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.
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