5 Words Make Such a Difference

Our lives descended into emotional turmoil following Cathal’s birth. This new member of our family burst onto the scene with five little words:

Down

Syndrome

Congenital

Heart

Defects

And nothing was the same again.

Huge sadness. Gripping fear. Unbearable pain. Sense of Loss. Un-comprehension. Overwhelming powerlessness. Most of all, for the days and weeks that followed his arrival, the constant worry, relentlessly occupying the mind, physically gripping the body during the day, invading dreams during troubled sleep.

I first saw Cathal in the Intensive Care Unit of the maternity hospital. He was only a few hours old, waiting for his transfer to the Neonate Cardiac Unit of Our Lady’s Children’s Hospital. I was standing by the incubator with the Mammy, and we both agreed he looked perfect. Simply perfect. Yet by then we knew our lives had taken a turn onto a road so less than perfect! And the following 18 months indeed turned out to be so tough!

A few hours after meeting my first grandchild, once back home and talking to my sister on the phone very late that night, I remember saying to her: “He is going to need a lot of love, so much love.... All I can do is love him so much... I can’t do anything else....”


Down
Syndrome
Congenital
Heart
Defects

These words were absent from our vocabulary last Friday morning when Oisín joined our family. When I asked the Mammy “What is he like?” she said “He is perfect!” With a laugh I reminded her that Cathal was perfect too when he was born. “Of course he was. But Oisín IS PERFECT!” Joke aside, I knew what she meant.

Strangely, I did not have any sense of relief at the confirmation that Oisín was as we had been told to expect. Somehow, I was not worried, and even though all the signs pointed to a “no diagnostic needed here”, the shock of Cathal’s own diagnostic had prepared me for accepting anything that may come our way. All I felt was joy. Joy of the anticipation of loving and spoiling another little being, joy for the joy my own daughter was experiencing.

Oisín and his Mammy went home the next day. I had been looking after Cathal and we waited another 24 hours to allow parents and new baby some time on their own before introducing Big Brother to Little Brother. This introduction went very well, and all signs are that Cathal is very accepting, and mindful, of Oisín. I am so proud of him!

But two things struck me on that day: The first was the atmosphere of serenity and joyous contentment in the house. Relaxed faces. Happy voices. Ease of interaction, where no one was afraid of saying the wrong thing, or letting their own angst spill out. Also the ease of looking after a newborn who is in good health, who can feed so easily, who does not have weak muscle tone hampering his sucking, who is not exhausted after a few seconds because his little heart cannot keep up the pace. It all felt ordinary, even (dare I say it?) “normal”.

And then, I noticed how grown up Cathal suddenly seemed. Even though he was the same child as the little boy who had been playing in my house earlier that day, or cuddling up to me in bed that morning, he was no longer the baby. Rather he simply looked older, responsible. He radiated with knowledge, ideas and imagination.

Oisín has no idea yet of how lucky he is to have a big bother like Cathal. Deep inside me is the certainty that I will truly enjoy watching the two of them growing up together.

Do not tell the Mammy and the Dad this, but I secretly hope that the two of them will quickly gang up together and drive their parents demented... You know: “grandchildren are parents’ revenge over their own children”.... ;-)

Oh! The fun they will have!

A second Little Prince!

Un deuxième Petit Prince!

Meet Oisín, Cathal’s little brother, born this morning. Isn’t he beautiful?

Voici Oisín, le petit frère de Cathal, né ce matin. N’est-il pas beau?

Because of restrictions on visits in maternity hospitals at the moment (related to Swine Flu) neither Cathal nor myself have seen him yet “Face to Cuddles”, but Cathal is not too impressed by the photos.... Though to be fair he asked to look at the “baby” again this evening.... Small steps....

A cause des restrictions des visites en maternité en ce moment (à cause de la grippe A) ni Cathal ni moi n’avons encore pu le voir « pour de vrai avec câlins », mais Cathal n’est pas trop sur de ce qu’il en pense en voyant les photos.... Mais pour être juste, il a demandé à regarder de nouveau le « bébé » ce soir.... A petits pas....

One Two Three… Five!

Our Little Genius!

The Wheel of Life

It ended almost the same way it started, very cold, and very white. Almost right up to the last few days of December, snow paralysed our little isle, just as it did at the start of the previous January. Never had we seen the likes of it before. Down to minus 17.5 Celsius! Unheard of in our usually very tempered Atlantic climate.

Also unheard of were the events that brought us where the country now is: in such an economic and financial Arctic winter that my great-great-grand-children might have to pay the final cost it!

I got very angry during the year. The revelations kept coming, some criminal in my view, but who am I to judge, when I am only a taxpayer? An invisible fog kept lifting on the increasing ineptitude of a government which was found to have as much back-bone as an over-cooked spaghetti. Being the person I am, I tried to rationalise the situation, to understand how it all came to pass: I read the articles, I listened to the experts, I watched the documentaries, I followed the debates. And then I sat back and to paraphrase the great Miley Byrne, all I could say was: “Well Holy God!”

