Counting giggles, bubbles and the gift of friendship!!

We have reached Day 31 of my writing challenge. I can not believe it. Thank you thank you thank you for sticking with me, or for reading more than one. You are just the best.

I have learned so much during this challenge. I have re-visited Young Mama Me and sat with her in the uncertainty of what the future would hold for her precious triplets. I have cried more than once as I recalled the heartache of not knowing what every single tomorrow holds. I have felt awash with the emotions of those early years and I have felt grateful -- all kinds of grateful -- for the amazing way my boys and my girls have taught me how to mother.

And today, as I conclude this series, I have to also say I am ever grateful for a friend who has walked beside me through the good, the bad and the ugly. A friend who refused to judge or hold a grudge. A friend I give thanks for every single day.

August 14, 1999 -- "Mrs. Carol, Do I need to send my goons after you? (Ok, the kids were watching Arthur and they were talking about not knowing what goons were on there....) You better get on this computer and type!! Write woman, write."

April 30, 1999 -- "I'm turning in....just wanted to do better about saying my howdies and good nights. :) "

April 27, 1999 -- "I miss you. Can I just say that today especially it seems terribly unfair that we can't live in the same place?"

January 9, 2000 -- "There you go disappearing on me again! Are you ok? Did your computer hit a Y2K glitch?"

And from my friend:

Dec. 16, 1999 -- "Hello dear friend, You're pulling a Carol Herrod and not writing! I deserve it! ha! I KNOW things are hectic."

Sept. 1, 1999 -- "Hey. Just wanted you to know that I have NOT deserted you!"

May 10, 2000 -- "Hello dear friend! It is OH, SO GOOD to have you back! Please give me an update on the Shrader crew. I feel so disconnected."

See, as I re-type those I chuckle. We had to spend as much time apologizing to each other as telling each other about our days. Because you know...we were both brand new moms and free-time was fleeting! (Or non-existent.) But the beauty in these emails is the grace. Always always my friend Carol gives me grace.

It didn't start that way though....hee hee:

Carol and I met at Governor's School in 1985. We met there. That was about it. I thought she was mean. She thought I was a snob. I was scared of her. She thought I talked to everybody BUT her. It was not friendship at first sight.

Two summers later we would be seated face-to-face at Orientation for Camp Garaywa. We had both been chosen as counselors. I could not believe my eyes. Why would they pick this mean girl? She could not believe her eyes either, how could they hire a snob?

For the love of Garaywa -- and because we trusted Miss Trish Simmons, our camp director -- we decided to sit down and hash out our very intense feelings about each other. We stayed up most of the first night talking and guess what: She wasn't mean, she was extremely shy. And um, I wasn't a snob, I was just scared of her. We laughed and laughed at how wrong our first impressions had been.

We didn't know it yet, but God knew we were going to need each other...and not just for a week or two. For life. Thank goodness He gave us another chance since we had completely blown the first one!

We spent the next two summers working together. We visited each other at school. And we wrote letters (you know the kind that require stamps because there was no such thing as email.). We talked on the phone when we could. But always, always, always when we were together we could laugh, cry and just be together. I was always a better ME after time with my friend.

Carol's wonderful Daddy would battle lung cancer. My dear daddy would battle lung cancer. We would cry with each other in our grief.

Our husbands would both go to medical school, residency and do fellowships. We encouraged each other. We found a safe place to whine with each other. We offered support for each other in a phase of life we had no idea how to handle.

We would have our first child (ok, children for me) very close to each other. And we would start emailing each other as a lifeline to sanity!!

And then nine years later, after I called her with "You better sit down. I'm having another baby" She called me a couple of months later and said the same!! We would both have girls....sassy, sweet, smart girls who will keep us forever young!

God gave me this friend. Her faith. Her ability to be grace-filled in any situation. Her non-judging friendship. I'm not counting the frequency with which we type -- or call or visit -- I'm counting the fact that she has been beside me through thick, thin, ugly and beautiful and she has pointed me to the One who gives me the grace to handle it all. I'm counting ways to be an iron-sharpens-iron friend to her. I am counting the laughter that bubbles out when I am in her presence for even a minute.

I am counting the gifts of true friendship.

Counting tissues or counting cuddles.

There is very little in life more worrisome for a young Mama than a sick baby...unless of course it is  three sick babies!

