure she'll do just great.
xoxo
Hi Danielle, stay strong Lucy! This comment thing is a great idea you had I think, but you seem to be full of them :) You are an amazing writer. Even though I rarely comment because I can't usually think of anything helpful to say, I still read all of your posts. Even though we haven't gotten together for a really long time, I still remember what a great connection we had when Ava and Corinne we just wee ones. After Lucy is recovered from her surgery (and I'm sure she'll bounce back even quicker than you expect!), it would be really nice to get together. I'm sure Ava and Corinne would get along... as great as very opinionated 3 year olds can :) I'm sure it would be amusing anyways! Wednesdays and Thursdays are best for me, so feel free to just message me if you get a free one! Colin is 9 months old now and cruising around. Corinne will be 4 in just over a month and spends most of her time pretending she is some type of animal, making sure everyone else follows the rules that she enjoys breaking, and making up long winded excuses for why she can't agree with a single thing anyone ever says. Perhaps she is on track to becoming a lawyer or politician :) Much like Ava though, she is a fantastic, loving big sister. We moved to a much larger house in Langford this spring (Colin was 5 weeks old on moving day!), so we have lots of room and yard for visitors to come over and play now. I think of you guys lots and am saying extra prayers for you guys to have all the support you need and have a speedy recovery.
ReplyDeleteHere is the latest entertainment provided by Corinne:
Me: Can I see you shirt? I think it's on backwards.
Her (deadpan): No it's not, the sneaky tag just ran around to the front!
Hugs to you,
Nicole LaForge
You are in my prayers Lucy. You are a very lucky babe to have such a loving family. I know you will come through this a happy and healthy little girl. You are in such good hands.
ReplyDeleteIt is so hard on a mama's intuition...to fight with yourself because although you know that handing your baby over to a medical professional is what will ultimately make her better, you know that being apart from her for any length of time is just wrong, and that she will be in pain as a result of her surgery. I remember that torment so well. We spent the hours of Margot's heart surgery in a room with my two sisters, playing cards, painting our toenails, knitting, eating...the hours were long, even with frequent updates from the surgical nurse. Then it was over and I could have fallen at the surgeon's feet when he told me he'd repaired her heart as well as he could, and that we could see her in the ICU in a few moments. We had to spend that first night apart, but every night after that, we were together.
ReplyDeleteBring a funny friend with you. Bring a craft. Bring nail polish and delicious food. Bring a candle that will burn the length of time that Lucy is in surgery. Maybe let us out here know the date and estimated times of her surgery so we can light candles around the world...spending those hours with her and you in our minds and hearts.
Arrange to stay with her in the hospital...do not leave her for a second, even if the nurses urge you to take a break. Always have a trusted love one with her when you need to shower, eat, etc.
You are always in my thoughts when I nurse my baby during the night, and I wish your journey didn't have to be so hard.
We are all with you...have you seen the Neverending Story, when Bastien finally recognizes that just as he can see the story unfolding, the characters in the story have seen his? That's kind of what this reminds me of...you are not alone.
I'll be back with more messages!
Dearest Danielle,
ReplyDeleteAre you wearing comfy clothes? Jammies? Do you have a blankie? Some tea?
Let me get those for you.
Sometimes I wish I lived next door to you. I wished I could make you some tea, draw you a bath, take Soleil to the park, have you come over to sit on my couch, drink wine, eat chocolate and gossip about our days.
I suppose then, that we could be close friend in the real world - not just the world wide web world - and I wouldn't seem too much like a creepy facebook stalker. I think we would get along like a house on fire in the real world.
If you have waited, and are reading this in the hospital waiting room - then wow! you are even more spectacular than I though possible. Will Power!
Here is a random blog that will make you laugh: http://thebloggess.com/. Have you read her book: Let's pretend this never happened. very funny.
Also, Love.
Also, you can do this. Lucy can to this. You know why? You and Ryan made her out of a shit load of love. And that's the good stuff. She's golden.
Also, Love.
Surely there's chocolate around your general vicinity! Did you pack some? Have you done any silly impulse shopping in the gist shop? A robe, a tacky stuffy? A stale bag of jube jubes? A bible? Perhaps a little stained glass sun catcher? No?
Okay then lets stare at people and make up stories about them. I love that game. I don't even try to hide it anymore. SO MUCH FUN! What about that guy? The one with the nose hair. I think he is a spy or perhaps a burlesqu e dancer.... Or we could redesign this room in our imaginations...Or my personal favourite how would you send a massive lottery? Even though I never buy tickets...
Danielle.
Breathe.
Danielle.
Keep the breath flowing in and out.
Let your heart be light.
There is so much love being sent your way it is unfricken believable.
Soak it up.
Sun Beams, Kittens, cupcakes and Love.
Soak it up.
Love.
Lisa.
I know the waiting can be dreadful and you are sitting there waiting for the littlest bit of news....I have been there, not with a child but with a parent. So please keep in mind that even though I may not be able to physically sit by your side, hold your hand or give you a hug I am there waiting with you. But you are stronger then any of us combined and you will get through this and Lucy gets her strength from you. She will get through this. The nurse told my mom that she made it through surgery "like a rock star" and I predict that Lucy will do the same.
ReplyDeleteA little story for you: Our little family had to take a little trip to the hospital not so long ago. Little miss Ryleigh, she is not the cute little baby you once meet. She is a tornado, always in high gear. Well she decided that jumping on furniture was a fun idea. She jumped off the couch onto the floor and hit her chin on the hardwood, or at least that is what we are guessing happened as I was upstairs when I heard the crying. Anyway she has split her chin open and we had to take her to the hospital for stitches. While we are waiting to see the doctor she is running around and could careless that she has a cut on her chin (me sitting there freaking out about an open wound around all the germs around0. We finally get in to see a doctor and it is determined that she will need stitches so I sit in the corner with Kaidence since she is a little nervous and Ryan stands holding Ryleigh's head soothing her. She was a amazing, they froze her and put in three stitches and she didn't seem to notice till the last one. Her dad on the other had didn't fair so well. He got a little dizzy before they even started and had to sit on the floor and go get something to drink before he was allowed to come back into the room.
So take from this story a little humor but also that kids are tough, usually tougher then we are. Hang in there!
Hi Danielle.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing your story. I live in the UK and am a member of the Cleft Lip and Palate Association facebook group where you have shared your blog. Firstly can I just say you are a fantastic writer. My son was born in August 2011 with a cleft palate which was repaired in March 2012. I understand exactly what you mean about the palate being the bigger issue. He has had lots of trouble with sucking effeciently and although his hearing was okay (although not perfect) a few months ago, we are waiting for another test in a few weeks to find out how it is during the winter. He also could not breastfeed. I understand all your fears about letting Lucy go but the surgical teams who spend their days doing these operations truly are angels and are capable of such wonderful miracles. I will keep you all in my thoughts over the next few weeks and look forward to seeing some pictures of Lucy after her surgery. Hopefully your wait for her to come back safely into your arms will not be too much longer xx
Lizzi
UK
Danielle,
ReplyDeleteI have a Christmas present for you! And I have started eating semi-vegan (not easy)! And I really want to get a dog in July! And I'm joining a choir?!
I am trying to distract you with random facts about my life...Joel and I might go visit my parents in palm springs over spring break...I can't decide if I want to go...I went a few years ago and it was meh...but so nice and hot! And great shopping...and tennis! I got a tennis racket for Christmas!
I am incredibly hung over today...Jan 1...I wonder what this year has in store for all of us? What surprises and challenges it will offer...
Should we get one?
http://www.creamofthecropgoldendoodles.com/
Excited to come see Lucy and Ava again...
Love to you and your family! I got a food processor for Christmas, I'll whip you up a nice vegan dish and pop by in a few weeks...going to Mt Washington and then Whistler in January...busy!
Lucy will be okay! She is a very courageous and strong girl, like her Mamma.
Love,
Erin
Hugs and prayers! As hard as it is to send your baby in for surgeries the outcome will be wonderful. Though she is beautiful just as she is ,the surgery will help her with eating and other medical issues she may face as she gets older. Your doing your baby a big favor getting this done.....after its all said and done you will be happy and relieved it's done and over!!
ReplyDeleteWaiting is the hardest part... You were always a better doer than a waiter Dan! I wish we could fast-forward this part too. To take your mind off things for a bit, watch "Touching the Void" - (documentary-Netflix). I dare you... Love, Dad
ReplyDeleteHi Danielle, your stories are so awesome, I wish I was closer to you so I could help more, but since I'm not, I will try and help by writing you a story`.
ReplyDelete.Becoming a mother, Wow! Wow! Wow! did you ever think that you could be so truly intertwined with your child, they are always in your body, your soul, your thoughts, your worries, they become your happiness, Love is now clear and presise. Since becoming a mother on July 9, 1980, Feburary 22 1982, and Feburary 6, 1984, my life has never been the same. I can not ever image what life would be like with out my three boys. Empty, without reason.
I look back now and see so many things I could have done better, but I know that those things help me become a better mother and person. I do understand what unconditional Love is, my boys have shown that to me and I to them, we forgive, we understand, and no matter what we have done or not done we will always be there for each other. We have been through major heart break and sorrow - from watching my little baby so sick in the hospital with meningitis, not being able to walk without swaying back and forth or shaking so bad he could not eat, from holding them tight at their fathers funneral, to waking up to my son sobbing in the middle of the night after he lost his beautiful girl friend in a tragic accident - but with incredible strenght that just seems to come when you need it, we make it through these times, even though it seems that those times are at a stand still, everthing is in slow motion, we want it to hurry up, get this over with please, I don't know if I can continue I am so tired. But, that is a fleeting thought, we carry on with deep compassion and continuous care- giving that rewards us with wonderful outcomes. So many great times, so many adventures, laughter and love, hugs and kisses, drain away those sick feelings in our gut, dry up our hidden tears, when I hear "I Love you mom. You are the greatest mom in the world", that is all I need. I am complete.
Your Love is all they need,,and their's, is all you need.
Lucy seems like she is a very strong little baby, she will be smiling that beautifull smile of hers and looking at you with those big, open bright curious eye's before you know it.
Many, Many Good times to come.
Love Sherie
I understand how you feel you need to make clear that you respect and acknowledge that many parents are facing much more serious illnesses and surgeries, but your fear and apprehension are yours and they are real. I once spent 11 days with my 8-week old daughter, who was in quarantine for menengitis. I felt so alone, and time took so long to pass. I remember the walls feeling like they would suffocate me. When I would feel close to breaking down all together, I would request for a volunteer to come hold my infant while I walked the halls of the pediatric wing trying to regain my composure. But walking also brought me the realization that so many other parents had children who were certainly in far more dangerous health states than my own daughter. I would pray for those parents to have strength to get through their struggles.
ReplyDeleteAt 3 different times during that stay I had to hand my infant over to medical staff in order to perform a spinal tap. That wait after watching them disappear down the hall....the wait to try to hear her cry over the other sounds of a hospital hall, all the while knowing that she was on another floor. The wait to hear her coming back to me. The pain of feeling so helpless, that nothing was in my control.
I have to say those 11 days were some of the hardest of my life, yet they were only 11 days compared to the seemingly endless days some parents must wait....but those were my 11 days, and this is your time.
Know that deep down you can make it through this wait.....deep down you have strength inside you that even you don't know about yet.
My thoughts are with you and the rest of your family.
