Please find us at www.nicdnotbroken.com
Thank you Jessica www.amixofpixels.com for your help and general awesomeness!
See you on the other side!
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Santa Lucia
Most of my conversations revolve around my children... and it's almost always on here that I talk about my SN daughters. I always figured that's what I needed to talk about. For me, for my friends in need and for those who need a little self-check.
I want to tell you about one of our biggest challenges. "Normie" siblings. It's just as big as a topic as the non-typically developing siblings.
Think about it. The responsibility is on our shoulders. For now. Who steps in later in life when Mom and Dad aren't here or in need themselves? When does that shift begin?
I'll tell you when it begins. For us - it was the moment they lifted a full term, 8lb baby in the air, covered in goo and she opened her eyes and cried.
We named her "Light" or Lucia. She was the only thing that was shining so brightly for us in such a dark time. And she did just that. Our lives were filled with such overwhelming relief that she was not sick or challenged. In fact, she was quite extraordinary in every facet that we were previously challenged with the others. She made us realize how HARD the others were working and that gave us a new perspective on how resilient and strong and determined the others were.
Remember my first three daughters were born in a 25 month span. I don't think I've realized how incredible it is until I imagine my now 2 year old as an "older sister." We must have been nuts. They were all developing within months of the same milestones. It wasn't until they were a bit older that we realized our Lucia would soon reach most of them first.
She never rubs it in. She never leaves anyone out. She pushes her sisters to try things they are hesitant about by simply just doing them. Sibling rivalry is quite the persuasive beast that Mom and Dad cannot replicate.
When Gianna cut her hair for locks of love, it was Lucia who sat next to her in the salon. It was Lucia's smile as she put her arm around her sister beaming with pride that made that moment extra special for me. When Adelina goes to the hospital, it's Lucia who always goes along for support. I never have to sit alone in the waiting room and Adelina has someone to jump up and down with in the elevators with (her own age hee-hee). She knows where to park, what floor crosses over to the main hospital, where the good cookies are and what NOT to say to other parents and children. She "primes" the milk pump for me at night so I can get the baby to bed. And if I need a few moments, she more than willingly plays with the her too - sometimes even stealing some nail polish and painting her nails. But it's those moments that tell me to get the camera instead of losing my temper.
When I'm about to blow a lid during tutoring sessions, I can quietly ask her if she understands and then ask her to show me how I can make it work better. She makes me feel like a "normie" parent... the kind that doesn't have to check to make sure they are walking down the stairs one foot on each step or chewing without their hands in their mouth. She rode a bike at 3, she rides horses with girls 2 years older. She does these amazing things now, because she doesn't want to be left out. But time will show that it's because she actually doesn't want them to be alone. I'm raising a most compassionate and fun little girl and she owes these traits just as much to the sisters who may some day need her in a different way. I'm confident she will make good choices, because she already does without realizing it.
I always talk about how resilient my kids are, but I really do mean ALL of them. Thank you Lucia. This little light of mine - I'm going to let it shine. And she's bright as the sun.... and as this picture shows - superheroes can come in princess pj's and underwear masks and sometimes they haven't even started Kindergarten yet.
Think about it. The responsibility is on our shoulders. For now. Who steps in later in life when Mom and Dad aren't here or in need themselves? When does that shift begin?
I'll tell you when it begins. For us - it was the moment they lifted a full term, 8lb baby in the air, covered in goo and she opened her eyes and cried.
We named her "Light" or Lucia. She was the only thing that was shining so brightly for us in such a dark time. And she did just that. Our lives were filled with such overwhelming relief that she was not sick or challenged. In fact, she was quite extraordinary in every facet that we were previously challenged with the others. She made us realize how HARD the others were working and that gave us a new perspective on how resilient and strong and determined the others were.
Remember my first three daughters were born in a 25 month span. I don't think I've realized how incredible it is until I imagine my now 2 year old as an "older sister." We must have been nuts. They were all developing within months of the same milestones. It wasn't until they were a bit older that we realized our Lucia would soon reach most of them first.
She never rubs it in. She never leaves anyone out. She pushes her sisters to try things they are hesitant about by simply just doing them. Sibling rivalry is quite the persuasive beast that Mom and Dad cannot replicate.