February 11, 1999 -- "Benjamin is just teething I think. He had a fever this morning and was real lethargic. But not too sick to name his family....or say BJ and Barney after reading the book his Grandmar sent!"

February 18, 1999 -- "Bless her heart....Claire was up at 11pm. I wasn't in bed yet so I went and got her and tried to rock her to sleep. She was getting restless so I put her back in bed after I gave her some Tylenol for the fever. I listened to her moan, 'Mama, Dada' forever...."

Aug. 17, 1999 -- "Ugh, my poor babies! We have acquired some sort of stomach virus....Mason spiked a fever yesterday....pray this ends soon!"

I had to put a lot of dots in those messages. Some details that young mama me was willing to share in her exhaustion might very well embarrass the teenagers that live at my house. :) But I'm sure you get the picture.

See,  just when I would get caught up in thinking about what the future might hold, a baby would start teething, or a virus would hit our house and knock me flat out of speculative worry and directly into real-this-is-happening-now worry!

The little boogers were relatively healthy. No earaches at all until their fifth birthday. But they did that one right. ALL THREE required antibiotics. We were traveling south to live in Florida for three months while Dad completed rotations there. The first morning we awoke in Florida, Wade had already left for work. He didn't have a cell phone. And his pager would not be assigned until later that morning. I had no way to contact him. (That is going to be important.)

Mason came walking into my bedroom complaining that he was itchy. I rolled over and turned the light on and my son, my precious son who had looked completely normal only hours before, was covered in red splotchy hives like I had never seen before from his head to his toes. 

And then I did what all smart young mommies do when their guy is not available: I called the next best guy I knew, our pediatrician in Minnesota. Dr. Fischer calmly talked me through what might be happening. He calmly told me what to look for that would send us flying to an emergency room. And he calmly assured me he would find a person for us to SEE in Florida. He did and we loaded up and went. And Mason completely freaked them out to the point that they took photos and the kid graces the pages of a textbook somewhere. Of course. Turns out he is pretty horrifically allergic to amoxycillin. Who knew?

Oh  yes, there have been quite a few fevers, runny noses and tummy viruses in this house. We've stayed in our pjs and eaten soup and watched Arthur on TV. I kind of cherished the time when they had a normal sickness. Does that sound odd? Not tummy viruses -- I'm not that crazy. But the little colds, with a slight fever, that made them miss school and want to cuddle on the couch for hours. I liked those days. 

Oh I could count hives or ear aches. I could count all the things associated with a tummy virus. Or maybe just the number of times I had to wipe little noses. But I'd much rather count cuddles and days spent with my children where their little fever prevented us from doing one thing away from the sofa.

And isn't that the lesson? We were created by a creator who desires to sit with us. To be. Oh, He is absolutely  there  for our big stuff -- He is ready to hear our cries when times get hard. But I think sometimes, He would like us to slow down just enough to cuddle near and just (deep deep sigh) be.

Today, I'm counting the cuddles. And I'm using them to remember to slow down and just be.

Counting memories and an S or two.

It is not a secret in this house that if you need me to do something, you MUST write it down. Wade can ask me to do him a favor as he leaves for work but by the time I get to a "favor-doing" place in my schedule, it has long since left my memory. Once before Cate could even write well, she drew me a picture of a task she needed me to complete. Like I said, it is not a secret!

The emails from my dear friend Carol have been such a balm to my spirit. I had forgotten so many of the sweet moments and will be forever grateful that she had the foresight to save and print my emails as a way to jog my memory years later...just when I needed it most!

December 16, 1999 -- "The kids are soooo much fun this year, Carol. They talk about Santa all the time and they have quite a list for him! It is so cute. I just love being their mommy. Maybe it's the holidays but I'm in one of my 'overwhelmed-with-gratitude' times! I'm so blessed. Little tidbits from the Shrader house: Benjamin calls Rudolf -- 'Rudolf, my doggie' and he has a stuffed one that he drags with him everywhere!  Claire sings 'Oh you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry' at the top of her lungs these days -- not always in appropriate places either!  And Mason does NOT want to sit in Santa's lap because 'Canta Cause cares me.' Oh the joy!!"

