Yesterday morning I was on edge and irritable and woke up with a feeling in the pit of my stomach - the one I can't describe but my sister knows what I mean when I say I have that "pit in the stomach feeling" - like something was wrong or about to be wrong. I hadn't been paying that much attention to the date, but it was July 1st and some part of my brain knew it; seven years ago on July 1st we had a housefire and I guess I have some lingering PTSD about it all.
I never would have imagined how completely and totally a housefire would change my life or the life of my kids, or even, tangentially, the life of my family. When I see stories on the news or hear about people who have lost their house, I want to throw up. If I smell smoke or see people with candles lit in their house, I have a fight or flight moment and I have a reputation for blowing out candles in people's bathrooms, or at their parties.
We were very lucky in the case of our house fire on July 1st, 2004. We lost our poor cat Kelsey, and I cry about her and the way she died often. I know she was old and starting to get sick, but she suffered when she died, and I hate that. My kids and I had taken our dogs to a friend's house for a puppy playdate; Fenway was a puppy and my friend had just gotten a puppy so she invited us over to give our new babies a social opportunity. Fenway saved Jonah's life that day - it was over 90 degrees and humid and I was going to leave Jonah, an aging Shepherd mix who didn't love the heat, home and just take Fenway. But Fenway wouldn't get in the van without Jonah and we were running late so eventually I just decided to take them both and let Jonah rest in the shade. Fenway has issues and I don't love owning a dog I don't trust 100%, but I will always be grateful that because of her, Jonah wasn't home. If I had lost Jonah in the fire I'd have needed serious mental rehabilitation - the feelings that my family had toward that dog bordered on the psychotic when it came to protectiveness.
We lost everything we owned. I have heard people say that, but until I walked through my house with a fireman, looking for important documnents to try to save, or see if there was anything worth pulling out of the soaking wet, smoke filled mess that had been my house, I never truly understood it. I had nothing to wear, my kids didn't have a toy or a game or a tv. We had no food, no pictures, none of my scrapbook stuff, no diapers and no where to sleep. Sadly, we also had no cat. Luckily we hadn't been home, no one was hurt (well, one neighbor got burned trying to turn our outdoor hose, and the water was close to boiling. Not sure how she planned to fight the fire with a garden hose but it was nice of her to try...) and we had homeowner's insurance.
We stayed with my parents for awhile, a hotel for months and months and months, and then when our insurance company decided the house should be ready (it wasn't) and we had been at the hotel long enough (according the them) we moved back into my parents house. I had two dogs, and one was a teething puppy, two young kids, and it was easily the most depressing year of my life. Right after the fire I remember being in the hotel, trying to drag kids, dogs and groceries up two flights of stairs and thinking that I really couldn't handle it. The second bedroom was an open loft, so anytime Ari was sleeping or napping, we had to sneak around and be quiet and hole up in the bedroom. Halle watched so much TV while we lived there that I can't believe she's not brain damaged. I remember watching the 2004 World Series and cheering silently while jumping around like idiots when the Red Sox won. Cheering silently so I wouldn't wake the kids, but the hotel was directly on Route 1 and every car out there started blaring the horn at once, so it was obviously an unneccessary precaution on my part.
For months afterward I carried around clothes and diapers and some old toys of my kids in our van. It made no sense logically, but it made me feel so much better. I learned that I had a truly wonderful group of friends - we would come back to the hotel after being out for the morning and the message light on the phone would blink, we'd call to find we had a package waiting for us at the desk. People left toys and clothes for the kids, gift cards so we could shop, household items they thought we'd need, etc. My friends had a "shower" for us before we moved back home, and my playground got together and got us some new stuff. The people at the hotel gave the kid's Christmas gifts right before we left - we had gotten to know them well. The kindness of strangers can be an eye opening experience.
