doing the best i can

We celebrated my mother-in-laws birthday last night with a meal out to one of our favorite places, Texas Roadhouse.  The food is always good, and the kids love the peanuts and rolls.  They eat so much of those that we get them one kids meal to share.  The best part was when they made NanNan sit on the saddle.  We loved it!

Madison, Austin, and I had our fingers pricked to check our iron.  Madison was the first to go, and she did fine.  But after watching Austin and then me, she started rubbing her head and saying it hurt and before I knew it, she was laid out on my lap, face turning from white to gray and blue lips.  Even her eyes looked sunken and blue around them.  It's in moments like those that my mind just races, but not making sense of any thoughts.  Do I wait?  Do I call 911?  What do I do?  The whole thing was slightly reminiscent of last years seizure that no conclusions were ever made over.  Those seconds of her body lethargically rocking back and forth, eyes up to the sky seemed like hours.   I just kept holding her tight and telling her it wold be ok.  "You'll be ok."  I think I said it more for me.  I was about ten more seconds away from calling 911 when her color started to come back, and she wanted to sit up.  In the end, I figured it was a combination of an empty stomach and the squeamish sight of blood.  Whatever it was, it was scary.  And I guarantee that I'll be checking on her more during nap time.  And I'm sure I'll wake up in the middle of the night, feeling uneasy, and have to sneak down to her room just to make sure I can hear the quiet hum of her breathing.

I do the best I can with what I know and follow my instincts, and the rest I just have to leave to God.  With anything, there can be doubt that plagues or fears that linger.  But they will control you if you don't let it go.  So I just do my best.

After all that, we were in a waiting room with another family- a mom, son, and a baby boy.  The mother commented on how cute Kamdyn is and asked how old she is.  I told her almost 5 months.  Then, she told me that her baby, who was at least twice as big as my little peanut, just turned 3 months.  There was a time when I would have felt obligated to tell her that Kamdyn has Down syndrome, but I don't anymore.  But as the conversation continued and she asked more specific questions, I told her.  Afterwards, I wondered.  Maybe I shouldn't have told her.  Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that she has a heart problem.  Now, this person, who I will probably never see again, will have this memory ingrained in her head anytime she hears of a baby with Down syndrome:  small, heart problem, Down syndrome.  While those are all true, that's not what I want people to think.  Blessing, smiling, happy, resilient, strong:  those are what I want them to think.  Those things are even more true.

I'm figuring all of this out as I go.  Speaking as a person who didn't have the best view or judgements about disability,  if I want to change others thinking, then I need to change my response.  Once again, I'm just doing my best.  I can only learn from where I've been and move forward.

Fall was in full bloom last week, and up until yesterday when a heat wave struck.  Despite my resistance, I actually had to turn the A/C on.  Then, the day ended with a fierce thunderstorm.  It came on quick with trees swaying and dancing in the wind.  Thunder cracked, and heavy drops fell hard and fast.  When the rain slowed, the sun peaked through the clouds and shone down, giving off a gorgeous yellow glow.  Madison and Austin stripped down and ran back and forth on the porch, laughing and dodging what was left of the rain. 

Kamdyn's first buddy walk is quickly approaching.  I can't believe that we raised over a thousand $1,000. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/triciadutterer

If you have a worry that you'd like to let go of, put it in a comment and leave it here.  And we'll leave them behind together.

The sovereign cure for worry is prayer.

                                                  William James (1842-1910) American philosopher and psychologist

When I look back on all the worries I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which never happened.

Winston Churchill (1874-1965) British politician.