White Cats and Inspiration Bursts.

I had a burst of inspiration, just one minute ago. "I need to write a blog." Now there is an original thought! "But, wait you already have a blog. You know, the one you wrote when you got inspired and thought, ' I need to write a blog.' ." Wow, that was some quotation confusion like I've never seen. So, I dug up this old blog and fiddled with some passwords to sign in and here I am. No one will read this because there are something like 500 billion blogs out there and I'm pretty sure it's all vanity anyway. But I like the idea of having a space to display photos and talk about them. Oh yes, I have grand thoughts about writing and imparting all sorts of wisdom to the masses, but then I remember that I never stick to stuff and the never sticking makes me never start. Well also, the fact that I am not that wise comes to mind too.

I think this inspiration "burst" was born out of a quiet clean house with no children, no dinner to be made, no tv show to watch, and no husband. And here I am writing about nothing.


A white cat has adopted us. She has been prowling about our property for a year or so. I fed her once, end of story. She was so skinny, I couldn't resist! Ella has named her "Maddie." Do you want her? She is obnoxious and pretty and makes my cats CRAZY. She comes right up to the windows and stares straight at them and they hiss like snakes and look terribly vicious.


Here is the famous picture taken with that fancy iphone thing. Auntie E took it in Walla Walla at Ella's Lemonade stand.

She scooped ice into the cups and sold oreos too. She made 10 dollars.

Here is a a very cute video of a very cute baby sitting on a counter. If you make it to the end you will see his devious smile. The one he shows when I say "don't do that" and he does it anyway. But, who cares, he's cute! You can also see that he is just a tad behind his sister in the language department. While she was speaking in complete sentences saying things like, "May you please pass the peas mother?" he is saying "ba" for bird. I'm not worried. That part of his brain just hasn't woken up yet. And he is a boy after all, you can't blame him for lacking in communication skills.



No children fell off the counter in the making of this video.

Thank you for checking in on us.

Alden

Pretty Clothes and a Dirt Pile

First they came out in their work clothes, but, after disappearing back into the house they returned prancing around in their "prettiest clothes". And, then they discovered the dirt pile. You should have seen them afterwards, covered in mud from head to toe. Nothing a bath couldn't take care of, well, except for the gritty fingernails, that is.

They played in that dirt pile for hours! No toys or props, just pure play. It was a delight to see.

My tiny prophetess

I was sifting through old messages on my Facebook account and found this e-mail from a college friend of mine - a gifted writer. I had asked him back then (this was before Annabelle's passing) if I could post it in my blog. He said yes, but asked that I leave his name out. I loved what he said, and here it is.

Thanks to you and Jack for opening your story to the rest of us. Your struggles and faith remind me how raw and awesome life can be--and of how much we need such reminding awakenings--and of how wise and deep and wild God can be in what he endows with that waking power. Life is no suburban pleasure-dome. Love is not the fruit of convenience. That God could grant a beautiful little girl with that power to remind us of that (or remind me, at least) is what I might call "a severe mercy." There is a soft touch in the magic of such art: compassion, tenderness, humility--beauty. But there is also a thrumming promise of dawn, a fierce heart-song calling for restoration, for completion--what Paul might have called "the redemption of our bodies." Forgive me if, in my morning rush, I'm being too ambitious in what I want to express. But I suppose I'm saying there is a unique power in the lives of children like Annabelle, at once presence and promise, treasure and fire--and that it is, in the deep down unseen places, profoundly true to say, whether or not she ever speaks a word we understand, that in your love of her in Christ, she is a tiny prophetess.

Also, to all who have yet to find out, we are expecting our third child in November. It's a boy!! He's thankfully not affected by the same thing Annabelle had. We are so blessed.

The Bike

She's doing it, she's doing it!!!

Finally...and yes those are training wheels. But, I am still proud of her, no matter how long it took.

The Chore

Unloading the eating utensils from the dishwasher. This used to be her favorite job. Do you think it still is?

How sad that the novelty has to wear off. It is like that for a lot of things in life isn't it? Passion turns into familiarity, familiarity turns into boredom, boredom turns into contempt.

Here's to keeping the passion alive!

