For all of our children we have chosen a "theme song". Some of them have 2. They usually signify something that was important to us at the time of that particular child's birth, or is an indication of where we were or the popular songs of the time, or just an impression we had. They often have some significance to that child's name or other. We have nick-named all of our little chickens and the songs just go with the family culture to put it in short.
Abby's is a modification of a popular song that was in the musical film Moulin Rouge, starring Nicole Kidman & Ewan McGregor. "How wonderful life is now you're in the world!" We saw this movie in Paris 2 days before Abby's birth. It is suiting. We thought our life was good until we had a baby. Our world was immediately amplified & glorified in so many ways. How much more wonderful our life became after she entered our world.
Hannah has two. One modification of a Haitian diddy John knew from his mission, "Hojo-Rejo-Hojo, Hannah Hannah Han-nah". The second is a more obvious Abba song, "Mama Mia, Here we go again"...we were off to more good things with precious & fluffy-haired baby number 2. We could not resist her.
Axelle's theme song is Oasis' "Wonderwall"...."Today is gonna be the day that we're gonna throw it back to you. By now you shoulda somehow realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now. And all the roads we have to walk are winding and all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are so many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how. Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me....cuz after all you're my Axelle HALL." (instead of wonderwall)...you get it. We thought we were starting to figure things out. The important things in life--after Axelle came along. One & two are life-changing. Going from 2 to 3 children is monumental in ways of thinking. There is no more man-to-man coverage. And this girl is complicated.
Penelope's song is kind of rappy which typifies her. She is the gangster of the group. "Get down with O-P-P, yeah, you know know me..." We sing it, "Pen-nel-a-oh-pee-pee, yeah you know me." She danced at an early age. She is rough & tumble & demanding & makes squishy faces & bosses us around. If she sees action, she jumps in the middle of it. She likes wrestling. She tackles Parker to get his attention, and laughs. He is not so sure about her attempts to rough-house yet. She runs up to him in the stroller when we pick her up from garderie & gives him lots of slimy kisses. He smiles & laughs. I can tell he loves it. They roll over each other in the bath. They like that close proximity. I can't wait until he can wrestle back or push her after she pushes him. I can't wait until he can run, upright, down the hallway after her. The song is titled, "O.P.P" by a group called "Naughty by Nature". Let's leave it at that.
Parker's song came to me early on. He had a significant reflux evident soon after birth. He was also the "small" twin weighing in at 2.9 kg (not that small by way of twins!). For whatever reason, he seemed like the runt of the litter. I don't know, maybe baby boys are just smaller & more frail than my chubby baby girls had been. He was my only baby who weighed in under the 7 pound mark. I think he sacrificed himself for the well being of his chubby twin. He was knocking on the exit door for months. He paved the way for his sister who was born after him, but bigger & stronger than him. He was active & alert & woke every 2 hours to eat until he got sick. He also spit up a ton. I realize now it could have been his reflux that woke him. I just thought he was a boy & wanted his mama more than girls did...he smiled alot & earlier & easier than Penelope. She inherited Hannah's flat-affect, and was more difficult to engage. So I thought of his song days after he was born, "Oh Oh Child, Things are gonna get easier, Ohh ohh child, things will get brighter."...John asked "Why?" I said, 'I don't know why. I just feel it."
The Five StairSteps sang it best in 1970 on Soul Train. You can check it out on YouTube.
It sure hasn't felt easy. It hasn't been easy. It may not ever be easy in the way we used to think of ease. But it is starting to feel a little bit easier, a little bit brighter this week.
Funny since last week, I was ready to jump ship & move away & find another country or city or whatever to find refuge in. We had committed to follow Parker's care in Paris for a year following his illness. We thought it best that he was seen by the same myriad of medical teams for continuity of care. We are approaching that year mark, and thinking about our options. His options. His care. His future. I think it is important to put his needs before the rest of ours. At least for now. John thinks we need to integrate his needs into the family's needs.
I don't hate. My kids have never heard the word. But I can type it:
I hate Paris in the winter. I hate the gray haze it coats everything with. It fills my lungs with pollution, and plain yuck-yuckiness. The sun doesn't shine for days on end, sometimes weeks. People are sick & coughing & grumpy & rude. People are cold. We are cold. My babies are cold. Even John who does not get cold, admits he sleeps with a blanket on, exceptionally in the Paris Winter. But I hate Paris Winter more now that I did before. I hate it because I associate it with stealing my healthy son & replacing it with a weaker, non-hearing, broken son. Who knows if it is the fault of Paris Winter, or destiny or fate or just bad luck, but I find that I want to blame something, someone, anything, anyone for this blasted bacteria who killed part of my son, part of me, part of my happiness, part of my marriage, part of my family. So I choose to blame Paris Winter. It is cold & gray & ugly. Everything nobody wants. It is alot healthier than blaming myself or God or John or whatever. So it's official: I hate Paris Winter.
But this week, I saw sunshine. In the middle of Paris Winter. I saw alot of sunshine. I felt good. I felt peace, I felt springtime pushing though my infected polluted lungs & my heart trying to break free, take over, reconquer the sick, yucky parts that Paris Winter settled into. I felt good. I mean, I felt really good. For months I did not know the response to the question, "Comment ça va?", or "How are you?", so I chose not to answer, and ask the asker the same question. It was safer, better, easier. For a good 6 months I would cry if a stranger asked me that question...I thought for a split second, "Do they really want to know?"...or "Are they just making conversation?"...or "How much time does this poor soul have?"...But this week I was thinking, anticipating that question & wondering to myself if I could answer, "Bien!" or "Great!"..."Wait, am I great? Maybe. But I am not as great as I once was, or maybe I am, in fact, greater"...these are the conversations I have with myself in anticipation of the question.
Then I am afraid to be great, afraid to be well, afraid to smile, afraid to jump the gun, afraid. Afraid that Parker seems well today, but will be un-well tomorrow. Afraid that he may never walk or run or talk....I was not afraid before. I always thought everything would be okay. I always thought everything would be good. I always thought everything would be what you made of it. My mom & dad taught me that. I really & truly did. But I found this past year, it is not exactly true. My whole frame of reference has changed. My whole perspective on life is different. My whole existence has been altered. Am I allowed to be great? Am I allowed to allow Parker greatness? Or will he be labeled & limited?
I saw sunshine and I felt great because Parker is doing better. He is moving forward, we are all moving forward. The neurologist said we could start weaning one anticonvulsive. The physical therapists and doctor at Garches said we can start doing physical therapy in the neighborhood, at a less-specialized therapist's office. We will go to Garches once/month rather than once/week. The ENTS & speech therapist & audiologist all agree: Now is the time to research hearing/deaf schools for Parker for the Fall. Let's face it: Things are getting easier, and brighter.
It's not to say that things will always get better, or be easy, but for now I think I can sing the song again, "Ohh child, things are gonna get easier. Oh-ohh child, things will get brighter."
And I believe it.