Ginger
Thinking of you from Western Pennsylvania! We unfortunately know all about hospital stays, the waiting game, the praying, the looks of concern you get because you start to tear up for what seems to be no reason while paying for a cup of coffee. You are right when you say your heart knows no different. My son, Layne 2 yrs old now, was born with a rare incurable genetic disorder known as tuberous sclerosis, it causes tumors to sporadically grow in all of his major organs...currently his brain and his heart. About every 3-6 months he gets local anesthesia and is put to sleep for an MRI...I would be lying if I said that it is a walk in the park, the night before I don't sleep and then the next morning I spend a good 30 minutes alone in tears in the bathroom, it's a mix of anxiety about him being put to sleep, the results, and the sadness that my child will for the rest of his life undergo multiple testing. Anything that involves our children involves our hearts! God bless you! Your family will be in my thoughts as well as my heart through the surgery and the healing process. My middle son, at 6 months old, had surgery to repair his tongue. I fell with him in my arms and believe it or not, these two little baby teeth he had on the bottom, split his tongue I'm two and cut the roof of his mouth something awful. =( good news in only a weeks time after the surgery he was nearly healed and drinking his bottle just fine! Our little ones are brilliantly resilient!
ReplyDeleteThe best of luck to all of you!
<3 Jess
Dear Danielle & Ryan and of course Ava & Lucy,
ReplyDeleteYour children are so lucky to have been born into the loving laps of their parents. "For the children, they mark, and the children, they know"...
with love during the wait...
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.
Chris xo
and also this...you must watch this....I am so touched...every hospital on the planet should have a person like this on staff...
ReplyDeletehttps://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=410781375652798
MMMwha!
Chris
When I was in nursing school many years ago I wasn't sure if nursing was a profession "meant for me". After spending time at CHEO (our closest pediatric hospital) I realized I was meant to be a nurse in neonates/pediatrics. The reason I am sharing this is a small attempt to offer you some comfort (although small I know) that those nurses who will care and nurture Lucy before, during and after her surgery are very likely meant to be doing exactly what they are doing. They will help bridge and foster some of that loving care you have provided for so many weeks until you can see and hold your sweet Lucy again. I have been a nurse for eleven years now. I have met and worked with some of the most amazing and caring people (nurses) I have ever met in my entire life. They will NEVER ever be able to replace a mother's love and strength but they are passionate at what they do.
ReplyDeleteThis is the link to a blog post I wrote a couple of years ago about how I became a neonatal nurse. I hope it shines some light on the type of care your daughter will receive.
http://carriescatchallcachepot.blogspot.ca/2011/05/happy-nurses-week.html
Wishing you strength and courage over the next week. I will be thinking about you, Lucy and your lovely family.
From across the country, I will be right there with you. Experiencing the same feelings, the same fears, the nervous waiting. My Quinn will be having his lip repair that same day and I pray we both find our strength and peace. Let is have faith as I know God is so good!
ReplyDeleteSending Lucy, you, your hubby and the medical team much LOVE and many prayers. You will come through this, with flying colours! Thinking of all of you. xoxoxo Much love, Debbie from Toronto, Canada xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteI feel your stress. My daughter was 3 and had to have surgery on her eyes. Low risk but I felt the same way you did. It was so difficult to send her on her way but I knew I was doing this for her. So she could see better. For the hours she was in surgery I paced and walked and couldn't sit still. Just know that all the doctors and nurses are taking great care of your little Lucy. I'm a nurse and the love you feel for innocent little ones and the passion to help them through is amazing! I found the recovery difficult but just took each day as it came and with all the support from friends and family was totally amazing and helpful. Stay strong I will be thinking about you and your family.
ReplyDeleteMay this day, this page, in this chapter of your family's story pass quickly. May the minutes slip by, the anxiety go quiet, the tears dry, and the heartache lessen. On this day, may the sun shine the moment you reach out and stroke your baby girls face, may the angels sing as you kiss her soft chubby hand.
ReplyDeleteOn this day, may the page, in this chapter of your family's story turn and invite you into the warm embrace of what the future days will hold- full of comfort, rest, soft coos, a million I love you's. On this eve, may you thank the Lord for granting Lucy, your family, the surgeons and nurses the strength to endure.
As a young mother I am sending you prayers, love, a warm hug. As a Nurse Practitioner I am sending you strength and the ability to believe and trust that your little Lucy will be held gently in the hands of her medical team. As a nurse I know for certain Lucy will be LOVED- she will be mothered in Pre Op, the Operating Room and Recovery. She will feel the soft embrace, she will feel protected- for those moments when you can not be with her, the angel nurses will keep her close to heart.
God Bless you on this journey- may this day pass quickly, may this page in this chapter turn and reveal all the beauty of your futures.
Kelly
Dearest Danielle,
ReplyDeleteI have walked in your shoes and am sending love and positive thoughts to you and your precious little girl. My 2-year-old son had open heart surgery at 3 months old and 3 cardiac catheterizations at 6, 9, and 19 months. I clearly remember the flood of emotions prior to my son's surgeries, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. But you will be amazed at the strength you will find as a parent, a mother, as well as the generosity and the kindness of others. Your little darling will make it through this and you will give her everything she needs.
Dear Danielle,
ReplyDeleteI have not been on the parent side of you adventure, but I hope my little tale may help...
Many years ago now, on Christmas day, in a snowstorm, my mother went into labour with me in my hometown, about an hour away from Toronto. A pediatric specialist was on hand because we had been RH incompatible and when I was born and looked fine, he said "I don't like the way she cries". Sure enough, there were major issues and I was rushed to Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto for emergency surgery, all of 14 hrs old, with my mom back in my hometown being watched like a hawk for any complications of her own. That was one of many long, long days to come for my parents as I had many ups and downs over the coming months...they travelled to and from Toronto while caring for my older sister, and even when things seemed to settle down, at 3.5 years of age, I underwent more emergency surgery to deal with complications from the initial birth defect.
I know today that these surgeries (to repair missing or malformed intestine) are not uncommon but also not considered "complicated". But as I awaited the birth of my own son...oh my! The thoughts that went through my mind!
However - for the rest of my childhood, and even today, I am absolutely fine! I have a few little quirks left over, and a truly spectacular scar (they would do it laproscopically today), but I am well, my son is well, and I lead a great life! My parents certainly never forgot the stress of the time - but they also remembered all the good, the way friends, family and neighbours pitched in, and the incredible compassion and care provided at the hospital (when not in an incubator, I was held and rocked by various people in shifts as being put down was apparently intolerable). You, and your family and your lovely Lucy will all make it through and have your own tales to tell. You will likely all have your ups and downs; be gentle with yourself, you are allowed to feel all these feelings. But also allow yourself to feel the hope you should feel - she will be well!
All the very very best - it is sure to come!
Megan
Danielle, dear, your transparency humbles me and I am moved by your expression of love for Lucy June whose face is radiant and whose eyes are brilliantly beautiful . . . your eyes. You are an extraordinary Mom who transcends the boundary between mother and child - where does Lucy begin and you end? I believe there is no such line. I know about this crazy-making, unsettling anticipation you face with Lucy's surgery. I remember being in similar places with Daniel and learning quickly that his resilient spirit and strength were directly and deeply connected to my own. You have plenty of this for the two of you! . . . a kind of a symbiotic deal between you. Have hope and faith that all will go well. Lucy will get what she needs and be healthier for it.
ReplyDeleteMay these messages hold you up and keep your spirits afloat while you wait, knowing that this will all pass and Lucy will be given the gift of health and well-being. Get your distractions ready! . . . chocolate, Calvin and Hobbs, talk to family and friends, pray. Do you knit? Maybe start if you don't! Call us. We'll come whenever needed because we love you so.
Char and Daniel XO
Sending you, your family and most of all little Lucy many prayers. I am in Washington state and found your blog through Adriana. Lucy is so beautiful. I have followed your story and just wanted to offer a little note of prayer for the doctors and all who will guide Lucy through the surgery. Stay strong, you are such an amazing mother and Lucy is so lucky to be blessed with parents like you.
ReplyDeleteShana
Danielle and family:
ReplyDeleteThis is such a difficult time for a family, but you have been doing such an amzing job so far. Children are resilient. Lucy and the family will find strength together. I have expreienced others who have participated in this procedure. It is a journey...but an amazing one to watch the strength of a child and their amazing development and recovery. You have a fantastic support group and you are fortunate to have a loving family and community surrounding you. Ava is a very fortunate to have such a loving mother. Keep these blogs and bind them inot a journal for her to forever cherish. Take good care
Mandy
Hang in there, Danielle. Will be praying for you and Lucy. The surgery when complete will make your baby more beautiful than she already is.
ReplyDeleteI hope these messages are swaddling you while you wait and keeping your heart warm. Whenever I update myself on your posts and blogs, it seriously brightens my day and I walk away inspired by the overflowingly awesome mother that you are. I have been so grateful to be given a little window into your world and to witness all the up and down adventures you have with your beautiful family. Whenever you post Ava's musings, I read them aloud to my partner and we often crack up until our sides hurt. What a little spark she is. When you found out you were expecting little Lucy June, my heart leapt with excitement for you, as we were also trying to conceive at the time. I held my breath as you waited for the results of your ultrasound, and sent you as much love and strength as I could imagine as you bravely stepped into this journey you are on. And my god, when you posted the first pictures of your beautiful babe I couldn't help but tear up at how beautiful she is. Perfect and beautiful just as she is, in a way no surgery will ever touch. She has the same bright eyes as you and Ava and radiates such aliveness. It's pretty apparent she is made out of love, and all the love you are giving her as she goes through these physical challenges must be fanning that inner fire, because those eyes just keep getting brighter! I look forward to watching her grow, seeing her and Ava become even better buddies and start having hilarious conversations with each other for you to post, and for this painful process of waiting and procedures to make way for a healthier, happier little Lucy June.
ReplyDeleteAs you wait, I'll be starting a sort of waiting of my own. I'm due with my first in the next few weeks, and the little town we live in doesn't have any maternity care. So our options were to wait here until we go into labour and drive 2 hours over an insane snowy mountain pass to the hospital, or for me to go ahead of time to stay with my mom in a town 4 hours away and wait. I chose the waiting. And I'm not very good at waiting. I'm the sort who likes instant gratification... and having lists of what to expect for the day, week, or month ahead so I know what is coming next. I guess this will be one of my first lessons in motherhood. Waiting with patience and handing over control to something beyond me.
So right now I'm waiting with you and definitely sending love to you, hubs, chubs, and little Lucy (what's her nickname? grubs? hugs?). I hope you can find time to give yourself what you work so hard to give Lucy. Find the fuzziest of baby blankets - preferably one with yellow ducks or pink elephants and the texture a baby kitten - and wrap yourself up in it in a comfy chair, snuggle a warm drink and cuddle up with your kids. Take good care of yourself, amazing mama. There are inspired people all over the world sending you strength today:)
Kim
Danielle,
ReplyDeleteMy heart is with you, and with Lucy. I will envision all the nursing staff, and all the doctors, as angels, watching carefully over Lucy, keeping her safe, nurturing her, and loving her. And I will also envision angels hovering all around you, pulling all the necessary strings to bring the help and love and nurturing you need, and also that Ryan needs, while you go through this!
Love
Kathryn
Love you all so much <3
ReplyDelete"Speak to us of Children,
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For thir souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness.
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.”
― Khalil Gibran
“When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. "
- Khalil Gibran
Love Ains xoxoxo
Dear Danielle,
ReplyDeleteAll The Arduinis are thinking of you and Little Miss Lucy today. There have been many times I have read your words and been moved to tears. Often, I would hover the curser over the comment box, but everything I could think to write was just so completely inadequate. You are so open and honest and raw in your writing, I honestly don't know how you are able to do it. You must feel so naked. You are brave for putting it all out there.
I know there is nothing I can say or do to unburden you from the stress of your Lucy having surgery today. As mothers, we will always hold our breath until our children are placed back into our loving arms when they sick or hurt. Today, as you hold your breath, it's ok to let yourself smile, even laugh if the mood strikes you. How could you even think of smiling or laughing, right? WELL, watch this...someone I know introduced it to me and I'm pretty sure it made her laugh. hard. :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=3GRSbr0EYYU
xoxo
C
Hi Danielle,
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year to you and the family! What a good idea to ask people to write and share their thoughts and jokes with you - sort of a open book journal stream of consciousness. I wish I could remember the jokes my grandsons keep telling me but I have gone blank -I will ask them tonight and write again tomorrow. Your plight touches me as any parent who has to deliberatly let their child have an operation that you know is for their own good but which will cause them pain. Lucy will thank you for your bravery!
