Saturday, July 31, 2010

Normal

Sweet Samantha,

On Wednesday you attended Scribbles and Giggles for the first time. They called me about 45 minutes after you had been there and said you had a fever. I rushed over to pick you up...and you know what? You were happy and giggly and looked just delighted to see me. Yes, you have a way of making a mommy feel ultra-important. The rest of the day at home, you were a gem -- so I figured you had gotten into your tricky ways and somehow managed to make the thermometer read wrong so you could play hookie and hang with me the rest of the day.

Thursday, off to school you went -- and had a great day.

Friday, no school. You have one month break. We played, opened and shut doors -- oh wait, I already said we played, and you were fine. Until, last night.

At midnight you woke up and were upset. Daddy went in and calmed you down. You fell back to sleep. Then at about 4 am, I heard you cry. You weren't screaming, which is what you normally do...your own way of letting me know "I want out of here and I want MOMMY told hold meeeee!" You were more complainy. So, I jumped out of bed and went to the room. You naturally woke Callie up and when she saw me come in, she was very distressed about the entire situation. I picked you up and sat in the room with both you and Callie. You were burning up. You had a fever of 102 -- and I actually think it was a little higher than that, but I didn't get a really good reading since you weren't being super cooperative about me putting the thermometer in your ear. Poor girl. You "slept" with Daddy (apparently you actually nuzzled and kicked for about 3 hours) and I went in bed with Callie and slept with her.

The rest of the day you've been pretty great. Callie has a fever now, but neither one of you have any other symptoms. You're eating well, complain as usual, smile and giggle as usual, are drinking well.

I've recently started working on a project and it's made me think a lot about how different our life is from everyone else's around me. It hasn't made me feel bad or anything -- an observation more than anything. Back in the early days of microcephaly, seizures, hospitalizations, therapies, the global "special needs," I often felt like no one around me understood. I felt so alone, so different. I do recognize that our life is much different than many others. Today though, we were playing on the deck, and as you were stumbling around, trying to pick up and throw Callie's bike to and fro, I thought about how "normal" our life really is -- how we really are just like every other family out there.

We have two beautiful daughters.
You both love us.
We love you both with everything we have in us.
We do everything we can to fulfill both of your needs.
Both of your needs are vastly different.
You get sick.
You get fevers.
You bring us joy.

It goes on and on. And I could certainly write some sentences after each of those statements as fillers -- explaining how our life is different from other families, because it is -- but really, when it comes down to it...we aren't all that different are we? We're pretty normal. And today, I really felt it. In a way, this realization was a tender mercy from the Lord. I think I needed it, and I know He knew it.

I love you so much. I hope you get that. I hope you understand how deeply I feel about you. You are beautiful, clever, and perfectly amazing in every way. You are the sunshine in our life. You, and Callie both, have made my life more complete.

I love you to pieces -- and I love all your pieces.
Mommy

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Good Job

Li'l Sammer,

Despite the fact that yesterday was a rough day of travel, and we had a 3 hour time change...you had a perfectly wonderful day, starting off with hard work in PT and a happy day at school with your friends. You even took a nap on the bus -- probably to catch up on your missed zzzz's with the time change.

I love you to pieces. You're simply the cutest.
Love,
Mommy

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

19 Months

Samantha dear,

I found these old pictures of you on Grandpa's computer. These are from 2.5 years ago when Callie came home. You were only 19 months, and so so darling.

I love you baby girl. Thanks for being a good girl for me today when we went to Walmart. And wahoo! We found shoes for you that will fit over your braces...who would have thought that $5.00 shoes from Walmart would be the best fit so far?

Love you to pieces,
Mommy
















Monday, July 12, 2010

Sleep

Dear Samantha,

I love you. But I will love you more if you start sleeping in longer than 5am. This is a promise.

Love,
Mommy

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Heartache

Sweet Samantha,

Today my heart aches. Last night, you had a very rough night. I wasn't sure why, though I assumed it was your cold. You woke up Callie, and I ended up "sleeping" in your room the rest of the night (which as you know means I didn't sleep at all). We didn't go to church today. At 4am, I decided we weren't going to church today. Around 5am you had a seizure in my arms. That hasn't happened in a while. Poor sweet girl. You were asleep when I heard the clicking sound in your throat -- you struggling for air I've always assumed. I put you on your side and begged you to come out of it quickly as I realized I only brought one Diastat to Michigan with us, and I always like to have a spare. You came out of it and began to kick your legs pretty severely as you've been doing the past 6 months or so when you come out of your seizures. Then, surprisingly, you feel right back to sleep in my arms. I've been going to the chiropracter here to fix my neck pain from the car accident, and I'm finally feeling normal. But after last night, my neck isn't feeling so pretty again. It was worth it. Every moment.

My heart isn't necessarily aching because of your seizure. Those suck. Let's be honest. I hate that you have them and it makes me sad every single time. Luckily, professionals believe there was a loss of consciousness during grand mals, so hopefully you don't remember much when they are done. What is really aching my heart, however, is news that we received this morning about a friend of ours. Their son, about 26 years old, is married and they have a baby. Last night, he had some seizures, and is now in the hospital with no brain activity. His seizures were the result of a different problem that occurred, but it still makes me fear for the day when you have a seizure, and that's it. I'll hold you in my arms as you convulse, but you won't come out of it. And instead of my heart aching, it will shatter. And I wonder at my ability to pick up all the little pieces. What would I ever do without you Sammy? I ache for our friends who are now suffering. I think about how much pain I would feel if we were to lose you, and we've only had 4 wonderful years with you. They are sitting in the hospital remembering 26 years of love and sacrifice and...love. Oh how I ache for them, and so much dread that day for us.

I do find peace in knowing that families are forever -- but the pain, I know, is still very real. I love you sweet girl. You are the sunshine in my life. You are amazing in all ways. You just light up a room with your smile, and you have lit up our lives. I'm not sure how it all worked out, but I'm sure lucky to be your mom. I love you with everything I have in me.

You'll always be my baby girl.
Mommy

Pictures of you January, 2008.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Michigan

Dear Sammers,

We are having so much fun visiting family here in Michigan. We just spent an entire week at Aunt Lisa's and Uncle Adam's. You loved playing with your cousins, and they so much loved playing with you. Despite all the sunscreen, you're bronzing up like the bathing beauty that you are and you've just been really happy here. That makes me happy. Like, sincerely, deep to the marrow in the bones happy.

I love that you love playing in the yard.
I love that you have been wearing your bathingsuit a lot.
I love that you have been opening and closing doors here with such joy and gusto!
I love that you turned four while we were in Michigan.
I love that you were introduced by Callie individually to all the goats at Domino's Farm.
I love that you haven't had a seizure even though you woke up all stuffed up.
I love that you are my little baby girl.

No matter how old you are, you'll always be my baby girl.

I love you.
Mommy

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