Yesterday the kids and I had a fabulous day at Water Country - the weather was perfect, there were no lines for reasons I can't quite figure out, and the water rides were so much fun. If I had remembered to bring a book, I could have read for hours while the kids bobbed around in the wave pool. I didn't remember that it was the first of July until almost 6:00 pm, when we came home and I had a flash of panic that our road would be closed and there would be police and fire trucks out front. It wasn't, and there weren't.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The Best Week of Summer
Ahhh... summer vacation. I start counting the days until school's out as soon as April vacation is over. I love, love, love Spring and as soon as the weather gets warm, I start dreaming of lazy mornings when anyone who chooses to can sleep late. The end of packing lunches, snacks, bus snacks, homework folders and water bottles into backpacks. The end of waking the kids up early to rush them through the morning, and telling Ari that I don't have time to sit with him on the couch because I'm packing lunches and snacks and bus snacks...
I'm working very part time this summer and my job starts on July 5th. So this is the week that the kids and I have off together with no real plans. We have a week and a half or so off starting mid-August also, but that seems awfully far away right now. And now this week is drawing to a close too, with the long weekend approaching rapidly.
Sometimes the weeks I look forward to the most don't live up to my (our) expectations. Luckily, this week was absolutely fabulous. We went swimming at the YMCA, miniature golfing, had the best ice-y treats ever at Rita's in Salem, shopped, went to Springs Brook park with friends, went out for ice cream, swam at a friend's pool and had lunch outside, and hopefully a trip to Water Country is soon to come. THe weather has been perfect, sunny and hot, even on the days rain was predicted.
Unfortunately, I never got to my classroom to do any setup, and I'm supposed to. So I may have to do that tomorrow. And I have to meet one of my students to hand off daddy hamster; she's willing to provide a summer home for him. I'll have to do that tomorrow as well. I didn't get to the meeting at the high school I was planning on attending this morning, and I have a ton of phone calls to make and bills to pay and errands to run. I know I won't get all of that done tomorrow. But it's ok, it's summer vacation.
I'm working very part time this summer and my job starts on July 5th. So this is the week that the kids and I have off together with no real plans. We have a week and a half or so off starting mid-August also, but that seems awfully far away right now. And now this week is drawing to a close too, with the long weekend approaching rapidly.
Sometimes the weeks I look forward to the most don't live up to my (our) expectations. Luckily, this week was absolutely fabulous. We went swimming at the YMCA, miniature golfing, had the best ice-y treats ever at Rita's in Salem, shopped, went to Springs Brook park with friends, went out for ice cream, swam at a friend's pool and had lunch outside, and hopefully a trip to Water Country is soon to come. THe weather has been perfect, sunny and hot, even on the days rain was predicted.
Unfortunately, I never got to my classroom to do any setup, and I'm supposed to. So I may have to do that tomorrow. And I have to meet one of my students to hand off daddy hamster; she's willing to provide a summer home for him. I'll have to do that tomorrow as well. I didn't get to the meeting at the high school I was planning on attending this morning, and I have a ton of phone calls to make and bills to pay and errands to run. I know I won't get all of that done tomorrow. But it's ok, it's summer vacation.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father's Day!
Today, June 19th, 2011, is Father's Day. Luckily, the Bruins won the Stanley Cup a few days ago, so gifts for my husband should be easy. My dad is a little tougher to buy for. He is a huge fan of Boston sports, but of the four teams we root for, the Bruins are probably the team he's least interested in. Also, my dad is notoriously difficult to buy for.
I would love to bake my dad some chocolate chip cookies, with walnuts, today. He loves chocolate chip cookies with nuts and I must say I do bake a pretty mean CCC. When trying to make pancakes for breakfast yesterday I noticed he have no eggs, so a quick trip to the grocery store for eggs (and if history is a good indicator, $175 worth of other groceries) is in order.
I know stuff about my dad. But he's a hard guy to describe. He grew up in Revere, and from all accounts, he was always a very bright, superior student. I know he used to read encyclopedias for fun, and went to junk yards to harvest scraps for the stereos and electronics that he used to build for fun. My sister and my mom are the only two people who could ever remember the first "computer" that he built and we used to play on - it was a weird blue flat thing with a keypad. I think we played a pong-like game on it, but I'm not sure.