Joan Kotarski
Danielle, I tried posting to your blog, and I don't think it went through so please bear with me...
ReplyDeleteI believe you are one of the strongest women I know. Please remember we pass on our greatest attributes to our babies. Lucy has inherited your strength. Lucy has also inherited your ability to love. Please remember you are connected by an invisible ribbon to those you love and that ribbon enables love to flow freely from you to her and back again. Lucy can feel your love while you are apart and for that she is grateful. My family and I wish you all the very best. You are in our thoughts.
Dear Danielle,
ReplyDeleteI've tried to post to your blog but my post didn't appear after I published so I thought I would write you a little note here.
Although I don't know you very well I feel as though I do... sometimes I sneek a peek at your blog because your writing is so good! Your stories always touch me and I feel as though I am right there with you when I read them. I can't imagine what you and your family must be going through with this impending day. I'm sure your experiencing all kinds of feelings; feelings of hope and fear, which usually lay side by side, fear sometimes outweighing the hope. Trusting your baby in the hands of strangers would take some strength but trust you must. Soon this will all be over and your little girl will be one step closer to freedom from all of this. I'll be thinking of your family and holding your baby close to my heart in the next week. I'm wishing you peace through this journey.
love,
Jenn
In 1942 my grandmother Mabel, met a handsome young RAF pilot while working as a secretary for the war effort. They married quickly and took a honeymoon at a farm in Yorkshire.
ReplyDeleteBecause of rationing most of the food they had been used to was tinned and terrible but because the farm produced its own food they had butter on the table, fresh cream on their cereal and gorgeous sausages with fresh bread.
They took long walks across the fields through the countryside. Sometimes they would stop at the pub in the next town an be invited to have lunch in the kitchen, since they were "t'honeymooners". Rough cider and soup or bit of bacon.
William was then stationed at a small village where there was an airfield. He made dangerous trips each day over Holland to Germany where he took reconnaissance photographs of the bomb damage done the night before. Mabel billeted in two rooms of someone's home tried to keep busy with domestic tasks while she waited each time he went up for his return.
There was no telephone where she lived , so on the day his plane was shot down the neighbour called for her to come to a public phone box down the road. There was no news except that he had been seen parachuting out, and so it was hoped he landed safely in occupied Holland and would likely be taken prisoner.
This is what happened and Mabel received word from her husband to "keep bottling gooseberries". This was what she had been doing when he last saw her, so she would know it was truly a message from William. And so like many women in war, she waited.
Danielle, in some ways this is not like your waiting at all. It happened so long ago and in such turbulent times, and for me it is just a story. Yours is awfully present. I do wonder though if she paced, wrung her hands, or if she cried for the loss of the children she hoped for in private moments. For I think she would not have spoken about it to others. I doubt that she had available to her the network of support you have. How lucky we are.
So ,waiting for Bill , she moved back to Yorkshire to live with her parents and listened to the war news and the decoded messages from prisoners of war, hoping to hear of him.
When a soldier knocked on the door two years later Mabel didn't recognize him. His skin after eating so little fat in prison was beautifully clear, but he was very thin. She had heard word that he was coming home, but did not know when and so did not go to meet him. I wonder what that welcome kiss was like?
In the chaos towards the end of the war the German POW camps were dismantled quickly and prisoners were no longer priority. The guards had caught a chicken and were busy cooking it. William, another British solidier and two Canadians went slowly one at a time across a field to hide at an out building where safely assembled the four walked away from their captors. Eventually they met up with Allied forces and were returned home some time later.
My mother was born in March 1946. A baby treasured just like little Lucy June. I'll be thinking about you today and waiting anxiously with you. Hope this little tale took you away for just a moment.
Love and baby snuggles
Kathleen Sean and Fern.
Sean send hugs for Ryan too.
i don't have a touching story or anything. all i have is my nursey paracticality and as i was reading your latest post, i thought: it is because the doctors and nurses do NOT love lucy that they can do what they do. doctors are not supposed to treat their family members because it requires a level of objectivity to perform surgery well. they don't love her like you do but that's a good thing. otherwise they could not do this scary but necessary thing. they will do their job and fix her lip and they will do it well. your job is to love her and you do that amazingly! lucy has the best mom in the world.
ReplyDeleteRemember all the blessings you and your family have been given, including Lucy and the fact that surgery like this is possible and will give her a better chance at growing big and strong - like her mom! Keep using your voice to write, to ask for help, to share stories of courage that inspire other people in dark times. Seek out mindless distractions (download Girls and 30 Rock) and don't feel guilty for not worrying about Lucy every minute she's in the hospital; in fact, laugh at bad tv and know that letting your mind unwind for a bit is good for you and your family. Make a list of all the things you want to do with Lucy and Ava in 2013. Imagine how nice it will be when the spring arrives in just a few months - sunshine. Eat a croissant from Fol Epi or Fry's Bakery every day (I'll eat one too if you need moral support). Stay positive. Stay loving.
ReplyDeleteSutton xo
Here are ten new takes on that old favourite, Little Miss Muffet.
ReplyDelete1) Little Miss Cardigan
Sat in the yard again
Eating some grass and hay;
Along came her horse
Who said, “But of course,
“That’s better than – ew! – curds and whey.”
2) Little Miss Lee
Sat by a tree
Eating a pile of nuts;
Along came a squirrel,
Who befriended the girl,
Which, when you’re a squirrel, takes guts.
3) Little Miss Torr
Sat on the floor
Eating a ball of yarn;
Along came her cat
Who said, “I’ll take that.
“You clearly can’t knit worth a darn.”
4) Little Miss Flower
Sat in a tower
Eating her crust of bread;
Along came a genie –
And what a big meanie –
“No wishes, just butter,” he said.
5) Little Miss Bland
Sat in the sand
Eating her yuck and drab;
Along came a wave
And here’s what it gave:
Some shrimp and some squid and some crab.
6) Little Miss Green
Sat in between
Eating a jar of flies;
Along came a bee
Who thought, “Hee Hee Hee.
“I’m really a fly in disguise.”
7) Little Miss Kane
Sat in the lane
Eating a ton of candy;
Along came some rot
In her teeth, the whole lot,
And in every last bone that was handy.
8) Little Miss Pound
Sat on the ground
Eating a clump of dirt;
Along came a worm
Who said with a squirm,
“Do you know that’s all my dessert?”
9) Little Miss Take
Sat by a lake
Eating her words and sayings;
Along came a mule
Who acted the fool,
But all he would eat were his brayings.
10) Little Miss Muddle
Sat in a puddle
Eating some rainwater soup;
Along came a pebble
Who was hardly a rebel –
Didn’t make a ‘splash’ but a ‘sploop’.
--Troy
it's been beautiful outside, these last couple days. sun shining...can you believe it. i'm so thankful for the sun in january. it remindes me that spring is on the way, it reminds me of the possiblity, the hope that something amazing and transforming can happen, at any moment.
ReplyDeletei love the feel of the sun on my face in the winter. most especially when i'm inside, those warming rays streaming through my window. as i walk from the living room to the kitchen i move from the warmth of my home to heat in seconds. sometimes i stand there, on the cusp, one side of my face in sun and heat, the other in 'shade' and i take in the difference. how marvelous what the sun can do!
my other favorite is when i find my cat, benny, basking the sun's rays. his fur, so soft so warm. sometimes he lets me curl up close to him, letting me ever-so-gently rest my hand on his belly and feel his breath, creating a genlte ebb and flow of heat and softness my hand delights in.
it's almost spring, can you feel it? such possibility, for everyone, for you, lucy, ava and ryan
This is Amy from girlintheroom. I can't tell you how many times a day I think about you and your sweet Lucy. I have an10 week old little baby boy and I am going through a health issue. It tears right int the heart of being a mother to simply always want to be there for your babies and to protect them. I am taking it moment by moment and trying to remember that the only true thing in life is love and focusing on my love for my babies.
ReplyDeleteGive my love to your sweet Lucy.
Love,
Amy
Hey Danielle, Ryan, Ava & Lucy!
ReplyDeleteIt's Kim across the mew (kinda sounds like a story or a song or a cat). Speaking of songs, of course as many of us who recently had babies know there is the song on the CD that came with books for babies 'Put Your Shoes On Lucy". Ash and I always make jokes about chasing wee Lucy around the city trying to get her to put her shoes on. "Come on Lucy keep your shoes on.. it's not safe to go barefoot across the bridge" That was pretty close to what Ash said just after Lucy was born. Anyways what I really want you all to know is that I want to know you guys better. You seem like great people that I want to know. I'm sure you already have lots of awesome friends - actually that is clear, and you don't need more, but if want more we are pretty cool over here. We can be loud, and abrasive sometimes as a family, but we throw together a mean family friendly bbq. I hope y'all will come over sometime soon (when we aren't all sick...) and eat bbq'd meat with us. It's what we do, often, especially in the summer. These are all just random thought that I have had often. I hope our kids do actually get to know each other too - that's something else I always think of.
But lately mostly I think about you - Danielle, and Lucy. I know how hard it's been on everything for us having another kid. It's been the best thing that Shane and I did since Ash, but it was hard to adjust for Ash, and Shane and I's relationship again. So I think about you all the time and wish I could do more, express more the common love that I feel for you and Lucy and your family. I don't really know what I mean by common other than it's just feels like I am in solidarity with you as a mother and as a person.
I think you get the gist, even though it made no sense. I'm not going to publishing any grande writing project anytime soon...
I'm thinking of you and Lucy all the time,
Love Kim across the mew
http://shahirzag.com/post/29262342475
ReplyDeleteDanielle, Your pain,fear,determination,dedication and love bring tears every time I read your blog. Every moment of every day your accomplishments may not be written in a book but they are written on Lucy's heart.
ReplyDeleteEveryone who knows you and your family have you entwined in their hearts and are passing on their love and strength.
love Susan
Surgery happens so frequently in our society that we sometimes forget what a big deal it is, and it is! It’s scary and stressful and often painful. But, it also, a VERY high percentage of the time, goes off without a hitch. All will be well for Miss Lucy and I can’t wait to see her sweet little face with her new lip!
ReplyDeleteAs the key to getting through difficult times is distraction, here are 10 things to do while you wait:
(1) Plan a post-surgery party!
(2) Count to 100.
(3) Write thank you cards for Christmas gifts.
(4) Pump.
(5) Go outside and walk a loop around the hospital.
(6) Watch silly cat videos on you-tube, like this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctJJrBw7e-c
(7) Journal your experience.
(8) Take a trip to the gift shop and buy trashy magazines.
(9) Think about what you are going to do, as a family, this summer.
(10) And, most importantly, take lots of deep breaths. It will be over soon!
Melissa (Armstrong)
Danielle
ReplyDeleteYou and Ryan are such amazing people and you’ve given us a great deal of help over the years. Your kindness shows and will continue to show in your children, (although I’ll qualify that with a “there will likely be some days when they are not . . . quite . . . themselves.”) You have already set so much love in place and I really do believe that it’s love that carries us through.
When my kids were little, I thought I’d remember everything. The ink of my thoughts seemed so indelible at the time. I do remember some lovely things, fortunately, but I wish I had written more down because thoughts do escape over time, especially when we’re so busy that we feel like we’re barely keeping our heads above water. Your blog is a huge gift that you’re giving to yourself and whomever else you choose to share it with. You may thank yourself now, but someday you will REALLY thank yourself as you read back over your entries. I’m thankful I took a ridiculous number of pictures over the years and I see that you’re taking a whole bunch. Sometimes when I need cheering up, I’ll pull out an old album and my heart is instantly lifted.