Random updates

I am a blogging slacker! Jack says to just post when I feel like it, but the problem is that I feel it a lot, but, I never actually sit down and do it. I envy people who are able to write every day. I even have the same problem with my own personal journals. I want to write every day, but, NEVER do it! Sometimes I will go on a spree and let the creative juices flow, I wish it was more often.

My life, though faced with some sorrow these past few months, has become brighter. Hope is brewing and the season's light is healing. Winter around here is so hard for me to get through. I finally bought one of those SAD lights, so hopefully that will help next winter.

On to some pictures.

Aaliya and Ella on a hot day at Remlinger Farms. They both finished their first year of preschool this month(same preschool different time). I have enjoyed the co-op. It has been so nice to get to know all the moms and be a part of Ella's experience. Next school year she will be in the fours class though she will be 5 in October. She will be going three days a week and I will help on one of those days.

Our animals are all doing well. The chickens were producing beautifully for about three months. 4 to 5 eggs a day! Now we are lucky if we get one. If any chicken lovers read this please share your advice. We are babysitting the preschool guinea pig and have also aquired several tadpoles and salamander babes that Jack and Ella found in our wetland jungle.

This is Ella getting ready for her ballet recital. It was pretty cute, I will try to post the video clip sometime. I don't know if we will be doing dance again next year. With preschool three times a week among other things, I think our schedule might be too full. I don't like being too busy. And, anyway, Ella claims to "HATE" dance class at the moment. I certainly won't be forcing her to do anything she hates.

Like the bright green costume? It actually was cuter than I thought it would be.

Here's to better updating!!

Annabelle's blog (February, 2008)

(This is the last of the entries I copied on to this blog from my "Annabelle Elizabeth" blog. People had been asking about it after I had made it private so I thought I would bring it back here, minus the pictures.)

I have found myself sharing the story of Annabelle's death with many people. Unexpectedly, it will come spilling out, probably shocking my listener. I will never forget two of my closest friends' faces across the table from me at a Thai restaraunt. Maybe it wasn't the right time, but, I couldn't stop myself. I shared what happened and they sat staring at me stricken. I guess I feel the need to tell people because, I know they are wondering, and because it feels good to allow people to share in my sorrow, to hurt along with me.

This past year was surprising. We had prepared for Annabelle to die within the first days of her life. Not only did she survive, she lived abundantly! Sure, there were many colds, but, nothing serious. No surgeries, no feeding tube, no oxygen, never even once. The doctors were beginning to say, "hey, we don't know how long this child will live...maybe two years....maybe ten." And, I was getting used to it. I was so ready to be a mother of a disabled child. I wanted to build a house with wheelchair access and stay up with her every night of my life. I would have done anything for her, I was ready for it. I had gotten to the point that I wasn't scared anymore.

We probably won't ever know exactly what happened. She had a cold. We took two trips to the ER, one at Childrens in Seattle and the other in Walla Walla. There was no pneumonia, no fever, no dehydration. But, she wasn't eating. It was as though her body was shutting down. She became constipated and when that was finally relieved she seemed to just disappear. Christmas eve morning she stopped breathing. We called an ambulance, Jack performed rescue breaths. They took her to the ER. Jack rode with her. I came later with Grandma Carrie. By the time we got there she had been intubated. She couldn't breath on her own. She was unresponsive, I felt like she was already gone. The doctor said she was brain dead. We had them take all the tubes out and we took her home, (Jack's parents' home in Walla Walla). One or two hours later, surrounded by our loving family she took her last breath and slipped away. She was in my arms and I was in Jacks arms. It was peaceful and exactly as I would have wanted it to happen.

When people ask how I am I say "OK", and, for the most part I am. I am OK and deeply sad at the same time. I can laugh and have fun, and that same night I can weep until I have nothing left. Some mornings I wake up with an ache in my chest and it stays with me all day. Tears will come at odd moments. There is always this feeling, a quiet hurt inside me, it is almost like a physical presence. I heard this explained by someone who lost their daughter; it is like I am looking for her and she is always at the corner of my vision and when I turn to look she is gone. It is so strange how she can be so near and so so far away, so gone. Sometimes I can feel her and smell her and see her bright eyes so clearly, other times she is a blur. I am afraid of losing memories, but, sometimes it hurts too much to try and remember.