When Gianna cut her hair for locks of love, it was Lucia who sat next to her in the salon. It was Lucia's smile as she put her arm around her sister beaming with pride that made that moment extra special for me. When Adelina goes to the hospital, it's Lucia who always goes along for support. I never have to sit alone in the waiting room and Adelina has someone to jump up and down with in the elevators with (her own age hee-hee). She knows where to park, what floor crosses over to the main hospital, where the good cookies are and what NOT to say to other parents and children. She "primes" the milk pump for me at night so I can get the baby to bed. And if I need a few moments, she more than willingly plays with the her too - sometimes even stealing some nail polish and painting her nails. But it's those moments that tell me to get the camera instead of losing my temper.
When I'm about to blow a lid during tutoring sessions, I can quietly ask her if she understands and then ask her to show me how I can make it work better. She makes me feel like a "normie" parent... the kind that doesn't have to check to make sure they are walking down the stairs one foot on each step or chewing without their hands in their mouth. She rode a bike at 3, she rides horses with girls 2 years older. She does these amazing things now, because she doesn't want to be left out. But time will show that it's because she actually doesn't want them to be alone. I'm raising a most compassionate and fun little girl and she owes these traits just as much to the sisters who may some day need her in a different way. I'm confident she will make good choices, because she already does without realizing it.I always talk about how resilient my kids are, but I really do mean ALL of them. Thank you Lucia. This little light of mine - I'm going to let it shine. And she's bright as the sun.... and as this picture shows - superheroes can come in princess pj's and underwear masks and sometimes they haven't even started Kindergarten yet.Sunday, May 12, 2013
Holding Out For A Hero
It's Mother's Day Weekend ... so much planning on the way. Or not. This year, Mother's Day gave me a gift a day early. As much as I did not feel like dragging out my crew on this dreary weathered morning for dance recital pre-photos, I knew that a pit in my stomach would turn sour if I didn't.
We've been waiting for years to be able to fully participate in dance classes. This little girl has been pointing since I can remember, but never able to make it thru a class from the sensory issues. This was her year and although there was a rocky start and a lot of tears, we're still here. She's battled noise and mirrors and self-regulated like a champ. There were days when she wasn't feeling well in general and that hour of rehearsal put her back together like I could never do for her.
So, I took her up to my room this morning and twisted up her fancy bun as she looked at herself in my oversized mirror. And although I'm totally weirded out by kids in makeup, I gave her some cheeks, some lashes and a bit of lips. She put on her leotard and tu-tu and as she tucked the laces into her slippers, I found myself beaming with pride. Just yesterday she checked out of Children's Hospital of Philadelphia for a feeding tube change and a quick weigh-in. Today she's just another beautiful little girl admiring herself in the mirror in a dance recital costume.
That's my gift this year. That smile. The smile that says, "I'm proud of myself." What more could a mother want to give a daughter, but confidence and self admiration. Knowing that you're not perfect, but you're wonderful in the same breath.
My kids have given me a chance to appreciate the little things in a new light and my own childhood has given me the chance to seize opportunities that were never taken. I'm grateful for both. Being a mother is not an easy job, but sucking it up and giving it all you have is a recipe for a good life. No regrets on things that you can foresee and making up for the things that you couldn't with love.
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, the ones who would give anything for a stretch mark, anyone missing their mother or wishing their situation was different... and for the kids who's mother's have wings. We are all blessed in different ways. Find your blessing and take it somewhere great.
Sometimes you just have to slow down and look for it.
We've been waiting for years to be able to fully participate in dance classes. This little girl has been pointing since I can remember, but never able to make it thru a class from the sensory issues. This was her year and although there was a rocky start and a lot of tears, we're still here. She's battled noise and mirrors and self-regulated like a champ. There were days when she wasn't feeling well in general and that hour of rehearsal put her back together like I could never do for her.
So, I took her up to my room this morning and twisted up her fancy bun as she looked at herself in my oversized mirror. And although I'm totally weirded out by kids in makeup, I gave her some cheeks, some lashes and a bit of lips. She put on her leotard and tu-tu and as she tucked the laces into her slippers, I found myself beaming with pride. Just yesterday she checked out of Children's Hospital of Philadelphia for a feeding tube change and a quick weigh-in. Today she's just another beautiful little girl admiring herself in the mirror in a dance recital costume.
That's my gift this year. That smile. The smile that says, "I'm proud of myself." What more could a mother want to give a daughter, but confidence and self admiration. Knowing that you're not perfect, but you're wonderful in the same breath.
