dealing with depression, part 2

I'm depressed again.

I think it started yesterday after I read the post about retards in another mommy blog. She was talking about this lady that she least expected to say 'retarded'... and did. And how she dealt with it.

I have thought about the retard thing quite a bit during these past few months. And before, too, actually. It's like the word 'missionary' in a sense. One of those words that started out meaning something quite different from what it's come to mean. I'm not steady on my standing on it all.

But I do know - as I commented on her blog - that I would be inclined to whip the crap out of anyone that called my kid a retard (I think I said it nicer on her blog though).

Over the period of last night - and also feeling sick with another cold - I had memory after memory after memory of fights.

When I first started school, my head was shaved and covered with blood red scars. This was because the year before, that same head had gone through the windshield of a car (seatbelts were still accessories in 1978). I was teased ferociously - in the beginning, I remember standing there, bewildered. Completely not comprehending what was going on. It was when I did that my fighting started.

Then the 7 year old scar-faced scrapper moved to Fiji. And a new type of fighting began - when I'd get followed around and kids would throw stones at me for being white, I'd turn around and dive head-first into the group and beat the shit out of them. The kids were always but always considerably larger than me. It's like my mind goes blank - shuts off - and I don't see or hear anything. I just fight.

That's how my front tooth got chipped - a boy that I was fighting had a ring on and hit me in the mouth.

I don't physically fight anymore (unless I see someone picking on someone else) - but I still have the blank-mind thing when I encounter something outrageous in my line of work, which involves a lot of disability advocacy. I'm older now and aware that it can be more effective to be strategic in how and when to address things that are not right, but there is still the occasional time when I blow up. You know: like when voc rehab counselors start playing God or employers say they are not baby sitters (or even, 'there must be some mistake - we don't hire those people').

This is my history and this is my present. I lay awake for hours last night thinking of the future. With a precious baby girl that might be called retarded. How am I going to deal with this? How??

I'm so deeply tired of fighting. And it would seem that all my past stuff might just be a warm up for what is coming.

I feel like running back to Bolivia and hiding under a beautifully-patterned blanket and waiting for the night stars to come out and just be.

Be.

new things

Well. The Perfect Pregnancy Workout Video Pt 2 was a bit of a let down. It went so damn fast! I played the beginning like, 3 times thinking that I missed something because there was no introduction, nothing. She just jumped right into a vigorous yoga pose. And she's all about vigorous yoga poses. It's only 35 minutes long total, but it's like a race from pose to pose.

While I'm not loving it, I'm not hating it, so maybe I'll just try it again and see which way the ball is going to swing.

Moving on, we got the Baby Einstein Wordsmith from Netflix and Micah is slurping it up and asking for seconds. It's pretty funny. He's not much of a tv kid - even if we have it on, he doesn't pay it much attention. But as I type, he's sitting in front of this one, rapt. Squeaking from time to time when he sees the kitty puppet. It's really good - goes slow, lots of repetition.

I'm thinking we all need to up the ante if Moxie's got Ds - we should be proficient at signing, since it seems that kids with Ds learn sign faster (well, that's true for any kid, I think). So I'm starting now. If she doesn't have it, no harm done. Sign will also be useful for me and my family to communicate if and when I go totally deaf. *smile* And you know I'm not joking!

We ALSO got a new book for Micah - Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb. It's GRRREAT! Full of monkeys and drumming action! And it's so awesome to have something fresh to read. While this kid has a whole load of books, he only reads one or two at a time. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and........ over. Sometimes I am proud of how I seem to be able to make "Goodnight Gorilla" seem fresh after the hundredth read - of that day alone. Good Mommy. Good!

carrots and crunches

I'm reading Skinny Bitch: Bun in the Oven. Like the original Skinny Bitch, it seems like they have some anger issues - they can't stop cussing (when it doesn't seem necessary - it's like they are putting in cuss words just cuz. It's a "tough love" book). And in order to get to what I like (the meal plans) I had to wade through:

- the inconsistencies and hypocrisies including that you shouldn't eat meat because it is rotting flesh and vegetables are living when you eat them (last I checked, those carrots in the fridge were pretty dead)
- all the advocating they do for veggie/vegan processed foods that taste like meat - but wait! we're not supposed to like or eat meat anymore!
- the educational pieces on how bad the meat industry and government are, the evils of chemicals and all that...

Getting over that, there's the meal plans and I like those for mainly inspirational purposes. They stimulate me in doing a better job of combining grains and nutrients and stuff like that. At least I like to think they are.

I've also re-opened my beloved Well Rounded Pregnancy Cookbook. I love this one. I bought this before I even bought any pregnancy/baby books! (I got so freaked out by "What to Expect when you are Expecting" that I ran out of the store). I think this cookbook ought to be a standard that they give out in doctor's offices or something, when you first find out you are pregnant. It's full of great recipes that you can tailor to how you feel (sick/hungry/full). And they taste good! Really, really good.

One more note on this here subject: I also got The Perfect Pregnancy Workout Pt. 2! I was so excited when I saw it. This was made by the twin sister of the Cirque du Soleil acrobat that made the Perfect Pregnancy Workout 1. The first one focuses on pilates-types exercises and the second on yoga. It looks like a pretty bad-ass yoga workout... from the pictures. Have yet to try it (it just came in the mail today).