So thank you for asking how we are. We are well. We feel blessed. There are bad days and wonderful days. I love to talk about her so please, never be afraid to ask. She is always on my mind, so you won't be bringing up what wasn't there before. I still want to write about her birth someday. I know my entries are few and far in between, so thank you for taking the time to check in on us.

Love to you all!

Annabelle's blog (January, 2008)

My Memorial Letter
We crammed around 60 people in our little home to celebrate Annabelle's life. It was beautiful.Thank you for all your words, letters, meals and flowers. Thank you for loving us and for taking the time to ponder Annabelle, her life, and her death.It is hard to come here and write in this blog, because it is another reminder and it hurts. I do want to keep writing though, it helps me to make sense of it all. I would like to share the letter I wrote for the memorial. I wrote it to Annabelle, but I also wrote it to read aloud and share with others a little about who she is to me.Dear Annabelle,I was just beginning to believe you would be staying with us for a long time. I had told Providence Hospice that I wanted to end their services starting January. I was ready to start hoping in life instead of expecting death. I wonder why you had to leave at just this time, when I began to hope. There must be a lesson there somewhere. Maybe about learning to love without reserve, letting go of fear and embracing life, recklessly, without restraint. I finally got there and in doing so I was able to love you wholly, not just as a guest in our house, as I felt you were in the early days. I loved you fiercely for who you were not who you weren't.You were brilliant, lovely, amazing. Your body, though flawed was beautiful to me. Your bright eyes, looked around more than we ever imagined they would. We adored your little poof of hair, your eyebrows, how you would raise them in interest, your little tongue popping out to explore your mouth. Your hands were finally beginning to do what you wanted. My favorite thing we all shared with you was your ability to smile and laugh in your own special way. You would almost always smile when we kissed you in just the right places. You loved to be bounced and jiggled and tickled. You gave us the gift of response. You received our love and made us feel that we were important to you. I will always miss falling asleep with you tucked in my arm, how my body ached in the morning from accommodating you all night. I would give anything to hurt like that again. We spent so many late nights together on that couch. You propped on the pillow, moving your arms and sucking on your lower lip, and me playing on the computer. Soon you would begin to squawk for attention we would snuggle and play for awhile then when you were tired I would feed you with your tiny bottle and you would fall asleep in my arms.I miss you and I miss your body, but I have hope now that you will be made perfect,and that you will be with God. I am just a little sad for you, that you didn't get to taste some more foods, feel more hugs and kisses, see new colors and shapes. I wish you could have had a chance to learn a little more how to control your hands and arms. But mostly, I am just sad because I miss you. I am not worried about you, I just miss you. My arms feel empty and I miss you.love,your mama

Annabelle's blog (December, 2007)

Annabelle ElizabethOctober 19, 2006 - December 24, 2007Here is the e-mail I sent out

Wednesday morning;I wish there was a better way to do this than e-mail. Jack wrote the letter to you all of her arrival and now I am writing of her leaving. On Christmas Eve our little baby girl went home. She became very ill while we were here in Walla Walla and it wasn't long before she was gone. We are deeply hurt because we miss her and long to see her. She was doing so well and we were beginning to believe that she would be with us for a long time. That thought gave us joy. Now we are finding comfort in the hope that her body will be made perfect and she will be with God. We would love to hear from you through e-mail and we hope to see you and talk to you all soon. Still not sure about a service but, I will send out another e-mail soon. We are thinking it may be at our house where Annabelle's memory is most fresh to us. Please, please, don't be worried about what to say to us. I understand that it can be scary not knowing how to react...worried that one might say the wrong thing. Just know that you are all loved.
Posted by meela at 5:18 PM 7 comments

Annabelle's blog (November 5, 2007)

Though I believe I had come to terms with the reality of my baby's condition, I was still scared. We had to go to so many ultrasounds in the maternal-fetal medicine clinic. Each time I felt like I was entering a black hole, I was numb. I remember standing in the restroom outside the waiting room trying to catch my breath, trying to rein in the fear and prepare for the worst. I put a wall of science around my heart and asked many questions about the details of the scan. The doctors didn't know much at first. She wasn't growing properly, her facial features were a bit off, she had enlarged ventricles in her brain. They kept checking her heart and other organs, which seemed fine. She always sat in the same position, legs crossed and tucked away. They told us that she could either be profoundly developmentally delayed or just slightly slow. Then they asked us to decide if we were going to end her life.