My kids have given me a chance to appreciate the little things in a new light and my own childhood has given me the chance to seize opportunities that were never taken. I'm grateful for both. Being a mother is not an easy job, but sucking it up and giving it all you have is a recipe for a good life. No regrets on things that you can foresee and making up for the things that you couldn't with love.
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, the ones who would give anything for a stretch mark, anyone missing their mother or wishing their situation was different... and for the kids who's mother's have wings. We are all blessed in different ways. Find your blessing and take it somewhere great.
Sometimes you just have to slow down and look for it.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Dad The Almighty Awesomeness
My husband always asks where all the posts are about him. He usually continues on a tirade themed in self promotion, topped with phrases like, "who is the one providing all of this wonderfulness?" Even during the delivery of my oldest daughter, he exclaims, "What would you guys be doing without me here?" while he was (in his words) "holding a wing."
It usually gets a response something like this:
"Most people assume it's you writing posts, talking with mothers, sewing quilts and writing thank you letters. I should actually be quite embarrassed taking credit."
Because... well... that's the kind of relationship we have ;) Then I usually hear about how he's the rainmaker around here and on and on until we are sick of each other's rantings.
But it's true. We tend to forget about Dad sometimes, because most of us are the ones in the daily trenches, taking a beating from the kids and at the same time, getting all of the rewards. I talk with a lot of families and we've all been through it at some time or another... feeling like you are the one carrying all of the load. And for many NICU and special needs and medical needs families... those bags are dam heavy.
For families in those situations... most of the time the primary caregiver knows the medical routine, the doses, the appointment times and date, the IEP details, the therapist's name from three years ago that we had for 2 weeks, and the names of all the doctors at every hospital. Most of the time they are the ones who can "speak" the language of the child without an interpreter and rarely become frustrated about it. Primaries take a lot on, but get a lot back in return too.
That giant smile at school at pick up when I'm spotted by my kid belongs to me, but
I'm the one whose fault it is when they can't focus in the morning to get ready to leave.
I get the first hug of the day and, most of the time, the last, but
Soothing nightmares, changing sheets at 3am and midnight bathroom trips are my glorious job.
Painting little fingers and toes for special occasions is a memory in the making, but
Cutting 80 kid nails (more if you count the cat) per week is also in my job description.
Seeing a "100%" marked across a math test makes my heart melt,
but I'm the one who spent daily hours preparing supplemental work so that we don't fall behind.
I'm the one who understands every thought even though only a few words were spoken,
but I'm the one who has to remind her that we need to start over because I want to hear all of the wonderful things she has to share.
You get it... I get it... most days anyway. But where is Dad?
Even in the NICU... the doctor visits... the 100 therapists we've had... the IEP meetings... parent teacher meetings??? and on and on... WHERE IS DAD?????
Hopefully he's sacrificing on his end too. I gave up my job, because I had to. But I was lucky to have the opportunity to do so without serious consequences. He's working. What would we do without insurance? What would we do without a lot of things that are provided for us? We'd have a lot MORE to worry about, that's what.
Dad doesn't get all the smiles and all the memories. Dad doesn't know which schedule goes with what kid and what their favorite daily color is. He gets to step in and out and enjoy the little things and the big things better than Mom, but only if he wants to and most of the time they slip in to that role perfectly. By taking those moments and realizing how small their window is, hopefully they use to wisely. No one gets to throw a child into the air like Dad... No one gets to say, "hand me the ratchet" quite like Dad. No one makes a breakfast sandwich quite like Dad (sometimes Mom gets one of those too). Most importantly, no one gets to introduce a daughter or a son to what kind of guy they should be looking for in life or what kind of man they may want to emulate quite like Dad can. The big picture paints Dads as our giant family umbrellas. And a lot of the time, it's raining.
It doesn't always matter who "Dad" is either... Dad's the person who has decided to give up a lot of small moments and big ones, for the better of their family. They are in the shadows, not out of choice, but because they know we need them there. "Dads" are brave, teaching by example and very, very much a part of our daily lives than we give them credit for.
It usually gets a response something like this:
"Most people assume it's you writing posts, talking with mothers, sewing quilts and writing thank you letters. I should actually be quite embarrassed taking credit."
Because... well... that's the kind of relationship we have ;) Then I usually hear about how he's the rainmaker around here and on and on until we are sick of each other's rantings.