My dad has terrible handwriting. He used to pay me to type some of his work, because as bad as his writing is, his typing is worse. Not only could I not make out paragraphs of his writing, he often couldn't make out his writing either. And because he was often having me type extremely scientific documents, I couldn't use any context clues.
My father doesn't get mad very often, and he almost never cries. I heard him swear when he found out his dad died. I'm sure he cried at each of his parent's funerals, but I don't remember seeing him cry. He cried when our dogs died. He actually lost control and yelled at my mom and cried when their last dog died. That is so out of character for my mild-mannered dad; neither my sister nor I will ever forget that.
My dad has a very dry, very funny sense of humor. I'm not sure my mom would always agree with that; but my father cracks us up. My kids and husband find him funny too. He laughs easily, and can laugh at himself. And while he chuckles readily at jokes, he has a great honest laugh - a deep belly laugh that is a great reward for a joke told.
My father once told me that he needs time to get used to the idea of parting with his money. That may be true, but his generousity to me and my family is proof that he's quite willing to part with his hard-earned money. I wouldn't have a house, van, or many other things if my dad wasn't so willing to help. He often pays for my graduate classes and lets me keep the reimbursement check. He helps me pay for my children's private day-school education. We're always a little behind financially; without my dad I can't imagine how we'd have gotten by.
My dad is a fabulous grandfather. He loves his four grandkids with all of his heart and he enjoys spending time with them. He and my mom come to sports games, school events, family outings, etc. All four of his grandkids remind me of my dad in different ways. He takes an interest in their passions and enjoys sharing his interests with them.
My father loves to do stuff. He loves to walk; he walks around the lake in Wakefield, he walks in his neighborhood, he takes long walks when he goes on vacation. He has been riding his bike with my husband and my kids and enjoys that as well. My dad is in great shape- when he and my mom took me to Hawaii we went hiking on Diamondhead. Most people were huffing and puffing (well, I was and I think others were too) and my dad was walking upright, looking around with interest, greeting everyone we passed and pointing out interesting geographical oddities. He was proudly wearing his Red Sox-a-saurus T-shirt and didn't miss a chance to talk to a stranger about Boston or his beloved Sox. I was grateful every time he stopped, and I nodded and gasped for breath at the strangers he chatted up.
I'm pretty sure my dad was hoping I'd go into computers or some high tech field. But as long as I can remember, he always told me what a great field education was, and encouraged me to become a teacher. My dad taught me the monkey theory of business and raised me to love Judaism. Although he lost his parents when he was young and doesn't have a relationship with his sister he has always demonstrated his belief that family is the most important structure there is, and that family comes first.
There are certain things that always remind me of my father - a Polaroid camera/picture/logo. Any song by the Pointer Sisters or Rod Stewart. Some song by Ringo Starr about having a whole lot of money. The Red Sox, Peanuts characters, and chocolate chip cookies. All of these things remind me of a quiet, generous man who always took care of our family. A person who taught me to love and protect animals, a man who loves to walk and be outside. They remind me of the security that comes from having a father who will almost say yes to a trip to Canobie Lake, an afternoon picking apples, a request for financial assistance and a walk around the Lake.
Love you Dad, happy father's day!
I would love to bake my dad some chocolate chip cookies, with walnuts, today. He loves chocolate chip cookies with nuts and I must say I do bake a pretty mean CCC. When trying to make pancakes for breakfast yesterday I noticed he have no eggs, so a quick trip to the grocery store for eggs (and if history is a good indicator, $175 worth of other groceries) is in order.
