new home

We've made it to West Bridgewater!

In the early hours of Wednesday morning, I packed the boys and Moriah into our little car and drove through Boston to our new home--my in-laws house in West Bridgewater. The boys and I had a lovely tour of their new school (so amazed by the resources available there, and the kindness of the principal and staff). Even the boys liked the place, which is saying a lot. :) Then, as promised, I took the boys shoe shopping. Both of them have been saving for new sneakers and the sale of their parakeets gave them enough money to get the shoes they wanted (the rule at our house: we buy the "necessary" shoes, and if they want to spend $80 on a pair of name-brand sneakers, that's their business, and their money). Orilus ended up with a sweet pair of Nikes, and Jackson with a crazy pair of Jordans...the thrilling part being we learned a new way to lace their shoes (two colors, with one color on each side). Thrilling, that is, if you are 12 or 13. If you're a 33-year-old mother with a sore back, you're just looking for a place in the mall to sit. Somehow, I think these shoes represent for the boys their readiness to start at their new school on Monday...they have refused to wear them all weekend an d keep talking about how cool they're going to look.

Sooo...after going to FIVE shoe stores, and three of them three times EACH, we went back with shoes in hand to the Winchells, and waited for Jason to arrive with a van-load of stuff so we could officially "move in" to the in-laws. He did arrive, about 5:00 pm, and we spent the next hour and a half unloading, unpacking clothes, setting up beds, and trying not to complain about who had the more exhausting day--me, running around with two shoe-crazed boys, or Jason, who tried to keep classrooms of teenagers under wraps the day before a holiday and then spent a couple hours loading up our stuff. Still not sure on that one. Afterwards, we had a birthday dinner (I think I was awake for that part). It was my birthday on Wednesday, and a truly strange way to spend the day, though I must say, it was hilarious...I've been enjoying the boys so much in the last weeks (I swear, they get funnier the older they get). And they began the day with some really poignant birthday cards (Orilus wrote: "Always remember you'll always be my mom in my heart," and Jackson wrote: "Moms rock," and I think both pretty much mean the same thing, if you ask me).

Thursday was Thanksgiving. We took a long walk in the morning, with Jason showing the boys the through-the-woods shortcut to their new school (they can walk or ride their bikes, as we are close enough that they are not within the bus zone). We called family, ate some dinner, hung out with family here (and my dear friend Val, who joined us...so good to see a Lynn-er in West Bridgewater!).

Yesterday was a yucky, rainy, day-after-holiday, we're-tired-and-grumpy day. Suffice it to say, we survived, and somehow, our children lived to see today (but barely).

Today we were up early again and headed back to Lynn for the final "moving out" of our house. Thank you to our friends who were able to come by to help or to say good-bye; it did my heart so much good to see you. When our house was all cleaned out, Jason and I just stood there and hugged and I cried. We've been married 12-1/2 years, 11-1/2 of them spent in Lynn, and today marked the closing of a major chapter of our lives, really, the only chapter of our lives that we've known. As we walked out our kitchen door, Jason noticed something we nearly forgot--an iron cut-out that reads, "Numbers 6:24," a blessing from the Torah, which reads: "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face to you and give you peace." We took it down, the very last thing we took from our house, and from our life in Lynn. For me, a symbol of a radical trust that no matter what comes next, we will find grace and experience again that it is Love that ultimately keeps us.

moving day has changed

Hey friends! In an attempt to avoid the rain, we've moved our "final move-out" to Saturday. We're not yet sure of the time (waiting on a return call from U-Haul), but we hope it will be in the morning. Would love extra hands and hugs! Happy Thanksgiving to all from the Winchells

lasts

After my last post (the response to which has been so overwhelming and heartfelt...thank you, friends), I realized the paradox of so many "firsts" while we are also experiencing so many "lasts."

Yesterday morning, awake at 4 am to feed Moriah and unable to return to sleep, I eventually snuck out of a sleep-filled house with our dog Kobe to Lynn Woods just as the sun was beginning to rise. Our last walk there. Jason and I have had so many countless walks in that place--with our first puppy, Jake; before children and after; with a baby carrier and with dog treats. I will miss the woods and its quiet solitude and opportunities for re-connection.

