Spirit of Motherhood

As the clock ticked over to Mothers Day 2013, I was sitting in the Emergency Department of the Royal Childrens’ Hospital while my middle son was treated for croup. We are well familiar with croup in our house, as Charlie had his first episode when he was only four months old, and usually we manage to treat it successfully at home. But when I saw my baby struggling for air and too distressed to take the medicine that would help him, the mothers instinct kicked and in and we decided he’d be better off in the hands of the experts this time. It was a long night with little sleep, but Charlie’s fine and we’re home, albeit tired.

It was a fitting start to Mothers Day, really – a reminder of how lucky I am to have these three (usually very) healthy boys in my life who have given me this title of ‘mother’, one I wear with pride.

I arrived home to a beautiful handmade bookmark from Sam, which he was so excited to give me, and big cuddles from Nicholas. I appreciated the kindy-made bath salts from Charlie and a letter telling me he loves jumping on the trampoline with me. I enjoyed receiving a bunch of flowers from my parents-in-law, and sitting back with coffee and brunch that my husband had lovingly cooked. And, while I love all those moments of appreciation that celebrate me as a mother, I know that the spirit of motherhood is also present in the hard stuff, in the struggles and brokenness. I know that some days we may feel more like warriors than princesses, that being a mother is not always (ever?) a holiday.

Over the weekend I read this blog post, in which Ethan Saylor’s mother talks about memories of her son and facing this Mother’s Day without him. I have read many articles and blog posts about Ethan since his death, but this one really brought it home for me. Regardless of his abilities or disabilities, health conditions, how he looked or how valued he was by our society, Ethan Saylor was, first and foremost, his mother’s son and cherished family member. He is loved and valued and should not have died over the cost of a movie ticket. Today, of all days, Patti shouldn’t be grieving the loss of her son. (Please sign this petition in support of Ethan’s family).

On this Mother’s Day, I want to remember the women who may find it difficult to celebrate today, mothers who may feel a little lost, sad and forgotten.

A mother who has carried a baby within her belly but never gets to take her precious one home.

A mother who is far too familiar with hospital walls and parenting sick children.

Women who are mothers in their hearts, but circumstances mean they aren’t able to carry their own babies.

Mothers who, for whatever reason, have to contemplate not keeping the baby who grows within.

Mothers who have to bury beloved children well before their time.

Single mums who face the challenges of parenting alone.

Mothers who feel under-resourced and under-supported in raising children with special needs.

Women who manage to find the strength to be incredible mothers (even if they don’t feel like they are) in spite of their own illnesses or struggles.

Women who have lost their own mothers.

Any woman who feels she needs some extra grace today…

May you find grace, may you feel loved, may you know you are cherished. Thinking of you on this Mother’s Day.

Four Things

At the end of each year, past students from the high school I attended are asked to return and speak with small groups of current graduates in their final week of school. The school has called this ‘Evolution Day’ and, as part of it, the girls are able to hear from past students and listen to some of their reflections on life after school. The past students are of all vintages, from the newly graduated to the more mature of us and, no doubt, offer a wide variety of thoughts and perspectives based on their experiences. I volunteered to speak at the end of 2012, so I thought I’d share an excerpt of my talk to the girls.

As I drove to school for Evolution Day 2012, I felt very nervous and tried to work out what exactly was making me feel on edge – was it talking in front of people, which I haven’t done for a long time? Was it about the story I was going to tell? When I realised that it was because I was pretty certain I was going to cry and felt uncomfortable about doing so in front of a room full of people, I let go a little. I reminded myself that it was okay to show vulnerability, that if I was going to do my story justice, I had to have faith in the girls I was addressing to accept me and my emotions and my story as it was, without putting on a brave face or pretending to be someone I wasn’t. And did I cry? Oh Lordy, yes. For the girls who remember my talk in years to come, I will go down in history as the crazy emotional woman who cried through a 20 minute presentation. And that’s okay with me ;)

Our brief was to share the four things we think the girls should pack in their ‘bag’ for the journey ahead. After much deliberation, these are the four superpowers I decided upon – a sense of humour, an open heart, a net and a compass. These are explained in more detail below…

A Sense of Humour: As I’m sure you already well know, not everything in life is going to go the way we plan it. And some things, whilst funny in hindsight, are just plain hard to live through. But I have learnt that if we have a positive outlook, if we can laugh at ourselves when things just seem unfair, that’s half the battle.

