These are my favorite holiday scenes. My puppies playing with my husband at Nana's farm.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
I drove around the neighborhood collecting photos of decorations. When I was little, my mother wouldn't take our family to look at lights, she said, "They're tacky." Well, y'know little kids don't know what tacky is, but they love holiday lights and decorations that fill their minds with wonder. The more wonder in their minds and hearts, the more creative they are, the better readers they are and the more innovative they'll be throughout their live. I don't do a great job of driving and taking pictures at the same time. Hope you'll forgive me and still enjoy them. Who care about tacky anyway.
Monday, January 1, 2018
Saturday, December 30, 2017
I don't know a lot about the religious charity or mission group that developed Key of Hope Choir from Africa. My niece who lives in Rochester, Michigan is involved with the group when they perform in her area. These children were born with AIDS, innocent victims of a terrible disease. As I understand when they return home they live in cardboard boxes or other poor quality housing. I don't see how they can look so joyful as they sing after seeing the great wealth while travelling the world, then returning to their poverty and stark lives in Africa. I thought that the holiday season is a good time for people who might be interested to take a look at them.
e a look at them.
e a look at them.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
|Thank you Wikimedia Commons and livelearn.ca|
NINE HOLIDAYS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT:
Saturday, December 23, 2017
I don't support any products unless it encourages reading, hands-on exploration like blocks or imaginary play like cardboard boxes (and they're free) or wonder like blowing bubbles. I have't seen this product so I don't know about the product quality. The idea itself sounds great like a ready-made fort out of a table and sheets. Watch their ad online and see what you think. I had a music box that projected mother goose characters, planets and stars to music on my daughter's ceiling. She felt safe to go to sleep and loved to look at books in her crib under the projection. Check it out at: MyDreamTent.com;
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Many people don't feel as happy as they think they should at the holidays. My friend's loss brought a little reality about the wonderful things I have in my life this season. The story below was posted on Mary Kole's blog. She is a children's book literary agent.I don't know her well, but the personal story she posted on Kidlit.com is extraordinarily well-written and in its sadness shows how people can somehow find some joy in tragedy.
Hello, dear readers! Before Thanksgiving, I wrote about the upcoming addition to our family, a little girl that was born on November 30th, to join big brother, Theo, 21 months. I’ve always been very honest, as a person. And I’ve always shared what I’m going through on the blog. Like the loss of my beloved cat Sushi, or the fertility journey we took to start building our family. Not only is it therapeutic for me, but I genuinely believe that truth brings people together and helps us all feel a little less alone.
It is with deep, deep regret that I’m sharing the following news. You’ll have to excuse the shifting tense. Different parts were written at different times in Nora’s journey.
When we brought our beautiful Nora Pepper home, she was extremely lethargic. We had the doctors in labor and delivery, several pediatricians, a home health nurse, and a lactation consultant on our team, and they all said she was just sleepy because she was born at 37 weeks. That can take a lot out of a gal! They all told us, “In the magic of time, she will wake up.”
And in 99.99% of babies, they would’ve been right. But a week later, she was still not waking up to ask for food, and feeding her from a bottle was an hourlong ordeal every three hours. She was only taking 1.5 ounces each time, and barely. Her weight was down. I had a sinking feeling all along in my mother’s heart, and I finally insisted that we go to the hospital. Luckily, we live 15 minutes from Children’s Minnesota, a world-class facility that sees a lot of very complex neonatal cases.
After ruling out any acute causes of lethargy, like infection, we were left with something much more devastating. A chronic condition. Physically, our wonderful Nora is absolutely perfect. Everything is formed beautifully. And I’m not just bragging as a proud parent about her ten elegant fingers, her curly eyelashes, or the softest newborn hair I’ve ever kissed. We’ve had all the x-rays and MRIs in the book, and she is physically flawless.
But due to a rare, random, and terribly cruel genetic mutation, Nora has a pattern of brain wave activity that is incompatible with life. Or at least a life that involves any cognitive awareness whatsoever. It’s likely that her brain was built like this from the start, has never functioned in any other way, and never will. The evidence-based data on this type of brain wave pattern is invariably grim. In short, this state has been described as “the worst pattern short of electrical silence” and “a preterminal finding”.
We took Nora back from the NICU, and we had two beautiful days with her. Our plan was to repeat the brain scan after a week and enter hospice care at home if the findings were the same. Nora had other ideas, and she let us know that she was ready to go ahead of schedule. We spent our last hours together as a family, making sure that all she ever knew in her brief time was pure love. She passed peacefully in our arms on December 16th, 2017.
I believe in miracles. I do. Snow on a quiet morning is a miracle. My son’s laughter is a miracle. The overwhelming love and gratitude I feel for Nora, even as her condition has put me on the loneliest and most difficult road I’ve ever walked, is a miracle. Unfortunately, there was not going to be a medical miracle. The sad but simple truth is that, all of these things about life that are miracles, Nora would never have been able to experience. Not in this case. Even in the magic of time, she never would’ve woken up.
My husband, Todd, and son, Theo, and I are tremendously blessed. We have the support of friends and family, we both have meaningful work to help us feel human, we’ve found strength we never knew existed inside ourselves. Because Nora’s prognosis is so rare and so dire, we’ve been invited to participate in a comprehensive research study where her entire genome will be sequenced. Since her condition is coded into her genes, there was no way to help Nora. Even if we found the exact mutation, the die had already been cast. But maybe, in some small way, she will help another family down the road because of what the research team can learn.
This is a post I never thought I’d have to write. All any of us can do when the road turns dark is to keep going. I’m grateful for the opportunity to call Nora Pepper Macdonald my daughter. She always will be. Even as my heart is broken, it is somehow more full than ever. If you’re reading this, you’re part of why. Thank you for listening to our story.
Credit for these beautiful photographs belongs to Sarah Ann Photography, and they were taken before we found out. We are thrilled to have these treasures, we will cherish them for the rest of our lives.
People have been asking, so we’ve decided to encourage friends and family to make a donation to the Children’s Hospital and Clinics Foundation. The incredible people of Children’s, from her neonatologist to her palliative care nurse, were some of the most outstanding human beings we have ever met. We never felt alone for a moment, and we still don’t. You can designate your donation to a specific care area. We would prefer the Neonatal Program, the Neuroscience Program, or the Pain, Palliative and Integrative Medicine Program. Or you can give to a fund for urgent hospital and patient needs. Children’s wasn’t able to help Nora due to her prognosis, but it is our dream as a family that they may help others in her honor. Please be sure to let them know that you are giving in memory of Nora Pepper Macdonald. If you are so compelled, please donate online, or call them at 952-992-5509.