Ooooh, I'm so excited! I'm going to try it out now.

christmastime

We went to see Mikey's Vietnamese family yesterday for Christmas (Mikey's half Vietnamese, half Ukrainian... which is probably why he just looks Native American). It was great in so many ways - they have this incredibly high energy and just wrap up Micah in their effusive blanket of love. And they cook like there's no tomorrow - their duck and pork and lettuce-wrapped rolls! Mmm, mmm.

They adore Micah. They get down on their knees - all of them - and play with him and cuddle with him and kiss him and just love him. He's a pride for his Great-Grandma on that side.

But you know. There is a lot of prejudice still with not being full Vietnamese. Mikey went through some of that - actually, a lot of that. And after living in Asia for 10 years, I know there is even more prejudice towards disability there then there is here. Aborting a disabled fetus would just be good sense, no big tug-of-emotional-war over it. That is, if you know about the disability. If you don't, then you just deal with it as best you can.

I felt a wave of sadness when I was watching his family play with Micah yesterday. They love Micah despite the fact that he's not full Vietnamese, and a big part of that is that Micah is so very easy to love - he's beautiful, smart, funny - all of these things that we'd like to see ourselves being. I wonder what it'll be like if Moxie's not all those things. And not just with his family - with mine too.

I talked about it with Mikey after we left and he said he'd been thinking the same thing when we were there, and it does. Make him sad too, that is. He said that it'll be all okay because we'll provide our little Rainbow Tiger Moxie-girl all the love she'll need if she's got Ds.

I hope we'll be able to. And I hope that we'll be able to help his family love and accept her and claim her as their own, just as they do with Micah.

@ 22

Yesterday I saw my belly move from the force of Moxie's kicks - twice! After the first time, I called Mikey over and when it happened again (and he saw it), it was so big, the thought I was faking it. Ha!

This little girl in here can move. I don't know if it's just my skin being thinner since I've already had a kid and been stretched out, or that she's going to be even more active than Micah was in utero - or a combination. Because this time - 22 weeks - with Micah, my belly was definitely not bouncing from the force of his kicking. Nope. That came later.

Thinking of that 'later' makes me think again of how BIG I got with Micah... and I just don't want to be that big again. Or maybe it's just the weak part. I think it is. I don't want to be that weak again. I need to up the ante on my non-video exercise components: walking, bike riding, maybe swimming (if I can find a warm pool).

sparkle me up

After I wrote yesterday, I spent some serious time on the blogs written by Moms of girl babies with Ds. I felt so much better.

Those little girls are darling, Ds or not. They don't have dull eyes, they look sparkly and fun. I can deal with that!

And those Moms... wowza. I was reading one blog that I liked in particular, Living for the Love - and really liked all that she's got to say.. and my eyes were rounding over her post on the IEP. That's just crazy, having to deal with a school system that is telling her what her kid should do.

From that angle, I guess I am in a better place than a lot of other people when dealing with government bureaucracy. I take those same IEP's (Individual Educational Plans) and help put them into an IPE (Individual Plan of Employment). I don't make the whole plan of course, DOR (Department of Rehabilitation) does that; I just help them with the career assessment portion of it. My job is to implement the IPE's - to the very end. Until the participant is doing what their IPE says they will do. Be a teacher. A doctor. A lawyer. A biochemical engineer. A social worker. Whatever.

It's a mind-bender for me to think that these little kids - 3 years old! - have IEP's! I mean, that's nuts! If a child didn't have a disability, no parent would be expected to develop an IEP - and it's probably a good thing, because most parents don't have their shit together to know what to put for it. And I'm not of a mind that any parent should. Beyond basic goals like growing and exploring and developing their skill sets and stuff, that is. Putting really clear and strong parameters on what you want your kid to do and become seems pretty controlling to me.

I thought that Mom in her blog handled it with a lot of grace and has excellent sense. I hope I'd be able to do the same if put in the same situation.

apples and oranges

I went to the market today and had to hold back on crying... there were so many beautiful little girls running around. Just beautiful. Doing things little girls do. Being little girls.

None of them had Ds. I guess I'd be surprised if I did see a child at this point who has it; there don't seem to be any.

And it just overwhelmed me, again - how on earth am I going to deal with this if Moxie has Ds? How? How am I going to deal with her sitting in the shopping cart and looking at me with a face full of Ds characteristics (which I do not find attractive) and looking at me with dull eyes - and then just beyond her would be normal little girls just being girls. How????

I wonder yet again why this is so hard for me. I've done an endless amount of thinking and I don't think it's because of any chance of Ds being a reflection of me. I don't think this mostly because I see children - and my own child, Micah - as being their own people. They are not extensions of their parents. I mean, genetically, they are. But they are their own selves. When Micah is being gorgeous and funny and smart and kind, I don't take credit for it, any more than I do when he throws a shit-fit and starts screaming in the street. He is who is he is. My job is to parent him as best I can.

I do think there's a big chunk of just grieving for a child that may never be. If she has it. I mean, she's not ever going to be who she wouldn't have been if she didn't have that extra chromosome. If she has it, that is. But then that begs the question of comparing apples and oranges, right? I shouldn't be upset about that because we all need to just enjoy an apple and understand that it's not an orange and never will be an orange but that's entirely okay because an apple is good too. So I shouldn't be upset if she has it, shouldn't grieve for the "whole" and normal child she would have been without the extra piece.

Shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't. I don't know.