We did it!

It sounds a bit like Dora, but we did it, hooray!

Here is Parker with Monsieur Simon, the coordinating chauffeur for CEOP.

Parker and I both survived the solo excursion. And without tears on both sides (I think, but they probably wouldn't REALLY tell me if he had cried, would you?!)

THANK YOU for all of your calls & emails! It was so sweet of you to look after me! ( and us!)

We rocked yesterday and today.

He is giving everyone around him goosebumps with how well he's saying "Mommy" and "Au revoir", mostly on cue, even.

He's embracing the "terrible twos" with many "no"s, and even a few tantrums with flailing arms & legs & his head flying backwards. This is great news, right? He's age-appropriate!

And he's much more coordinated--gross, and fine.

Parker even colored his first picture yesterday. I should have kept it, but it's just another amazing thing he's doing at the moment.

His progress seems exponential right now. AND I love it!

Bravo, Parker, keep up the great work. Now I'm focusing my prayers on him getting accepted to garderie (2 year old preschool). Not because I don't want to be with him (because you all know that I do--fits and all), but because the Director of CEOP, Monsieur Franzoni, thinks he should, and it will raise the learning bar in many ways before actually starting REAL preschool in the Fall for him.

So if you are still praying for Peej, please pray for that this week.

And for me & John to be inspired as to which preschool to put him in the coming Fall (its already time to sign-up!)

Please note: For Fall 2011, he will attend CEOP deaf school in the mornings, and a typical hearing school in the afternoons. We just don't know if we should put him in the same bilingual school as his sisters (or if they will accept him), or the neighborhood french school(all professionals at this point are telling us to put him in french school, cuz it's presumably less confusing for him in one language, and they're perhaps more open to the capital H word "HANDICAPS") --look at me, I can type it, even in all caps, but not without cringing, but still...it's progress.

Press Forward With Faith

"Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life." (2 Nephi 31)

Tomorrow I am sending Parker on his own with the school bus from CEOP. It will be his first time, alone. I have accompanied him for many weeks now, but I am actually sending him ALONE with one of 4-5 chauffeurs that come from CEOP to get us bi-weekly.

There will be no other children in the bus.

BUT tomorrow, my teeny Peej will be strapped into his carseat by the chauffeur as usual. But differently than usual, I will NOT climb into the car next to him, watching our building's view blur, while passing the many parisians, boulangeries, the metro and numerous buses, the Arc de Triomph, and the Eiffel Tower...all the while talking chit-chat to the chauffeur killing our time together before arriving at his deaf school in the 15th.

I will, in fact, help the chauffeur strap him into the carseat, hand him his "ginky" or today he actually said, "binky"(bravo,Parker!) a few times, his adorable army backpack filled with diapers, wipes, toys & snacks, shut the door, and watch them drive away...and watch his happy face turn to confusion, then terror...

THEN, I will wait until I can't see the car anymore, it turns the corner of the street, and drives away.

AND I will walk inside my apartment building, and cry.

And I'll wait for him to return, and it will be almost the longest 2 hours of my life (the neurosurgery waiting room is actually preeeetty ugly, and long-seeming). I'm hoping this is actually a bit easier, but it will likely be a close second.

So that's my deal tonight, and where my prayers are focused tonight...and will be tomorrow morning at 8:15, too.

The thing is that I could have NEVER sent ANY one of my other kids in a car unattended by me or John at the age of 2 1/2....

to school, no less.

And 2 years ago, I couldn't have imagined this scenario in the least.

But there is something about Parker, and his life, that is so very magical...and all of the experiences we've had with him, that makes me logically tell myself that NOTHING more could possibly happen to him.

He's going to be ok....

This boy is surrounded by angels, and love & joy, and peace.

He'll be ok.

Right?

Please tell me he will be. PLEEEAAASSSEEEE.

What will I do with all of my free time while he's gone?

Press forward, with faith, and a perfect brightness of hope that 'all will be well', in this smal little section of the earth we claim as ours.

My world will boil down to these crucial hours, and I will pray again.

...And probably do a few dishes, and fold some laundry, too.

Things I love about Parker...

He crinkles his nose when he smiles.

He repeatedly says, "Hi!" when he walks into a room.

He says "Au revoir" when he walks out of a room.

He loves my cooking, like a good, good boy (unlike some of his unnamed sisters).

He says, "Doggy!" everytime he sees a dog (On average, its about 8 times per day on the streets of Paris).

His french speech therapist corrects him saying, "chien", but she's gotta give him that one, right?

He says "apple" like a champion.

When I say "I love you" into his implant, he turns his head, makes a kissing sound (muah!) while throwing his head backwards.

Everytime I put shoes on him, he signs & says, "outside".

He signs & says "bonjour" now.

Last night, I was telling him off in LSF (or would that be signing him off?) to stop him from getting out of his bed after the 20th time (and of course his implant was already off)....He started signing, "non" (no) right back at me.

He walks super dooper fast when running out of his bed down the hallway.

He folds his arms, bows his head & grins ear to ear when we say, "It's time to say prayers!"

He does the monster mash on a regular basis.

I love watching him purse his lips exaggeratedly when he says "cou-cou" (its french for peek-a-boo).

His smell.

His eyes.

His broad back & skinny legs.

That he pats my back when I'm holding him.

That he doesn't complain about his hearing aid that is CONSTANTLY whistling swamp noises.