It is not often that one has to confront their beliefs face to face the way we had to. I could lie and write that there wasn't an ounce of doubt in me. I was afraid for my life, and for my family's life. I didn't want this scary thing to happen to us. I looked to the future and thought for just a moment what might be there if I were to end this child's life. And I saw grief and sorrow and relief.

So there was doubt, but, it never came down to that. It didn't come down to my belief in the sanctity of life either. It came down to the fact that for me "termination of pregnancy" would be me killing my child. I saw her there on the ultrasound over and over. I saw her eyes and her heart and her tiny brain. She was so flawed, so incredibly imperfect, but, she was alive. It was an emotional decision, it was in the core of my being. And there was Jack, her father, who never even experienced that doubt. Together we felt there was never a decision to be made, but, we still had to tell the doctors that, "no" we will not be ending her life.

Yes, I was worried she would suffer. I didn't want her life to be miserable, just like any mother hopes for their child. We never know what our children's life will hold, but, we still let them have a chance at living, even though we know that they will suffer eventually. Who am I to make the decision of whether or not her life is worth the suffering she may endure? She was alive for a reason. If she suffers we will suffer with her. Just as we do for all whom we love. A life isn't less valuable because there is suffering, suffering has its meaning and its place in all our lives. Each ultrasound, brought bad news. Things were not getting better. Our maternal-fetal medicine doctor came up with a preliminary diagnosis. Something that seemed plausible. It was a syndrome so rare that only 40 cases had been reported since it was named in the 1970s. It was a fatal condition where all the babies died either before birth or shortly after. So this is what we were prepared for. Many doctors convened to later share that they didn't believe she would make it through the delivery. My mind believed them, but, and I have never been one to espouse intuition, my body did not. There was a part of me that knew she would be with us for longer than believed. I didn't examine that part, I barely noticed it, I may have even been ignoring it.

Time moved slowly. Annabelle (who was not yet named) was always on my mind. I dreamt of her. Some dreams were horrible, others were comforting. Many people were praying for us. We were all trusting in God's will. And, while I trusted, I also questioned, because I think trusting and questioning can come as a pair. I questioned Him on the meaning of it all, on what exactly it means to "trust in God's will". So I trusted and questioned and waited, and thought way too much. Suddenly time went quickly and the due date was upon us.

Annabelle's blog (September 17, 2007)

Almost one year
I put on my coat for church yesterday and when we returned we made a cozy fire in the wood stove. Fall is here! October is here! And my little Annabelle will be one year old. She is happy and healthy and quite cute. Of course she is still extremely small for her age at 12 pounds with a head the size of a newborn. This prompts the daily questions...they go like this;

"OOOHHH a little one! How old?"

"1 year"

..silence..

"was she a premie?"

"no"