An Open Heart: Unfortunately, broken hearts are part of life. They hurt. I have learned that either we can pack up those broken bits of heart and never know what it feels like to really love or to live, or we can ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ and ‘love like we’ve never been hurt’. If we have an open heart, we open ourselves up to pain and suffering, but also to amazing joy, love, and blessings.

A Safety Net: I have surrounded myself with a ‘safety net’, made up of the kind of people who love me for exactly who I am, but who aren’t afraid to ask me some tough questions when they need to. They are happy to celebrate with me, but know how to cry with me too. They move mountains to support me, but I can’t just assume that they’ll be there no matter what. I am part of their net too. I have to nurture the friendships that are important to me, let them know they are loved too. Different people might support you in different situations, and perhaps those who make up your safety net, whether it includes God, family or friends, may change over time as you go through various phases of your life. What matters is that you have a net, and that you nurture that net, because you never know when you might need that net to catch you.

A Compass: There’s a marketing concept we use in our business called ‘true north’- our ‘guiding light’, I suppose. In the process of creating and building our business, we effectively decided what kind of personality our little company would have and what values were important to us. Then, if ever we were confronted with a difficult decision, we could think about our true north and decide whether a particular course of action is consistent with our values. A compass can be a very handy navigational tool in our personal lives too. Sometimes we make decisions that are maybe a bit silly, that don’t fit with our true north, but I’d like to think we learn from those and they help us remember who we really want to be, and that maybe next time it’s easier to follow where our heart says our true north is. But sometimes the decisions we face are big ones and we need to stay true to who we are, to where the compass is pointing, even if it feels like a much tougher road to follow.

I began by telling the girls a little about my journey to date. I told them a few of my travel stories from backpacking with three of my girlfriends. I told them of my first love, and the love I ended up marrying. And then I told them of a time when I needed all four of my superpowers…

I truly believe that everyone writes their own story, and you’re in the process of writing yours. Today I’m going to share with you a little of mine.

In July last year, I asked my mother-in-law to take my measurements so that I could have a dress made for my sister’s wedding. As she was taking those measurements, she said, “Annie, are you pregnant?” I said, “pft, noooo” and laughed it off. But, as it happened, I had a pregnancy test in the bathroom, so the next day I did one… and it was positive. Then I rang Ben and asked him to buy another pack, and I did three more… all positive. Eek. Wasn’t exactly in ‘the life plan’ to have three children under four, but eventually I got over my denial and embraced the fact that we were going to have another baby.

We had a scan at our Obstetrician’s office at 9 weeks and I saw a tiny little heartbeat on my tiny little baby. I’m not sure how much you know about babies, scans, prenatal testing, but the next milestone is about 12 weeks – it’s the end of the first trimester and most mums-to-be breathe a little sigh of relief about then as the chances of miscarriage drops considerably after that point. In addition, the morning sickness and extreme tiredness tend to wane a little. So, it’s a good point. It’s also the time that you can have what’s known as ‘nuchal translucency’ test – whereby they combine the results of a blood test with an ultrasound to tell you what the likelihood is that your baby will have some of the more common chromosomal abnormalities. I’m guessing they call it a nuchal test because one of the things they check is the size of the nuchal fold at the back of the baby’s neck, which can be thicker with some conditions.

