Designer Genes Archives - Page 11 of 19 - Enjoying the Small Things

Hey Buddy.

October 18, 2010 By Kelle

Oh boy…here we go.

Brett has this theory (among many) that when you have a moment of deja vu, it means you are exactly where you are supposed to be in life; that, somehow, if you feel like you’ve lived through a moment in life before, it has to mean the universe is letting you know you should be living that moment. And, I guess that’s how I’d have to summarize this weekend.

I just felt like I belonged, like it was exactly where we were supposed to be.

Sometimes I feel selfish. Like why didn’t I do these things before Nella? Why did it take my world being quaked to make me jump aboard this ship and would I have done it if it hadn’t? Up until this point, I have done it because every day, I peer into soulful almond eyes that belong to a child that is mine. And I love her with a painful, throbbing love that makes me want to change the world for her. I want to speak fearlessly and change stereotypes and possibly stretch hearts and minds to accept my baby more because she is mine and that’s what mamas do for the ones we love. We move mountains.

I consider myself a selfless person. I volunteer when I can. I give a dollar or three or four when the check-out lady asks me if I want to add a donation for diabetes or the homeless shelter or breast cancer research to my grocery bill. I cry when I read stories about children who are hurting, and sometimes I lie in bed at night forcing myself to think of how bad it would hurt to be one of those moms. And yet sometimes it disappoints me that it took opening my arms to the tiny slippery body of my baby–the one with almond eyes and little peanut ears–to make me want to look deeply into the almond eyes of the girl that sometimes bags my groceries at Publix. To make me want to hug her and tell her I think her blond hair looks beautiful tucked behind her ears or that I appreciate how she always bags the bread separately so that it doesn’t get smooshed. Because, to me, she is Nella.

And I wonder if that’s selfish–having to have a personal connection to make me feel it. But then, I remember that everything we learn in life goes back to connections and emotions and knowing someone who knows someone that something has happened to. We teach our kids to treat people how they want to be treated, and the suggestion of bringing it back to ourselves is selfish in itself…but it’s how we learn.

It’s how I’ve learned. Knowing what it feels like to love someone so desperately that has that extra chromosome and to slowly let that feeling seep in deeply until it goes beyond just my child…it makes me so very passionate.
And, I guess with all that said, I felt that Saturday. I felt connected. I felt like I was walking for every blessed soul with designer genes. I felt like, even if we didn’t have Nella, I would have wanted to be there.

And yet, the love still bleeds most deeply for my own girls…and I’m okay with that.

So, I walked with a few names in my pocket of babies whose mamas aren’t quite ready to walk yet. And I walked for all those on the path before us, all those on the path behind us.

And I walked for my girl. My beautiful blue-eyed kitten who rocks out a studded hat like nobody’s business.

I say I love adjectives but words fail me now.

It was…beautiful.

I thought of what I wanted it to be in my mind. I wanted happy. I wanted dancing. I wanted a crazy celebration. I wanted to rock it out.

And, well.

I cried a little bit when the choir sang the national anthem, but I cry at that before a big game too. And I cried when I huddled with our friends after the walk to tell them how much I love them, but that’s nothing new either. Other than that, it felt like a big freaking party where life is celebrated and the future is welcomed.

Also helped that we brought a boom box loaded with rock anthems, and my dad hoisted it over his head for the entire 2-mile walk.

And I didn’t know walking across Florida boardwalks just post-sunrise with friends, celebrating the magic of the 47th and jammin’ to the Black Eyed Peas was on my Bucket List, but it is now…followed by a big fat CHECK.

Nella’s P.T. Jonah, his son, and the little rockstar herself.

The tiniest rockstar representin’…Baby Grady, just seven days old.

It was Naples’ first year hosting, and our town delivered. We might be small, but we are mighty.

Thank you to everyone who came out to support. Three cheers for the Village.

Total craziness here. Coming up for air soon. But, there’s good stuff this week.