We will be in touch later and it would be nice to have coffee or tea one day, but for now we want you to have time to concentrate on your family.
Sending good wishes your way,
Debbie
Well, you'll be too busy to read the magazines so I thought I'd skim through one and share three mindless things about Waimanalo on Oahu, Hawaii that I found in National Geographic, Feb 2001. Here goes..."MEANING OF WAIMANALO: 'Potable water', MOST FAMOUS ADDRESS: 41-505 Kalanianaole Highway, home of Tom Selleck's character in Magnum, P.I., LARGEST WAIST SIZE OF SWIM TRUNKS AT POINT BREAK SURF SHOP: 56".
DeleteHopefully not much longer to wait now.
xo, Meaghan
Hi lovey,
ReplyDeleteI think this idea is brilliant, of course most of what you think and write tends to be, so I'm certainly not surprised by this wonderful way of distracting yourself, during what will be an excrutiating time for Ryan & you.
What I know is this, you are one of the strongest women I know and I am so proud to call you my friend, we are so lucky to have you,Ryan, Ava and Lucy as friends AND Lucy is so lucky to have you two as her parents. We will always be there for you guys and I know you're there for us, which is super cool.
I will be thinking of little miss Lucy on monday and waiting on baited breath to hear that she is out of surgery.
As always, if there is anything we can do, do not hestiate.
Love you ~ Brooke, Jeff, Blake and Farrah
PS - I still laugh about the day I asked you if you wanted to hike up Mt. Doug....DUH Brooke?!! And you "Brooke, you forgot I'm not a normal person right now":) Well one day soon friend, one day very soon and this will be a distant memory.
Love ya doll.
Our hearts go with you...and our prayers surround you as dear Lucy is in surgery...once it's over, life will be different but I know that different is ok...we will be in your shoes in three months when our daughter goes through her surgery...God has his hand on you...and miss Lucy is going to be alright, but we will cover you with prayer and love...
ReplyDeleteHi Danielle. Although I haven't spoken to you in a while I've been following your blog and FB posts, and hearing tidbits from Nathan (from Ryan). You are such an amazing, loving parent to Lucy and Ava. I admire so much how dedicated you are and how hard you have persevered with pumping milk and late late nights. And how you have shared your story so beautifully through your blog. I think of you a lot and I am so inspired by your example.
ReplyDeleteI also feel that being anxious about my children's health and safety is one of the hardest emotions to bear, and I feel it all too often, especially when I am pregnant and my hormones make me feel more anxiety. They are just so precious and I can't stand to imagine them ever feeling pain or hurting or being in harm. I don't have any words of wisdom to offer but I know you are strong and you will get through it.
As for me I am 8.5 months pregnant now--in the final stretch. I am simultaneosly exhausted and filled with a drive to "get everything done." I can't wait to see and hold our new baby. I just finished working last week so I am transitioning to being at home with the kids. I am excited about it, but I also think it will take some getting used to.
I would have liked to have been in touch more these past few months. I have been so tired it's been hard to keep up with life outside work and family. But I have been thinking of you and your family and I wish you the best during this journey. Love Rachel Mason
PS. Best wishes from Nathan, Naema and Eli too!
We have eaten all of the rocaine ALREADY. What the F is wrong with us?? (I dutifully dropped off T's batch, WITHOUT I might add, stealing any. Virtue thy name is Jana)
ReplyDeleteAldous hit me pretty hard right in the mouth tonight, not intentionally, but it still hurt, and then he swung around again for ANOTHER one! So I grabbed his little hand and told him that it hurt and he just looked at me for a second, then very slowly put his finger on the tip of my nose and very quietly said "Nose?"
????
We're putting that picture of you guys on the fridge. I'm in the middle of a mini kitchen redo (nothing major, but some SERIOUS reorganizing and clearing out of stuff and The Fridge. It's a big one for me. I always have a lot of pictures on the fridge and I am starting to take it to wrap around the whole wall. One of Ali's faves is to have one of us hold him while he points out everyone he knows on it. Pretty cute. He's going to LOSE HIS MIND when he sees Ava up there!)
I just had a bunch of photos printed up specifically for this project and I'm jazzed about it.
One of my (incredibly small) list of resolutions this year is no sweets. Sooo pretty impressive that I have managed to finish off a box of leftover Purdy's at work AND now all the R that we just ate...and it's the 5th. There was probably half of the box at work left too. JUST SITTING ON THE COUNTER RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME ALL DAY.
So I really am not to blame for that one. But I feel like we may have purged all of the sweet stuff out of the house now...except for the one beautiful bar of dark chocolate with LAVENDER (whaaaa!) that was in my stocking. That one is hidden in my workspace so I can savor it.
Hopefully.
Ok I am going to stop now.
I am hoping that you have already received the word from the Drs that she's done and out and everything is wonderful and you are reading this on Wednesday from home while she's snoring all swaddled tight in her wrap.
Big love and hugs and mushmushmush.
(I trip over the sentimental stuff but I really love you guys!)
xox
and it's not just because of the rocaine.
Well, I don't have any pearls of wisdom and trying to find the right words to say comes hard sometimes. I hope it is enough for me to say that I admire you so greatly: as a mother and friend. You are an inspiration. Please know that as time passes and you (and everyone else) look back on this time, there is nothing you could have done better. You are doing the absolute BEST and Lucy is the luckiest little babe in the whole world to have you as her mother (and Ava as her sister and Ryan as her Daddy) You are a wonderful, wise, caring and strong woman. There will be some difficult times ahead and I hope you are able to face each one with courage, knowing you are a superstar and we all love and support you. I thought I'd share with you an excerpt from a classically mindless book, which will hopefully take your mind off this difficult day for 5 minutes at least...
ReplyDeleteMy mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt, sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.
It was to Forks that I now exiled myself, an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.
I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.
"Bella," my mom said to me, the last of a thousand times, before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."
My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself ? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still...
"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.
"Tell Charlie I said hi."
"I will."
"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want, I'll come right back as soon as you need me." But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.
"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."
She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone.
It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.
Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision: like my mother before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.
When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen, just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.
Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.
ReplyDeleteCharlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.
"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"
"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face.
I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.
"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.
"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as opposed to just "good car."
"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."
"Where did you find it?"
"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.
"No."
"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.
That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.
"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."
"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.
"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine -- it's only a few years old, really."
I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily. "When
did he buy it?"
"He bought it in 1984, I think."
"Did he buy it new?"
"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties -- or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.
"Ch -- Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic..."
"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
The thing, I thought to myself... it had possibilities -- as a nickname, at the very least.
"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.
"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.
Wow. Free.
"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."
"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.
"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth -- or engine.
"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.
We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence. It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was too green, an alien planet.
Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had -- the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new -- well, new to me -- truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged -- the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.
ReplyDelete"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.
"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.
It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window -- these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner. There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.
One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.
Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven -- now fifty-eight -- students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together -- their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond -- a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps -- all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.
Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not anathlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself -- and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.
When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty -- it was very clear, almost translucent-looking -- but it all depended on color. I had no color here
Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here? I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was
ReplyDeletenever in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.
I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.
Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage. Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me.
Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark
paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at -- I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them
somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.
I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket -- which had the feel of a biohazard suit -- and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up.
The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a
hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.
Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was,like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?
I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.
ReplyDeleteInside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, whichimmediately made me feel overdressed. The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.
"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me. She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.
When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.
I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me.
I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck. I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.
Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.
The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name -- not an encouraging response -- and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class.
It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare,
ReplyDeleteChaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting... and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.
When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.
"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.
"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.
"Where's your next class?" he asked.
I had to check in my bag." Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."
There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes."I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way..."Definitely over-helpful.
"I'm Eric," he added.
I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."
We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.
"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"Three or four times a year."
"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.
"Sunny," I told him.
"You don't look very tan."
"My mother is part albino."
He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.
We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.
"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.
I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map. One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.
It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.
They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big -- muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.
ReplyDeleteThe girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixie like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.
And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes -- purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away.
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful -- maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. They were all looking away -- away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray -- unopened soda, unbitten apple -- and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.
"Who are they ?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.
As she looked up to see who I meant -- though already knowing, probably, from my tone -- suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps.
He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered
to mine.
He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment
I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest -- it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.
My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.
"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.
I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.
"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though -- Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.
ReplyDelete"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related..."
"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're alladopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins -- the blondes -- and they're foster children."
"They look a little old for foster children."
"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."
"That's really kind of nice -- for them to take care of all those kids like that, when
they're so young and everything."
"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.
Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.
"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one
of my summers here.
"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska." I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.
As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.
"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today -- he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.
"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.
After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful -- even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.
When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat. As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face -- it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.
ReplyDeleteI'd noticed that his eyes were black -- coal black.
Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me. I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture
change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.
Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down. I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.
The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.
I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose -- he was much taller than I'd thought -- his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.
I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.
"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked. I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.
ReplyDelete"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.
"I'm Mike."
"Hi, Mike."
"Do you need any help finding your next class?"
"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."
"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.
We walked to class together; he was a chatterer -- he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.
But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."
I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb. "Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.
"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."
"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."
"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."
I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth. I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained -- and inflicted -- playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.
The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.
Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time -- any other
time.
I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.
The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me -- his face was absurdly handsome -- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.
ReplyDelete"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.
I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.
"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.
"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.
When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.
(It makes me want to sit and read the whole thing again)
xxx
hi danielle,
ReplyDeletei saw your post on the cleft lip facebook page and wanted to leave you a message, here goes -
my little boy freddie had his lip and hard palate op done 6 weeks ago. the op was a success and he's doing great now.
i understand how you are feeling, its so incredibly hard to hand over your baby who although isn't ok (by societies standards anyway) they still aren't actually poorly. i remember thinking that the whole thing was so unfair on fred as he knew nothing different to how he was, he didn't realise i'd made him so wrong he needed at least 3 ops to put him back on the right track. he was here happy and smiling away and i was putting him through this ordeal and he's wake up after in pain and all confused.
only his dad or myself were allowed to take him into the anesthesia room and then collect him after from the recovery room - we were told the op would be 3-4 hours and the plan was that i would take him and his dad would collect him, but the op ended up being 5 and a half hours (freddie had a rather large cleft, much wider than your little girls) and i was so desperate to see him and know he was ok i completely disregarded my husbands feelings and collected him as soon as we got the go ahead, i still feel bad about it but i so needed to see fred.
i was so glad to see him in the recovery room, he did look completely diferent, everyone said he would but i didnt believe them, but he was still my freddie, he smelt funny but felt the same and was wearing the same gown we had put on him, quite clean after what he'd been through - bit of dried blood on his lips. the job the surgeon had done was amazing - he looked like the baby i always should have had. i had to hold him so gently and steadily my arm was right under his head with the oxygen mask in my hand on the other side curled around his face to help him breathe - it was so uncomfortable to sit like that and my arm hurt for hours afterwards but i just wanted to do whatever i could for him after he had been away from me for so long, and everyone else had done the looking after him and after all my sore arm was nothing compared to what he'd just been through.
we finally got out of recovery after an hour and was reunited with my husband, from that moment on fred's gone from strength to strength, he was always a really bad feeder, very sleepy and it was such an ordeal to feed him, i hated doing it. we were admitted to hospital for 6 days when he was 6 weeks old to see if they could find any reason, he had plenty of test but no one knew why. after the op, he fed that night from a bottle just like normal, not as much as we would have took, but way more than i expected. we were released the day after 26 hours after he came back to us. after a few days we weaned him off his pain relief and his feeds kept improving. the main thing i noticed was how quick his feeds started to take, from his normal 40-60 mins they were only taking 20-30 i was so happy for us! the wound itself healed really quickly it never looked gruesome or scary, it was so delicately stitched - like fairy stitches i always thought!
freddie is 6 weeks post op now, his scar looks brilliant, we were advised to start weaning him early so he's onto solids in preperation for his soft palate op in may, he loves his food - much easier than his bottle. we've been weaning him for about 3 weeks now - he's definately a parsnip lover!!
cont.....
i just wanted to share my experience with you - it is incrediby hard the whole thing, from finding out about the cleft lip at 20 week scan, the endless scans that followed that one, the worry while pregnant, the what if he has this and that as well, the giving birth, the introducing him to everyone, the hospital trips and visits from people, the feeding, the check ups, the special equipment, the explaining about him because he's not a 'normal' baby, the pre ops, the tests, the op itself, knowing that even though you've made it through one op that there's still another on the horizon, but we will all get there in the end!!