So Ben and I went along to our nuchal scan and saw our healthy looking baby with its little heart beat and the sonographer told us the baby looked ‘structurally good’. As part of the routine, which we were well familiar with as this was baby #3, we then sat down with a doctor who puts all the relevant numbers into the computer and spits out a result. With Sam and Charlie, this number had been about 1 in 2000. On this particular day, the doctor said that our chance of having a baby with Trisomy 21 (or Down syndrome) was one in 14. Hmm, not quite the odds we were looking for. Our world shifted that day. The rest of the meeting was a bit of a blur, then we went and sat in a park, cried and talked for a while. We had difficult conversation #1 of many.

My sense of humour kicked in. “Darn it, I told God not to challenge me on this one.” Ben said, “Well, there’s your problem. You should have just flown under the radar!”

We were afraid. We had visions of every stereotype we’d ever heard about Down syndrome, we worried about how having a disabled child would impact our marriage, the children we already had, our finances, our plans for the future, our lives in general.

At this point in the game we had two main options – we could wait it out until the baby arrived, or we could do further testing, but that testing involved a risk to the baby. We did a lot more crying and talking. Then some days we just couldn’t talk about it anymore. Our ‘net’ kicked in and friends and family members came and took the boys so Ben and I could spend time alone, people brought food, girlfriends sat on the floor with me and cried. We rationalised the numbers over and over and worked out that 1:14 meant that there was a 7% chance our baby would have Down syndrome, so 93% chance everything would be okay, right? In some ways we reacted as though we’d been given a definite diagnosis, but we still had hope that things would work out the way we wanted it to, that we wouldn’t be ‘the one’. We decided that this baby would be beautiful and loved no matter how many chromosomes it had, but we would go insane waiting it out. So we researched and decided to undergo an amniocentesis, something I said I would never do – which involved having a needle inserted into my belly to draw out a sample of amniotic fluid, and the genetic material of the baby would be checked to see how many copies of the 21^st chromosome it had.

On the day of the amnio, I felt remarkably calm. When we had our ultrasound before the procedure, the sonographer said that she didn’t see any ‘markers’ which would indicate Down syndrome, and at that point I was almost ready to pack up and go home. But I didn’t. I did my relaxation breathing, a doctor put a needle through my belly and it was all over pretty quickly. Then we had to wait about 48 hours for the results. Longest 48 hours of my life. First day I talked myself into the fact that they wouldn’t be ringing me that quickly, but by the second day I was completely nuts. By 3pm on the second day, I couldn’t cope any longer and made Ben ring the obstetrician, who was in surgery. She called back a little later but I couldn’t bear to take the call and handed it to Ben to be the brave one. I didn’t even want to listen to it on speakerphone. I just knew what the answer was going to be. Ben just nodded, “It’s positive. Baby has Downs.”

I have to tell you, there is a big difference between someone telling you that there’s a pretty good chance your baby is going to have Down syndrome and receiving a definite, 99.9% positive diagnosis. I had some pretty good theories about how the world should work, what was right and wrong… but I had never walked in these shoes before.  We were then given about 48 hours to decide whether we should have a ‘termination for medical reasons’, which we didn’t.

The next five months were amongst the hardest I have had to live through. I had moments where I felt completely invincible, where I knew it would all be okay; and I had times where rocking quietly in a corner seemed far easier than having to face the world and be a grownup. I had an increasingly expanding belly with a baby inside that we’d been told wasn’t conforming to society’s standards of perfect.

But I’m not telling you this story because I want to warn you about the scary things that may happen in your life. This tale isn’t a tragedy, it’s a love story.

On 20^th March 2012, I gave birth to our third beautiful boy who we named Nicholas. He has white blonde hair, with a big curl that stands up on the top of his head like something out of Dr Seuss, and big blue eyes. He is loved – by us, and our wide network of friends, by his grandparents, by his 16 cousins, and uncles and aunties, and most especially by his two big brothers. He may take a little longer to do the things that kids of his age are doing, but it’s not a competition. Nicholas is writing his own story too.

Every day that I get to snuggle his little body, see his big beaming smile, see how loved he is, I am thankful for the net, the open heart, the positive outlook and sense of humour, the compass that guided us to this place.