That he's starting deaf school 4 mornings per week soon (ie, I guess he is capable of sitting longer than 2 seconds, so they will accept him).

That he LOVES being a BIG boy and going to school.

He smiles all the time.

When he gets excited about something, it's like he can hardly contain the excitement within his little body. His head and arms and legs bounce with energy.

That he always wants to take a bath. I mean ALWAYS.

That he makes me think about more important things, non-worldly things.

That he's opened up a whole new world to us, a world of only love & tolerance & acceptance.

That we're learning sign languages because of him.

That he makes me realize God is always as near as you let Him be.

That's he's mine....And ours. Our baby, our boy, our brother. Our Parker.

Par coeur.

OK, try & ignore the fact that I accidentally say "girl" a few times in the following video. And forgive me for video-ing as I was driving in a big city. Most of the song is filmed at a stop light...but what I want you to note is that he sings into his air mic (like I was doing!) and he rocks out a little at the end. As soon as I turn on the camera, he always stops dancing....promise, he was alot more animated before I pushed record. Now, enjoy my deaf son rocking out with me, and me enjoying how amazing he is.

Lea is our Anghel

No. Its not a typo. Its the Tagalog word for "angel", and she is ours.

She was ours, actually. Our angel.

Lea is a beautiful, discreet, 30-something, kind, loving, patient, efficient, soft-spoken, but firm, exceptional, non-stressed, joyful, patient (dare I say, magical?)philipina. She has 2 beautiful sons (still young) and a husband who live in the Philipinnes. She, like her sisters, and mother, and many, many friends, is working here to provide a great life for her family there.

She has been working for and with us in some shape or form for about 5 years. Can I call it work? (No doubt she does!) but she is truthfully elegant in her speed and demeanor. She loves my children as her own, and does SO MANY OTHER THINGS faster and better than I can. That's saying kind of alot because I like things done in a very particular way...yes, I have conceded alot of things after the births of 4 and 5, but still. I am pretty picky.

Lea's text message to me while Parker was in the hospital lying in a coma was one of the first I received. It read, "We agreed on Parker in prayer. Believe he is already healed in Jesus Christ"...

You cannot imagine how many times I re-read that, and was so deeply, profoundly touched by her faith.

I have since come to meet alot of her friends, and to my surprise, they ask about Parker. They have prayed for him. They have prayed for and wept for him. Her entire church congregation has prayed for my baby.

And I am still meeting them, and seeing them in the park, or on the street, and when they ask of his welfare, it breaks me wide open. How many people are too busy & go through life without thinking of others?!?! And these philipino anghels are praying for me. And my baby.

With self-less compassion. They are learned, humbled by the Master.

I LOVE THEM! How we can learn from them...

Now you see why I love her, don't you? It's not just that fact that she is exceptional, and carried us through 2010 in so (sooooooo) many unseen/unheard ways. It's not only that she waited & watched & prayed for Parker, and even took him to some physical or occupational therapy appointments when I simply could not anymore...And stayed with Penelope time and time and time again...while I ran him everywhere. And picked up the girls and brought them everywhere in the cold, and cooked for them, and bathed them when I was not there. And walked and walked and walked with Parker (we decided it was easier for her because her hand was closer to his upreached hand, she didn't have to crook her back like we did ours)...And, and, and and....It's the way she did it.

She is very short in person. Abby is almost as tall as her at 9 years old. But she carries alot, very gracefully on her shoulders, and she does it beautifully, with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. She stands tall. She knows who she is. She knows why we are all here, and she seems to faithfully accept God's will. She has a quiet, knowing, peaceful wisdom about her.

I never once heard her yell or be exasperated with my kids. I never once saw her roll her eyes. I never once felt that she did not want to be in our home, helping us, when no doubt, ALL SHE WANTS TO DO IS BE WITH HER OWN FAMILY, NOT SERVING AND LOVING AND TEACHING MINE!

She is beautiful, powerful, and strong. In an indescribably simple and furtive way.

She has moved onto greener pastures, but she will be forever welcome in our home, (puhlease, come back & work with us!) as a helper/worker, AND as a friend. She is an anghel warrior woman. We all love her. Thank you, a million times over, Lea, thank you.

You can never realize how completely and earnestly thankful I am to you. And will forever be.

You are heaven sent to us. You walked beside me, and carried me, perhaps more than you or I even knew. Its grossly obvious now that you are gone!

We miss you!

Pneumococcal Hate

These photos were taken days before Parker got sick. They always make me sad when I come across them. I mean abysmically so.

His pre-meningitis-potential-and-future-and look in his eye cut to my soul.

Professeur C called my cell phone today to ask about Parker's vaccination status when he got meningitis, because they are doing a study for the new Prevenar vaccine. Apparently there have been a few more local cases this winter of poor babies also vaccinated, also contracting meningitis, and becoming deaf from the same, wicked bacteria.

Can I hate now?

I hate pneumococcal meningitis. What it did to my baby, and what it did to the other babies in Paris who have contracted it THIS Paris Winter.

I love you, Parker! I'm so sorry this happened to you. The pain, remorse, sorrow, and guilt that I feel that I did not protect you from this will forever wrack the deep, dark valleys of my soul.

Luckily these valleys are filling in with happier times, and more hope and progression...day by day, I see your smile and zeal for life. They keep me fighting.

We can do this. We can communicate in 4 languages. We can do hard stuff.