Usually I go on to explain more just so the person doesn't feel too embarassed. I get this every time I go out at least once, but usually two, three, four times. It is tiring and makes me not want to look at people. If I avoid eye contact then maybe they won't come up to me.My not quite one year old is still functioning at a one or two month level. She smiles and laughs every day. She loves to be tickled and cuddled. She hates to be left alone and is quite loud, effectively getting our attention whenever she needs it. She looks at us, but, I am still not sure what she sees. Shadows? Colors and shapes? She cannot sit up but enjoys being propped up much more than lying down. Her stomach muscles are getting much stronger and she does little crunches when lying on her back. Her physical therapist says her back muscles are getting stronger too. She can go from laying on her side to laying on her back using those muscles. We are very proud of her.In honor of her birthday, I would like to start writing Annabelle's story from the beginning.She was born on October 19th. We knew about her condition in June, when we went in for an ultrasound. We were there to find out her gender and instead we found that there was something terribly wrong. The discovery and the days following were dark and dreamlike. It flattened me. For maybe three days I was like this, confused, weeping, shaky, so, very afraid. I clung to Jack relying on his strength to move me in and out of each moment. In one night I found what it was that would get me through this. I stayed on my knees that night. I read, pondered, questioned, and listened. I figured out that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and for my family. Life had given me this and there was nothing to do but, accept it and move forward. I had Ella to take care of, a husband to love and God still needed praising. The question, "Why me?" became inane. Instead I asked, "why not me?" What makes me so special that I should be saved the horrors of this world?People often call our family brave, I think we are, but, maybe not in the way people mean. We are brave in that we made the choice to not let this loss destroy us. We are determined to not be bitter, and to not let it ruin our relationships. And, we are determined to continue to praise God.After she was born we decided to have Annabelle baptised. We had a good friend from church, a chaplain, come to our home to perform it. These are the verses we picked to read during her baptism. They are verses that represent her life. A guiding post for her spirit.23Nevertheless I am continually with You; You have taken hold of my right hand. 24With Your counsel You will guide me, and afterward receive me to glory. 25Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. 26My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.Psalm73:23-26Not much of the story yet....more to come.
Posted by meela at 9:54 PM 3 comments
Monday, June 25, 2007

Annabelle's blog (June 11, 2007)

Annabelle Update
Hello out there. I hope people will still check in on this even though I haven't written in three months. Annabelle had her first MRI last month. The news wasn't any better than expected, in fact, it was a little worse. Her tiny brain is not developing along with her slightly growing head. The empty space is filled with water, not dangerous, just indicative of developmental delay (or perhaps I should say "developmental arrest"......I'm not sure yet). She has an extreme form of Lissencephaly, her entire brain has a smooth appearance. We are waiting to hear from some specialists to learn more about what this all means and hopefully get a more accurate prognosis.In the mean time she is a mostly happy little 8 month old. She is a whopping ten pounds nine ounces. Her weight is increasing at a normal rate, while her height and especially her head fall behind. Her eyes are bright and alert. I wonder often about what it is that she sees. Can she tell the difference between people and inanimate objects or are they all just shapes and colors to her? She loves to be held and cuddled. When she is put down she usually cries. She is a mystery to me and I grow to love this mystery more and more as each month of her life passes.I have been grieving lately. In a way that I haven't before. I long for what could have been, for that bouncing, laughing, fat eight month old sitting up and playing with her toys. Head full of hair, perfect little feet and eyes glued on mine, I can see clearly who my Annabelle was supposed to be. The sadness feels right. It is as though I am being shocked again by the reality of Annabelle's profoundly debilitating condition, and it feels good to be able to acknowledge the truth and then move onward, aware and prepared. It also drives me into the arms of my savior knowing that it is in his truths that I find rest and comfort. In daily life, mostly contented, a little blinded, I forget Him and I forget my grief. It is desperation that brings me back to Him.Forgetting my grief, however, is an emotional survival strategy that I openly welcome. One cannot grieve all the time. So, Forgetful Land here I come!!

