“Hey, Dillon. Did you get your note?” I asked after school, about a week before Cate was born.  ”Yes,” he said. “And I think you should write me a note every day.”

Every day? Every single day? Yes, he said. Every single day.

On day two, Dillon told me the note was too short. Apparently, he has a two sentence minimum. And each day, as I pen a new note (sometimes I add a splash of crayon) I wonder: How many different ways can I tell this child how much I love him? Will I run out of things to say? There are no limits to my love; but I feel limited in my ability to express it. When your heart overflows, are words ever sufficient?

Since Cate arrived, I’ve been overwhelmed by love. From the friends who have visited, brought flowers, gifts and meals. From those who have commented on my blog or left notes on Facebook. I can say thank you over and over again, but the words never seem to match the depth of my gratitude.

Sometimes, a simple thank you doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes, saying “I love you” doesn’t either. Even though it probably is.

Have you ever felt love that was bigger than words?  

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Who’s to say what’s impossible?
Well, they forgot
This world keeps spinning
And with each new day
I can feel a change in everything

Who’s to say I can’t do everything?
Well I can try
And as I roll along I begin to find
Things aren’t always just what they seem

I want to turn the whole thing upside down
I’ll find the things they say just can’t be found
I’ll share this love I find with everyone
We’ll sing and dance to Mother Nature’s songs
I don’t want this feeling to go away

This world keeps spinning and there’s no time to waste

Upside down
Who’s to say what’s impossible and can’t be found?
I don’t want this feeling to go away

Please don’t go away

Today, the lyrics return to me, and I reflect on what they meant to me then. And now.

Happy 6th birthday, Dillon.

We’re just living in it!

Baby Cate was born Friday night! So happy to share her with you.

What’s worse, do you think? That my son louded me out to his teacher? That he saw the naked M & M going “wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle” or that he confused the lyrics of “Sexy and I Know It” with LMFAO’s parody of the song?

Thank goodness he doesn’t know what LMFAO means. At least I don’t think he knows.

I can always count on Abby to make me feel better. Check out this beautiful butterfly drawn by her son. Look closely.

photo courtesy of abbyofftherecord.com

Abby suggested I order a signed copy and hang it in Cate’s nursery. I’m surrounded by comedians.

Have a great weekend!

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Cami

by Brock Heasley

Talking about being the parent of a special needs child is just about my least favorite thing to do. Not because I don’t love Cami and don’t think she’s quite nearly the most brilliant and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen (she’s definitely in the top 4), but because conversations about Cami still have to adhere to the two-sided rule of communication.

I talk, then the other person talks. Repeat.

Monologue would be so much simpler.

Unless you’re the parent of a special needs kid yourself (and a lot of times not even then because the needs, being the special thing that they are, are as unique as the kids themselves), you don’t really know how to talk to a parent of a special needs kid.  Talking to a parent about their kid with the mental and physical handicaps is an almost universally uncomfortable thing for people to do. I know that because it comes across during even the simplest of exchanges.

And I know it because I wasn’t always the parent of a special needs child.

Cami, today. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Cami will be seven-years-old in March, but most people assume she’s about three. She’s very small and her muscles are so weak she expends twice as much effort being cute and amazing. She can say a few words, like “hi” and “bath” and, just recently, “I did it!” She also knows a few basic signs like “please” and “thank you” and “more.”

Cami is very social. She loves everybody and loves to give hugs. She used to wear glasses and need a walker. Though she’s still pretty wobbly, watching her walk on her own brings me intense joy, every single time. She is the sweetest, most pure thing on this planet. She has been the source of my biggest smiles and I’ve never cried harder than when I’ve wept for her.

They say that having a special needs child is like grieving. They’re right. You have so many hopes and dreams for your child and they all go up in flames in a fire that never stops burning. Over the past 6+ years, we’ve gone through all the stages of grief and it’s only recently, after all the experts and tops in their fields have weighed in and come up with nothing–no diagnosis, no treatment, not even any idea as to how long she can expect to live–that we’ve finally just accepted. We accept Cami for who she is.

My wife and I are Cami’s parents today. Yesterday has so much pain in it that we don’t think about it that often. Tomorrow we know nothing about and I’m tired of guessing and fighting against that. I accept, totally, who Cami is today. I love her for it. I don’t know what’s next and I don’t have to know. I don’t even really care any more, because now is when we have her and all the light she brings.

That’s what I want to tell people when they ask about her, but I don’t. Because that’s a lot, and, frankly, I know most people aren’t interested in hearing it.

Some people are arrogant. They let their curiosity get the best of them because they don’t know what else to say, vomiting their “educated” guess as to Cami’s condition as if the discovering of it will somehow allow them to move past their discomfort (it doesn’t). These people almost always have a third cousin whose kid has Down’s and are very quick to tell us how little they know about him.

