TEN

Today you are 10 years old, my darling Lola. I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that you have graced this earth with your sassy presence for a decade now.  How can that be?  Is it that whole time warp thing I have discussed many times before?  Is it true what people say about time passing so slowly when you're young and then as you grow up, it flies by in the blink of an eye? Not even gonna admit that time has flown by because I am old, because I'm still super young and spry, right?  (Dadgummit, who uses the word "spry" anymore?!  If you answered "the elderly," imma fixin' to tar & feather ya'.  Hell's bells!)

Ten.

Ten fingers and ten toes that I didn't even count the day you were born.  Somehow, it seemed so unimportant.  All that mattered was that you were here and breathing and alive.  I cannot tell you how frightened I was the day my water broke, one month before your due date.  All I'd heard your entire pregnancy was that no one knew what the future held.  They weren't sure if you'd be similar to Claire or different.  They weren't sure if you would survive the birth or have major complications. I was asked to answer questions that I was not ready to have to answer about resuscitating you, intubating you, and saving your life.  The answer was always YES, Lola.  Please do all you can, just as you would if she were "typical," I told the doctors.  I hated that word -- "typical" -- because you and your sister were anything BUT typical, and the opposite felt so negative, harsh and unknown.  I prayed every single night for you, sweet girl.  I cried and bargained with all Higher Powers to shave years off of my own life if they'd spare yours. 

Ten.

Ten sonograms.  Ten chances to see you before your birth.  Ten reassurances that you were still alive and stable.  Ten opportunities to fall in love with you even more.  Ten times I prayed that somehow, miraculously, you'd be healed.

Ten sonograms = The number of sonograms necessary for me to realize that you didn't need healing.

You were already everything I had hoped and prayed for.  Your tiny, malformed brain would not define your life or determine your worth.  You were here to experience life just as you were.  The only person who needed to change was ME.  

Ten.

Ten perfect birthdays that we celebrated on your behalf.  Ten special days I wasn't sure I'd get with you just ten years ago.  It is mindblowing all we have been through over the course of the last decade.  Choosing the pictures below really took me back.  It allowed me to remember and sit for awhile with each passing year.  Oh, we have come SO FAR, baby girl.  You have proven time and again that you want to be here.  Thank you so very much for choosing to stay.

Unicorn crown from Nova Sky's Co.
A huge thank you to Fatima Lee for sending this beautiful crown to our sweet, magical Unicorn Princess.
(And one to Claire, also!)

A peek back through the past ten years...

2006

The day of your birth... You were -- and still are -- so perfect, Lola.

2007

This picture reduced me to tears immediately upon seeing it.  I am 100% convinced that the siblings of individuals with special needs are some of the most incredible, considerate, compassionate, loving people on the planet.  Cal has always been everything his little sisters needed.  From the day both of them were born, he loved them unconditionally as only their big brother could.  His ability to see past differences, accept people for who they are, and love with his whole heart has inspired me more than he could ever know.  I could never have survived Lola's diagnosis without his wisdom.  I am so honored to be called "Mom" by these three children of mine.

Possibly my favorite baby picture of Lola EVER!  This is what she thought of therapy toys back in '07!

2008

Notice Cal trying to help Lola blow out her candles?
<SWOON!>

Birthday Princess!

2009

All the cousins!

2010

2011

2012

2013

Post chicken pox.
These pictures were hard to see.  She was SO. THIN.  Notice she is wearing the same dress as in the top picture above, but she literally swam in it.  It is a 6-12 month size (thanks, Jessica!), and at age 7 above, she had lost so much weight due to being ill that she could barely wear that size.  Heartbreaking to see where she was, but we are so grateful for the progress that has been made the past three years!  Lola is seriously the strongest person I have ever known.

2014

#IDFWU

2015

2016

Drop that knife, OJ Mrs. Pocket!!!

#CashandLola

Lola, Kerby, Cal & Claire  ~  Prom 2016

Ten.  

Ten times I kissed you, through tears, just now after reading you this post.  Ten tears streaming down my cheeks.  Ten "I love you's."  Ten seconds of eye contact after telling you that you are the most perfect third child I could have ever asked for in this life, just as you are.  

Happy 10th Birthday, Mrs. Pocket.  I love you to the moon ten times and back.

xo

Time Warp

December 7, 2015

I don't know what it is about early mornings when I'm sleep deprived and exhausted both physically and emotionally that really gets my mind goin'. And by goin', I mean crazy talk. The stage was set for Mommy Meltdown the other morning when 5:00 am rolled around, & Lola was still partying.  I should have known she would crash hard as soon as she came off that milk high. It would have made sense to just ride out the emotional shitcoaster I was on, but NO, I actually went there. I had tried every single position known to man to get her calmed down. She wasn't having ANY of them. Literally I tried to position her on my right side sitting up, my left side sitting up, my right side laying down, my left side laying down, against my knees as I laid down, against the side of the couch facing the TV as I laid down, on her tummy across my tummy, on her back across my tummy, up on either shoulder, stretching her back across the arm of the couch/my legs/the ottoman, upside down (don't judge, I almost tried it!), in her awesome Mamaroo swing, in her Nap Nanny (yes, I know it's been recalled, but my non-mobile child who is being watched 24/7 is safe in there, I PROMISE!), in her bouncy seat, on the couch alone & not touching me, on pillows on the couch next to me... shit, you name it, I tried it, & IT FAILED MISERABLY. I finally told her to cut the horseshit, "Lola, you are nine-and-a-half... Almost TEN YEARS OLD. You know better!!!" And that is when it hit me. My BABY is going to be 10 YEARS OLD in April. How is this even possible?
 