ReplyDeletei love my little boy, as much as i love his older sister. but i hate his cleft and all the upset and sadness it has caused, i will never forgive or forget this cruel twist but will just learn to live with it.
freddie is a complete smasher and absolutely perfect and i'm sure that you're little girl is too.
i send you all the best wishes in the world, she'll soon be back with you and i'll be thinking of you all day tomorrow.
sam x
Good luck for Lucy's operation. I too dreaded the empty arms when they operated on my baby girl, I was sick with worry. But let me tell you she was stronger than us. She bounced back and only needed 3 days of pain relief. I wish you and baby luck and for a speedy recovery. She will be in your arms in no time.
ReplyDeletetest
ReplyDeletehey there Danielle--
ReplyDeleteHow lovely of you to include all of us in your wait. You are giving us a chance to express our thoughts & be part of your family. That is a real honour -- thank you.
All I can think is how lucky Lucy is. You have written about her luck being born in Canada & having access to this very surgery you've been dreading, and that is true. But that's not what I mean. I mean, how lucky Lucy is to have you, and Ryan, and Ava.
There is so much love in the photos you have shared. There is so much joy, and celebration. And knowing you even a little -- your love for your family is so evident. What a very very lucky girl.
I don't have any advice. But one thing I thought of when I saw your request for posts --
My final year of university I fell while ice-skating and shattered my right arm. This is what I got for falling in love with a Canadian: my boyfriend at the time, now husband, was visiting me -- he lived in Montreal, and I lived in NYC. We were taking a romantic stroll through Central Park when we stopped to watch the skaters on the outdoor rink. He made a comment about how Americans can't skate. Next thing I knew, we were on the ice. Next thing again, I was down....
A broken arm, even a broken arm that needs surgery, is not a scary thing. But when the anesthetist came to introduce himself to me, my mother, who was, by the way, a nurse, said to him, "Please don't kill my daughter."
I was mortified.
As it turned out, the surgery took 5 hours. This was completely unexpected -- apparently I had done a real number on my arm, and 4 hrs were needed to extract the radial nerve (controls hand movement) from the shattered bone before the typical nails & plate home-hardware portion of the surgery could begin.
I heard later that my mom spent those 5 hrs in agony, completely wrecked, totally confused as to what could be taking so long, beside herself.
I say this simply because - I was 21 and had a broken arm. But moms are moms. You are being tested so early. It is not fair - as lucky as Lucy is to have you all, it is still not fair.
I'd wish you easy hours slipping by, but I know it won't be easy.
But: May it not get harder than this, now.
With love,
Ilana S-R
Hi Danielle,
ReplyDeleteI've been thinking of you all a lot as we approach the 7th. I'm glad to see that you have a plethora of messages to keep you company during your wait tomorrow. And I know that you have a widespread, loving community who will all be thinking of you and sending love Lucy's way tomorrow.
We got back from a week-long trip to an all-inclusive resort in Mexico last night. We stayed about 45 minutes north of Puerto Vallarta, and it was fabulous. This was our first ever holiday down south and felt extremely luxurious. It was funny, because in the lead-up to the trip I was saying to a friend of mine who doesn't have kids yet that I couldn't wait to relax in Mexico. Her reply was "Something about going down south with a 3 year-old doesn't sound very relaxing to me!" And indeed, it was a far cry from total relaxation, especially with Avery starting the trip with a bout of pink eye, and following that with a nasty cold/fever/horrible cough and then topping it off with heat rash! Oh, and did I mention her epic tantrum at Puerto Vallarta airport yesterday morning?! Though she is a pretty seasoned traveller and knows all about checking luggage, she got upset about seeing her little suitcase get put on the conveyor belt. She screamed her lungs out ("Yes suitcase! YES SUITCASE!!!!"), jumped up and down in front of the counter, and ran all around the huge lines of people waiting. One of the men waiting to fly back to Canada kindly said "She's just acting the way we're all feeling", which I feel was very apt. Another older man told David, as he tried to catch up with her as she ran back to the desk, that she needed a good spanking - I'm happy that he felt comfortable telling the guy that his opinion was not appreciated. Anyway, after attracting everyone's attention for about 20 minutes, Avery started to wind down and I was able to cuddle her and talk it out. Her reputation preceded her, though! When we reached our gate a couple of hours later, I heard people muttering "Here comes the screamer!" I'm quite sure we'll be telling the story of Avery's Puerto Vallarta tantrum for years to come!
Okay, I posted that one because I wasn't sure if it would cut off.
ReplyDeleteSo yes, our trip to Mexico was fabulous despite quite a number of hiccups along the way. I feel replenished from the sun (we did have a couple of days of downpour, but they helped us to really savour the sun when it was out), the rest, the good food (that I didn't have to cook or buy), the chance to experience a new culture, and seeing the splendour of the ocean each day. Try to close your eyes right now, take some deep breaths, and remember a time when you have felt this way, too (or if that feels too far away, try to envision me pouring some of this energy from my cup to yours).
Here are some Avery snippets from our trip:
- "I need to be close to my drink!" - she really got into the all-inclusive way of life
- there was a "mini-zoo" at the resort, and she called the deer "reindeer" - by day 3, she had hatched a plan to return to Mexico once we had bought a cage to put in her room so that we could bring the smallest reindeer home with her
- She got braids put in her hair - and this is the kid who refuses to let me put a pony tail in at home!
- She made a little friend there - and she's from Victoria, too. When we were talking about that, Avery said "Everyone lives in Victoria!"
- She fell asleep, fork in hand, at the table the night we arrived at the resort. The Mexican mother and 10 year-old boy who were sitting next to us - who spoke next to no English - developed a running joke with us about this over the next couple of days.
Once things settle down for you guys, we will have to get together so the girls can play and we can show you some of our photos.
Big hugs to all of you. And remember to keep on breathing deeply. xox
We are holding all of you in our thoughts and hearts these next days through the surgery and recovery. I trust that Lucy will be safely back in your arms and have absolutely no doubt she will be fully filled with your love and sense of security. That's one of the many gifts and blessings of being a mom and dad.....we are their world and their foundation. As soon as she's back with you and sees you and smells you and feels you, she will know that she is ok. Even when she's still hurting (and your hearts are hurting) as she recovers. Such big stuff, and you're doing so awesome. Your role modelling to your daughters of how to feel and express and take care of yourself is truly beautiful and inspiring.
ReplyDeleteHere's a link to a whole foods blog that I love to help keep you busy during the waiting. I know you're a foodie too and the recipes on this blog are fabulous. I just made these scones this morning and they're super yummy. I'll back more and stop by your place with some when you're back home :0)
http://www.alkalinesisters.com/blackberry-coconut-scone-status-update-student-of-holistic-nutrition/2964/
xoxo
Steph, Chris & Shae
One of my most favourite brides (granted I do have a lot of favourites) was born with a cleft lip. I remembered her wedding while thinking of what i'd like to write you today. Weddings always remind me that this too shall pass and before you know it you'll be onto better days. You just have to get through. Sending so much love your way. xoxox http://jennaandtristan.com/blog/andrew-cecily/
ReplyDeleteHey Danielle, my helping you wait msg has to be here because I can't figure out the blog post thing. I remember a day in my living room 3 years ago when you said that you were starting a blog. I was impressed - partly because Brooke was impressed and so I knew I really should be, partly because I couldn't find time to shower at the time and you were going to SPEND TIME doing this, and mostly because blogs are so foreign to me that I couldn't imagine what on earth
ReplyDeletewould be on a blog ( sorry - small child hit send). Since that time you have made me laugh, cry, smile,and laugh so hard I have cried with the your blog. And you've done the same for so many others. So your blogs rocks. I can't type fast enough to get my whole msg in because i can still barely find the time to shower. I've lost the last 3 msg to you because of kids, or computer flops. But please know that we are thinking of you all right now, send healing energy to Lucy and perserverance energy to you, ryan and ava. Love to you all!
I wanted to just send one poem, but Khalil Gibran has so much to say to you!
ReplyDeleteMarch on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.
- Khalil Gibran
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
- Khalil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
- Kahlil Gibran
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
- Khalil Gibran
Danielle,
ReplyDeleteYou just handed your baby to the surgeon, it's the hardest part. You go against everything you know as a mother to do that. Now, you sit and you wait and your mind is full of thoughts and empty at the same time. It will seem like the whole world is going so fast and you are still. It is now that you will make a deal with whatever God you choose, to be better, to be kinder, more generous. You will bargain whatever you can to see that sweet face and inhale that warm scent into your being, to feel the weight of her in your arms. And you will see her. Before you know it, the nurse will greet you, the doctor may come and tell you everything was well. When you see her face, it's surprisingly shocking. This moment is all you have dreaded and dreamed. You will probably cry, you may sob. Not at the result of the surgery, but because you are seeing her for the first time as she is supposed to be. It will shock you. This tiny little face, you will fall in love again. It's an amazing gift, the opportunity to fall in love with her twice. It's an awestruck moment. Remember the first days you laid eyes on her, you couldn't stop looking and marveling at her every expression, every lash. You will do this all over again. I am a mom who went through this, too. I hope you find comfort in knowing the next few days will seem like the most painful moments of your life. Lucy,will show you what strength is. She will probably recall very little from this experience. You will never forget every last detail, every moment and all the pain you tried to absorb into your being to spare her a moment of discomfort. It will change your heart forever and you will never be the same. It will be ok. I ask my son, nearing three what he thinks about the two visits he had for surgery. He thinks it was good, he slept over at his doctors hospital and had orange popsicles. He also requests visits to the cafeteria for the nice lunch he enjoys there. I will probably never let him know that every single visit makes me physically ill. I know you can do this. You will find strength when you think you have nothing left. Hang in and know it is a matter of time until she is well. You just have to get throught the next second, minute and hour...best to you both.
