I've recently expanded my list of online journals that I read on a regular basis. I have quite an eclectic collection of journals I read... Some are great, some are interesting and some are just guilty pleasures, not really having any understanding what draws me to them, other than they are so messed up, I can hardly stop reading them...
One, very popular one I've started reading recently is : lantern waste written by Tesserae. She's a great writer, and from what I've read on her site, she's been through more in her lifetime, and survived, than most people would be able to handle in ten lifetimes... But, she seems like she has an incredibly strong spirit.
See, she has a little girl too. And she recently wrote about her concerns for her development. And, I, of course, felt compelled to write to her. As, I have similar concerns about Savannah's future.
She posted an incredible and touching metaphor that was shared with her about having a child with a disability. And, it touched me as well... saying what I couldn't about the experience of having a premature child. This is what she posted:
Welcome to Holland
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability -- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this....
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip -- to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michaelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I am supposed to be in Italy. All my life I have dreamed of going to Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible disgusting filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been here for a while and you catch your breath, you a look around you begin to notice that Holland has windmills ... and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy ... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away....because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But....if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things...about Holland.
-- written by Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987
I've grown to feel differently about the circumstances surrounding Savannah's birth, since I started writing this journal. I'm still sad about some things. But, reading this beautifully written metaphor, has put words to things I've felt for a while too.
The events of the past year have been difficult, but not impossible. I'm a better and much stronger person than I was a year ago. And, I love Savannah more each and every day I've known her.
And, while it would be nice to know what it's like to be in Italy, most people will never know how beautiful and wonderful things are in Holland too. Mostly, I'm sure they are just different. Neither better, or worse.
Someday, I might have a chance to see what Italy is like too, but for now... I'm going to enjoy the gorgeous tulips in Holland.
I know I've gushed here before about how much I love living here in Atlanta, but... I'm gonna do it again. There are wonderful things about being here, and there are some not so wonderful things too. But, overall, I really like being here.
When Wallace and I decided to move here, I'm not exactly sure what all we based our decision on... We were living in a teeny studio apartment in State College, Pennsylvania. And we started doing some research on the internet. The 1996 summer Olympics were going to be hosted here, and we became intrigued with Atlanta... things to do here, the economy, the climate. But, neither one of us had ever been here in our lives.
For almost as long as I can remember, I've wanted to live in a city. I grew up in very rural areas of Pennsylvania. My parents would not and could not live in a city. The first time I visited a big city, on a vacation, I was immediately hooked.
Around July of 1980, I was seven years old and my parents took us on a trip to New York. We saw a lot of cool things, including the Adirondack mountains and a place where there was a gorge and white water rapids. It was pretty and serene.
We also spent a day of that vacation, in New York City. And, I was enthralled.
I'd never seen so many people before; never seen such beautiful tall buildings which seemed to rise up into the clouds. I was dizzy trying to constantly look up, while walking with my parents. Everything was so close together, and so busy and loud. It was a huge change from the quiet and calm that was our little town. I was in love.
As time went by, and I grew older, I had pretty much decided that one way or another, I would live in a city. I really wanted to live in New York City. I used to buy the Sunday New York Times, and look for apartments that I might want to live in. I was probably all of twelve or so, at the time. I even looked for schools I could go to, in NYC... just so I'd be able to live there, even for only a few years.
My parents took us on other trips, later on. I went with my parents to Washington, D.C., to Boston, MA, to Dallas/Fort Worth, TX, and to Los Angeles, CA. And, then I came to realize, that it wasn't just NYC that I liked so much, it was (mostly) big cities in general. All of them had different and wonderful things to offer, except for probably Los Angeles. But, most any big city would do, for me.
I applied to the University of Maryland, at College Park, mostly because of its proximity to Washington, D.C. (Also, it was UMCP that was featured in a few scenes in St. Elmo's Fire, and gods, how I wanted to be like they were.) I attended UMCP for a year, not doing well academically, but loving where I was, every day.
On Sundays, during that year, I would occasionally put a few books in my backpack, stop at the 7-11 for a Washington Post, cigarettes and a large coffee, and catch the Metro bus for the Rhode Island Avenue Metro station. I would take the subway to the Mall, and sit in the soft grass. I'd read the newspaper, watch the people going by, and sometimes glance at the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian or the Capitol. I was constantly amazed and happy that I lived there, and could be there to do nothing, if I wanted.
I miss Washington, D.C. It was a very pretty city. And there were a lot of places I liked to go there. I miss the Pentagon City shopping mall. I miss the Shops at Metro Center. I miss Georgetown, and the Kennedy Center. I miss being able to ride the Metro just about anywhere I wanted to go. The public transportation here in Atlanta isn't even close to what they have going on in D.C. It was so useful and so incredibly clean.
I know that I haven't even seen a tenth of what is here in Atlanta. There are often times Wallace and I will go out to do something, and we'll go a different way. And we'll see new places; always making being here an adventure.