I don’t know what 2011 will bring us. But there is one thing I am certain of: I am not going to be bored. The mess has been made, we just have to accept it, and then find new ways not only to clean it up, but to improve, to progress. It is always in times of crises that ideas germinate best. History has taught us this, it’s in our nature, as human beings, to go around in cycles. The Wheel of Life is such a good analogy: it turns and turns, everything is repeated, going up, and down, and up... and yet humanity moves forward, with each turn. On a personnel point, if what is afoot comes to fruition in the next few weeks, I will really look forward to the challenge of doing my little part in the mess-clearing and improvement-setting. Fingers crossed...

And yes, the wheel is turning, on every level. Our own family is moving at its own pace. My own boy has “grown up” a little more in 2010 – though he will probably hate me for saying this. But he has chosen well, she is so nice! My own girl is “growing”, literally, and I can’t wait for this second grandchild to arrive in about 7 weeks’ time. Cathal is an absolute charmer: I was on the phone to him only yesterday, and, as always, he did not say much, but kept chuckling every time I spoke, and then sending me kisses... Major melt on this side, as always.

All in all, 2010 finished on a few good notes, all brought about by very simple pleasures.

Pleasures like Santa Claus bringing Cathal the third character in a series that is now complete for him. He was so thrilled.

Pleasures like ripping open lots of presents on Christmas morning:

NB: Cathal’s Mammy – who has never been much of a morning person – was the one most anxious to get up to see what had been delivered, and had the whole household downstairs around the tree by 7.30 am!

Pleasures like having Daddy pulling you up the hill in an ingeniously-thought-of-by-Mammy sleigh to make sure we could all have a scrumptious family Christmas dinner:

I'm ready, let's go!

Here we come...

Ho ho ho!

Pleasures like teaching Daddy how to use your very first laptop:

NB: You may need to turn the sound up on your pc

And finally the very simple pleasure of walking-walking-walking, especially when Mammy is there for stability and Nana is there to record it all:

Wishing you all the best you can have in 2011.

Playschool?

My oh My! It has been a while since I blogged. Two months in fact! I have never before been so silent, and this is not like me… In truth it has been a mixture of over-busyness (most of the time) and lapses into deep laziness (temporary but so rejuvenating). It is not that there is nothing to report. It is more that too many fingers into too many pies don’t do much for Reflection.

The main event, the one that I have wanted to post about for a while but did not get around to, started a few weeks ago. In itself, it is one of those “little things” we take for granted. One of these steps that occurs as part of life with a young child, that parents (and grand-parents) celebrate but don’t make that much of a big fuss about, because it is expected, it is the norm. In Cathal’s case, of course, it is much more.


When Cathal’s Mammy was very small, she liked playing on her own in the house, but came to a stage when it became obvious she needed more. Also her little brother was on the way, and I needed more time for me. So at age 2 ½ she went to playschool. She was the youngest there, and started as a shy but observant little girl, not saying nor doing much for the first few weeks, just watching thoughtfully. Until one morning the teacher asked, in Irish, what colour was the object she was holding… perfect silence around the circle of children. And then Cathal’s Mammy timidly puts up her hand. You see, from birth her dad spoke Irish to her, and her mum spoke French to her, and she heard English all around… so colours in Irish were no problem to her, even at 2 ½! From that day on, there was no stopping her.

When her brother reached the grand old age of 2 years minus 1 week, something had to be done: he could not understand why his big sister was going to school and he was not. He would go around the house feeling sorry for himself, sighing, and generally looking so bored it broke my heart: I could recognise myself in him, having grown up as an only child until I was twelve, and having hated so much the loneliness and boredom due to lack of siblings around me. So the week of his 2nd birthday, he was farmed out to playschool a couple of mornings a week, and he loved it!

My children may have gone to playschool a little earlier than most, at least by Irish standards at the time, but it was inevitable that they would go, it was expected, it was part of the curriculum every child goes through.

Cathal took his turn to starting playschool a few weeks ago. In itself, nothing major about it. Except that it is a Montessori school. Not special needs. Not Early Intervention. Not Skip. Just good old-fashion, run-of-the-mill, ordinary Montessori school. And THAT is major for Cathal.

Finding such a school was not that easy. The fact that Cathal does not walk, and that he is still in nappies, meant a few “no’s” were expressed in what would have been his parents’ first choices. And then this one came on the radar. It is also a crèche, and the Montessori sessions (e.g. the school part of it) are also available to all the children in the crèche from 12 months of age. So bum-shuffling nappy-wearing little ones are not an issue there. Cathal was more than welcome.

The first time, he was there for just one hour. His Mammy reported that he was happy to see her, but not over enthusiastic at going home. The second time, he was there for two hours, and almost ignored her when she came back. Since then he does not want to come home, and is now staying a full three hours once a week. After Christmas, he will go twice a week, giving his Mammy a well-deserved break and quality me-time (especially before the new baby arrives!) Most importantly, Cathal gets right in the middle of things, follows the other children, gets involved in all the activities, has his 11 o’clock break like anyone else. The other children do not know any different. He does not know any different.

In short, total integration. More than anything else he has experienced in his life so far, that is the first true step towards independence. No matter what kind of education system he follows later on, mainstream or special, this little school is contributing to giving him his own space in society.

I am very proud of him for willingly accepting this new challenge, and very proud of his parents for ensuring he is given this chance. I am also very thankful to the playschool for saying “yes, no problem”. And I am wishing all educational places that come along his path in the future will have the same attitude towards him.