Hint-hint:

We drove two hours to get the best make-shift Michigan we could find, and Bradenton, Florida delivered pretty nicely today, I gotta say.

But, that’s for later.

We gotsa giveaway.

Winner (generated by Random.org) of the Vintage Pearl $75 gift certificate: Commenter #1271, Suzanne who’s loving: 1. Our 3 children already jumped into those leaves last night after supper…I raked a maze for them first!, 2. A “White Chocolate” coffee flavor I found for $4.99 today and drinking it right now in my fun insulated Halloween Cup., 3. Listened to Ingrid Michaelson as I drove down the winding roads of small town Wisconsin.
There’s lots of love right now!

Suzanne, please e-mail me your information to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net

And, I’m happy to announce The Vintage Pearl as a new sponsor this month. Their hand-stamped, sterling silver comes in eye-catching unique designs and makes for memorable conversation pieces and beautiful gifts. Use discount kelle10 at check-out for 10% off this week. Discount ends this Friday.

And I think that’s it. Or did I already say that? Whoa, Deja vu. Or maybe, I am just right where I’m supposed to be.

I cried. In Walmart.

September 9, 2010 By Kelle

I haven’t read the birth story in a long time.
I don’t need to…I know it well. It is our story. And though it seems like a million years have passed since that soul-stretching day, sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday.

We were in Walmart today to pick up a prescription. And as I pushed my cart towards the check-out while I rattled a toy to keep Nella happy and caved in to Lainey’s plea for Cheetos, I saw it from the corner of my eye.

Parents Magazine…the October issue.

I picked it up and leafed through the pages looking for what I thought would be a small article about Down syndrome and “our” story (and by “our”…I mean every one of you who we share this experience with).

And when I landed upon the spread, my heart lurched. It was…beautiful.

And when I see those pictures, my heart just throbs with love for that day and the way our family changed. Half of me wants to hug the woman in those photos–the me who was so heart-broken. But then half of me wants to drop-kick her to the ground and swipe that baby out of her arms and squeeze her close. I want to feel her littleness again, all sunken into the crook of my arms and smell the sweetness of the silky hair that spun into a soft swirl on her little head. I want to whisper in her ear that I had no idea how truly beautiful she was.

And suddenly, I was standing in the book aisle, holding my magazine, tears streaming down my face. And Lainey stretched her Cheeto-stained hands out to pull the pages back and see her picture. “Look Baby, that’s you right there. That’s you loving Baby ‘ella.”

It was a beautiful moment. Right there in Walmart.

…and how happy I am for our story.

We’re thankful to Parents magazine for drawing more light to the beauty and wonder of all children and to the soul-stretching experience so many mamas go through. …and Dana Points, the editor, wrote a beautiful recognition in the editor’s letter at the front of the magazine too! Thank you to all the readers who have helped bring beauty out of something unexpected.

Orlando Weekend

July 19, 2010 By Kelle

Get a load of this sky…

It is the sky that welcomed me this weekend when I took the littlest and three of my friends up I-75 and over I-4 to Orlando for the 2010 NDSC convention. That’s National Down Syndrome Congress for those who don’t speak special needs.

I didn’t know what to expect. And I would be lying if I didn’t say, three-days-shy of six months into this, I was a little nervous about the emotional aspect of what it would be like to throw myself into this–to enter a convention where thousands have traveled from six different continents to be a part of this. Where young and old with Down syndrome, across the entire spectrum of abilities would be present in one place at one time. And it was a see-sawing mindset of Brace Yourself. Push Yourself. Brace Yourself. Push Yourself.

But I knew I needed to be there. And I also knew expanding the weekend into some time with my girls, some poolside drinks, some hotel snuggling with the bunny–it would all be so good.

So we mapped out the way and set out for our drive, equipped with coffee, combos, sour punch straws and other gas station candy aisle necessities. The If Book came along as usual and, by Hour Three into our drive, we had cried, we had laughed, we had stopped three times for bathroom breaks, nursing breaks, and letting-Stephanie-do-weird-bodily-contortions-on-the-grassy-knoll-of-the-7-11-parking-lot-for-her-sciatic-nerve breaks.