I know stuff about my dad. But he's a hard guy to describe. He grew up in Revere, and from all accounts, he was always a very bright, superior student. I know he used to read encyclopedias for fun, and went to junk yards to harvest scraps for the stereos and electronics that he used to build for fun. My sister and my mom are the only two people who could ever remember the first "computer" that he built and we used to play on - it was a weird blue flat thing with a keypad. I think we played a pong-like game on it, but I'm not sure.
My dad has terrible handwriting. He used to pay me to type some of his work, because as bad as his writing is, his typing is worse. Not only could I not make out paragraphs of his writing, he often couldn't make out his writing either. And because he was often having me type extremely scientific documents, I couldn't use any context clues.
My father doesn't get mad very often, and he almost never cries. I heard him swear when he found out his dad died. I'm sure he cried at each of his parent's funerals, but I don't remember seeing him cry. He cried when our dogs died. He actually lost control and yelled at my mom and cried when their last dog died. That is so out of character for my mild-mannered dad; neither my sister nor I will ever forget that.
My dad has a very dry, very funny sense of humor. I'm not sure my mom would always agree with that; but my father cracks us up. My kids and husband find him funny too. He laughs easily, and can laugh at himself. And while he chuckles readily at jokes, he has a great honest laugh - a deep belly laugh that is a great reward for a joke told.
My father once told me that he needs time to get used to the idea of parting with his money. That may be true, but his generousity to me and my family is proof that he's quite willing to part with his hard-earned money. I wouldn't have a house, van, or many other things if my dad wasn't so willing to help. He often pays for my graduate classes and lets me keep the reimbursement check. He helps me pay for my children's private day-school education. We're always a little behind financially; without my dad I can't imagine how we'd have gotten by.
My dad is a fabulous grandfather. He loves his four grandkids with all of his heart and he enjoys spending time with them. He and my mom come to sports games, school events, family outings, etc. All four of his grandkids remind me of my dad in different ways. He takes an interest in their passions and enjoys sharing his interests with them.
My father loves to do stuff. He loves to walk; he walks around the lake in Wakefield, he walks in his neighborhood, he takes long walks when he goes on vacation. He has been riding his bike with my husband and my kids and enjoys that as well. My dad is in great shape- when he and my mom took me to Hawaii we went hiking on Diamondhead. Most people were huffing and puffing (well, I was and I think others were too) and my dad was walking upright, looking around with interest, greeting everyone we passed and pointing out interesting geographical oddities. He was proudly wearing his Red Sox-a-saurus T-shirt and didn't miss a chance to talk to a stranger about Boston or his beloved Sox. I was grateful every time he stopped, and I nodded and gasped for breath at the strangers he chatted up.
I'm pretty sure my dad was hoping I'd go into computers or some high tech field. But as long as I can remember, he always told me what a great field education was, and encouraged me to become a teacher. My dad taught me the monkey theory of business and raised me to love Judaism. Although he lost his parents when he was young and doesn't have a relationship with his sister he has always demonstrated his belief that family is the most important structure there is, and that family comes first.
There are certain things that always remind me of my father - a Polaroid camera/picture/logo. Any song by the Pointer Sisters or Rod Stewart. Some song by Ringo Starr about having a whole lot of money. The Red Sox, Peanuts characters, and chocolate chip cookies. All of these things remind me of a quiet, generous man who always took care of our family. A person who taught me to love and protect animals, a man who loves to walk and be outside. They remind me of the security that comes from having a father who will almost say yes to a trip to Canobie Lake, an afternoon picking apples, a request for financial assistance and a walk around the Lake.
Love you Dad, happy father's day!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Saturday
Although I often feel that there's not much in my life that's consistent (other than laundry, dishes and pet hair everywhere). Yet certain things seem to happen regularly. Today is a perfect example.
We don't usually have a lot of weekend plans. The kid's sports, errands, maybe a dinner or lunch with friends, and occasionally something fun to celebrate. But if there's two or things that are coming up, it seems to be that they all fall on the same day. I am posting this as I mentally go through my closet to figure out what I am going to wear to the Bar and Bat Mitzvah today. My friend's kids are becoming Jewish adults and I go to temple infrequently enough to enjoy going on special occasions. But of course the kids were invited to a birthday party for the son of another really good friend, so we're splitting up for the day. No big deal, but I'd love to do both. It's so typical.