There was a time when this story could have turned into a tragedy, but there is always a light on the other side, even if it’s different to how we expected it to look. Sometimes when we step into the darkness, we just have to trust that on the other side there’ll either be ‘solid ground on which to stand or wings to help us fly’*.

To finish, I’m going to leave you with a poem that was given to me by a beloved teacher when I was in grade 12. My copy has travelled the world and gave me some perspective in times when I needed it the most:

 After a while you learn

The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child

And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn
That you really can endure
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every good bye you learn.

~ Veronica A. Shoffstall

Thank you for sharing in our story today. I wish you every blessing as you continue on your journey, as you go and write your own story.

*I heard this quote once but can’t for the life of me find it again, so please forgive me for the lack of source. If you know where it comes from, I’d love to know!

What do you think your ‘four things’ would be? What superpowers have helped you on your journey so far?

One Year, Survival and a Village

As Nicholas’ first year rolled around on 20th March, the Love 5 spent the day at the beach in Torquay, Victoria, splashing in the water and building sandcastles, followed by celebratory ice-cream. I think it was that day Nicholas officially decided to become a surfie when he grows up, as he just loved being in the water (despite it being far too cold for this mumma!). It was a perfect, low-key way to celebrate our Littlest Love – our little family, just hanging out together and doing the things we love.

Who’s that cute baby? In love with his own reflection on his number 1 balloon.

Given our Melbourne holiday was followed shortly by Easter, our official celebrations for Nicholas’ first birthday were a few weeks after his actual birthday. It was a casual Saturday afternoon gathering in a local park, filled with family and friends, balloons, kids and cake and, whilst not exactly sunny, I think with only a couple of light showers, we can say we managed to avoid the ‘Love-party-rain-curse’ for a change! It’s unlikely that our parties will ever appear as inspiration on Pinterest (I honestly wrote my first list the night before the event, but somehow it all came together) but, in my eyes at least, it was a beautiful afternoon. On a whim, we made a last minute decision to hire a face-painter and it was evident from all the beautifully painted faces and the fact that she hardly had a second to breathe between clients, that she was a hit. While my baby boy was a little overwhelmed by all the festivities and was happiest in Mum’s arms, I hardly saw my two big boys and, at the end of the party, Charlie asked if we could ‘all come back tomorrow’

As I mentioned to those who gathered with us, the party wasn’t just about celebrating this gorgeous boy who came into our family one year ago (although that in itself is a pretty good reason to celebrate), it was also about Ben and I high-fiving each other on surviving our first year of having three children in tow. But, mainly, it was about saying thank you to the village who helps us raise our children. We feel extremely blessed by the presence of these three beautiful, healthy boys in our lives, but we are also very thankful to be surrounded by family and friends who love our boys almost us much as we do. Their genuine love is always so evident in our lives.

I will allow some photographs of the special day to tell the rest of the story.

A quiet chat with Grandad

So, obviously our request for donations to charity in lieu of gifts was largely ignored… but the present opening was good fun, especially being able to play with the wrapping paper.

Yay. Love books.

The first birthday cake was met with the same response as his first taste of chocolate at Easter, ‘Thanks Mum, but where’s the real food?’ and cast aside for a plate of fruit.

Three

Before Charlie arrived into this world, I was expecting a carbon copy of his big brother. But instead, we received a nine pound bundle of joy with white blonde hair (the nurses were so taken by his hair that they kept taking it in turns to come and see him ), a boy who is so different from his older brother in so many ways.

Going home from the hospital, four days old

Charlie at one

My two year old boy, as he became a big brother

From the moment he arrived, Charlie tried to make it easy as possible on his mother, who was struggling with the transition from one child to two. He was my angel baby – happy, calm, a good feeder and sleeper (well, for the most part), and surprisingly in love with Sam, despite being poked in the eye almost daily by his then 21-month old brother and needing some quality protection. Charlie was not hard to love. He continued to be an ‘easy kid’ as he grew, happy in his own company, low maintenance and cute as a button. Charlie was by no means a pushover – he was certainly able to assert himself – but for the most part he was easygoing with a beaming smile. I often described Charlie as ‘my delight’ and secretly wondered how I got so lucky with this boy.