Yesterday afternoon, our last walk on Lynn Beach. Jason and I were able to steal away for a couple hours sans boys (thanks, Chris and Christy!) for a final walk on the boardwalk. We lived in our house near the beach for eight years, and discussed everything from founding our non-profit, to adopting the boys we had just met in Haiti, to whether to choose a bone marrow transplant for our son, to living more intentionally in our relationships with God and one another and our city. And so many friends we've walked with on that beach! Eleven years of friends and long walks, laughter and tears, conversation and walking prayer. One of my favorite beach memories will always be the 5K my sister, my best friend, Orilus and I ran together after his transplant was over. The miracle of Orilus' new life was palpable, energizing, and a love-force that is difficult to describe. I know that blog post is here somewhere (September of 2007, just two years ago, really?!).

Our last pastry at D'Amicci's (just around the corner from our first apartment in Lynn, where we lived for free in exchange for managing the propety, which was mostly about vaccumming the halls and getting yelled at by disgruntled tenants...those days as college student and youth pastor seem so far away now). Our last trip to Kane's Donuts. A final burrito al pastor at Mexico Lindo. Last pancake at Brother's Deli. Last roast beef at John's (I guess it's no wonder I weigh more now than I did at our wedding twelve and a half years ago!).

And tomorrow night, our last night in Lynn, which we'll celebrate (where else?) at my dear friend's Chinese restaurant on the Lynn-Swampscott line. How many hours I've spent at Yan's Bistro and with Karen and her family! How many New Year's Eves spent delivering food with them!

I know we'll be back to Lynn to visit friends, and re-visit many of these places again. Sometimes, I understand we are moving, and other times, I do not at all and feel there is really no way to bring to a close eleven years of hopes and dreams for a city, a love for friends and neighbors and colleagues and teenagers we've met and worked with, and a passing of time that has brought us more surprises (and more trips to Boston hospitals!) than we could have ever imagined.

Our last Monday in Lynn today, friends. Wednesday morning, I'll load the kids into the car and drive to West Bridgewater. We'll return on Friday to load our truck for one last time...do come by to say good-byes that morning if you are around. Last hugs (one of my favorite things in the whole world) will abound!

So thankful this week that the burden of so many lasts is lightened by the joys of so many firsts as this season of our life gives way to another. Happy day of thanks to you all, with thanks for all the ways you've loved us well.

firsts

This morning as I was dressing Moriah I realized we've had a lot of "firsts" in the last week.

Yesterday, the first time Moriah has ever peed in her bathwater. I laughed.

This week, the first time Moriah has worn clothing in size 3-6 months.

Last Wednesday, the first time we have had an adult with Down syndrome in our home. Thank you to our friend, Brian, for bringing his friend to meet us. We so enjoyed the man's company and were touched by his words of encouragement to our family and his inspiring life of faith.

On Sunday, the first time I have met with a group of mothers who have children with Down syndrome. They invited me out to a "mom's night out" at a nearby Mexican restaurant, and we stayed until the restaurant kicked us all out. I heard some stories that were difficult to hear, but mostly I witnessed a lot of gratitude, a wicked (and sometimes laughably dark) sense of humor, and a unspoken belief that normal, everyday moms can be moms of special needs kids. That we are no angels, just moms working out love in our lives and in the lives of our children.

And a difficult "first." Yesterday, the first time a stranger has acknowledged that Moriah has Down syndrome. I should have seen it coming. At the mom's night out on Sunday, one of the moms got to laughing about how when her child was a baby, she thought others couldn't tell he had Down syndrome, but now, when she looks back at his photos from that time, she sees how obvious it was. I was taken aback by her story, because, frankly, sometimes I don't see Down syndrome in Moriah, and wonder whether others can "tell" or not. I wonder almost every time we are out in public. Maybe this is part of the "coming to terms" with the diagnosis, I don't know. But sure enough, yesterday we were at the grocery store and a middle aged woman rushes up to me in the cookie aisle (I was hunting for vanilla wafers, which are a craving I haven't shaken since the last months of my pregnancy). She must have seen us in an earlier aisle, but I didn't remember her and at first was a bit sketched out at her close proximity to Moriah and me. "She is beautiful," the woman said. So many people tell me that (and always, I wonder--are they saying it because she is beautiful and looks "typical" and beautiful, because she is beautiful as a child with Down syndrome, or because they suddenly realize Moriah has Down syndrome but figure they better say something nice anyway?), and I offered my usual, "Thank you so much. We think so." Suddenly, she leans over, kisses Moriah's foot, makes the sign of the cross, mumbles what I hope was a blessing in Russian, puts her hand on my arm, looks into my eyes and says, "I used to work with children like her. She is a special gift. May God bless you." Of course, I handled it in stride, smiling in a grateful-sort-of-way and offering again my thanks and returning her blessing. But let me tell you, I took my cart and those vanilla wafers, walked to the next aisle, and thought, "I could really cry right now." I didn't, but I really could have, and was relieved to be checking out a few minutes later with the woman nowhere in sight. But then, the woman checking me out kept looking at Moriah, began to say something, and then said nothing, and I realized again that people can tell, that Moriah really is a child with Down syndrome and it's no secret.

