2011 End of the Year Festivities

The first time I did this post, it got messed up. Here's my second attempt. Dad's B'day: Cute grandkids, galette, and a disappointing Cal bowl game. (I'm sure, like every year, he wished for Cal to make it to the Rose Bowl-next year- before he blew out his candles).
Blueberry-Blackberry Galette. It's too bad Dad's favorite dessert is made with summer berries. A Kumquat galette would be far more economical.
It took everything to keep Matthew awake to take this photo. For the record, his eyes are open. Poor little guy.
New Year's Eve 2011: Isabella decorates the table for our Fondue party.
Everyone gets an almond on their plate. You'll have to ask Isabella why.
This was Isa's first fondue. She dipped the bread, lost the bread in the melted cheese, and then dipped another piece of bread and lost that one too. She never actually tasted the fondue--even when we rescued her bread pieces for her.

Dancing with Papa until we went home and went to bed--at 10 pm. We know how to do New Year's right.
Isa's first day of Primary, January 1, 2012 (Sunday school class for almost four year olds). A beaming Sunbeam.

And let's not forget Christmas 2011...

Because it did happen.

First up-Prepping for Christmas: Finding The Tree. This year was all about efficiency. Sleep-deprived parents, 2 month old baby and a rambunctious 3 year old make for a speedy trip to the local Home Depot.







Isabella used her sense of smell to choose her favorite tree. I used the fine technique of poaching. A couple (who clearly had no children living in their home) were doing the actual work of finding a perfect tree. They picked one out, cut off the netting, and spent several minutes carefully looking at it from every angle and discussing their choice. I observed all this while trying to corral Isabella, juggle Matthew, and sneak a peek at a few trees. The couple finally put the tree aside, deeming it unworthy. So I nabbed it. Looked perfectly fine to me--in the dark. Why put in more work than necessary? We picked up the tree and headed for the check out.
This is Mark attempting to explain to me the need to add a tree stand to our shopping cart because he'd thrown out last year's brand new tree stand. "There was no room to store it, " said he, as we paid for another. I told him there was always room under his pillow if he had trouble finding a place to store the new one.
Even 3 year olds can feel the holiday frazzle.
Next up: Ward Christmas Party. Matthew tolerated Santa.
Isabella did not.
She must have sensed he was a fake.
Christmas before Christmas: Our December 16 Family Christmas Par-tay. Award for Best Gift Given goes to me (I write the blog, I can give myself as many awards as I want). I gave my Dad a biography on Einstein. Why this book for my father?
The description on the back reads: "Isaacson's biography shows how his scientific imagination sprang from the rebellious nature of his personality. His fascinating story is a testament to the connection between creativity and freedom." Seriously, who are they really talking about here? Albert Einstein or Paul Accampo?
The other Best Gift Given award goes to Isabella who picked out this nutcracker herself for Nana and Papa. In preparing for the family party, Isabella was helping me wrap Mark's gift (a new super deluxe memory foam pillow). She was so excited about his gift she kept wanting to run into the living room to tell him what it was. I told her she could tell him that we were wrapping his gift but that it was a surprise for Christmas so we didn't want to tell him what he was getting. She runs into the living room and yells, "Daddy, Daddy! We're wrapping your gift. It's a surprise, so you can't open your pillow until Christmas!"

I tried.
After the exhausting process of opening all the presents, Isabella hangs out and watches a movie.

Still hangin'...
I guess she'll make herself comfortable anywhere.
Daddy and Isabella eating ice cream from the $7 plastic ice cream making kit from Costco. Best Gift Given award goes back to me (and Mark, but technically I found it).
Aunt Karen and Cousin Amanda visit from Chicago for Christmas.