Wishing you all lots of luck tomorrow with your beautiful girl, am hoping judging by all the other comments that by the time you get to mine that the time will have mostly passed and that soon you will have your little lucy back in your arms again, Im from England, i was born with cleft lip and palet and both my children were born with it, Charlotte age 5 her cleft lip it identical to your daughters, its funny everyone says they did a fab job with her but as much as i agree i always hold onto the memory of that first baby they gave to me and of course the wide smile, her surgerys both went well and as for speech she can talk for england so no problems there, she is very smiley and loves her 8 month old brother to bits she is smitten so much that when he wasjust 7 weeks old while i wasnt looking she got him out of the moses basket eek all of a sudden i heard her say im the mummy im the mummy i looked up and there she was walking across my kitchen floor with him in her arm eek my heart stopped and needless to say i moved very quickly so i could rescue him, he too was born with a cleft lip and palet however his was almost a bilateral altho its more like a single then the other side had a notch out of it, he had his first surgery in august which went well however the swelling made him look like he,d been in a boxing ring and tha t when we bought him home from his operation charlotte found it very hard to accept but after a couple of days she was all over him again with her hugs and kisses, we were due our second surgery dec just before christmas but it got cancelled due to him getting over a chest infection which secretly i was pleased about as it gave us a much nicer christmas altho the build up to the op had made christmas loose its sparkle a bit, everyone keeps asking me when will it be its supposed to be feb now but weve not got a date - we should hear the date this week something im not looking forward to as the countdown will begin again and this time the rest of lip will be done so he will have a new look -which is why i was glad his op was cancelled and that i got few more weeks to enjoy the smiley boy i was handed in the hospital. hes so smiley at the mo you may have seen some pic on the facebook page isnt it a fab site i love all the advice on there its great to know we re all not alone in this , well i best sign off now as im starting to waffle, i hope the surgery went well and that she has a speedy recovery with lots of rest - hope you manage some rest as well as i know how draining these op can be on us parents, wishing you best wishes from england take care
ReplyDeletemaz poole
Hello Danielle and Fam,
ReplyDeleteI've known you all as a family for a few years(had visits a handful of times) and known Ryan for a bunch more years. When I first met you Danielle it was exciting to meet the wife and mother(of 2 beautiful girls) of a friend I've known for a long time(even though we hadn't spoke in awhile). You were a very gracious host ,even though my timing in town wasn't great. It was nice to see Ryan with someone so compatible with him. After I left we became friends on facebook and I followed your blogs about your life together and the coming complications when Lucy was to be born. At the same time I was having complications of my own, in my (then) relationship. It must have been odd to meet me in the different states I was at, not really knowing much about me. At the same time I read blogs about Lucy and posts about Ava and her quirky humor and hilarious antics. I felt as though I really got to know you through your great writings and deep emotional roller coaster ride. Me and my girlfriend would sit and read these great Ava posts, and seeing the joy in your family brought us great warmth. Reading of Lucy's birth and all the great pictures and outpouring of support really feels good to know that so many people are looking out for friends of mine. I've never really gotten the chance to thank you for a non-judgmental approach to a hard time in my life, and affording time to visit an old friend and try and find clarity when you had alot going on yourselves. I look forward to sharing days laughing with kids of my own someday, as a strong family unit, with a loving supporting group of friends, like you have made for yourselves. I look forward to spending more time visiting you all again and again on trips to Victoria, and hey, Courtenay's not so far away=) Please visit anytime. Scott M.
Danielle and Ryan,
ReplyDeleteI sit here starring at the screen, hoping that the right words will come out as I type. I just hope that I don't say the wrong thing. I do however know that whatever comes out you will take for the way it is intended. Brian has a saying: if I say something and it can be taken two different ways, and one way hurts your feelings, I meant the other! Wow, it seems like I'm setting myself (and you) up to hear something bad. I'm not. Just good words to live by I guess! Anyway, getting to the point... I thought I would share my story with you. There are some similarities and many differences from what you are going through. I can relate most to Ava as your family goes through this journey. I don't know if you are aware or not but my brother has a profound developmental disability. He has since birth. He was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Now that was 41 years ago and there was no oxygen tank in the room. As a result he suffered from anoxia. He now lives in a long term care facility. He has no physical disabilities, all cognitive. Everything to him costs five dollars and I will always be "Wowee". We lost of mom over none years ago to cancer. We were not able to have the sibling support that I so needed at the time because he just didn't understand. My point here is that sibling bonds are amazing. He and I are connected in a way that we are with no other person. I certainly had times of being jealous of the attention he received and the visitors that came to our house in the form of therapists that spent so much time with him. I faked having sprains ankles to get their attention (just a heads up with Ava) and told my parents at four years old "you don't love me, you only love Stephen". I admit that with a lot of guilt because soon after they put him into care at a long term care facility (not where he is now). I know that my words where not the cause, they were the straw that broke the camels back. He could be very aggressive and violent. I was five years younger and grew up fast. Neither of my parents finished high school and had no life experience to draw on. They went purely on extinct. My mom was his biggest advocate and now I have (willingly) taken on that role. Even as a very young child, I never asked my parents why Stephen was different from me or my friends siblings. I guess I just knew he was, and it didn't matter. I became very outspoken to anyone who ever criticized or ridiculed anyone with a disability, deformity, etc. to this day I feel like this is the biggest positive trait that I have. It is certainly what I feel I have passed along to our children. I'm sure it is the reason that I chose to be an Occupational Therapist. Brian is the brains and I am the understanding.
I don't know whether Sera gained this trait via nature or nurture but I do know that she will always be there for her Uncle Stephen. From a very young age they have had an unbreakable bond. I guess the long and short of it is that I want you to know that not only have you given Ava a beautiful little sister but you have given her an opportunity, in her own home, to accept all differences for what they are. We are all different. She has gained an incredible gift. I know you would have taught her this in life anyway but now she will forever just "get it". I look up to the bond that has been created between your two girls and I wish Sera and Jillian had a portion of it! Maybe someday! My New Years resolution is to be the mom that I want our daughters to remember me being. Not the one that rears her ugly head more often than I care to admit. I found this inspiration in you. I may never have had the insight I do into your parenting had sweet Lucy not been born with a cleft lip. Some day I will thank her and I think Sera and Jillian as well as Ava will. Please remember as you read this what I said in this beginning. Love always, Rachel, Brian, Sera, Jillian and Ceilidh
Danielle I am in awe of you. And not just because of the challenges you face today. When I reconnected with you after high school I loved your honesty and humour and your non-judgment and easy style. When I saw you with Ava as a newborn and as she grew, your maternal grace was an inspiration. Your obvious love and your seemingly endless patience. Not that Ava seemed to be a particularly exhausting child, but you just made it look so easy! All the while cooking AMAZING food and writing the most well written blog. Your pre-Lucy blog was so relatable. I loved reading about it all. So honest and funny and raw and just what I needed to read to not feel so alone in my own parenting trials. Now you have an incredibly gorgeous new baby. She looks so much like Ava as I remember her as a wee one. And I can't imagine the heart-wrenching moments that happen for you since she was still growing inside you. Except I can because I read your blog. It is a small percentage, but I devour your words and love you and your family all the more for it. My heart aches for Lucy, for the pain she is in while trying to eat and for any discomfort she may feel with her numerous surgeries. My heart aches for you, your exhaustion, frustration, fear, overwhelming protective love. Danielle I am still completely in awe of you. You are an outstanding mother. Your videos of the girls are adorable and I always look forward to the snippets of conversations with Ava that you post. I am thinking of you so often and I wish I had more time to help you out. This next week will soon be a memory. I wish you and your family peace during these days. I wish Lucy a flawless recovery, I wish Ava love and security and hope that she isn't too upset. I wish you and Ryan constant love and support. The offer still stands that we can take Ava someday, though it will take a bit of schedule juggling. She is an awesome big sister. You Rick Danielle. Let me know if you need anything. xoxox
ReplyDeleteOh, the waiting game! Truly, a time ridden with anxiety and nerves. Dave and I can very much empathize with you all and will also be playing this game against time during Adrian's surgery on Thursday. As you already spoke of a mantra, I suggest focusing on two absolute certainties during this powerless time. 1) Time always moves forward so you are each minute closer to holding Lucy once again. 2) Without a doubt, your precious Lucy was sent to your family and only your family for a reason!
ReplyDeleteWith these two absolutes, Dave and I have written 10 questions/statements for you to complete to help pass time more quickly and to focus on the joys of being such a wonderful mother to Lucy and Ava!
1. If the four of you could hop on a plane right now to anywhere, where would you go?
2. What words of wisdom are you going to give Lucy and Ava on their wedding days?
3. What things that each of you do makes Lucy smile the most?
4. As you sit around this sterile waiting room, can you find three people, situations, or objects that make you smile.
5. What were your best adventures from your days of 'Canadian Troop' and when will Ava and Lucy take over?
6. What would be the perfect romantic date for you and Ryan (which you both very much deserve but may have to put on hold for a while:))?
7. What are Ava's three favourite books and what do you think Lucy's will be?
8. Already knowing Ava and Lucy's personalities, what do you think their careers will be when they grow up?
9. What's one embarrassing moment in your life that you don't want Ava and Lucy to know about?
10. If you could have a different career, what would it be?
A) Volleyball Olympian
B) Supreme Commander of Canadian Troop
C) Writer for a food and wine magazine
D) Art collector of rare Stuart family art!
We hope this helped pass some time for you and get your mind off of the surgery. We are both so happy that we got to meet Lucy and can't wait to see her grow and explore the world as she gets older. You are an amazingly strong person but we'll be sending you and Lucy some extra love and strength today and for the weeks to come.
All our love,
Cath and Dave
Hello my lovely and caring Danielle & Ryan & Ava,
ReplyDeleteIt's been a while since we've chatted so I'll tell you the story of the new man in my life. Unfortunately, I can't do anything in a few words so I've had to post this in two sections. Alas the Hot Chiro did not work out but around 7 months ago I met a man online. His name is Rob. We met on match.com and the first day I saw his picture I had just cancelled my account. I was frustrated by the lack of communication I was getting from guys and had decided to take a break for the summer. And then I noticed a man had 'favourited' me. It's very similar to 'liking' someone on FB...I was intrigued. This had never happened before. So I looked at his picture and my heart started to beat a bit faster. He was cute. Very cute. And my type. To a 't'. Ginger beard, amazing smile, a twinkle in his eye.
As I read his profile I noticed he lived in Markham (North end of Toronto - about an hour and half from Guelph) and he was a little bit older than anyone I had ever dated before. But I thought, 'hey, why not'. I'll message and see where this goes. 11 messages in 5 days later we decided to meet.
Half way between him & I is a place called Brampton...not my favourite place on earth but it would do for a date. We decided to meet downtown Brampton at a coffee shop after work on a Monday at 6:30pm. We both arrived early and from that first meeting on the street, the smile on my face didn't move but my heart started to race. We clicked. We didn't stop talking for 3 hours, and I didn't even realized I was hungry until I got back in my car to drive home. He made me laugh and think and he listened and I listened and at the end of the night, he hugged me and asked me if I could see him again soon. A week passed with many texts back and forth, and then he came to Guelph for dinner.
We walked downtown and had burgers on a patio, which neither of us could finish because we were so excited to be together...this was an ongoing trend for us, unfinished food on dates. After dinner we walked home by the river and talked and talked and talked. We had such a great time I didn't notice the blisters on my feet from my new shoes until he left. At the end of the night he kissed me at my door. Swoon.
Two nights later he was back in Guelph to take me on a date that he had planned for us. Not knowing anything about Guelph or having been there (other than dinner 2 nights earlier) since his University days. He did good. First we went canoeing down the Speed River and it was lovely and romantic and fun. We even saw a couple get engaged on the side of the river, and both agreed it was a good sign for us. Then after changing our clothes, we walked downtown to have dinner at my favourite Indian restaurant...that he had picked without knowing it was my favourite. Once again, there were doggy bags going home since the butterflies in our bellies didn't stop flying around and the conversation didn't pause long enough for us to eat. As he left that night to drive home, I knew. He was The One. I had heard rumours about the feeling, and hoped to one day experience it, and that night I did.
Part 2!
ReplyDeleteOver the following few months we saw each other once a week and every weekend. The KMs on our cars were racked up as we commuted back and forth. Then in July he invited me to his parents house for the weekend to meet them. After a 5 hour (5 HOUR!) drive, we arrived and they were lovely. I was put at ease right away. And then Saturday morning we woke up and he looked at me and told me he loved me. He loved me. In true Amanda form, I asked if he was sure and then burst out laughing. He said he was. So I told him to say it again. And he did. And I did. And it was wonderful.
The summer was a blurr of cottaging (his!) and weddings (so many friends!) and time together. Then in the fall, for Thanksgiving, he flew to Thunder Bay with me. To meet my parents. And they loved him (of course) and he liked them. And it was wonderful.
Then in December my family went to Florida. The whole family. And he came. And they loved him. And he loved them. And it was perfect.
And on New Years Eve last week, as we watched my friends Kristen & Dennis said 'I do' to each other, he told me that this was the year he asked me to be his wife. And I smiled. And the butterflies took flight. Then on New Years day we played online and looked at houses to buy. And I smiled. But if I'm honest, I haven't stopped smiling since I went to cancel my match.com membership and saw that a man from Markham had 'favourited' me.