I think my favorite thing about this email when my trio were two and a half is that not once did I talk about their Cerebral Palsy. As a matter of fact, there are many of these emails where I talk about our days, talk about my friend's days and talk about our amazing kiddos and never once mention Cerebral Palsy.

And perhaps the fact that I was feeling blessed and overwhelmed with gratitude is a bit sickening sweet to some of you. Perhaps it is akin to today's "hashtag blessed" that gets so much ridicule. Maybe.

But I will argue that it was simply a frenzied young mama using a coping skill that she wouldn't even recognize as a coping skill for almost a decade -- counting the good life offers rather than counting the woes.

I will argue that sitting down to type to my girlfriend every day kept me healthy in ways she probably did not even understand. I desperately wanted people to know how wondrous my children were (are). I would type negatives, I did. But I so wanted her to know the joys of these kids that I far more often focused on the positives. And with that, I redirected my own thoughts toward the positives.

Years later, a famous talk-show hostess would do the same when she encouraged her viewers to keep a gratitude journal. I had beat her to it. I had been emailing my heart out to my sweet friend for years -- counting every single good thing.

Counting every single good thing is a win. 

But so is remembering the year Mason couldn't say his Ss....that Canta Cause Cares Him!!! I count three...you?

Counting availability.

We are on Day 28 of my Write 31 Days challenge. I am still here but I would not be being completely honest if I didn't confess that I am relieved this is the last week. (Sorry Markeitha....I know you have enjoyed the journey and I just love you for that!)

Today I am thinking about how many times God has closed a door that I desperately wanted him to open.

January 28, 1999 -- "Have I told you that Benjamin's big thing now is answering questions with 'no' or 'OK'. I"m not sure why he uses OK instead of YES but he does! Well, tonight he was soooo tired...he hadn't napped well at all and it was dinnertime so he was past ready for sleep. He was crying at the table and I said 'Benjamin, do you want some more xxx? And he would just keeping crying with everything I asked. Then I said, 'Well, would you like for Mommy to get you some ice cream?' He looked up at me with a big smile (in mid-cry mind you!) and said, 'OK!' It was so  hilarious."

This apple did not fall far from the Mama-tree. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure God feels with me almost daily the way I felt with Benjamin sitting in his little high chair before he even turned two.

"Carol, let me give you things that are good for you -- trials, challenges, hardships."

I kick and scream and cry like crazy.

"Carol, here is a easy task. It won't grow you, or strengthen your walk. It won't make you the woman I know you can be. But it is sweet, easy and completely palatable."

Me, mid-cry: "I'll take it, Lord."

Sigh.

Parenting has taught me more about my relationship with God than anything in my life. As adorable as my one-year-old was asking for ice cream, I don't want to be a petulant child.

Grow me in the areas that count, Lord. Take me where YOU can use me. Place me in situations that test me, change me and serve you -- even if they taste like green beans to a baby.

I am ready. I am willing. And I know I serve a God who counts my availability way more than my abilities.

Counting bottles, diapers and hugs.

Some days I am confident in my motherhood. I am certain of my decisions and confident in the parenting choices I have made and am making. And then, you know, I actually get out of bed.

I tried to read parenting books when we were pregnant with the triplets. But when I was in labor at 19 weeks, I packed them all away. I was frankly not certain we were going to have the privilege of parenting.

After the triplets were born, I pulled a couple out again. Let me assure you that there is a lot of pain in reading that your baby should be doing x, y and z by 8 months and you are hyper-aware that your children are not. I packed them away again.

The reality of expecting triplets and raising triplets is that very few people, books, friends have any idea how to help you. As a young mom that is both terrifying and completely liberating. No one could tell me if I was doing something horribly wrong. But no one was confirming I was doing anything right, either.

Benjamin (blue), Mason (yellow) and Claire (pretty in pink) in the NICU at about 4 weeks old.

January 18, 1999 -- "I can tell you that I have three and I honestly love them all equally but it is also different for each one. I love Benjamin tenderly -- he is my precious love and I adore him.  I love Mason more actively -- he likes to be cuddled, tickled and I relish his laughter. Claire, I love sassily (ha) -- she makes me appreciate "womanhood,"  and delights me with her antics. I worked hard to put this into words, though re-reading it I know it doesn't do my feelings justice. But I hope you kinda get the point. Children are different....even those born at the same time. And you will love them all unconditionally, and without ceasing, but you will love them all differently!"