I love my friends. I love that we grow together. That we’ve been there for each other for so much. That we hug and cry and remember pain one minute but the next we are rolling on the floor in our hotel room, gripping our sides with laughter because life is way more funny than it is sad. And because watching Stephanie lie on the floor of a posh hotel lobby lifting her leg to ease her back pain is really, really funny.

And the conference? Much like that welcoming sky above, I must say. The clouds in my mind parted and happiness and love and the reality that the meaning of life can be found where you least expect it just came spilling out of that place. My fears were melted, my nervousness dissolved, and I was so happy to be in the presence of such greatness. So many incredible families and hearts and smiling faces.

We were more than honored to accept the National Media Award for Enjoying the Small Things. And standing there with Nella in my arms and the love of so many around us, I just felt…blessed.

I am not afraid. I was born to do this.

And by the end of the night, my cheeks hurt from smiling. There were magic chromosomes everywhere. From the older couple that held hands and came running over to see Nella and the way they ooooed and ahhhed and cooed “Oh, isn’t she sweet?” From Jeremy, the kind young man who held my hand and hugged me, and rubbed my baby’s jammied foot in his hand. “She’s beautiful,” he said. From the teenage girl with the green glasses that matched her green eyes who told me she had to get to the dance because she and her boyfriend were going to be cuttin’ loose on that floor…and the way her mom rolled her eyes and smiled and said, “We’ll see about that.” From the boy who weasled his way through tables while the ceremony was still going on because he wanted to hug Nella…and to tell me “Your speech made me cry. Your speech touched my heart.” And from the many souls in that place that may not have had an extra chromosome but had been touched by one. The pediatrician who sat to my left, the geneticist who sat to my right–and the way they talked about life like it was big and grand.

From Kayla…the four-year-old who stole my heart. And I really wanted to take her home to play with Lainey…to love on Nella. But her mom said she really wanted to keep her.

Amy, your daughter is amazing, you are amazing, and I can’t stop talking about how wonderful your family and your little beauty are.

Oh, happy heart.

The rest of the weekend matched that evening’s greatness. With late-night fondue and huddling around a bonfire until 1 a.m.

With spending the day stretched out under the sun, corraling Nella into a little nook on my inner tube and snuggling her close as we leisurely drifted past waterfalls and rock walls on the lazy river. We tunneled through tubes and slick loops on the water slide as we screamed and laughed and attempted graceful splashes when it deposited us into the cool waters of the pool. And we lounged, sipping drinks, catching up, and drinking in every drop of bliss the weekend ladled out.

If you give a mouse a cookie, he will ask for a glass of milk. And if you give a girl a shower cap, she’s totally gonna want to wear it in public. Especially if you dare her.

By the end of the weekend, Nella was pooped. So pooped, she brought out the leave-me-alone face.

…rivaled closely by her clouds-parting-and-the-glory-of-heaven-shining-upon-her face.

And, oh did I miss my sprite. We don’t part very often so, by the time we arrived late last night, my tank was empty and refilled when I slid into cold sheets next to her and cuddled and kissed and whispered to her just how much I missed her.

And when a little time separates us, I am obliged to compensate for missed moments. And compensation often comes in a form that has two sticks of butter and a bag of chocolate chips.

And tonight we sat in the driveway, dipping cookies, sipping cold milk, talkin’ about life. And to a three year old, that conversation includes whether tomorrow we will play Memory or baby dolls? Wear Dora underwear or Elmo? Eat oatmeal or cinnamon toast? And somewhere in there, I will throw in a “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”…and she will cock her head to the side, squint her eyes, settle into a nice little shy smile and say…”Very much, Mama”

Oh, a lovely weekend it was.
Katie, Stephanie, Marsha…I love you. My weekend memories are so precious.

And Heidi…seriously. Come home from Michigan. Please!

Happy Monday! The skies are spilling sunshine this week…get a cup and fill it.