So that's the story of Rob & I. And now you know it.
I hope it helped to keep you busy for a few minutes and take your mind off what your beautiful little Lucy is going through.
Sending you lots of hugs and kisses and love...lots and lots of love.
Amanda xoxoxox
hello dear friend:)
ReplyDeleteoh how I have missed talking to you and catching up!!! I know that your life has been consumed by caring for your little Lucy and Ava, but i want you to know that I think of you soooo often and wish we could connect, so here is my opportunity to tell you what has been going in my life!!!
Well lets see...I went on my annual big trip to NYC this fall, it was crazy fun for the first three days and then it was crazy stupid the last three days! I met my g-friends in calgary and we had so much fun at first. We rented an apartment in a cultured neighborhood in lower manhantan. We saw two broadway shows, walked the brooklyn bridge, explored Brooklyn, shopped, ate super yummy food at different restaurants...then Sandy came. we had no tv so really were unprepared besides the city shutting down on Sunday night. the storm hit monday and when we woke on tuesday with no power, no food..we knew we needed to get the hell out! We rented a car and drove all tuesday night to Toronto, about ten hours away, and caught a flight back to Calgary! It all worked out and we made it!!! On my drive back to BC, I drove through freezing rain for three hours, and went about 60k for three hours..good times! I will never travel in the winter again! LOL (you can hold me to that...ha ha) So that was awesome!!
Work has been crazy intense...more so than ever, I am really busy and travelling to Ft St James/Smithers on a regular basis! I have run into many walls with different organizations and am learning that my boss isn't what I always thought she was cracked up to be. She has really poor skills in conflict resolution and ain't so supportive when it comes down to me needing her support. i had a very difficult situation with an organization we contract with and she didn't have my back at all! THIS has led me to some serious thinking, and I am either going to go back and do my Masters..(super hesitant but i can't do this job for another 25 years) or change my career direction totally!!! I am thinking of doing human resources...i like people, just tired of people sucking the life out me...so that would again mean back to school for some courses but not so intense. So this year is all about checking out my options and deciding what i want to do.
I have looked into several masters programs and I love love the one at university of calgary as its a "leadership" program in social work, which gives you the skills to manage which is what I am hoping to do! I can do it long distance but i could also relocate there and work/do school! SOOOOO some BIG decisions coming along!!!
So that's where I am at dear friend!!! I love your pictures, I love your updates and your girls are so amazing and beautiful!!! I can't imagine what your family has been going through but please know that you are always in my thoughts!! you are an amazing mom and Lucy is soooo blessed to have you, Ava and Ryan!!!
Hugs and much love sent your way!!! Melle
This is a brilliant idea! And I just might steal it for my son's palate repair! I can see you and your family are very very loved. I hope you don't look back on this day with regrets and tears of the loss of a very special smile. Because sometime soon she'll flash you her second first smile and you'll fall more in love with her. I hope the scar that will replace that sweet smile will not be something you are ashamed of or try to hide from others in hopes of having her blend in with other children. But be proud of that scar!! Because YOU know all that she has endured and accomplished because of that scar! It's a reminder of how very very strong and tough she is! And that's something to be proud of! "Why fit in when you were born to stand out?" Dr. Seuss Cleft babies are build of tougher stuff!
ReplyDeleteI do wish your family the best and I hope you find recovery easier than you expected!
Dani,Ryan,Sweet Ava & Precious Lucy,
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and sending my thoughts and prayers today as you wait for Lucy to have her surgery. Lucy's "new" smile will be just as sweet as the one she was born with. Lucy has the most amazing parents! Please let me know if there is anything I can help with while she and the both of you are recovering. xoxo Now for 2 Ava stories hopefully to bring smiles to your face waiting for the time to pass.. The other day when I had her at the Animal Dr's as she says we were just leaving the staffroom after saying hello & goodbye to everyone, I closed the door and she says to me.. Boy they were sure happy to meet me today! Well my heart laughed and melted all at the same time. Then we were off to my Mom & Dad's and my Dad greeted us at the door and said Hi Ava how are you she said.. Well Brian I have a cold but it is getting better but I have lots of snots still in my nose!!! Well, I haven't heard my Dad laugh that hard in a longtime. Pure Sweetness... Hugs and Prayers xoxo
Love Theresa, Ted Spencer & Nicholas
Fuck. I just spent an hour composing a heart felt letter to you and it seems to have disappeared into computer oblivion. Geez, one day I will learn to enjoy these machines...Anyway, for you Danielle, I will happily write something new. You deserve it. I have been thinking and thinking over the last few days, of what I could possibly say to make things feel even the tiniest bit better for you. I have thought about how amazed I am by your dedication to Lucy. I have thought about how scary it must be at times. I have thought about how it must change your view of the world and I have thought about how lucky you are. Yes, life is extraordinarily challenging at times, but through this struggle you have been able to witness the enormous love and support you have been gifted. You(and Lucy) have SO many people rooting for you. You have so many people who would love to take the pain out of your heart and bury it deep beneath the ocean......but I suppose then you wouldn't be you, and we wouldn't want that. I wonder if you have had any time to take stalk of just how incredible you are? It seems your "story" is creating a beautiful ripple effect.....teaching us all to appreciate what we have, and to just roll with the punches. Our youngest daughter, Asha, had a small surgery when she was 4 and I remember being in the hospital waiting area, sitting in easy-to-clean chairs with a couple of other panic stricken parents. I remember leafing through a pile of totally uninteresting magazines and watching my husband pace up and down the hall as we waited to hear news of Asha's health. It was at this time that I really had to remind myself that it was us, more than Asha who needed the comfort. Funny how tough kids are. They are so fucking resilient it amazes me. They are fighters, beautiful strong warriors. They beat the odds all the time. THEY remind US to roll with the punches. There have been a few times in my life where things seemed unbearable to me. Although I consider myself strong, I have definitely been tested a couple of times. Tested to the point of not knowing if I could handle the hand I'd been dealt. But you know, I did end up dealing with it. It's funny how when you are in a situation that takes all you have to survive it, you feel as if it is the only world that exists. In truth, there are so many worlds existing at once. As someone is experiencing their absolute worst time, another is having their best, and so it goes. If this is possible, then so too is harnessing the strength and joy and positive energy that is being offered by the universe. I remember one time visiting with a first nations elder who had become a friend. I was going through a very dark time and was VERY worried about a family member. After listening to me for a long time he explained to me how he saw challenging times in life. He told me it was like a tapestry. When you flip a tapestry over, the back looks so messy. Strings criss-crossed, tangled, knotted. It's hard to make sense of the pattern at all. On the other hand, when you flip it back to it's front, it looks beautiful...just as it is supposed to be.
ReplyDeleteContinued...
Now normally I would be annoyed by this "destiny" shit and just rolled my eyes, but for some reason it really hit home to me. It doesn't matter if we "get" it or not. It is happening whether or not we "understand" it and something that seems so messed up, when looked at from another view, can be remarkably beautiful. Neither side could exist without the other. YOUR beautiful is lucy, and the love she has brought to your family, and the reaching out of friends, and you being able to express yourself, and people from all walks of life being able to relate to you. This is the magic. This is your tapestry. Stitch by stitch, your family and community of friends are making something beautiful, something perfectly crafted just for you. Lucy is perfect. When you see her new smile for the first time it too will be perfect, because it is a part of her. You will cry and laugh and be SO happy that she made it through so well. She is a fighter and a teacher. She is teaching each and every one of us who reads about her journey how to be strong, and so are you Danielle, so are you. In my own life, when things are tough I have a practice where I send bubbles of soft white light to people in need. As I type this, I am filling a huge one for Lucy and your family. With all my heart I am sending you calm strong vibes. Before you know it, you will be writing your next entry in your blog telling us all how well Lucy did. I can hardly wait to read it. I will cry happy tears this time. Love and love and love,
ReplyDeleteLeah
Hey there dear Pal,
ReplyDeleteI wanted to tell you that I find you inspiring. The way you speak to your little ones, the way you and Ryan move forward with the business of hospitals and keeping Ava and Lucy happy and healthy.
I'm giving you all BIG BIG hugs.
I'm in Calgary right now. It's usually slow for tv/film/voice work in this part of the Winter, so I've taken a theatre contract. I'm going into the second week (of four) of rehearsal. The director and cast are a great group of folks. The play is the Canadian premier of The Kite Runner (it's a staged version of the novel). We're here until the end of Feb, then a week off, then we run the show at the Citadel Theatre in Edmonton for March.
I've met a wonderful guy, it's brand new. He's coming here, to Calgary, from Toronto, to visit me this week! He's a carpenter/craftsman, but some of his best pals, people he grew up with, are actors, so he gets it. I've never met anyone like him. It's pretty thrilling.
There you have it, a little sidetrack while you're waiting.
All my love to the four of you, especially little Lucy!
Dalal
Thinking of you, your family and precious Lucy tonight, tomorrow and forever really. I appreciate how much you share on Facebook about your daily life, struggles and triumphs. Know that Lucy is in good hands, hands that will heal her, protect her, help her and love her until she is back in your arms again. I pray for you guys who have to wait, but know the wait will be worth it when it's over and she is back in your arms. Thinking of you at this time and in awe of how strong you are and how great of a mom you are. Lucy and Ava are soooo lucky!
ReplyDeleteI have been thinking about you all and this big day. There have been a few times when the writings of Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron have helped me through some tough times. It’s become a bit of a joke for me – when I’m feeling really f’ed up, I try to remember to ask myself “ what would Pema say?" I originally set off on a quest to find some great tidbits to distract you with, but kept circling back to her teachings on staying with fear, looking it straight on, and finding strength and courage in hard places and hard times. So for what it’s worth, I wanted to share the link to her chapter on Intimacy with Fear (and in case I’m sounding too high-faluting, don’t get me wrong, I’m a BIG fan of distraction and know it has its place.)
ReplyDeleteI know you will breathe through it. I know Lucy will do great. And so will all of you.
Here’s the link: http://books.google.ca/books?id=sBRYTFo_CQMC&pg=PT17&lpg=PT17&dq=pema+chodron+intimacy+with+fear&source=bl&ots=puez0aaS_2&sig=CgGMBeMnFb0RKXLiwMLQjT8ZGUA&hl=en&sa=X&ei=6mbqUL7gJqXoiAKfioDABA&ved=0CEsQ6AEwAw
Love, strength and courage to you all,
Stacy
I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.”
― Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Vol. 2
How could anyone ever tell you
ReplyDeleteYou were anything less than beautiful
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole
How could anyone fail to notice
That your love it is a miracle
How deeply you're connected to my soul
Let me preface by explaining. My brother was born with a unilateral cleft lip and palate. My sister was born without her thyroid gland, which would have made her a dwarf if left untreated. These two conditions came to light at about the same time in my childhood --- I was 5 --- and my parents sorta died that day.
ReplyDeleteBut we. Don't really talk about it. Even now. Even after all those decades.
When Nigel was born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate, all these feelings came back into my brain that I had pushed away for a lifetime. My terrible relationship with my parents. Their blatant favoritism for their "sick" kids. All those tests, hospital stays and all that black, nothing, loneliness. Strange genetic mutations swimming in the bodies of my own babies filled my consciousness.
But as a girl, I stayed with my Grandma so much. I sure miss her. She was the only one who ever whispered, I love you, I love you...........until I fell asleep in her sheets fresh in from the line outside. She would make a real breakfast every day: porridge, eggs, whole wheat toast, fresh squeezed orange juice. There was NO TV. Just cardboard boxes, scissors, tape, old Christmas paper and glue made from flour and water. And there was Playing Outside. My grandpa would work in his shop on old electronics. He had polio when he was 30 and left paraplegic. His wheelchair was Fun. He taught me how to solder working circuit boards. They became my parents.