Baby Cate at one day old.

Perhaps the biggest lesson in not having a guide book for triplets, is that even though I was flying by the seat of my pants, I recognized that the most important thing was loving them to pieces.

Multi-tasking Mama -- feeding Mason and loving on Claire.

I am the first to admit that I had no knowledge base. Oh man did I do some silly things: Benjamin and Claire were both home from the NICU and Wade was keeping them at home while I was with Mason in the hospital during the days. I was rocking Mason and we both fell sound asleep. When I woke up, the nurse told me she had to go get the doctor because she had come by while I was sleeping. Oh how I panicked. I was completely certain that she would never discharge this beautiful baby boy to a Mama who could not stay awake.

Um, hello? Oh course, I was sleeping I had TWO newborns at home needing me round the clock and one in the hospital. Dear doctor recognized a good nap when she saw one and didn't interrupt. Sigh.

We had encouraged the mothers to wait and come after all three were home from the hospital (They had been there at/right after birth and had "met" them.). It never occurred to us that having two newborns home might have required a little help. Wade and I had no idea. We simply knew that one day we would have THREE at home and that seemed a lot more work. The mothers waited until then to come help. Ignorance sometimes is bliss.

Some things I didn't know the doctors and nurses told me before we left the hospital: count the wet and dirty diapers. You need to know these teeny tiny babies' bodies are functioning correctly. I kept little color coded charts hanging on the end of each baby bed (blue for Benjamin, Red for Mason, Yellow for Claire....complete with sweet ribbons to tie them on the ends of each bed.). And we counted everything in the early days: ounces of milk, wet diapers, dirty diapers, hours awake, you name it.

What I didn't know I just figured out. I learned to make the entire next day's allotment of bottles up the night before. The babies went to bed and I set out mixing 24 bottles (gradually decreasing the number as the feedings decreased but always mixing a few extra just in case) and filled the refrigerator. No time to mix bottles when all three were up and awake and ready to be fed! (Right Mason? Waiting for food has never been something he enjoys!)

When we added rice cereal I was a mess. How do I do that? And then baby food? Are you kidding me? The pediatrician suggested I use three spoons so that they didn't pass germs. I laughed out loud. Like that was the way we would pass germs? We spent all day every day completely on top of each other. If one had it, we all four had it.

At their one year well-babies visit, the pediatrician asked me if I had introduced solid foods. Solid foods? What kind of joke was this? I had a system. I had a routine. What in the world was she doing messing up our schedule NOW?

I went home and made grilled cheese sandwiches. Mason ate two whole sandwiches BY. HIM. SELF. I had been starving that boy near to death, apparently.

I could go on. The list of things I didn't know would fill my blog. We would be counting for days. Oh but my dear ones, the one thing I did know, the one thing I clung to was how to love them, how to nurture them, how to cherish the days. And I am certain I don't have to tell you that THAT is what really counts.

Loving trumps all things.

Counting Pumpkins!

Counting wins. Or not.

No one would ever call us fair weather fans...we have loved our Mississippi State University Bulldogs through the good, the bad and the tech and ten (you don't even want to know!)!

But this season -- this season we are ranked #1 in the country (I may have mentioned that one or ten times already)!! So, since it is game day....

Cause, you know, counting wins is fun, but counting cute kids in bulldog clothes is even better!!

Counting pots and pans.

Day 24 of my 31 day writing challenge -- I can not believe I am within striking distance of finishing the challenge. I may or may not be running out of emails! And really, have I thanked you enough for sticking with me?

January 8, 1999 -- "Wade's dad gave the kids a little kitchen, and they love it. Then Santa brought Claire some pots and pans (because she pulls all mine out constantly). Today she and Mason played and played at that kitchen. She would stir and say, 'cook, cook' and then 'bite' while she stuck the spoon in mine, Mason's and Benjamin's mouths! It was hilarious! Benjamin is into cars and got several for Christmas so he's playing with them. Poor Mason had a hard time deciding where to play so he went back and forth from kitchen to cars (all of two feet apart! ha). We were all a sight I'm sure. Won't you and Rhet come join us?"

Every day was not filled with therapy. Some days we were able to stay home and just play. Those were my favorite days.