Some people resort to platitudes. My favorite is the one that says my wife and I must be really special ourselves to be entrusted with the care of such a special spirit. As if we’ve won some secret lottery that they themselves are grateful they never got a ticket for. It’s a comforting falsehood meant only for the one speaking it. Special needs kids are born to both the loving and the crack addicts.

Some people have mental blocks when it comes to Cami. They see her, they seemingly recognize that there’s something not quite right there, but then it’s like they forget. They’ll go on and on about how their 9-month old just got up and started running one day. Meanwhile, my kid sits on the playground with the other kids running around her.

And she’s four.

Cami, at age four. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Some people just don’t talk to you at all. Sometimes, that’s kind of nice, but those people always stare. It’s weird and they’re weird for doing it and it makes you feel weird.

I get it. I know it isn’t always easy to know the right thing to say. Goodness knows my foot takes up such frequent residence in my mouth that I’ve given it a drawer. But knowing the right thing to say or do isn’t the most important thing when talking to a parent of a child with special needs.

There are the people who just listen. Who ask honest, simple questions and remember to let you talk about how you feel about your child instead of telling you how you should feel. These people accept your child and you at face value, without comparison or judgement. They aren’t always going to know the right thing to say, but they’re in tune enough to recognize when they haven’t.

Cami, at three. One of Brock's favorite photos.

We call these people our friends. Because they speak to us with love.

Brock Heasley lives in Fresno, California with his wife and three daughters. Brock’s memoir, Raised by a Dead Man, a coming-of-age story between two shootings, is represented by Bonnie Solow of Solow Literary. Visit him at BrockHeasley.com

Nope. To this day, Angela is the name on the bank statement. If you call me Angela, it means you don’t know me. Like the second grade teacher who refused to call me Angie.

Which brings me around to how my husband and I came up with the name “Cate” for our (when are you going to get here?) baby girl.

We’ll start with Cate’s middle name “Frances”. Frances was the name of the grandmother I adored. (Yes, friends. The grandma who posed next to a snowman in a bikini.) Shawn and I picked her first name “Caitlin” for a number of reasons. We’ve always liked the name Kate. Caitlin is a combination of Shawn’s grandmother’s first name and my mom’s middle name. We spent more time figuring out how we wanted to spell Caitlin and Cate… which in the end boiled down to personal preference. So there you have it: Caitlin Frances, aka Cate.

My grandma went by the nickname “Frank” so I like that Cate will rock a nickname, too. I also like that Caitlin means pure and Frances means free.

We named our oldest son “Dillon” because Dylan means sea god or son of the waves, and my husband and I feel a connection to the ocean. We opted for the alternate spelling. Again, just personal preference. Dillon’s middle name is George, after Shawn’s late father.

Blake is “Blake” because we liked it. And it really suits him. His middle name “Evans” is a family name.

Last  year, Becca wrote about how her son and daughter-in-law named their first child. Like Becca, I’m interested in how babies are named. So entertain me. How did you get your name? And if you have children, how did you name them? Then, make your Monday a bit brighter and sing “The Name Game” all day. Angie angie bo bangie…

Also, check out Brock Heasley’s post about how he and his wife named their daughters, Elora, Cami and Violet. And be sure to remember Brock’s name. A guest post from Brock is coming up soon! (Like Wednesday, unless baby Cate decides to interrupt regularly scheduled programming.)

Here’s the story behind this photo: It was taken in my grandmother’s backyard on Thanksgiving Day, by Dana Leopard of Southern Pearls Photography. Dana dates my cousin, who was standing behind her, making ridiculous and hilarious faces so Blake wouldn’t flee the scene. Older brother Dillon is laughing because a) my cousin is a nut or b) we were trying to NOT to sit on dog poop and when you’re five, dog poop is hysterical.

Moments after Dana snapped this photo, I took her brand new Ford Flex for a test drive and backed it into a mailbox. She was super cool (of course we fixed the damage) but her comment afterward was priceless: “It has a backup sensor, but I guess you didn’t hear that.”

The only thing I heard was smack! Years ago, when I was pregnant with Dillon, I side-swiped my friend’s Lexus trying to parallel park before a Bunco game. You think I would have learned to stay away from cars that aren’t mine when I’m pregnant. But nope.

This photo also makes an appearance in this month’s issue of Lowcountry Parent, in my column about things I’ll never learn about raising children. Robin O’Bryant, author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Mom Tell Themselves helped me compile the list. (Thanks, girl!)

I don’t write about my terrible pregnant driving in the Lowcountry Parent column, but I do share how the boys reacted last summer when we told them our BIG SURPRISE was not a dog, but actually a new baby. (See above point about dog poop).

I hope you’ll let the folks at Lowcountry Parent know that you think I’m swell (or swelling. At this point in the pregnancy both are true) and pop on over. Just one click and boom, you’re there! 

Have a great weekend everyone!