Annabelle's blog (February 20t, 2007

I made Annabelle's blog private after I got a rude comment about her appearance. That kind of thing hurts too much. But, I have had several people ask about the blog so I decided to start moving some of the posts into this blog without the pictures. So I will start from the beginning.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Who she is and How she is
Wow, thanks for all your comments and e-mails. It is nice to know how cared for we are!After much study our perinatologist finally had a possible diagnosis for Annabelle. Following her birth a geneticist at Children's hospital concurred and the syndrome was as official as it could be. There is little information about the condition and it is difficult to know if it is the right diagnosis. All her symptoms fit, inauterine growth retardation(hence her 3 1/2 pounds at birth), microcephaly (small head), lissencephaly (patch of smooth brain), clubbed feet, among others. It is an impossibly rare syndrome and a lethal syndrome. But, death is the one symptom that she is not exhibiting. All the other reported babies who have had this diagnosis had died by now, except for one who had intensive care until five months and then passed. Annabelle has no "intensive" care. She is well. As far as we can tell, anyway. She eats and swallows, and coughs, all the things needed to keep her alive. Her organs, with the exception of her brain are just fine at the moment. The fear was that her malformed brain would keep her from knowing how to swallow or cough, causing her to aspirate and contract pneumonia. That doesn't appear to be a problem at the moment, but aspiration could happen at any time.She is a surprise to us. I never thought I would have this little bright eyed soul in my life. I never thought I would be able to stare at her and delight in such simple things as her looking at a light. She watches people, tracks them moving through the house. She is beginning to respond to sounds. We have even seen a few random smiles. Ever so slowly, and barely observable, she progresses. This is a different journey than what it should be, but, it doesn't have to be constantly tragic. At the moment, she isn't suffering. She is loved, and cuddled, and she is a blessing.Having said all that, this is a tragedy. Of course it is a tragedy and I will allow myself that. But, I have hope in God's promises and believe that Annabelle's body will be perfected after her death. I do not believe that God inflicts suffering on us, he may allow us each our share, but, suffering isn't what God intended for us. Of course there is more to be explained about that theology, but, I haven't the writing skills to go there. However; I would gladly discuss it.I could digress here...questioning myself again if this is a true tragedy or not. What is a tragedy and who is being affected? Is this Annabelle's tragedy or mine? It gets confusing. Maybe it is just a part of a story, and it is certainly not a comedy. Although there have been some funny times. OK it is late and my head is a bit fuzzy.
Posted by meela at 11:41 PM

8 comments:
Pravinder said...
God has a plan - I call that plan "meant to be" and we as mere humans are meant to accept it. In the meantime, we are bonding beautifully, albeit differently, with Annabelle. She is precious to hold and to love. It is a thrill to see her big bright eyes looking at you. Her focus seems to be improving. Her brave Mommy, my baby, whom I adore with all my heart, makes me proud. Meela, your deep sensitivity and your inner strength amaze me. We are right beside you, anxious to take this journey with you. You have two beautiful children and they each have a a very special place in my heart. They are a part of me. The blog is a great idea!
February 24, 2007 11:55 AM
Jack said...
My little girl, these are profound thoughts. They probed deep into my inner being. Thank you, as they have helped me fathom my feeelings and better understand your suffering as I know you are in your own quiet, loving way. We are a "family", which means we love everyone equally, as a unit, until death do us part. Dad
February 24, 2007 12:15 PM
Savieta Khanna said...
Meela Baby,You know I always thought you were special and now you have truly amazed me. You are surely blessed and Who knows, since Annabelle gets so much love, she might be a true miracle child and exceed everyone's expectations.You and Jack were truly made for each other since you could not have done this alone.I have to echo your mom's thought and that is only HE knows the master plan and we can try our best to see the positive in it.Lots of love,Bubble masi
February 26, 2007 10:52 AM
tracicita said...
it feels like this blog is a sacred space. a "take my shoes off because God is at work here" place. i am so honored and humbled just to read your thoughts and share this journey with you a little bit. thank you so much. all love and blessings to you all. x
February 26, 2007 7:02 PM
tracicita said...
ps - every time i open your blog i cry. i cry at what you have written and i cry at the comments people have left. my heart is so full and so moved. x
February 26, 2007 7:04 PM
Ben said...
Hi MeelaGreat pictures! i think you're great. Looking forward to seeing you and Annabelly tonight.
March 19, 2007 2:05 PM
Sara said...
Meela- you are wonderful and your babies are beautiful. I've visited your page about a thousand times now- I think because as Tracy said, it is somehow a sacred place. God is at work indeed. Thank you for sharing with all of us. I feel honored and humbled. There was something in your Annablle's eyes when I saw the picture of her smile- I was convicted about a number of things. I cried- cried out to God about some ugliness in my soul. He is at work indeed.
March 28, 2007 4:39 PM
Aunt Margaret said...
Dear Meela,Your blog was wonderful to read, I am so proud of you and Jack, and the girls. You are always in our prayers.Little Annabelle is truly her great grandmother's (Lola) girl. My mom was a survivor and I believe I am too, so us Chicken girls have to stick together. We love all of you and we are looking forward to seeing you soon.

Trick or Treat!