When we were home pulling out every pot and banging every pan, it was so easy to just count my blessings. When we were home, I was astounded by the wonder of these three little gifts. When we were home, I didn't even notice the things that made them different because at home those things didn't matter and were not as obvious.

But keeping them home would be like hiding a light under a basket. These three were born to shine. They were born to make the world warmer, brighter and yes, more accessible for all.

So I won't count the pots that are bent and irreparable (or even all those rusty things she seems to be finding), instead I'll count the wonder of watching them change the world!

High Five for Counting!

Once upon a time when Mason set up this little blog for me (way back in 2008), I made the mistake of labeling posts with the child's name that the post was about. Oh for the love of mercy, would you believe these children keep tabs on who has the most. Try as I might to convince them sheer numbers aren't always a good thing -- I blog a lot when one of them has surgery for instance -- they still insist. So knowing that I am totally skewing the number for Benjamin this week, I must share another email about that dear boy (Sorry Mason and Claire!)

Botox (Botulin Toxin) is used in children with Cerebral Palsy as a non-surgical means to fight the spasticity of their muscles. Benjamin and Mason have had Botox in their legs, arms and hands all in an effort to remove the tightness of those areas. Often, children are sedated for Botox injections but my boys have never been sedated for those. As a matter of fact:

June 22, 2001 -- "Benjamin flinched when the first needle went in, telling the doctor to hurry and get it out; flinched less for the second and then told the doctor, 'Thank you. Now, let's go, Mommy!' when the procedure was over. He is an amazing kid."

Benjamin was four years old and these injections were in his hands.

"Benjamin told Dr. Nash, 'I need botox so I can say give me five.' We won't know if it has any effect for a few days to a couple of weeks and even then therapy is key -- so please keep praying! It's the little things -- and this kid wants to be able to say 'give me five' and turn his hand, palm up!"

Often we have to do things -- Botox, surgery, therapies -- for reasons that are not motivational for Benjamin at all. But this day -- this day in 2001, enduring the big needle for the Botox injection was well worth it to my son. Why? Because telling a friend he did a good job, giving him a high five, is something this child felt -- and feels -- passionate about.

I don't know about you, but I am pretty sure Benjamin has a good handle on counting what counts.

Using Exclamation Points for What Really Counts.

Hindsight offers wisdom, insight and sadly, judgement. I read today's email with a lump in my throat, and a knot in my stomach. 

August 13, 2000 -- "Benjamin had his casts removed Wednesday. The doctor has placed him in a brace that will hold his legs in basically the same position the casts did while allowing him to move, and walk! Hopefully, this will help even further the development of that left hip! Please keep praying! He is a trooper and still insists he thinks the brace is cool! He had done a little walking since the cast removal but seems to really hit a wall quickly. Please pray that he will regain his strength and desire to walk soon!!"

Benjamin in his little brace, reading with Mommy, Claire and Mason.

If exclamation points are what we are counting, I tally no less than six in this one paragraph written to my friend begging for prayer support for Benjamin. And let's be honest, I am begging for prayers that he will walk.

Perhaps, I sound like a broken record by now. Perhaps you are absolutely exhausted with my repetitive posts about walking. But please, dear ones, know that I WAS in fact writing about that in a lot of my emails. I was in fact praying about that a lot in my prayer time. I was in fact worrying, hoping and thinking about that most of every single waking moment.

Because remember, my lopsided paradigms thought walking equalled wholeness. If he walks then he is...dare I say it?....normal.

Thank goodness for a young man who is not limited by lopsided paradigms. Thank goodness that I am capable of learning from him. And thank goodness that I laid down that close-minded thinking before he started kindergarten -- allowing him to roll right into that school and shine!

Because his ability to shine is what really deserves no less than six exclamation points -- it is what really and truly counts!

Kindness definitely counts.

Day 21 of my writing challenge and I fear I am boring you to tears with my recounting of stories from emails written to my dear dear friend -- a wise friend who printed them out and mailed them to me years after they were written. But even as I fretted this morning about this, I realized that my writing is such an active way for me to process feelings, emotions and to give weight to the things that deserve weight...that I must continue learning to count what really counts regardless.