But it's true. We tend to forget about Dad sometimes, because most of us are the ones in the daily trenches, taking a beating from the kids and at the same time, getting all of the rewards. I talk with a lot of families and we've all been through it at some time or another... feeling like you are the one carrying all of the load. And for many NICU and special needs and medical needs families... those bags are dam heavy.
For families in those situations... most of the time the primary caregiver knows the medical routine, the doses, the appointment times and date, the IEP details, the therapist's name from three years ago that we had for 2 weeks, and the names of all the doctors at every hospital. Most of the time they are the ones who can "speak" the language of the child without an interpreter and rarely become frustrated about it. Primaries take a lot on, but get a lot back in return too.
That giant smile at school at pick up when I'm spotted by my kid belongs to me, but
I'm the one whose fault it is when they can't focus in the morning to get ready to leave.
I get the first hug of the day and, most of the time, the last, but
Soothing nightmares, changing sheets at 3am and midnight bathroom trips are my glorious job.
Painting little fingers and toes for special occasions is a memory in the making, but
Cutting 80 kid nails (more if you count the cat) per week is also in my job description.
Seeing a "100%" marked across a math test makes my heart melt,
but I'm the one who spent daily hours preparing supplemental work so that we don't fall behind.
I'm the one who understands every thought even though only a few words were spoken,
but I'm the one who has to remind her that we need to start over because I want to hear all of the wonderful things she has to share.
You get it... I get it... most days anyway. But where is Dad?
Even in the NICU... the doctor visits... the 100 therapists we've had... the IEP meetings... parent teacher meetings??? and on and on... WHERE IS DAD?????
Dad doesn't get all the smiles and all the memories. Dad doesn't know which schedule goes with what kid and what their favorite daily color is. He gets to step in and out and enjoy the little things and the big things better than Mom, but only if he wants to and most of the time they slip in to that role perfectly. By taking those moments and realizing how small their window is, hopefully they use to wisely. No one gets to throw a child into the air like Dad... No one gets to say, "hand me the ratchet" quite like Dad. No one makes a breakfast sandwich quite like Dad (sometimes Mom gets one of those too). Most importantly, no one gets to introduce a daughter or a son to what kind of guy they should be looking for in life or what kind of man they may want to emulate quite like Dad can. The big picture paints Dads as our giant family umbrellas. And a lot of the time, it's raining.
It doesn't always matter who "Dad" is either... Dad's the person who has decided to give up a lot of small moments and big ones, for the better of their family. They are in the shadows, not out of choice, but because they know we need them there. "Dads" are brave, teaching by example and very, very much a part of our daily lives than we give them credit for.
So ... to our "Dad".... thank you. I see you - we all see you. When you're asked to step up to the plate, you always deliver. And to answer your question from 2006,
"Yes! What would we be doing without you here???"
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Nina and Lina... Judith and Jen
In 2007, a nurse slipped me a piece of paper with a phone number and email address on it. It belonged to my neighbor, Judith. Neither of us were allowed to leave our rooms nor the monitors. I wondered what she looked like, how big her belly was and even what her room looked like. I wondered if she was in pajamas or hospital gown. Whatever made the time pass faster really. We "spoke" on email and most days on hospital phones, but we had never officially met face to face.
On a Sunday morning, my husband and I heard a scream from a woman in the hallway of the bed rest unit. I knew it had to be Judith from the sound of her voice. There was a rush of chaos, followed by complete silence for a long time. Hippa kept anyone from talking to me. It was a blow to me personally.
Over those weeks, we shared a lot of things. We were both pregnant with triplets, both of our mother's names were "Rosemary" and we both grew up Italian. We baked pizzelles, we watched the same shows, had a tendency to cuss, and we shared the same worry and waiting that we knew was coming. The doctors thought it was going to be me that went first and that every day was a blessing for me right down to the hour. Somehow I had heard that her babies were alive and in the NICU and it gave me hope, because she delivered at the cusp of vitality at 24 weeks gestation and I was then just a few days ahead of her now in my pregnancy.
After my own children were born and I was able to walk through the NICU to visit, I saw a girl with long dark brown hair walking towards me. I knew it had to be her. She must have had the same feeling, because she walked right up and introduced herself. And then she introduced her daughters. I watched them as they held their babies a few days later, while I was left still unable to hold the one daughter that I had left with me. I remember taking their picture as my heart sunk into my shoes. Judith holding one and her husband holding another. Those feelings quickly passed as I was equally happy that they weren't in my shoes. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
Over the past 6 years we shared the most beautiful and the most excruciating experiences together. Things didn't exactly turn out in our favors... in fact, we kept getting kicked even when we were down. And then kicked some more. We cherish the gift of friendship and we've moved past the reasons we originally met. We continue to learn that we share so many other things in common and that we are still so close, yet so far away from those days on bed rest. We have truly found a friend in one another.
