The Seasons Change, Like They Always Do....

"Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower."--Albert Camus

It is time to put away the broken heart and sadness. It is time to lock it away and keep it for only sacred learning, growing moments. It is time to suck up the pain, breathe & walk forward.

I can say meningitis without wanting to throw up anymore. I can explain Parker's hearing apparatus without tears coming to my eyes, or a lump settling into my throat.

I am ready to put away the sick baby syndrome, and embrace him for what he is, now, finally, and what he will become, and no longer what he should have been , or could have been.

I am ready to put him in time out, and say "no" to him when he needs to be taught.

I am ready to put him in line with the girls and make him stand in his place. He is well enough now. I am well enough now. (Thank goodness!)

My girls need me to be the mother that I haven't been the past 2 years.....185 days, a billion minutes......, and unnumbered seconds.

I am ready to anticipate 20 years of speech therapy with Parker, but recognize that Hannah, Axelle, AND Penelope need it, too.

I am brave enough to look into my own future and wonder if I will become deaf (or blind or paralyzed or whatever...), and how that would effect me, and my children, and my husband, my life, my attitude.

It is time to be okay with whatever life brings. It is time to soar again, and love more. It is time to understand completely where others have been or are bound to go.

And have compassion for them, or wisdom to share.

The seasons change.

Like they always do.

I always love the Fall in Paris. We've packed away our summer clothes, starting making pumpkin soups and cookies, pulled out the warm grays, goldens, and burgundies, deep purples. We are preparing for Fall. The kids are painting pumpkins, we are thinking of Halloween, and I stop to watch the leaves fall in the brisk, cool wind. And I have to take a step back from the everyday moments, and thank God for our trials, thank God for our growth. Thank God for our loving family & friends. Thank God for our good medical care. And as I step back, I realize my babies are no longer babies. My oldest daughter will be a decade old this week....and my babies are in 1/2 day preschool. And they talk, and talk back. And run, and have opinions. And I think I am (finally) ready for a change, I am finally capable of making decisions, whereas for several years/months, my decisions were dictated by urgency and medication and doctors appointments. I should feel light, but I feel tired, run down, a bit worn. But with that weathered look on my face, comes so much wisdom, so in the end, I guess it was all worth it. It IS all worth it.I am ready to clean out cupboards, paint walls, change room assignments, de-clutter my home-our home, my brain, my heavy-laden spirit, and frolic again. And read more, and sing more, and dance more, and enjoy more, and live more. With my love. With my husband, of many years who is very patient with me. And with our gorgeous sometimes spunky little chickens that are growing right before our eyes.

And this scripture just keeps coming to mind:

Ecclesiastes 3:1-13 "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. What profit hath he the worth in that wherein he laboureth? I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it. He hath made every thing beautiful in His time; also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

I KNOW THAT THERE IS NO GOOD IN THEM, BUT FOR A MAN TO REJOICE, AND TO DO GOOD IN HIS LIFE. AND ALSO THAT EVERY MAN SHOULD EAT AND DRINK, AND ENJOY THE GOOD OF ALL HIS LABOUR, IT IS THE GIFT OF GOD."

Amen to that.

Oh heal my bleeding heart!

"Ca y est!"is a french term that means "We are there! We did it! We have arrived..."

Today I sighed a huge sigh of relief. And just kept thinking, "Ca y est!"

Another huge milestone for Parker was reached today....

I have worried about and dreamt for years for this day to come, and it is finally here! Parker started traditional or what I call "hearing" preschool today. And I didn't realize how much I emotionally needed to see Parker & Penelope walk hand-in-hand to school until they did it this morning.

The english teacher, the french teacher and the assistant were all very welcoming to Parker. It really went off without a hitch.

But all morning I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I did both, repeatedly.

It's the first time in 10 years that I have no children in the house for a space of a few hours in the mornings. And I honestly never dreamed we'd come as far as we have to this point with Parker. The day I realized that he would likely not start school with his twin was a hard day for me. And I have dread the outcome of the future up until now. The harsh reality of the ravishing destructive bacteria on my baby's brain--and the long term effects on his learning are yet to be determined. I realized that he would go to a deaf school, and that his twin would attend the same school that all of our other children have attended.

And yet, he did, basically, start school with his twin. A bilingual school that accepted my deaf son. No, it's not as it would have been (with no hoping & praying and special meetings to see if they could accommodate him), and I should be allowed to mourn that, right? It's just a little different than it could have been-- with a lot more fanfare than I expected way back when.

And its glorious. My heart soars. In some sense I feel very whole again....

Mostly. Kind of.

But I feel more broken, again, too.

I can feel my heart's scars pulsing as I type. What have been sealed scars for many months reopened today.

I can feel my broken and re-sealed heart leaking a bit, and I'm not sure whether it's because I am so filled with joy that it is tearing at the seams, or that the wounds have actually broken holes through the sutures again for suffering's sake. That the reality of these next few years and the outcome of all of the running around & hard work and therapies all manifest in the lasting effects of the meningitis in relation to Parker and his learning will come to head makes my heart beat heavy--and hard.

Will he be able to speak? Will he understand? French? English? Signs? Can he process speech and respond appropriately? Will he make friends? Will he understand when the other kids question him about his hearing head-gear? Will he be ashamed? Or proud? Will he be afraid? Or unafraid? Will he stand tall or run and hide? Will his twin stand up for him, and teach others to accept him as she has? Or will she, too, be ashamed of him, his differences? Will he be able to make circles, squares, triangles? Arms and legs, on a body while coloring? Will he learn the colors red, yellow, and blue--as their class objectives this year? Will he be able to run and jump and play without me worrying that he will fall and break his head open--- every single time?

My heart bleeds.

It bleeds today. It sort of oozes with every passing beat.