July 2000 -- "Arthur the aardvark made an appearance at the Rochester Public Library. Because of Benjamin's surgery, Wade was home so we decided the Arthur appearance would be a great outing for us. With B's leg casts, it took great effort to make it to the library auditorium. As we were leaving I saw a 'No Strollers Allowed' sign at the door. I thought this would be a great time to check on the rules and so asked the librarian if they ever made exceptions. I explained about my children and told her I would have to use the double stroller if my husband was not along to help. My exact question was 'Do you ever make exceptions to this or do we have to stay away from these events?'  She did not hesitate before replying that my family 'should just stay away.' I was mortified and stared at her open-mouthed before simply walking away."

I am furious just typing this. I had completely forgotten this interaction -- and perhaps that was for the best -- and even wondered recently why the triplets and I had not spent more time at the public library when they were preschoolers. Ah, yes, now I remember.

Parenting children with special needs offers many challenges that I often outline here. There is grief in watching your child struggle. There is grief in knowing your child faces surgeries, therapies and medical crises for life.

There is grief.

But there is also joy. 

But hear me when I say loudly that dealing with ignorance offers no joy. None. Zippo. Nada.

I was exhausted from Benjamin's surgery this day in the library. Instead of standing up to this crazy woman and stomping my feet, I let her crush my spirit and I walked away. And we did not return.

It was not the first or last time that a lack of education about Cerebral Palsy would upset my emotional apple cart.

We have had people tell us they couldn't spend time around the boys. It was too hard.

We have had people block the boys' view of a myriad of events -- swim meets, parades, ball games -- with no remorse. (And even some smack talk at the swim meet!)

We have had police officers park in the one accessible parking space preventing us from getting into the  trio's preschool.

We have had mothers allow their children to stare open-mouthed at us while the mom says "Oh how awful" within our hearing.

We have had mothers scream at their children NOT to stare at us -- again within our hearing. (Of course one such mother also screamed at her child when asked what happened to the boys, that "THEY ARE BLIND. TURN THIS WAY!").

We have been excluded from parties, from group dinners, and even from scouting groups.

We have faced ignorance in its ugliest forms.

But -- and this is important:

We have had preschoolers ask for walkers from Santa so they could be like the boys.

We have had teachers re-arrange classrooms to more-fully include Benjamin and Mason.

We have had little girls ask their daddies to build a ramp to third-floor apartments so that the boys could play! (That didn't happen...but she asked and that is enough.)

We have had friends move to parts of the country we have never even visited buy houses that accommodate Benjamin and his chair because they want us to be able to get in if we ever are blessed to make it there.

We have had friends build ramps and move furniture so that our family can gather at their dinner table.

We have had theater directors incorporate ramps into the set design so that Benjamin can get on and off the stage safely.

We have had strangers work to lift the 300 lb. wheelchair and Benjamin out of potholes in New York City.

We have had strangers lift the 300 lb. wheelchair and Benjamin onto hayride wagons.

We have had strangers gather around and hold onto the wheelchair as Benjamin travels down a wet slick ramp at our beloved Mississippi State football stadium to prevent him from sliding.

We have had strangers part the waters at the same stadium to allow Benjamin front-row access to the end zone.

We have had strangers stop, drop and search in the dark for the joystick that drives Benjamin's wheelchair when it fell off leaving the football stadium.

Oh, we have faced the pain of ignorance, but we have far more often felt the joy of kindness. And kindness is what really counts.

Counting Star Wars References...

Today is twenty days into my writing challenge -- please if you are joining me today for the first time, I would love for you to click over and read our stories from the beginning. I'm sharing old emails where I unloaded, bragged and grieved from my heart with my closest friend as a new Mama to triplets. I am looking at what counted so much back then and seeing if it is really and truly what counts today. And oh dear ones, if you are still with me after these TWENTY days I would seriously love to hug your neck!

I've most recently been talking about my dear Benjamin and his first orthopedic surgery. The decision was such a challenge, the recovery seemed gruesome in my head....but I love remembering how my boy handled it:

July 20, 2000 -- God is so good! Benjamin is home and doing so very well! He sailed through the surgery and immediately upon exiting recovery started chatting and flirting with his nurses and didn't stop!! You know what a Star Wars fan Daddy is....well, Benjamin looked at Wade in the hospital yesterday and said, 'Hey Daddy, my cast looks like a Pod-Racer!' And so this little booger is delighted to be in a blue Pod-Racer!!"