Oh, but as three approached, this little man decided it was time for Mum and Dad to start earning their stripes. As the rollercoaster of parenthood continues to demonstrate, just as Sam has matured and started taking it a little easier on us, Charlie has picked up the baton and is going for gold on testing the boundaries. Of course, our middle child is completely different to his brother when it comes to discipline and has broadened our parenting creativity no end as we learn what works and what, clearly, doesn’t. I’ve decided that being three must be pretty exhausting, as the emotional rollercoaster Charlie’s on can be very bumpy at times! He challenges us, and yet he is still such a delightful kid…although, God knows some days it’s lucky he’s pretty cute

Our beautiful medium-sized boy turned three in March. As each of our children do, Charlie brings a unique set of characteristics, qualities, gifts and joys into our family.

Chopsie, on your third birthday, here is a list of some of my favourite things about you…

* Your boundless imagination that enables you to make something out of anything. You can be a ninja, a puppy dog, a king or a ‘builder man’ at any moment in time depending on what you have at your disposal. The world is your oyster and your creativity never ceases to amaze us.

* Your own special language. Your language skills and vocabulary have expanded exponentially in the past year, but we still love listening to some of your quirky expressions – such as when a string isn’t just tangled, it’s ‘rectangled’, all toast is ‘fruit toast’, and every adult male is a ‘daddy’ and every female a ‘mummy’. The way you copy some of Sam’s mannerisms make me laugh.

* The conversations we have when you don’t have to compete for attention. You are smart, funny, energetic, interesting. I love listening to everything you have to say. If you don’t have anything that needs saying, you will find a way of stating the obvious.

* The love you have for your brothers, ‘Nitty’ and ‘Sammy’. They do sometimes drive you a bit crazy, especially the big one, but you love having Sam’s buy-in with a plan and being part of his schemes, and you always  look out for your favourite baby and make sure I’m doing the right thing by him (except when it diverts attention from you ).

* You are an apple monster. Most dramatic situations can be alleviated with the introduction of an apple, and there would be no limit to how many apples you could consume in a day if it were up to you.

* You sleep in. Enough said.

* Your mop of blonde hair, which you’d be quite happy if we never had cut, and your beautiful smile.

* You are happiest at home with your family. You love going out and doing new things, but you would be just as happy playing at home with us. Even if better if the activity involved sitting ‘with’ us (aka. ‘on’ us).

Charlie, thanks for being you, buddy. Love you to bits x

One of my favourite recent Instagram pics – snuggles with Daddy

DS101: What I Have Learned

I can’t believe it’s almost the end of March. Oh, I had such good intentions, blog posts all planned. Alas, whilst it was a month not well documented, it was one well-lived

So far in March, we have celebrated the birthdays of two of our little Loves – Charlie turned three on the 18^th, and Nicholas was one on the 20^th. We travelled to Melbourne for a beloved family member’s beautiful wedding and were thankful to stay a little longer to soak up the city’s fabulousness while we were in the neighbourhood. Although we were all a little weary on our return, we had a wonderful 10-day trip and were very proud of our three little travellers. To add to the busy month, our house is currently undergoing some minor, but pretty exciting, renovations. It’s all happening in the Love household.

Another special event on this month was World Down Syndrome Day on 21 March – a date very suitably chosen because Down syndrome occurs when there are three copies of the 21^st chromosome (3:21). This year marked the 8^th anniversary of WDSD and, as of 2012, this international awareness day is now officially observed by the United Nations. There have been loads of events happening all around the world, some running with the theme of lots of socks, as well as lots of great blog posts (like this very thought-provoking one on action) and video clips (like this one and this one) dedicated to Down syndrome.