As I was pushing the cart out of the store, Moriah asleep in her baby seat, I was still dealing with some sort of shock. Shock that I thought otherwise, that people couldn't see what was so obvious. At the same time, shock that it was, after all, so obvious. Who would Moriah be, I wondered? Moriah, or always, the baby or girl or woman with Down syndrome?

And because my life has been full of ironies in the last couple months--some painful, and others so nearly miraculous that they make me laugh--as I was leaving the grocery store, a mother and her daughter were walking in. They were talking and laughing as they made their way inside, the mom's hand on her teenage daughter's back. As the teenage girl pulled off her hat and looked up at me just as I got to the exit, I realized with a sudden start that she had Down syndrome. I waited until I was outside, near the Salvation Army bell-ringer, and laughed out loud. Sometimes, just when I begin to worry that maybe my daughter is going to be alone in the world, feeling isolated and like she is the only one...sometimes, when I'm in public and see typical baby-toddler-kids with typical moms (and oh, how the moms with crowds of non-special needs kids gathered around them give me pause sometimes, so unaware that to me they are shining with lucky fate, to birth so many with so much health) and begin to feel that I am alone, singled out (by something random or divinely appointed I feel I will never be sure)...sometimes, I am offered a reminder that we are not alone, Moriah and me. That we can aspire to be a child with special needs and her mom, walking into a grocery store on a chilly day, pulling off our hats and sharing an inside joke together. No less and no more meaningful than any other child and her mother, but somehow, more hard-won.

Winchell family update

The days are flying by so quickly! And yet, for the first time since Moriah's birth, I feel that the time is actually comprehensible to me. When she was a month old, I thought, "only a month?!" At two months, "only two?!" Too much had happened, and I couldn't figure out how it all had happened in such a short amount of time. Tomorrow Moriah will be four months old (from July 13 to November 13) and I finally feel like her age makes sense, that I can understand how all of the life we've lived since July might actually "fit" into four months.

Moriah is now 12 pounds, 10 ounces and an absolute delight (well, except when she's crying for food or a nap). She continues to sleep all the way through the night, and rolled all the way over (even better than on the video I posted) earlier this week. She is a TALKER; those who visit us (Early Intervention, the nurse) continue to be amazed at how verbal she is. She babbles a lot of the day, taking turns with me or whoever will talk with her. She makes all kinds of sounds, sometimes with a quite serious face, and other times, with a wide-mouthed grin that makes me laugh out loud every time. She is strong--holding up her head more and more now, gripping onto things so tightly, reaching for toys and faces, following movements across the room, kicking her feet, scooting around in circles on her back, rolling and stretching. She is, as I like to tell her, a "busy girl."

So what is going on with us these days? So much, friends. It has been a whirlwind four months; though I conceive of the time, I cannot yet understand how so much has changed and so quickly. I think Jason and I begin many conversations these days with, "how did we get here?" But here we are, and I am truly proud of the way we are sticking together and forging a new life for our family, trying to move forward as best we can.

Our house here in Lynn is under agreement; we signed the P&S last week. We're hoping to close on December 4th. Last Friday, our offer on a house in West Bridgewater was (finally) accepted; on Sunday, we did the house inspection and were pleased with the results. The boys were finally able that day to walk through the house and they loved it--they chose their bedrooms (for the first time, they will have their own rooms, which may or may not cut down on the amount of times they throw each other into walls, tackle each other, and trip each other...). Simply put, we LOVE that house. Here's the hitch: the couple who is selling it is divorcing, and talking with each other only through their attorneys. It's a mess. Currently, we're held up on signing a P&S because they are trying to figure out a closing date and a Title V certificate. I'm not sure if they're fighting about it or what, but it's prolonging our process and making us a bit anxious about if/when the house will finally be ours. It's also making us sad, that the house has become a place of great heartache for a family; we are praying often that our family life there will be marked by more peace, even as we pray for them to have the strength they need to move on.