Arthur was visiting the library the day after Benjamin left the hospital -- we HAD to go meet him!!

We can always count on Benjamin to put things right into perspective for us. I had dreaded that cast. Thought he would hate it. Thought he would be in pain from it and miserable. 

He thought it looked like a pod-racer. And suddenly all was well with the world.

Arthur was Benjamin's favorite -- and quite honestly the only way I had time to shower most days!!

And as I analyze the things that really count -- I know I keep coming right back to this: My young-mama fears during those early years were fueled by my own limited paradigms. I based my hopes for Benjamin as well as my fears for Benjamin on my life experiences. And frankly those are life experiences limited to a fully-able body. 

Yes, I said limited. My life experiences shape my ideals for Benjamin's future and they stem from a very limited life-view of achieving things in one way, through one means. But here is the thing, Benjamin has more capacity to dream than I have ever had. He has more capacity to envision a bright amazing future. He does not function under the same limited, close-minded paradigms of his mother. Thank you, God!

Benjamin is also not limited to the fears that I almost inflicted on him. I am so thankful that I realized at a very early young-mama stage to let him lead the way. A pod-racer. He thought his horrible, constricting, pain-inflicting cast looked like a pod-racer and he was ready to fly!

Benjamin, his blue pod-racer, his light saber and his Uncle Talley!

Oh y'all, counting what counts: Benjamin's wheelchair is not a constraint that holds him back. No, as I have said before, his wheelchair is merely the foundation from which he will reach for the stars. He is more than a mover and a shaker -- he is a rocker and a ROLLER! And I can not wait to see where his imagination takes him! 

That's what counts.

Counting emotions as lessons learned.

Seventeen years into mothering my amazing trio, we have faced more surgeries than I would have ever imagined. For children with Cerebral Palsy, most surgeries are needs but are not life or death situations. And yet, because of the fragility resulting from being born premature, no surgery is without risk.

We began walking this stressful road of surgeries around the trio's first birthday when Benjamin had eye surgery to correct his strabismus (crossing eyes). When he turned three we had to face it again:

May 10, 2000 -- "Today Benjamin's x-rays showed no signs of change in  his hips. This is both good and bad news however. It is GREAT that they haven't gotten any worse. BUT we've really been treating him aggressively and we were hoping for an improvement. Since there was none, the doctor wants to consider surgery to release the tendons (loosen the muscles) in an effort to allow that hip joint to develop better. This surgery.....would require this increasingly active three-year-old to be in a hip and leg cast for 6-8 weeks, which would set him back in his walking, and possibly frustrate him terribly!...there is no clear answer if we SHOULD or SHOULD NOT do the surgery. Please pray that we will have an answer as to which direction to take."

Oh mercy, this 31 Day Writing Challenge is testing my resolve to finish what I start. I love looking through old pictures and I love reminiscing about the sweet things my beautiful trio have done over the years. But delving into the surgery-decision-making times physically hurts my heart.

Wade was in residency during these early days of our facing the challenges of special needs parenthood. Already in Orthopedics, we were both feeling strongly that he should specialize in pediatric orthopedics in order to help boys and girls like Benjamin and Mason. But with that calling, Wade was also feeling the stress of having to make decisions about his sons' treatment -- balancing doctor and daddy.

Decisions concerning Cerebral Palsy are rarely clear-cut. Will this surgery improve the child's chances of walking? Or if they walk will the surgery improve their gait? Will the surgery prevent painful joints later in life?

What surgeries for children with Cerebral Palsy can NOT do, is cure Cerebral Palsy. So no surgery is a "fix" -- every surgery is just a help. This can be hard for the patient, hard for the Mommy and hard for the Doctor/Daddy.

This three-year-old surgery was simply being done to try desperately to prevent another bigger surgery down the road -- or in Benjamin's case to stave off the surgery for as long as possible. (More on this in a later post.)

As painful, stressful and hard as every single decision has been in terms of Benjamin and Mason's care, I choose not to count the tears, not to count the heartache. No. Today I know that what counts, what really counts, is that my wonderful Wade has taken every thing he has learned in our decision-making processes and allowed that -- the tears, the recovery process, the outcomes -- to color his role as a pediatric orthopedic surgeon for children with Cerebral Palsy.