For Healthy Babies

Gary, Lydia and I are Marching for Babies again this year.  We've walked this 5K for the past few years to raise some money for March of Dimes.  As you all know, Lydia was born at 28 weeks weighing 2lbs 7oz and 14 inches.  Today, she is 3 feet tall weighing in at almost 29lbs!

If you have donated to our cause before, please consider donating again!  If you haven't donated before, why not this year?  Any amount is welcome and here's the link to donate online:

 http://www.marchforbabies.org/team/t1739619

This past year has been one of healing for our family.  The first two years were miraculous... and they were also rather frightening.  We held our breath every step of the way, wondering what being born 3 months early meant for her.  She has fought fiercely to not only live, but to thrive.  Those who meet Lydia see her as a happy, easy-going girl.  She's smart, funny and, of course, stubborn.  She's an instigator and a bossy boots.  She told me at dinner one evening, 'I'm so frustrated with you.  I don't want to talk to you right now!'  I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or give her the 'serious' face!

It's amazing to have conversations with other parents these days.  We talk about our kids not going to bed, potty-training, their eating habits, and what their favourite toys are.  These conversations seem so surreal to me.  I'm so glad that we're able to talk about Lydia like she's a normal three-year old.  I am always learning how to live, love and laugh from Lydia.

I really feel like we owe March of Dimes and the MUSC Children's Hospital so much; Lydia would not be alive today without their dedication to preventing birth defects, premature birth and infant mortality.  If you donate to the March of Dimes, you support research and services that help mothers have full-term pregnancies so that babies can begin healthy lives.  They also provide comfort and information to families with a baby in newborn intensive care.

Please donate to support a worthy cause!  For Lydia, for your children, for health babies everywhere,

Sonia, Gary and Lydia

Life after death through the eyes of a three-year old

My mother-in-law, Jeanette, died on Monday morning.   I was at home with Lydia whilst Gary, his Dad and MIL's best friend, Linda, were at her side.  It has been a roller-coaster week; it began with us thinking she was going to be sent home and ended with her not coming home at all.  


I finally did talk to Lydia about her grandmother dying.  I talked to her on Saturday afternoon when we thought my mother-in-law was closer to the end than she was.  We were at the hospital and I wanted to prepare Lydia just in case she started seeing very upset adults around her.  I remember telling her that Grandma was dying, she was sick - different from a simple cold / broken arm type sick, and how sometimes bodies don't work and people die.  Her response was, 'Okay' and that was the end of that.


Gary, Gary's Dad and Linda stayed at the hospital that night.  When I got home and after Lydia's bath, we were sitting in the front room and I asked, 'Do you know what's going on with Grandma?' Lydia responded, 'Grandma's dying'.  I asked, 'Do you know why?'  Lydia said, 'Because her body's not working and she's hurting and she's dying.  And now she can dance and she'll be happy'.  I stopped for a moment, then I said, 'How do you know that?' and Lydia said, 'Because she likes to dance'.  I texted this conversation to Gary that night.  It really had a profound effect on everyone.  So much so that when my mother-in-law finally passed away early Monday morning, they repeated the story to the nurse and it made her cry.  I posted it on Facebook to my friends and many people have commented on how touching it was, or how it's helped them through their grief. 


Of course, I wonder if it's because kids are quite intuitive in situations of deep grief and loss.  Are there spiritual forces at work?  Is it just another example of pre-schooler thoughts jumping from one topic to another?  For whatever reason she said it, it's helped a lot of people thus far.  If you know my mother-in-law, it's even more special because she hasn't been able to walk for a long time.  Even when I met her she had difficulty walking long distances.  She became wheelchair-bound a few years ago.  By the end of her life, she was completely bed-ridden.  So you see, a comment about her dancing is not just appropriate in general about those facing death, but particularly poignant because of my mother-in-law's physical condition.  


There's a fascination about the end of someone's life, but who she was in that hospital bed was not who she was in life.  I didn't call her Mom very often.  Mainly because I can't say it without feeling like I have to put on a strange American accent.  She really was another Mum to me though.  When I first moved over here and couldn't work, she introduced me to sewing and quilting.  It filled my time and I felt more productive.  It really is how I found a passion for DIY and crafts.  Without her, I would never have thought pinterest was the best thing since sliced bread, or taken up scrapbooking, or sewn things for my friends and family.  Sure, I was creative in my own way, but I don't think I'm naturally creative.  I needed to learn creativity and I learned it from her.  She really introduced me to a whole new world of hobbies.  


My mother-in-law also helped me find my first job.  I was fresh out of college, didn't have any connections and I couldn't work until I got a work permit.  When I finally did get my work permit, I couldn't find a job.  I didn't know where to look or even what to apply for.  My mother-in-law helped me out and called her old boss to see if there were any jobs - the next day I was heading in for an interview and training.  


Today, we went out to the house with my father-in-law.  It was hard to walk into the house without her there.  I was slightly anxious during the car ride which surprised me seeing as I'd been all take-charge yesterday with the funeral arrangements.  Our first task was to clean out the sewing room as Gary's Dad wants to rearrange some of the furniture in the house pretty quickly.  Sewing was her passion and she hasn't been able to sew anything for a long time.  She found that terribly frustrating, to love something so much and not be able to do it.  It was hard for Gary's Dad because sewing became such a huge part of his life too; he was always thinking about projects, helping her choose things for her to make, picking out the threads she needed.