And tomorrow is a graduation party for three of my first cousins - two are graduating college and one just become a dental hygienist. Not sure I spelled that right. I'm excited for all of them, and I love celebrating things with my mom's side of the family. But I had to say no to other a few other end of the year invitations I got - of course! - all for the exact same time of day.
And of course there are softball games on both days, one Halle won't be able to attend and one she'll make it to if we leave the party early. That comes as no surpise to anyone - due to all of the rain we've had, the make up games are scheduled during the most inconvenient times ever.
Another consistency in my life is that the universe can always tell if I've managed to save any money - and something goes wrong. My dad told me to keep the tuition reimbursement check from my school, yay! And I get two flat tires on the brand new van. That's always the way. There's a suspicious looking water stain in the bay window - probably from an ice dam this winter. I doubt it will be cheap to fix...
But I'm not complaining! Really. I am lucky to have a house, I am lucky to have family that invites us to parties along with friends whose kids invite my kids to their parties. I'm lucky to have kids healthy enough to play sports, and I'm lucky to have a closet full of clothes.. but I really have to go get dressed for temple.
Happy Weekend!
We don't usually have a lot of weekend plans. The kid's sports, errands, maybe a dinner or lunch with friends, and occasionally something fun to celebrate. But if there's two or things that are coming up, it seems to be that they all fall on the same day. I am posting this as I mentally go through my closet to figure out what I am going to wear to the Bar and Bat Mitzvah today. My friend's kids are becoming Jewish adults and I go to temple infrequently enough to enjoy going on special occasions. But of course the kids were invited to a birthday party for the son of another really good friend, so we're splitting up for the day. No big deal, but I'd love to do both. It's so typical.
And tomorrow is a graduation party for three of my first cousins - two are graduating college and one just become a dental hygienist. Not sure I spelled that right. I'm excited for all of them, and I love celebrating things with my mom's side of the family. But I had to say no to other a few other end of the year invitations I got - of course! - all for the exact same time of day.
And of course there are softball games on both days, one Halle won't be able to attend and one she'll make it to if we leave the party early. That comes as no surpise to anyone - due to all of the rain we've had, the make up games are scheduled during the most inconvenient times ever.
Another consistency in my life is that the universe can always tell if I've managed to save any money - and something goes wrong. My dad told me to keep the tuition reimbursement check from my school, yay! And I get two flat tires on the brand new van. That's always the way. There's a suspicious looking water stain in the bay window - probably from an ice dam this winter. I doubt it will be cheap to fix...
But I'm not complaining! Really. I am lucky to have a house, I am lucky to have family that invites us to parties along with friends whose kids invite my kids to their parties. I'm lucky to have kids healthy enough to play sports, and I'm lucky to have a closet full of clothes.. but I really have to go get dressed for temple.
Happy Weekend!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Yeah, I Know Stuff...
At least, I think I do. I tell my students that I know stuff all of the time. It's my typical answer when they want to know how I know answers to games like Seven Little Words, or can come up with a word in Spanish I learned 24 years ago. I know stuff.
But there's a lot I don't know. I'm a parent, so I am reminded every day that there are millions of questions I can't answer. Some may never be answered, others may be figured out one day. Today, on the day before Halle's birthday, I am struck by the stuff I don't know about having a 10 year old daughter.
I wanted a daughter. I wished and hoped and prayed I would have a baby girl, and sure enough, I lucked out with my first child. Almost exactly 10 years ago, Rich and I were expectant parents, having no idea what to actually expect. A day later, June 7th, 2001, we became first-time parents, after the longest and most grueling thirty hours of our lives. Labor and delivery were not easy; it seemed that everything minor that could go wrong, went wrong. In the end I was blessed with a gorgeous, healthy baby girl.