In the meantime, we are making plans to move out. We'll be living in Jason's parent's house in West Bridgewater until we purchase a home; they are extremely kind to take in a family of five, especially right before the busyness of the holidays. Last Saturday Jason loaded up the first U-Haul of things and made a trip to our rented storage unit in West Bridgewater. He'll do the same again this Saturday (beginning at 8:30 am, if anyone is around and wants to help load it up). In this trip, I'm hoping to have packed up all the non-essentials so that the final move (scheduled for Friday, November 27th, the day after Thanksgiving) will be mostly furniture and "last things" only. So far, we've packed up Moriah's room, our office, our living room, our dining room, our kitchen, our attic, the garage, and the boys room--by Saturday, I've got some more boxes to fill from our room and the bathroom, and then we'll wait for the final moving day.

I think our biggest concerns now are helping the boys to transition and eventually finding work closer to West Bridgewater, so that we are not commuting to Lynn forever. We're working at both those things. The boys' final day of school in Lynn will be the Tuesday before Thanksgiving; the following day, they'll tour their new school and begin attending there the Monday after Thanksgiving. Please continue to pray for them. It seems that as soon as we decided to put the house on the market, plans begin to push us forward...and here we are, two weeks away from leaving a city we've loved, and friends, and expectations, and dreams... For the boys, especially, this is no easy task.

We are trusting all will come together in due time. My good friend reminded me of what she's always called Jason's "step into the air and you'll feel solid ground" philosophy. We do feel that way--that we are stepping forward, and trusting for the next step, because we cannot see very far ahead at all. And in the meantime, we are enjoying time together as a family, playing nightly Solitaire games, reading aloud to Moriah, and walking Lynn Woods. "Play, and pray." It's what we're trying to do right now. Well, and pack a box or two more...

Moriah's new trick!

end of recovery

Today is an important date...exactly six weeks since Moriah's open heart surgery, which means we have reached the official end of her post-op recovery! No more precautions--she can be on her belly now, and we can pick her up under her arms again. I am so proud of my little girl.

This morning I'm sorting through Moriah's drawers, packing and deciding what we're bringing with us to the Winchells and what is going to storage. I first dressed Moriah in a NICU; her gowns from those long days all bear her initials "MW," and I remember writing her initials there and realizing for the first time that we would bear the same ones. There are the snap-up T-shirts from her days after her open heart surgery; they were easiest to get on and off of her when her chest was so sore and tender. I will always associate these outfits with particular rooms in particular hospitals, with particular nurses and rocking chairs and parent beds. Sometimes, when I think back to those days, I am nearly breathless with how painful they were, and I'm not sure how we got through them.

But we did. And so this morning I'll pack the reminders away, and choose again to begin a new day, to savor this moment--Moriah napping, my hot mug of pumpkin coffee beside me--and to fill the next box. More than ever before, I'm aware what a daring and audacious choice this is, to begin again, to welcome future and not shrink back. Grace that both moors, and propels.

walking in Lynn Woods

Yesterday the kids and I hiked Lynn Woods; here's some photos from our walk.

GI, WB, and...

So, our GI appoitnment went well on Friday. For the first time since birth, Moriah did NOT have microscopic blood in her stool, which means she is finally NOT allergic to her formula (this, after four switches in the last four months...she's now been on EleCare since just before surgery and is doing great). Yay! So no more switching for us. She does, however, continue to have reflux, and has been started on Prilosec. She's eating a lot this last week, and must be going through a growth spurt...a huge relief, as a week ago she was eating so little and the nurse was concerned about her sub-par weight gain. This week, she'll probably weigh in over 12 pounds; she's often taking 8 ounces in a sitting now!

WB...West Bridgewater. The sellers have begun counter-offering, and we're going to counter again...it's exciting to be in talks, finally, and to feel like we might have a wonderful home for our family and our kids, so close to mom and dad's. Pray it all comes together, and we can close quickly!

We spent the weekend packing up our garagefor the first of many trips to the South Shore this coming weekend...this Saturday, Jason's going to bring the first U-Haul load of stuff to our storage unit there. We got the yard cleaned up, too, went to church with the Winchells, and spent the afternoon at their house figuring out how our family of five is going to fit into their home. They're kind enough to give us every square inch they can, and we're grateful for a place to stay for a month or so while we close on a house of our own. In 12 years of marriage, we've never needed to "move back home." It's pretty funny, rather humbling, and will make for a FULL and fun holiday season.