Christmas Eve: Isabella preps the fireplace for Santa's arrival.
Santa's elves assembled the big gift: a dollhouse. Another steal of a deal from Costco. That Santa sure is savvy.
Christmas morning. Isabella wakes up and stumbles out to the living room 15 minutes after I wake up. "Did Santa come?" she asks. I pick her up and turn her to look at the tree. "What do you think?" I ask. "Well he knows I'd really like a doll house and a fire engine!" Over the weeks leading to Christmas I kept asking Isa what she wanted. For a while it was a fire engine, then it turned into something else everyday, (usually depending on what she saw on Caillou, her new favorite cartoon--i.e. a blue dinosaur with batteries). When she actually sat down to write a letter to Santa she asked for something completely random: a big,white, plastic car with something-rather. In other words, I knew she'd never remember what she'd asked for from Santa, so he needed to get creative.

This was by far the best one yet! A fire truck found by a friend at an estate sale for $4, then traded for a sleeve of diapers. Sha-bam! Best Gift Deal goes to...Santa.

Christmas Day church dress.
Matthew puts up with a lot.
A really special day for our family. Matthew had his baby blessing on Christmas Day 2011. Mark performed the ordinance and it was beautiful.
This cake (can you find it?) may seem small and insignificant, but something mighty was accomplished on Christmas Day 2011-- it was the day Amanda and I perfected the butter meringue frosting. It required two sets of hands, 30 minutes extra time, the mudroom, and a couple of frozen towels. See below. It's all about the temperature, people.

(Because I print my blog pages and have them bound in a book for our family, the customized recipe follows so I can remember it for next year:)

Vanilla Meringue Frosting:

1. After cooling meringue in mixing bowl, scoop out into a large bowl and place it outside in the mudroom to keep it cold.
2. Make butter mixture and place in mudroom until it is cold, but still fairly soft.
3. Fold 1 C meringue into butter mixture and then chill in mudroom.
4. After 10 minutes, or so, fold butter mixture into remaining meringue, stirring until smooth.
5. When it's time to frost cake, wrap wet towels chilled in the freezer around the bowl to keep it COLD!
6. Work fast.
Aunt Karen and Amanda gave Isabella jewels and a kazoo.
Mark got a kazoo too, but no jewels. Studying up on the art of kazooing.
We had some fun with the computer. Merry Christmas!

After Halloween...Playing Catch Up

Matthew turns 2 mos. old.
Aunt Christa and Cousin Jack visit!
Jack the Chef makes us his breakfast specialty: Apple Cinnamon Pancakes. Isabella plays sous chef.


Serious about her pretend cooking
One of her creations: cupcakes made of cinnamon sugar, baking powder, and paprika.


Dave and Janett visit for Thanksgiving! Turkey? What turkey? This year was about the laptop. So grateful to have one (that finally works!). Best moment: When Dave "airdropped" some photographs from his laptop to mine. Just like that.
Prepping for the family photo
takes great practice and coordination
until you get it right.

Miracles: The Story of Matthew (Part 2)

miracle |ˈmirikəl|

noun

a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency

My pregnancy with Matthew was marked with lots of statistics, all with negative prospects. The diagnosis of Down syndrome carried with it a 30% chance of miscarriage or a stillborn birth. And despite having a cerclage stitch in place, there was still the danger of pre term labor, which could mean serious complications or miscarriage. After a while it was hard to imagine that something bad wasn’t going to happen. This is when I have a difficult time striking a balance between faith and science. It’s easier for me to believe what the numbers say than it is to believe in the possibility of other outcomes that science can’t predict (i.e. miracles!).

After learning the results of the amniocentesis, I struggled with feeling a connection to Matthew in any way. I was ok with him having Down syndrome--so long as it was a mild form of it. Really it was my last emotional attempt to try and control something that was totally out of my hands. I simply had to wait and see--something that does not come easily to me. Would I be able to truly love my baby knowing he could be very different? I decided to email my OB/GYN to see if he could arrange an appointment with a counselor for me. That same day, he called me at home to set up the appointment and also to offer his help.