Last year on WDSD, I was in hospital with my newest favourite person with Down syndrome, as Nicholas was born the day before. This year, we were away from home and local celebrations but I didn’t want to let it go by without acknowledgement, albeit belated, so I just wanted to tell you about a couple of things I have learned about Down syndrome over the past year. I don’t want to re-hash everything you could find if you Googled Down syndrome, but here are some things we didn’t know we would ever need to know…

* In Australia and in the US, the correct name of the diagnosis is Down syndrome. There is no apostrophe (Down). The ‘s’ in syndrome is not capitalized (syndrome). In the UK, it is still known as Down’s Syndrome.

* We choose to use ‘people-first’ language that focuses on the person, rather than the diagnosis, but it’s not just about being politically correct. Language is such an important tool, especially in breaking down stereotypes and ensuring everyone is treated with respect. For example, we would say ‘a child with Down syndrome’ rather than ‘a Down syndrome child’ or ‘Downs child’. We say that Nicholas ‘has’ Down syndrome, not that he ‘is’ Down syndrome or that he ‘suffers from’ Down syndrome. He also has blonde hair, blue eyes and a killer smile – all features that make up who he is, but they don’t define who he is. And, just quietly, this baby is not suffering from anything except being ‘dangerously cute’ (as quoted by his speech therapist .

* As well as WDSD, in March, there’s also an annual day of awareness for the hurtful use of the r-word. If you haven’t considered how this or other offensive words may make people with a disability (or those who love them) feel, I think Deanna summed it up beautifully with this blog post. Please, give the r-word the flick for good, let’s get more creative with our vocabulary and encourage other people you know to do so too.

* While the chance of having a baby with Down syndrome does increase with maternal age, around 80% are born to mothers who are under 35 and 20% of these are under 25.

* People with Down syndrome are often referred to with platitudes such as being ‘always happy and loving’. While our gorgeous boy is particularly happy and resilient, I put this more down to a requirement of being a (sometimes neglected) third child rather than having Down syndrome. As with any child, each individual is different and unique and able to demonstrate a multitude of emotions! 

* There can be physical features associated with Down syndrome, such as low muscle tone, a single crease across the palm of the hand, a slightly flattened facial profile and an upward slant to the eyes. Another feature is something called ‘Brushfield Spots’, which a friend of mine lovingly calls ‘stars in their eyes’, which Nicholas has. While there are similar features that enable us to see someone has Down syndrome, someone with DS also inherits physical traits from their parents and often look a lot like their family members.

* While I know that it is said with love and appreciate the compliment, we are not special parents because we are parenting a child with ‘special needs’. We are not even remotely amazing. We are just parents doing the best we can for our three beautiful boys. I read a quote recently which resonated with me – “God doesn’t give special needs kids to special parents. He takes ordinary, imperfect people and gifts them with his greatest treasures. And therein he creates special parents.” Hmm, now ordinary and imperfect… sounds much more like us

And, finally, we have been blown away by the overwhelmingly positive response to the article on Down syndrome that Nicholas recently appeared in. On our return from Melbourne (and with no food in the house!), we went to a local café for breakfast and were greeted by the restaurant manager, who was very excited to see his favourite ‘famous baby’ and show us the current edition of qweekend. As well as being mentioned in the Editor’s Letter, the qweekend had also published a whole page of letters written in response to the Chosen Ones article. The article has raised some interesting discussion and debate, but I also feel that the DS community (especially locally) is feeling quite uplifted by the article and the positive response, which is great. Here is a scanned (PDF) copy of the Editor’s Letter and page of Letters to the Editor. And, if you haven’t seen the original article, there’s now a full version available online or you can download a scanned copy here.

March has been a busy month with much to celebrate. A month to celebrate birthdays, a wedding, a holiday, and the beginnings of a more comfortable home to live in. It is also a great time to celebrate individuals with Down syndrome, but let’s take it a step further to celebrate a world rich with diversity and encourage acceptance and inclusion for every individual.

*Sources: www.ndsccenter.org, www.dsaq.org.au

The Chosen Ones

I have a few posts in the pipeline, but we’ve had a bit of excitement this weekend that I wanted to share with you. About a month ago, we were asked to be involved in an article on Down syndrome due to appear in a magazine called ‘qweekend’ which is inserted into our state’s newspaper, the Courier Mail, on a Saturday.