4:51 am, bitchezzzzzz!

TEN, you guys. This wee little girl o' mine who still fits perfectly in my arms and on my lap is damn near a decade old. I am speaking of the last child I gave birth to... My 12 lb. "baby"... My spunky, opinionated, nocturnal, spirited, beautiful, freckled, rubber-chicken-loving daughter. She turns fucking *ten* in a mere 4 months. Double. Damn. Digits. 

This life -- it is like a time warp in so many ways. It feels like she ought to be maybe 3. Like it was just a few years ago that our worlds were forever changed as Lola joined our family. It feels like I blinked and suddenly my child-who-appears-nine-months-old is almost ten. I am almost ashamed to admit how much this terrifies me for reasons even I don't understand. 

I think it signifies that life is changing, time is passing, and we are all growing older. Maybe that is what I struggle with... feeling like our girls are defying odds, worrying that they won't always be able to do so, worrying that with age comes more difficulties, worrying about Cal leaving home soon, worrying about my own issues as I age. I don't know. It just feels scary. Change is hard. And for families who have children with special needs, sometimes we just want things to stay the same... for ALWAYS.

December 3, 2015

I so remember everything about my pregnancy with Lola. I remember how scared we were because doctors weren't sure if she would survive the birth process. How so much was simply unknown. How it felt like uncharted territory for all of us. How our perinatologist moved away when I was 18 weeks pregnant and at that time - right before Christmas of 2005 - he basically cleared my pregnancy as "normal." I remember seeing Lola's fully open hand giving us a "high five" of sorts and wondering if that was a sign from her (and maybe God) that she was going to be OK. After all, Claire's thumbs were always tucked into her fists - surely this meant all was well?! 

I remember doctors wondering if she would be more or less advanced than Claire. We all studied her movement on sonogram so closely, specifically looking for spasticity (as if we could see it) or jerky movements that might indicate cerebral palsy/hypertonia or even seizures. When we saw nothing, that gave us hope. I prayed so hard that all these signs put together might mean that my baby girl, whom I prayed for with everything in me for the past five years, would simply LIVE so we all could have the privilege of knowing her.

I remember forbidding the use of the word "Microcephaly" in our hospital room. And I could never forget how we bargained with the Universe to give us that typical birth experience we so longed for -- that we were denied with Claire & possibly took for granted with Cal. How the ONE THING that mattered most to me was that I could nurse my baby and she could be able to bond with me in that way, as I feared my bond would somehow be less or limited somehow because of all that the medical world viewed as "wrong" with her brain. 

I remember my water breaking at 36.5 weeks and knowing that my whole world was about to be rocked and crying because I was so damn scared that I might come home without a new baby. I just wanted our Lola to LIVE. I wanted to take my tiny, preemie, microcephalic daughter home to begin our lives together, however abnormal that seemed to the rest of the world. These fears and possibilities and what-ifs nearly dismantled me.

The one thing I knew with 100% assurance was that we were going to be given the perfect child for us REGARDLESS. And we so were.

Lola made her grand debut as only a diva could - QUICKLY. So quickly that my OB-GYN didn't even have time to arrive, and Yours Truly didn't have time to have a pain-free birth! Yep - I felt IT ALL, and I am positive that was what was intended for us. To feel EVERYTHING. And OH, how we did. 

April 30, 2006 ~ 2 days old

Mrs Pocket was simply perfect. 5 lb. 10 oz. of pure spitfire! Our bitty badass perfectly complimented our family and made us raise our game to give her exactly what she needed in this life... And ironically, also what *WE* needed. 

March 19, 2007 ~ This picture has always meant SO MUCH to me because it is the only picture I have of Lola breastfeeding -- on the beach, no less!  It was so important to me to try to make this work, and after countless visits with a La Leche League leader/lactation consultant, we did it.  You cannot imagine how happy this made me.  The hours spent pumping 5-6 times daily for 2 years were worth it all.

Nearly TEN years ago, our sassy Lola taught us to slow down and live & love IN THIS MOMENT. To cherish each and every day. To focus on the NOW vs. trying to control our future or how we might possibly deal with what inevitably lays ahead (which I cannot bear to say out loud or even type). 

I thought having Claire taught us a lot -- and OMG, I could devote five whole posts detailing all the ways she SO DID -- but together, all three of our children have shaped us as only they could. We are so damn lucky to have been chosen to parent Cal, Claire & Lola. And no matter what, I will continue to pray for TIME so we can love them longer and make as many memories as we can. Even at 4:51 am.

xo