But they died.
And I was left with my real parents. People I didn't know anymore. Broken, sad shells. I don't know what I was to them. I think I was just someone perfectly ignorable --- she without needs.
So I looked at this newborn Nigel, and my kids were all around, and I just knew. I faked it for them. Someone had to love them like my grandma loved me.
I woke up most nights not sure which was real --- the nightmares, or my life? And I cried. When no one was looking I cried into my pillow. For a year. That was just what it took to make sure I healed my own clefted perception of reality.
I know my kids would have understood, but that wasn't the point. I had to make sure that I smiled, made time with all of my kids, to love each one, to include each one, to weave each of THEIR lives into mine, or my grief would consume their childhoods. My fear would break their backs. I forced a happy nest around us all because I knew, no wait, remembered, how important it was.
And before long, my smile felt less awkward. Then okay. Then it felt, omg, normalish. And then it came back FOR REAL.
This too shall pass. Fake it till you make it.
Nothing less, nothing more. Others have sat in that very same green, plastic chair. This might open parts of you, but they grow tough scars: awkwardly, so-so, for real. Count on it.
Best wishes this week. It's rough, and starts to be over the very minute it begins.
Oh, I can see that there are sooo many people who have commented above. Maybe you won't even be reading this during surgery. Maybe so many people have commented that it is over and Lucy is in your arms again. I wish I had a big long thing to write, but I don't . I just wanted to say that my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family today. I think you are an amazing, dedicated, loving mum.
ReplyDeletexoxo
Remember that time in grade nine socials where we were working on a project about Taiwan and we couldn't remember what people from Taiwan were called? We thought they were called Taiwassanese and Ms Taft looked at us like we had two heads? We burst out laughing and were both almost peeing and crying simultaneously. When I recall this memory I am struck by the fact it was a miracle I graduated.
ReplyDeleteRemember how we would run home every day after school to see if Austin and Carrie would get back together after Sanmy tricked him into getting her pregnant on Days of Our Lives? Every time you went to the bathroom I would run to your freezer and take a big scoop out of the container of Duncan Heinz Chicolate Frosting that your Dad kept in there. Even then I was a food whore!!!
Do you recall how "someone" used to lick your legs under the table in the science lab in chemistry class?! "Your hair looks very sexuality today".
I always wondered how you did those crazy tummy dives in volley ball. Did it hurt? How did you learn to do them?
As I sit here staring at your beautiful Lucy June I can't help think but how blessed I am to have gotten the chance to meet you all. To be included in this journey. Your family is so full of love. It overflows everywhere. It's inspiring. You inspire me to continue living and loving intentionally, even when I'm tired and life isn't easy.
ReplyDeleteThe scars all across my son's little head remind me of that part of our journey together but don't define our journey together. He knows he's loved because he's lived life loved. Not because of the part of life that included hospitals and doctors and surgery .... and me staying by his side as much as humanly possible .... and not despite that portion of life either .... and the fact that I handed him over to doctors and nurses and the hurt and confusion that he may have felt. He knows he's loved because he has experienced it every.single.day.of.his.life. In and out, easy and hard, through laughter and tears, he (and our other boys too) has been loved.
Lucy has been loved so deeply every single day of her life and she knows she is loved! You can see it in her eyes. They sparkle and dance. Her journey in life hasn't been easy and I can't wait for her (and you guys) to get to the part of life where she doesn't have to deal with so much and you can kiss her goodnight and then the four of you all sleep comfortably and peacefully through the night ....until then .... know that she knows she's loved. She doesn't know that there is any other way to exist. You have saturated her with love.
Dear Danielle and family;
ReplyDeleteI waited and waited to comment as I was not sure where I would find the words to add to the most beautiful and perfect pieces of written love in this string of 93 + comments!! Can you believe that?
It is 1:32am in BC and I am hoping you are sleeping before you begin today's big journey. The days leading up to a surgery are always so tension filled and laced with anxieties and worries and shortness of breath. We dread this surgery day and then when it comes, there is a big sense of relief. That has been the way I have experienced it anyway. You wake up and feel like, "Alright, let's get this done." And then begins the baby steps of the day: arriving at the hospital, checking in as though it were The Ritz, going to surgical floor and waiting and cuddling in a nervous ball of energy. They call Lucy's name. Time to change her into the gown and before you know it, she is on her way. At the children's hospital in Ottawa they now allow the parents into the OR until the child is under the anesthetic. A very simple but hugely valuable allowance. I hope they let you do that.
And then the wait................................
As you wait, may I encourage you to stop every once and a while and let your belly just relax. Inhale and let your belly rise and fall. This is where peace resides. Stress and anxiety sits happily in your chest. Go to your belly to breathe. Let that breath calm you and flood you with happiness hormones and relaxation. I am certain you have come with a plethora of snacks, treat and beverages to bide the time. Chocolate and hot tea are always good and soothing to a mother's tired and frightened heart.
You have a story book in the making here for Lucy. How wonderful for her to know how many of us were rooting for her in her early days when all of this will be but a memory on a cellular level for her one day. She will hear all about it but she will forget. She will remember the love, though. They always remember the love.
You have a good day today. Soon they will call you to tell you she is done and in recovery. Soon you will go to her and comfort her out of her groggy, confused post-anesthesia state. In her confusion, she will recognize and feel that love and she will have peace knowing that all is well because you and your husband are right there with her.
I will say little prayers throughout the day and will light a candle for Lucy to burn on this cold winter's day in Ontario.
Much love;
Julie
I'm thinking of you and your sweet girl and wishing I was closer. The same time zone sure would be nice. My thoughts will be with you today while I shovel snow and gather wood, while I finally take out the compost that lives on the opposite side of a snow bank, while I work on the house and stoke the fire, while I drink coffee and prepare food, and while I do the dishes my thoughts will be of you. I love you.
ReplyDeleteDanielle,
ReplyDeleteLucy will do great. My daughter had cleft lip surgery at 2.5 months, and although the first 24 hours were awful, she came home after that and was completely herself. Children are so strong, so resilient, you will find so much strength in her, and wonder how she can do it. She will never remember any of this, which is why I think sometimes it is harder on us than on them. We will remember that first look of pain after surgery, and we will remember the crying/whining that happened just out of surgery. But she, luckily will remember nothing. Good luck today, I will be thinking of you and your family.
I realize I may be too late, but here are a few words for you anyways! I kept meaning to respond earlier to your beautiful message of thanks to everyone, but somehow, life gets busy… doesn’t it? It was very moving – so thank YOU! All the best for tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteI picture myself waiting in the hospital with my little Gracie going through a procedure, and I can feel the pit in my stomach, my throat feels as stone, and my empty arms aching for her. I know in my imagination, this is only a glimmer of what you must be experiencing as you wait for your little Lucy. It leads me to think on how life’s growth and beauty often takes place within a paradox. It is when we are empty and emptied , that we may be filled. In absence, we may find a depth of love as never before. You may have empty arms as you sit (or pace) and wait, but be silent for a moment, and be absolutely filled with Love from your community, and from the Divine who is breath itself –while you hold your own. A paradox – “Contradictory or absurd but in reality expresses a possible truth...”
So be absurd and embrace the emptiness! Within it you will find treasure. A place to love, and to be loved. We wait with you for Lucy, and today, at 1:30 p.m. I am lifting her up in prayer, and I know that she is not being held by a cold hospital bed or device, but by the hand of The Great Love.
Blessings to you all!
Mary-Anne
I wanted to write something funny to entertain you, but most people have written really sweet things. I feel those things too- love, hope, endurance. But then I thought that'd I'd tell you Rose's favorite bedtime story because you could totally rip it off and I wouldn't know (but would hope you would):
ReplyDeleteOne day there was a little boy named Baxter and he wanted to go camping with his sister and his cousins. So he told Rose and they decided it was a great idea. Rose got the children together and they made a plan. Rose said "I'll bring the sleeping bags!" Kyle said "I'll get the tent!" Jada said "I'll get the backpacks!" and Baxter wanted to help too, so he went into his room to find something to pack.
They all met back in the living room, Rose with the sleeping bags, Kyle with the tent and Jada with the backpacks. They heard a rustling sound and then in walked Baxter- in one hand he had a battery and in the other hand he had a red sock! They all looked at him and then at each other "Oh Baxter, those things won't help!" He looked at the battery and the sock in his hands, dropped them on the floor and looked back at his sister. "Let's keep packing so we can leave for our trip soon," she said.
"I'll get the snacks!" said Jada, "I'll get the drinks!" said Rose, "I'll get the plates and cutlery!" said Kyle and Baxter looked at them, nodded, and wandered off to collect something for the trip.
Again they met back up in the living room with the things they had said they'd collect and then they heard a scratching sound. In walked Baxter with a used Bandaid in one hand, an envelope in the other and kite on his head!! They all looked at him and then at each other "Oh Baxter, those things won't help!" So he dropped his things in a pile on the floor.
"OK, we're almost ready. We just need to collect our clothes for the trip. I'll get everyone's pajamas!" said Kyle, "And I'll get everyone's clothes!" said Jada, "I'll get everyone's coats and hats!" said Rose, and Baxter said "Bah! Bah! Geeeeee!"
There was a great flurry of activity and then they met up again, each packing the last of the supplies in the wagon and backpacks. "We're ready to go! Where's Baxter?" asked Rose.
They turned when they heard clapping sound, it was Baxter! In one hand he had a spatula, in the other hand he had a scratched dvd, on his head he had the potty and on one foot he had grapes tucked between each toe!!! "Oh Baxter-Boy, good try. You get to ride in the wagon for our camping trip," said his big sister.
And then they all went out in the field looking for snakes so Baxter could scoop them up with his spatula.
The End.
Hello sweet family. We send our love and warm snuggs your way. I can only imaging how uncomfortable and scarey this day must be....but you are giving Lucy such a gift. Hold on to that thought as well as the love and support of all who have left words here. Let it surround you in a bubble...may tomorrow be all smiles! xoxoxo Aura
ReplyDeleteYou are in the thoughts and prayers of many today, those who know you and those like myself who don't but have found ourselves here and are touched by the way you have written so beautifully about motherhood and what it means. Since my friend sent me a link to your blog a few days ago, you and your family keep coming into my mind and I had hoped I would think of something really inspiring to pass on to you. Those magic words never came to me, but I could not let today pass without saying you are not alone. As a mother with two girls close in age to your own, I am on your side, and on team Lucy. There is clearly a circle of healing thoughts and prayers coming from near and far. I hope you can feel that and let it hold you, protect you, support you, keep you company, distract you. May your sweet baby be well. May your family be well. May the best wishes and intentions of many take care of you today and each day that follows.
ReplyDeleteThis day,these minutes, these hours will be woven into all the fantastic accomplishments you as parents and Lucy and Ava will no doubt experience. The salty tears of today and the past while will turn sweet as she thrives into this next phases of her special life. I think of your lovely family often and especially this afternoon. Sending love and light and patience your way. Lisa p.
ReplyDeleteHello my dear cousin, I have been watching the clock all day and sending prayers and love for you and healing vibes for Lucy. I am hoping now this first hurdle is jumped and she is in your arms.
ReplyDeleteMuch love, Jenn
My prayers and best wishes are with your family every day.nanny,mother of julie and stephanie
ReplyDeleteOh. My. I am just reading this now. Lucy is out of surgery now, so your waiting is over, but I must post because this is such a beautiful post, a beautiful idea, a beautiful moment and a beautiful day. Thank you for sharing. Sending all my love during this time.
ReplyDeleteKatie (Savannah's Mama)
So anxious to see photos post surgery. I only discovered this blog yesterday so I am days behind in wishing you well.
ReplyDeleteNice post. I learn something new and challenging on blogs I
ReplyDeletestumbleupon on a daily basis. It's always interesting to read articles from other authors and practice a little something from their websites.
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