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| Former roomies, Nina and Adelina (Age 6) |
People always tell Judith and I that we are only given what we can handle. Maybe it's true... maybe not. But having someone to handle the bad times with you is quite the lucky draw. I'm sure either of us would drop each other like a bad habit to have those children running around our homes, but we are in this together.
We've ALL come a long way Baby! Thank you Judith and Nina... and Jason and Tessa.
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| Adelina & Nina about 5 months old at their first play date |
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| Nina, Adelina (age 1) trying to hold Lucia |
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| Gianna, Lucia, Adelina & Nina (Age 2) |
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| PJ Play Date Adelina & Nina (Age 3) |
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| Adelina & Nina in the March of Dimes Walk (Age 4) |
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| Gianna, Nina, Lucia & Adelina (Age 5) |
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Second Opinions
This past 12 months, almost to the day, has been a year of kicks to the ribs for me. A house full of four young children is hard enough, but the added medical and developmental issues has once again given me bigger eyes and better ears as a mother.
Our last appointment for GI has taught us that no matter how well we think we are doing, we are still an experiment. Being "one of a kind" is a tricky subject. A friend posted something a while ago about being a fruit loop in a world full of cheerios. It's true and refreshing, but it's at the same time true and menacing.
A bridge that I've crossed long ago is no longer feeling bad about anything when I'm trying to help my kids. We sometimes need opinions and second and third opinions to let something tough to swallow, sit in our stomachs. For parents with questions, keep looking until you find what you are looking for. And if you find it, always be open to something new. If you don't find it, look for peace. Stop worrying about what people will think of your search, whose feelings may be hurt as a therapist or doctor and certainly don't beat yourself up along the way.
I've learned that when I'm not satisfied and have exhausted my search, I try my own ways for change and progress. Tell you what - mother usually knows best. We just booked two second opinion appointments and there is no guilt felt at all even doing it within the same practice. More importantly, there is also no false hope that someone else will tell me everyone else is wrong and that they have the solution for me.
I search because it makes me more aware, more prepared and better equipped to make decisions. I talk to countless families every week and most of us are in the same boat, just riding a different wave. So here we go guys - sink or swim. What's it going to be?
No paddle? Use a leg.
No energy? find a support person.
No clue what you're doing? Welcome to the club.
But that's just my opinion ;)
Our last appointment for GI has taught us that no matter how well we think we are doing, we are still an experiment. Being "one of a kind" is a tricky subject. A friend posted something a while ago about being a fruit loop in a world full of cheerios. It's true and refreshing, but it's at the same time true and menacing.
A bridge that I've crossed long ago is no longer feeling bad about anything when I'm trying to help my kids. We sometimes need opinions and second and third opinions to let something tough to swallow, sit in our stomachs. For parents with questions, keep looking until you find what you are looking for. And if you find it, always be open to something new. If you don't find it, look for peace. Stop worrying about what people will think of your search, whose feelings may be hurt as a therapist or doctor and certainly don't beat yourself up along the way.
I've learned that when I'm not satisfied and have exhausted my search, I try my own ways for change and progress. Tell you what - mother usually knows best. We just booked two second opinion appointments and there is no guilt felt at all even doing it within the same practice. More importantly, there is also no false hope that someone else will tell me everyone else is wrong and that they have the solution for me.
I search because it makes me more aware, more prepared and better equipped to make decisions. I talk to countless families every week and most of us are in the same boat, just riding a different wave. So here we go guys - sink or swim. What's it going to be?
No paddle? Use a leg.
No energy? find a support person.
No clue what you're doing? Welcome to the club.
But that's just my opinion ;)
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
I love you because I love you
I have been waiting for the day when my little girl could write words on paper. I have been waiting with excitement for the milestone, but more as a relief that if she needs to communicate one day more than the limits that her body may put on her, there is a way.