Finding what I love to do outside of work isn't the only thing she gave to me.  She welcomed me into the family and supported me and Gary in our life together.  She always wanted the best for us and always told me I was good for her son.  He's good for me too and I hope she knows I appreciate that.  In my old blog, I wrote that Gary's parents raised Gary to be a kind, stable, honest man.  I said he was a good husband and father and I know it comes from his upbringing.  I know she appreciated my comments because she thanked me for it.  I only wish I had said it more, and more directly to her.  When I had the opportunity to say goodbye to her at the hospital, I told her goodbye, that I loved her, and thank you.  Thank you for my life here, for my husband, for Lydia, for my new friends and family.  She has played an integral part in my life since I immigrated to the USA 12 years ago.


We will miss her dreadfully.  The hospital stay is still so fresh in our minds.  The last few months, even years, were difficult for her and us.  I know that after some time, we'll look back fondly at her life.  We had so many good times and memories together.  There were ups and downs, disagreements and disappointments, but she was always there for us.  She loved fully, lived well and shared freely.  She taught me how to show my love to my child and how to express my love to my friends and family.  Being a part of this family has given me an emotional stability that I didn't know I needed.   'I love you' were not words that came easily to me until I joined the Donnelly family.


I love you, Mom.

Public Toilets: The Potty Training Foe

My newly potty-trained child has decided that public toilets are her enemy.  We went to an automatic flushing toilet on Sunday morning and I've never seen my child so terrified.  I can't say I blame her.  Have you ever had one of those toilets flush on you mid-business?  I mean, is the sensor just a guise for a sick joke from the toilet gods?  I swear those toilets only flush when they're supposed to 10% of the time.  Most of the time they flush 5 seconds before I'm finished.  Even worse is when I stand there staring at the toilet, waiting for it to flush but end up having to push the button instead.  

Lydia's always had a fear of noises.  When she describes her fears, she talks about fireworks, thunder and, oh, scary toilets*.  So considering this is one of the biggest fears in her life right now, it's hard to figure out what to do about it.  Do I just let her pee in the bushes for the next few years?  Hold it in until she gets home?  Let her pee in the sink?  Believe me, all of those options crossed my mind!

Here's the best answer I found from trawling the internet**.  Post-it notes.  I'm going to be telling Lydia to choose her own post-it notes so that when we encounter the monstrous automatic flushing toilet, we can deactivate the sensor by sticking a post-it note over it.  How brilliant is that?  We'll see how it works.

*They are so scary that even the NY Times wrote an article about them a few years back.

**Yes, I did google, 'What to do when your pre-schooler is scared of automatic-flushing toilets'. 

Lydia-isms!

Lydia said she was going to tell me a story, the 'legend of pink foot'.... I said, 'Do you mean big foot?' She said, 'No, pink foot!' Bahaha. All she could really tell me was that he lived in the woods!


Lydia had DVD boxes on her arms yesterday and was calling them shields. Today, she had another box on her arm so I asked her, 'What's that?' Lydia replied, 'A box'.


Baa baa black sheep have you any wool, yes sir yes sir three bags full. One for the monster, one for the (indecipherable word) one for the little girl who (more indecipherable words).

The Legend of Pinkfoot

I didn't realise I'd have to apologise to my daughter the other night.  She told me she had a story to tell me, the legend of Pinkfoot.  She told me Pinkfoot lived in the woods and it was spooky!  I can tell you now, I spent a good five minutes telling her it was Bigfoot and how he looked somewhat like a gorilla (and he wasn't scary at all)!  I asked her who told her about Bigfoot as I was rather perturbed that someone would be so irresponsible as to scare my child with a chimera-type urban legend.  Lydia told me it was Daisy from the Bubble Guppies.  This sparked me into action as I thoroughly researched (aka 'googled') this outrageous Bubble Guppy who would be so bold as to scare pre-schoolers to death.  I found a rather cute video of, yes, the infamous (at least amongst pre-schoolers) Bubble Guppies sitting around a campfire, toasting smores, telling a spooky story about the legend of PINKfoot.  I then spent another five minutes trying to convince Lydia that she had been right after all, except every time I said, 'You were right, it was Pinkfoot'  she would look at me thoughtfully and say, 'No, BIGfoot'.  Sigh.

Here's Lydia with her first somewhat successful attempt at using chopsticks.  She was at a disadvantage as she was trying to pick up noodles.  HA!  If I had been more thoughtful, I would've made something she could just stab and pop in her mouth! 


Lydia and I stayed at home on President's day.  It was a much-needed day after working all weekend, especially as I had about five loads of laundry!  I also really wanted to spend the day with Lydia.  We painted, pedaled around the neighborhood, talked about how we live on Earth and how Mercury is far too hot (she's been talking about planets lately, can't you tell?).  Then I spent the afternoon trying to get her to take a nap.  


I turned on the telly expecting her to be completely bored and to fall asleep except she was as riveted by Hoarders: Buried Alive as I was!  I found myself completely fascinated with these people whose houses are full from floor to ceiling with stuff.  Then I looked around my own house; the dining room table has been in the living room for a month, the floors in the dining room are *almost* finished, and there are toys everywhere!  We've got to get this house in order!

Small miracles

I was working late the other night.  By the time I got home, Lydia was in bed but she was still awake.  I went in to talk to her before she fell asleep.  She told me all about her day - the yoghurt she ate, the dinner she ate and the fact that I was at work.  We then played one of her favourite games.  


Lydia:  I didn't eat apple
Me: I didn't eat orange
Some other random food and animals...
Lydia: I didn't eat pillow
Me: I didn't eat carpet
Lydia: I didn't eat tissue


At this point, she cracked up laughing.  That throaty, cackly, the funniest thing in the world kind of laugh.  It was beautiful!


We played a little longer.  At this point EVERYTHING was funny.  It was perfect and I looked at her and saw a little miracle.  Best feeling ever.