My doctor is the same religion as me. I didn’t choose him to be my doctor for this reason, it just sort of worked out that way. And because we don’t attend the same congregation, I pretty much have always had a normal patient/doctor relationship with him. He is the current bishop of his congregation, which means that he is the person to whom people go when they need advice or help with spiritual matters. When he called me at home that day to offer his help, it occurred to me that there was no one better to whom I could speak. He possessed medical expertise specific to my situation and we shared a common belief system. I knew I could tell him everything I needed to say in the way I needed to say it. For that specific purpose, I felt he’d been placed in my path to help me with the burden I was feeling. It also became apparent early on in our conversation that despite his excellent reputation as a doctor and his assignment as a bishop, he too, sometimes struggled with balancing his faith and the science of his profession. Knowing this was a great comfort to me.

I confessed to my doctor my fear of not being able feel a bonding love for my baby because he had Down syndrome. He responded first by telling me that maybe it was ok not to feel a strong bond given that something could happen during my pregnancy. I considered this to be his “doctor” response, the one given in the world of statistics that we were all navigating. He almost immediately recanted his first answer, though, and then offered a completely different one. His second response was given in the form of spiritual counsel, and it was personal to me. He told me instead to pray for charity. He quoted the biblical scripture about perfect love casting out all fear. He said that if I could develop charity for my baby that it didn’t matter the outcome, I could get through anything.

I decided to take my doctor’s advice, despite the fact that I’ve never really understood what charity is, or at least what it feels like. All I knew after our conversation, was that my fears had less to do with Matthew’s disability and more to do with my ability to love, which is why I needed charity. So,my prayers as a mother shifted that day to this one thing: developing a perfect love for my baby. I needed to have the assurance that I could truly bond with Matthew. What else really mattered?

I can’t say that in the remaining weeks and months of my pregnancy that I felt some new, overwhelming emotion for Matthew. It was still difficult for me to feel connected to him throughout, but in seeking charity, I seemed to lose my fear. I started to breathe again. I stopped being consumed by his Down syndrome and started focusing again on my body. I was determined to have the best pregnancy I could have for Matthew, to give him every chance he needed. The remarkable thing was, that my body was holding up beautifully (miracle #1!). In fact as my pregnancy progressed, the time in between my doctors appointments began to stretch out more and more. I continued to modify all my activities, but it felt minimal, and I never ended up on strict bed rest. I did all physical work in moderation and asked for help with the rest. It is never easy to ask for assistance, especially if it’s long term, but I learned that asking for help provides an opportunity for others to do things that make them feel good. This became another miracle of sorts.

The camaraderie of family and friends visiting our home was utterly enjoyable. One of my close friends came over once a week to help with housework, to talk, and to give our girls a chance to play together. Another neighbor-friend stepped in when the first was no longer able to. I didn’t know my neighbor well in the beginning, but with the light housework help also came good conversation. She spent time with Isabella, which I think became very meaningful to her since her own grandchildren live far away. My Mom came once a week to take Isabella out on excursions. During the last 6 weeks or so of my pregnancy, dinners were provided for us once a week. This became a tremendous relief, especially for Mark, who was working full time and had to do more than his fair share around the house. You know a miracle has occurred when a burden that previously felt so heavy and consuming begins to feel light. Nothing about our circumstances had changed: our baby would have Down syndrome, my pregnancy was still high risk, but the sadness and fear was replaced by sheer gratitude (and a desire to give back as soon as I could) and the stress of the circumstances became manageable.

At some point it occurred to me that my previous prayers, which I thought had gone unanswered (or not answered in the way that I’d hoped) were fulfilled in ways I’d never imagined. We were being watched over. I was enjoying my pregnancy! My body was not failing. As this little baby grew inside me, so did the enthusiasm of everyone involved for his safe and healthy arrival. I cannot express the depth of emotion I felt for those around me, (and those far away who sent emails and well wishes) who already loved this little baby, even when I felt disconnected from him. My best friend Brooke had unending enthusiasm for wanting to get to know his personality. My Mom expressed her desire to become an advocate for those with Down syndrome. My dear friend Karly shared her genuine excitement that her children would have a richer life experience being raised with a child that was not going to be the same as everyone else (!) What I considered to be my greatest heartbreak, was beginning to feel like a wonderful privilege. I didn’t know why this little baby was coming to our family, but he obviously had something to teach me.

My little miracle, Matthew.