It's busting at the seams with hope and excitement at this day, and the future, but it is aching at the pain and suffering and exhaustive work this bacteria has given us-me and my son. My family. I bleed for pure fatigue. I bleed for joy. I bleed for pain. I bleed for anticipation. I bleed for wonder of what the future holds. I bleed.

I envision huge, loving, strong Godly hands cupping my heart ever-so-gently with skilled care and watching it beat, and seeing those wounds and wishing I didn't have to suffer. All the while I can feel Him whispering to me, "It is for your own good, for learning and growth, and understanding of eternal things". He whispers assurance to me as He takes my beating heart, holds it a little more tightly to prevent the wounds from bleeding out. Then with very skillful hands, works His magic thread and needle to repair those wounds once again. I know the scars remain, but I feel reassurance knowing He is mindful of me and my broken heart that still beats, and still oozes and still yearns for flawlessness. He sews up my pain again, holding my heart in His hands. Keeping it together, and watching it beat, assuring it beats. He wills it to beat and keep on beating. I accept it. I accept his skill, His knowledge. I welcome His love.

Sometimes I still ache, and I completely entirely feel those gaping scars on my beating heart, but they haven't bled for months. Sometimes they leak, sometimes they gush, but for now they are mending, I can feel the healing master and His thread at work. Keeping this little heart of mine at work.

Big progress. Progress.

Ca y est, Parker. YAY for the special chair that arrived in time, but honestly those little kids are moving around so often I wonder how often Parker will really actually be seated in that little chair. And Hooray for EAB for welcoming him with open arms. VERY open arms.

Nagette, the woman assigned to help Parker said to him when he arrived, "Nous sommes tres contentes que tu est la avec nous, Parker!" I could tell that she meant it. I bit my lip and held back my tears. At the parent/teacher meeting tonight I thanked the teacher for her acceptance and attention and tolerance of Parker. She wept a little with me (which is VERY un-french), assuring me that Parker would learn many things from the other children and her this year, but that the lessons he would teach his comrades would be life lessons of compassion and tolerance and acceptance. That his presence would teach them things they could not learn otherwise. I found her to be a shining, perfect angel at that very moment. I anticipate other moments in the next 9 months that I might repeat those sentiments.

So I bleed a little today. But in hopes for the future, my sutures reopen. I allow the Master to take my heart in His loving, gentle hands and heal it, fix it, make it anew, or at least block the flow and allow me, and us to continue onward. Ever onward. Beat heart, beat, and heal. Bleed if you must, but just keep on beating. For him, for them, for us.

Oh-la-la!

So Parker has been back to deaf school nearly 2 weeks now, and it just seems a little anti-climactic since the hearing school doesn't want to take him until some other things are in order. His "convocation"paper had him listed as starting today, but his teacher, whom wants him to call her "maitresse" wants him to wait until next Thursday to start--with some very important accompaniments---a special chair and a special assistant.

The documents for Parker to get his special state-appointed-and-funded-assistant were submitted by hand on June 10th. We should have heard something by now but have not. This means there is no news yet, on whether he will have an "AVS"which stands for "Auxilaire Vie Scolaire"or---School Life Helper (give or take). And the deaf school recommended Parker have this AVS because of his equilibrium problem. The teacher (remember, maitresse?) was worried about looking after him all of the time, and potentially neglecting the other 14 (non-handicapped) 3 yr old students in her class. And that walking to the park for recess may be too long and tiring for him, and that he may need more help getting set up to do his work, etc, at the table when the official (3 yr old) work begins. Also, the deaf school recommends very strongly that he has an adorable little chair with arm rests on it, making it easier for him to get up & down, as he needs a bit more stability while moving (since his world is theoretically spinning every time he moves).

So rather than wait for the handicap department to tell us whether or not they would provide the chair for us, John and I have decided to buy the chair ourselves, and hand-walk it over to the classroom.

But we still have no news on the AVS, and I must admit I am hesitant to suggest that 'La Maitresse" will allow this wonder boy to start classes as planned on Thursday without his chair (what if it doesn't arrive in time?), or his Aide Vie Scolaire....what if he is not granted one? Will he still be permitted to attend???

So I'm crossing my fingers, and not holding my breath.

And sooo proud of him these past 2 weeks for putting on his huge backpack and marching out to his taxi with all smiles and his Toy Story Woody doll to accompany him. You can see a spring in his step, and his head is held just a little bit higher, and his shoulders a little bit broader, when he walks back through the door each day.

And I just have to laugh when I imagine what they might be teaching him in a US cochlear implanted preschool with sounds & gestures. Parker has 5 that I know he is working on recognizing a picture, and being expected to make the sound and sign/mime while making the association:

1---"No! No! No!"which we can all agree is a good one to learn, and sooo very french, with an extended index finger waving back and forth in front of his face.

2---"Mmmmmm", said while rubbing his hand in circles on his tummy or chest (so as to say, "this is a yummy mousse au chocolate!"etc.)

3---"Shhhh" while said with the index finger in front of the mouth. (Incidentally, he does not get his one, but he tries!)

4---"Court!" which means "Run!"and he is supposed to jog in place

5---And the newest one: "Oh-la-la!"while raising both hands, bent at the elbows along the sides of his head. This could be translated as, "I can't believe this!" Or "Are you kidding me?" or "You are in big trouble!"depending on who is your translator, or what the context is.

Isn't that hilarious?

You should hear him say it! Its more like "Ohh-yah-yah!"

Yes, I know I come across as being too rushed, and bossy in this video. But as soon as I turn on the camera, he is obsessed with watching it himself. And sorry, Penelope, I did not credit you in the video for saying, "No! No! No!". You are amazing, sweet girl. I love you, too. Truly.