The journalist, Leisa Scott, arrived on our doorstep a few weeks later and we had a fairly relaxed chat about our journey with Down syndrome so far, specifically focusing on our prenatal diagnosis…and, somehow, Leisa managed to make sense of all my ramblings. Nicholas was wide awake when Leisa arrived, but had fallen asleep on my shoulder by the time the photographer, Russell Shakespeare, arrived and set up. Russell took some shots of Nicholas asleep on my shoulder, but startled by all the flashes, Nicholas woke up so Russell managed to get a few of him awake as well.

I was feeling rather nervous about the article appearing and it didn’t help the nerves when a friend sent me a text message on Friday saying that she’d seen a preview for the coming weekend’s edition of qweekend and spotted Nicholas on the cover! Eek. We had no idea his photo would appear on the cover. Needless to say, I was beating down the door of the corner store early on Saturday morning to buy the paper – and there was my beautiful, blue-eyed boy staring back at me. I walked home along our street, reading the article with tears in my eyes.

We are very thankful to all the families who shared their stories, and to Leisa Scott for weaving them together in a wonderful, positive article about Down syndrome. Russell Shakespeare took some amazing photos which we will treasure. We have been overwhelmed by all the positive feedback, emails, phone calls, and messages we have received in the past 48 hours, so thank you for reading and spreading the word. I would also personally like to thank my beloved husband for sharing in all of the ups and downs of this love story with me and our three gorgeous boys.

Nicholas seems to be fairly unfazed by all his new-found fame

As promised, click on The Chosen Ones to download a PDF version of the physical article which appeared in the 9 March edition of qweekend. It is rather large and has just been scanned on our little home scanner, so apologies for the quality!

For an excerpt of the story, you can read the online version here.

New Year

As the year began, I was completely pumped about what 2013 would have in store. I was going to be healthier and fitter, be more organised, get in more me-time in for writing, blogging and photography, work on our business more, finish off all the unfinished projects in our house, be a better mum and wife… generally, be a superwoman. After five years of either being pregnant or having a new baby, I decided that my guiding word for 2013 was going to be ‘re-energise’. Oh yeah, watch me go.

In the week between Christmas and New year, Ben and I (and Nicholas) were spoilt with a night away at a hotel while the big boys were at a sleepover with their beloved grandparents. I find that, even just having a few hours away from all three children, my mind starts to stretch and breathe, I start dreaming and imagining. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with my children, but I also love that feeling of my imagination running off in a thousand different directions that only seems to come when I have time without the tiny voices that talk at me from every angle. I spent some time reading and thinking about this book, and I came away from that night away feeling refreshed and excited about the new year ahead.

Then I returned home to my three tiny voices who are on the go from early in the morning, two of whom never sleep during the day and the third who catnaps, who seem to take forever to go to bed, who seem to take it in turns to be up at some stage overnight, who always seem to need to be fed and clothed and played with and loved. I returned home and suddenly I felt exhausted again. And slowly my little light of excitement about the year ahead seemed to flicker and I wondered how I possibly thought I’d fit that all in.

The reality of having three small children is that I’ll probably never feel as though I have enough time to fit it all in. And, if I asked a mother with older children who have to be picked up from school, driven to tennis lessons, watched while they do homework, etc, they probably never feel as though they have enough time either. Wherever we are in life, there always seems too much to fit in. I guess this is real life.

So I think I need to start over. I think need to break my excitement, my inspiration, my projects, my me-time into little bite-size chunks and fit things in where I can. I think I need to celebrate the little things I do achieve rather than always lamenting where my time escapes to. And I think I need to escape from those three tiny voices every now and again to let my imagination get some exercise, and also try to work out how I can re-energise while they are with me.

Oh yeah, it’s pretty much a circus around here 24/7.

Here’s to re-energising in 2013. What’s your guiding word this year? How do you manage to fit it all in?