Looking back, it's easy to see that there were signs that raising Halle may not be the dreamy, easy, peaceful journey I had envisioned. The nurses smiling sweetly and wishing me luck with this one. Halle's complete refusal to use any of the 32 bottles I bought, including the one that was supposed to feel and look like a breast. (That one she slept with, but out of none of them would she drink the milk that I wasted hours pumping.) There was the year that she insisted on wearing the same purple dress every day. Her refusal to talk for almost three years, followed by seven years of refusing to ever stop talking. That's my Halle.
But looking back, it's also clear that her willful, stubborn nature and her intense belief that she is always right has served her well. While I know that Rich and I were very lucky to give birth to a healthy baby, we had a rough beginning as Halle spent a week in the special care nursery with fevers, being tested for spinal meningitis and suffering severe jaundice because our blood is not compatible. Halle spent her first year sleeping, nursing or screaming - she was the fussiest of fussy babies. Rich and I were terrified of Halle, dropping everything and running for a safe place to nurse her if her eyelids started to flutter. Halle ruled this roost, that much was clear.
Two years later, when Halle was three, we had a house fire and ended up living in a hotel and my parent's house for a year. We all weathered the storm, and although the fire and the cat we lost are obviously still in Halle's mind (they surface in every school project that asks for a memory) she was able to cope with all of the changes an event like that brought our family. A few years later she became very sick and was diagnosed with Lyme's disease - horrifying, yet easily treated with a simple course of antibiotics. Although my mom and I became more and more convinced that Halle was never quite 100% the same after Lyme's disease, our suspicions waxed and waned. Halle would seem fine, and then something would make one of us think that maybe she was suffering long term effects of Lyme's disease; something the American medical profession swears isn't possible.
As we were watching her grow and develop into a girl who loved fiercely, took disappointments hard, soaked up knowledge like a sponge, it became clear something was wrong. Halle began to cry every day, saying she didn't want to go to school. She complained of constant stomach pain, was always cold, screamed when I combed her hair, and was clearly suffering some GI issues that she didn't want to discuss. Her doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her (separation anxiety, hemorroids, laxatives -all treated, all huge mistakes) and finally she developed a high fever that wouldn't go away. After a lot of blood work and a few trips to Children's Hospital Boston, Halle was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.
This diagnosis is a blessing and a curse. We now know what's wrong and we can treat her symptoms. But we can't cure it and we can't make it go away. Halle has tried many courses of meds that haven't worked and is currently starting a new course of injections. She feels better than she has in the past few years, but has a long way to go as far as feeling "good." Our frames of reference have changed, as have our expectations. Halle is still trying to be a kid in fourth grade: goofy, silly, bright, energetic, friendly and outgoing. Her many appointments and phsyical ailments have made some of this more difficult than it should be for an almost 10 year old child. Luckily for Halle, she has a fabulous team of doctors and nurses at CHB who are working tirelessly to see Halle improve. Even more luckily, she is still strong-willed, stubborn, fiercely determined and she knows her mind.
There's still a lot of stuff I don't know about being a parent. I don't know how to ease her pain, or make her less fearful of the medication she needs. I do know that Halle is the kind of child that likes most people, and she chooses to love a few people with all of her heart. Rich and I, my parents, my sister and her family, our friends that moved to Michigan; Halle loves them and doesn't see anything but the best in them. She loves penguins, ninjas, the color blue and loves crafts. She has a beautiful smile and a strong spirit. Halle has taught us more in ten years than I thought I could learn in a lifetime. I may know some stuff, but I think I have a lot to learn.
But there's a lot I don't know. I'm a parent, so I am reminded every day that there are millions of questions I can't answer. Some may never be answered, others may be figured out one day. Today, on the day before Halle's birthday, I am struck by the stuff I don't know about having a 10 year old daughter.