We have been waiting so long to hear flowing words, because we feared for a long while that she would never speak. Daily therapy, program after program, hundreds of dollars on books and headphones, careful choices in play dates and verbal situations paid off when her school agreed that she could go ahead and enter the first grade. The words started to flow in a manner that was painful to let her finish. I wanted to just finish them for her, because I hated hearing her struggle and I probably would have done so if she wasn't so proud of her new vocabulary as am I. I'll listen to her stumble for close to an hour and sometimes I'm not even sure what she's talking about, but when we lay in bed together at night before she drifts off we are just a couple of old hens exchanging some laughs.
We also worried that she couldn't understand us when she was young, because of the lack of response. We were unsure of which way it could go too... she was just a kid with sparkly eyes and a big smile. So many questions turned into absolute and full surrender by my husband and myself. Giving up on the why and putting all of our energy in the "let's just do this, baby."
In the news of Sandy Hook, having a first grader and a kindergartner at the same school, I am in absolute absence of feeling. I packed my kids bags that morning with the feeling that no matter how hard this is on all of us, I am still packing their bag and will bring them back at the end of the day. When I placed the lunch bag in Gianna's school bag, I found this note from last week inside.
It's the exact thing I have always wanted for her. Words on paper. Words that can describe how she really feels inside. What I read was exactly what I needed to hear on this rainy morning. Sometimes disabilities can be confused with anger and violence and we've worked very hard to make it known that what you might see on the outside, is not always what is happening on the inside. When she was small, she wasn't always a ray of sunshine, because she felt trapped and confused. The anxiety must have been so overwhelming that rigid routines and certain behaviors made her comfortable and at ease, so we battled it with love and support. We made it well known that she was fighting a battle, so that others could give her a chance and not live in fear and shame of a child with a need.
The girl we know now is happy to miss a soccer season or a piano lesson or karate or whatever it is fills the time slots of many of her peers, because she knows she has to "exercise her brain" to get to where she needs to be. She spends extra hours working on speech, writing and reading because she loves to see how hard work can pay off. I can't wait to see what life has to offer someone who works this hard out of pure desire and after last week's tragedy, I hope that God has it in her cards to give that chance to all of us.
The news of Sandy Hook hurt so badly because I'm in the middle of 6 and knowing how hard it was to get here... and to have it all thrown away would be beyond words. One of the students died in the arms of his aide - the people who tirelessly give extra support to kids without making them stand out. On paper, that's us. I can't even imagine that sort of pain... we can only hope for comfort and peace. Gianna's words on paper are the words of so many children her age. They love us because they love us and may those children rest forever in innocence.
We have been waiting so long to hear flowing words, because we feared for a long while that she would never speak. Daily therapy, program after program, hundreds of dollars on books and headphones, careful choices in play dates and verbal situations paid off when her school agreed that she could go ahead and enter the first grade. The words started to flow in a manner that was painful to let her finish. I wanted to just finish them for her, because I hated hearing her struggle and I probably would have done so if she wasn't so proud of her new vocabulary as am I. I'll listen to her stumble for close to an hour and sometimes I'm not even sure what she's talking about, but when we lay in bed together at night before she drifts off we are just a couple of old hens exchanging some laughs.
We also worried that she couldn't understand us when she was young, because of the lack of response. We were unsure of which way it could go too... she was just a kid with sparkly eyes and a big smile. So many questions turned into absolute and full surrender by my husband and myself. Giving up on the why and putting all of our energy in the "let's just do this, baby."
In the news of Sandy Hook, having a first grader and a kindergartner at the same school, I am in absolute absence of feeling. I packed my kids bags that morning with the feeling that no matter how hard this is on all of us, I am still packing their bag and will bring them back at the end of the day. When I placed the lunch bag in Gianna's school bag, I found this note from last week inside.
The girl we know now is happy to miss a soccer season or a piano lesson or karate or whatever it is fills the time slots of many of her peers, because she knows she has to "exercise her brain" to get to where she needs to be. She spends extra hours working on speech, writing and reading because she loves to see how hard work can pay off. I can't wait to see what life has to offer someone who works this hard out of pure desire and after last week's tragedy, I hope that God has it in her cards to give that chance to all of us.
The news of Sandy Hook hurt so badly because I'm in the middle of 6 and knowing how hard it was to get here... and to have it all thrown away would be beyond words. One of the students died in the arms of his aide - the people who tirelessly give extra support to kids without making them stand out. On paper, that's us. I can't even imagine that sort of pain... we can only hope for comfort and peace. Gianna's words on paper are the words of so many children her age. They love us because they love us and may those children rest forever in innocence.
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