Sunday, January 26, 2014
A fairytale.
We are spending the weekend with friends. Magical, perfect, lovely time with friends. Where kids squish into twin beds together to sleep at night, not because they have to but because they can't bear the thought of being apart for that long. We spent the first fairytale day down at the water, nestled into the fog, looking for treasures and building forts. It was perfect.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Seven.
A little over a week ago, Parks turned seven. The big boy, huge number, I can't believe he's that old, age of seven. And we celebrated. Quietly out at dinner. Spacing out some presents to make sure he didn't get overwhelmed. And then by going away for a night with just mom and dad where we all slept in a tiny bed together because it was his birthday wish for the night. I think he wanted to feel safe and wrapped up and removed from everything for a little bit. And so did we.
I've been so quiet about all that Parks has gone through these past two months. Quiet while we processed and worked through it all as parents and with him. And though time has passed, I was just discussing with a friend how we don't feel better...just different. A new kind of normal.
Eight weeks ago, our lives changed. Parker was at school when he became confused. He didn't know his name. Couldn't answer questions. He began stumbling and then soon, he couldn't walk. He was rushed to the hospital and he was unconscious for several hours. The doctors were confused. We were worried. But he recovered after a couple of days and I had peace and comfort way down deep in my soul that this was a weird one time occurrence. But then it happened again. And again. And again, until things became different and we were seeing pediatric neurologists and taking ambulance rides to the hospital. There were CT's and MRI's, blood tests and EEG's. Late night phone calls with specialists and tests into the dark hours of night. The day before Thanksgiving we were told Parker has a severe form of epilepsy. That his brain is seizing all of the time. That even though we can't always see it on the outside, this amazing boy has been compensating and living with some extreme difficulty on the inside. He is under the care of an amazing team. His doctor told us that her only goal for the next year is to preserve his brain. And she will do everything in her power. This little trooper takes a load of medications twice a day now. Medication that he hates and they make him feel ill and nauseous. But he troops on. He is an incredible boy. And we don't know what the future holds. On one hand, it can look quite bleak. But I am also a believer in miracles.
I couldn't quite bring myself to write his usual birthday letter on time this year. The kids' birthday letters are usually something I look forward to writing with fervor and passion. But this year I feel scared and worried for my sweet angel boy. But as more time passes, and this new normal becomes a greater reality, I'm becoming braver for him.
Dear Parker,
You are seven! I feel like I might as well call you an adult. Seven seems impossibly old! You are tall and strong and passionate about things you love in your life. You have taken up running recently and you ran a 5k in 32 minutes, then you placed 2nd in your age category at your second race! I have trouble keeping up with you :). You are an amazing architect. You draw detailed building plans, then you bring them to life through your blocks, your legos or cardboard and paper models you design. You are a lover of the outdoors. You spend hours down at the creek building dams, collecting items to look at through your microscope, riding your bike, or going for long training runs. You love to run and jump and play and you're always moving. However, you are careful to tell us that your favorite time of day is in the wee hours of the morning, and at night before bed when you snuggle with dad and I and we talk about everything under the sun under a blanket of darkness. You are compassionate, sensitive and introspective. You love to laugh and tell stories. You are brave and you have been through a lot at the end of your sixth year, and though some days brought you sadness, you are a fighter! We love you.
Love, Mom
I've been so quiet about all that Parks has gone through these past two months. Quiet while we processed and worked through it all as parents and with him. And though time has passed, I was just discussing with a friend how we don't feel better...just different. A new kind of normal.
Eight weeks ago, our lives changed. Parker was at school when he became confused. He didn't know his name. Couldn't answer questions. He began stumbling and then soon, he couldn't walk. He was rushed to the hospital and he was unconscious for several hours. The doctors were confused. We were worried. But he recovered after a couple of days and I had peace and comfort way down deep in my soul that this was a weird one time occurrence. But then it happened again. And again. And again, until things became different and we were seeing pediatric neurologists and taking ambulance rides to the hospital. There were CT's and MRI's, blood tests and EEG's. Late night phone calls with specialists and tests into the dark hours of night. The day before Thanksgiving we were told Parker has a severe form of epilepsy. That his brain is seizing all of the time. That even though we can't always see it on the outside, this amazing boy has been compensating and living with some extreme difficulty on the inside. He is under the care of an amazing team. His doctor told us that her only goal for the next year is to preserve his brain. And she will do everything in her power. This little trooper takes a load of medications twice a day now. Medication that he hates and they make him feel ill and nauseous. But he troops on. He is an incredible boy. And we don't know what the future holds. On one hand, it can look quite bleak. But I am also a believer in miracles.
I couldn't quite bring myself to write his usual birthday letter on time this year. The kids' birthday letters are usually something I look forward to writing with fervor and passion. But this year I feel scared and worried for my sweet angel boy. But as more time passes, and this new normal becomes a greater reality, I'm becoming braver for him.
Dear Parker,
You are seven! I feel like I might as well call you an adult. Seven seems impossibly old! You are tall and strong and passionate about things you love in your life. You have taken up running recently and you ran a 5k in 32 minutes, then you placed 2nd in your age category at your second race! I have trouble keeping up with you :). You are an amazing architect. You draw detailed building plans, then you bring them to life through your blocks, your legos or cardboard and paper models you design. You are a lover of the outdoors. You spend hours down at the creek building dams, collecting items to look at through your microscope, riding your bike, or going for long training runs. You love to run and jump and play and you're always moving. However, you are careful to tell us that your favorite time of day is in the wee hours of the morning, and at night before bed when you snuggle with dad and I and we talk about everything under the sun under a blanket of darkness. You are compassionate, sensitive and introspective. You love to laugh and tell stories. You are brave and you have been through a lot at the end of your sixth year, and though some days brought you sadness, you are a fighter! We love you.
Love, Mom
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Frozen rain
Every year after Christmas we make our way over the snowy passes and hide out in Plain, nestled in the snow and frozen winter wonderland with no phone, no tv, no internet to pass the time. We sled and we make an igloo and we spend the evenings playing games and knitting (well, that's just me). But this year there was just a tiny dusting of snow. Except under the canopy of trees, and then there was just the cold grass and dirt. But half an inch of snow apparently won't stop us. The week went as planned. Even through the freezing rain. Literally. Freezing rain.
We had some death defying sled runs. While freezing rain isn't necessarily the most exciting atmosphere, it does make for some crazy sledding rides. Especially after we lost all the trees in the horrible winter storm last year and we're still working on getting it cleared out a year later. There were logs and stumps and tree obstacles to make it oh so exciting!
I think Everly felt safest with Jeremy in the sled with her. Good call, Ev.
We tried for a three generation ride.
The all guy ride was not as successful.
And on the last day, the kids and Jer made some epic runs....
Making it all the way ONTO the bridge to the river...
BOOM!
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