I wanted a daughter. I wished and hoped and prayed I would have a baby girl, and sure enough, I lucked out with my first child. Almost exactly 10 years ago, Rich and I were expectant parents, having no idea what to actually expect. A day later, June 7th, 2001, we became first-time parents, after the longest and most grueling thirty hours of our lives. Labor and delivery were not easy; it seemed that everything minor that could go wrong, went wrong. In the end I was blessed with a gorgeous, healthy baby girl.
Looking back, it's easy to see that there were signs that raising Halle may not be the dreamy, easy, peaceful journey I had envisioned. The nurses smiling sweetly and wishing me luck with this one. Halle's complete refusal to use any of the 32 bottles I bought, including the one that was supposed to feel and look like a breast. (That one she slept with, but out of none of them would she drink the milk that I wasted hours pumping.) There was the year that she insisted on wearing the same purple dress every day. Her refusal to talk for almost three years, followed by seven years of refusing to ever stop talking. That's my Halle.
But looking back, it's also clear that her willful, stubborn nature and her intense belief that she is always right has served her well. While I know that Rich and I were very lucky to give birth to a healthy baby, we had a rough beginning as Halle spent a week in the special care nursery with fevers, being tested for spinal meningitis and suffering severe jaundice because our blood is not compatible. Halle spent her first year sleeping, nursing or screaming - she was the fussiest of fussy babies. Rich and I were terrified of Halle, dropping everything and running for a safe place to nurse her if her eyelids started to flutter. Halle ruled this roost, that much was clear.
Two years later, when Halle was three, we had a house fire and ended up living in a hotel and my parent's house for a year. We all weathered the storm, and although the fire and the cat we lost are obviously still in Halle's mind (they surface in every school project that asks for a memory) she was able to cope with all of the changes an event like that brought our family. A few years later she became very sick and was diagnosed with Lyme's disease - horrifying, yet easily treated with a simple course of antibiotics. Although my mom and I became more and more convinced that Halle was never quite 100% the same after Lyme's disease, our suspicions waxed and waned. Halle would seem fine, and then something would make one of us think that maybe she was suffering long term effects of Lyme's disease; something the American medical profession swears isn't possible.
As we were watching her grow and develop into a girl who loved fiercely, took disappointments hard, soaked up knowledge like a sponge, it became clear something was wrong. Halle began to cry every day, saying she didn't want to go to school. She complained of constant stomach pain, was always cold, screamed when I combed her hair, and was clearly suffering some GI issues that she didn't want to discuss. Her doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her (separation anxiety, hemorroids, laxatives -all treated, all huge mistakes) and finally she developed a high fever that wouldn't go away. After a lot of blood work and a few trips to Children's Hospital Boston, Halle was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.
This diagnosis is a blessing and a curse. We now know what's wrong and we can treat her symptoms. But we can't cure it and we can't make it go away. Halle has tried many courses of meds that haven't worked and is currently starting a new course of injections. She feels better than she has in the past few years, but has a long way to go as far as feeling "good." Our frames of reference have changed, as have our expectations. Halle is still trying to be a kid in fourth grade: goofy, silly, bright, energetic, friendly and outgoing. Her many appointments and phsyical ailments have made some of this more difficult than it should be for an almost 10 year old child. Luckily for Halle, she has a fabulous team of doctors and nurses at CHB who are working tirelessly to see Halle improve. Even more luckily, she is still strong-willed, stubborn, fiercely determined and she knows her mind.
There's still a lot of stuff I don't know about being a parent. I don't know how to ease her pain, or make her less fearful of the medication she needs. I do know that Halle is the kind of child that likes most people, and she chooses to love a few people with all of her heart. Rich and I, my parents, my sister and her family, our friends that moved to Michigan; Halle loves them and doesn't see anything but the best in them. She loves penguins, ninjas, the color blue and loves crafts. She has a beautiful smile and a strong spirit. Halle has taught us more in ten years than I thought I could learn in a lifetime. I may know some stuff, but I think I have a lot to learn.
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