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• I took all the toys out of the playroom and found homes for them in the boys’ rooms. We decided not to have them share a room for various reasons, one of them being my sanity. Blake is still in a crib and is a good sleeper, and I concluded now was a terrible time to rock that particular boat.
• The whole family participated in the search and purchase of a car safe enough and large enough to haul three kids. Enter the Honda Pilot and my debut as a rapper and wanna-be music video star.
• Shawn painted the former playroom a color called “pink whisper”.
• I cleaned out the walk-in attic. This resulted in quite a large donation of clothes and toys to our church’s thrift store. (This is also how I got the boys’ toys to fit in their rooms. I gave a lot of it away.)
• I leaned on Peter Walsh for support. See above bullet points about purging things we no longer use. I needed a pep talk.
• My childhood friends and my neighbors held showers where I stocked up on girl clothes. My friends and I have repopulated the world with boys. The ones with girls had already given a lot of their baby-sized stuff away.
• I spent several hours raiding the baby store: think nursery decor, essentials and necessary gear. These days, I have a much better sense of what babies need and what they don’t.
• I got a decent head start on taxes (I am the family CFO) and wrote thank you notes.
• Shawn, my mom and friend Lisa helped me decorate the nursery.

Welcome to Cate’s Butterfly Garden:

The walls created a design challenge, so we worked around it. I had envisioned hanging the mosquito net over the center of the crib but had to adjust that vision.

I also decided to pull the changing table out from the wall a bit, so she won’t pull down the letters when she gets all grabby. FYI, a hot glue gun works wonders when you’re trying to hang letters with ribbon. I opted not to use the hardware that came with it.

Cate’s Butterfly Garden is a wonderful addition to Dillon’s Beach Shack:

The Legos on top of the dresser add a nice touch, don’t cha think?

The monkey hammock is my favorite. The fishing net is a close second.

Across the  hall, you’ll find Blake’s Boat House:

And the best part about all this????

Our bedroom is downstairs!

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My friend Andra and her husband renewed their vows recently. To me, they are a wonderful example of what it means to love, honor and cherish one another. I’m sure Al Green would agree.

But what would Al think about Heidi Klum and Seal? When I read the headline, I threw down the latest issue of People and walked to the other room, where Shawn was helping Dillon build Lego ships.

“Did you know Heidi Klum and Seal broke up?” I asked, my voice filled with shock and disbelief.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” he said. And he was totally NOT mocking me. It is a shame. I’ve come to expect Hollywood couples to get divorced eventually. But Heidi and Seal? Not them! 

The article in People makes it sound like they just grew apart. He’s been touring. Her career is taking on a life of it’s own. I won’t spend much more time speculating about people I don’t know, and I’m definitely not judging. Growing up, I witnessed a lot of goodbyes.

I know why people don’t stay together. And I believe that sometimes walking away from a broken relationship is the only way. Sometimes letting go is better than holding on out of obligation or fear.

In my memoir about leaving my career in TV news, I reveal much of my personal story that I’ve never shared here on the blog. I’ve never explained to you what was driving that success. I will tell you this: Along the way, I committed to healing old wounds and asking myself, “What do I really want?”

And Shawn and I had to figure out how two ambitious people build one life. Luckily for me, when we reached a crossroads, Shawn and I decided we wanted the same things.

I don’t have advice for anyone. It feels like a mix of magic and hard work. Every single day.

My family is about to enter a new chapter. Very soon, we’ll have a new addition. And that baby will bring more magic, and more hard work. Shawn and I will continue to ask the question: How do two ambitious people build one life? And I hope and pray the answer is always this: Let’s stay together.

We all know what tears love apart. Today, let’s talk about what makes it last. 

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To mark the occasion, Dillon and his kindergarten friends each collected 100 things. My husband suggested our son collect kisses. I pounced on the idea and immediately started singing, “I always have to steal my kisses from you…” and although Dillon thought the song was neat, he asked if we could modify the project.

“Can we do hugs instead?” And then he listed all the little boys who would not want to kiss him.

“Dillon, that’s an even better idea!” I said.

So we spent the past two weeks taking advantage of every hug opportunity we could find. And the result was this:

The project was a family affair, with all that snapping, say cheese!-ing, cutting, sorting, and pasting. I know I’ll keep this forever. It’s one of those things you have to see in real life to get the full effect, but if you look closely at the facial expressions, you witness the unwavering power of a simple embrace. (You will also see Spongebob and a Justin Bieber CD. What can I say? Love doesn’t discriminate.)

It’s like that Dave Matthews song, “Everyday”:

Pick me up love!

Pick me up from the bottom… up to the top (love) everyday

I take my chances on every day.

I can’t watch this video without experiencing a sudden onset of happiness. All you need is, all you want is, all you need is… Love.

Who will you hug today? 

And if you’d like to have my blog delivered to your reader or inbox, click here. If I could, I’d definitely hug you for it.