I'll never forget the first time we saw downtown Atlanta. It was Saturday, 11 October, 1997. And Wallace and I decided to drive into the city, since we hadn't seen downtown, on the way in. My parents helped us move, and we took I-285 around Atlanta, instead of down I-85/75 through it.
I remember going by the TED, and looking up at all the tall buildings downtown. We also got fairly lost, as we drove up and down Peachtree Street, and then tried to find out way back to the highway again. We went through Buckhead, and finally made our way back to I-75/85 again. And it was beautiful. I still feel that way, every time I drive downtown, especially at night when everything is lit up.
I was in awe of living in this city, again, as I drove to the grocery store a couple of nights ago. It was dark and warm. I had the windows rolled down and was driving south from our apartment complex. The moon was gibbous and yellow in the hazy sky, and I could see some of the high-rise buildings in Buckhead lit up in the distance. I still love the tall buildings and the noise. And, it's really pretty here. With a good combination of greenspace and asphalt, quiet and noise. I still haven't quite gotten over the fact that I really live here.
And, to clearly illustrate just how completely city-fied I am now... I now get very nervous when I have to drive in the dark. You see, there isn't anywhere here, that I go on a regular basis, where there is no light at nighttime. That was something that I never thought about, until I took a trip out to see 'Sted when she was living in Birmingham... and between here and there on I-20, it gets awfully dark with no streetlights.
We're taking a short trip to Myrtle Beach to stay with my parents on the beach coming up here in July... And, I'm not looking forward to having to drive in the dark. But, I'll do anything to have a chance to sit in the sand, feel the wind in my hair and watch and listen to the wonder of the ocean. Even if I have to drive in the dark to get there...
I've been busy... not with anything exciting or important or even anything worthy of writing about here. I've been really caught up in cleaning.
I know. That's really sad. But, it makes me feel good.
My mom apologized for giving me a new vacuum cleaner, saying she knew it wasn't the most exciting thing I could have gotten from them for my birthday... But, you know what? I was so excited about it. And I told her that, when they were here. I've vacuumed almost every day since they brought it here. And for me, that's saying a hell of a lot.
I don't have any idea if anyone else feels this way, but... I feel really good when our apartment is clean. It makes other things easier to do. It makes my whole life feel so much less cluttered and dirty. Not that my life is exceeding complicated right now. But, it makes a huge difference to my whole mental attitude.
It's worked so well. I managed to be in bed just past 10:30pm, last night... and, I got up, of my own volition around 7:30am this morning. Now, for normal people, that probably doesn't sound too impressive at all. But, for me, who was going to bed around 3-4am and getting up 11am or later -- this is quite extraordinary.
So, I'm happy about cleaning my house, and keeping reasonable hours... dear gods, what's next? Balancing my checkbook; which I have not done consistently for about five to six years. I know. How scary is that? I've been playing checking account roulette for several years now. And, definately not beating the odds.
I'm becoming a grown-up. Even if I don't feel like one. But, it's so much better to be responsible and organized than do stupid shit, just because I'm lazy. It's a lot less stressful, in many ways, than I had expected it to be. At least I'm in control, and I really do know what's going on.
. . . . .
Savannah and I even went out for a walk this afternoon, around the apartment complex. She seemed to have a good time, even if she did spend most of the walk pulling my hair and my leather pouch tightly around my neck. I took her out in the backpack-ish carrier.
We wandered around the backs of a lot of the buildings, down past the tennis courts and the pool. We lingered at the duck pond, so I could point out the new baby Mallard ducklings to Savannah. She giggled and babbled along the way. And, I did as I always do while spending most of my waking hours with her alone, I held my own little one-sided conversation with her about this and that, as we walked.
Savannah's just started to cut her two top incisors, and she's been chewing on everything. She also just learned how to sit up, from a lying position, all on her own. She suprised me today, when I went to wake her up from her afternoon nap, and she was sitting up in the crib, smiling and giggling at me. I'm so thankful my dad lowered the crib mattress when he was here.
I need to get her some sunscreen, some swimmer diapers and probably a new swimsuit after next payday. I'm guessing the complex's pool will be open by then, and I can take her up for a while here and there to cool off in the pool. It will be fun, I think. I'm looking foward to it.
It's amazing, how different I feel in only a short year. I look back on the entries I wrote last May, and what I'm thinking and feeling now. I'm only starting to get to know this beautiful little girl who I love with every particle of my being. I mean, her personality and her likes and dislikes are evident now more than ever.
She seems to have inherited a few of her parents' little quirks and idiosyncrasies. She loves to laugh and be silly, which I think she's definately gotten from her daddy. And, she's easy-going and generally happy, like her mommy. And, she just seems to get more and more beautiful every day.
I'm excited about using eMemories.com for photo developing, until we get a digital camera and/or scanner that works. As soon as I have a new roll of film to develop, I'll be sure to finally post some recent pictures of Savannah. Daddy just took a few the other night when she was taking a bath. They were sweet.
I'll stop rambling for now. Although, anyone who talks to me in person knows I could go on and on about Savannah for hours on end. She's my most favourite 28½ inch tall girl in the world.
We're off to play and make some dinner. And try to find out just how late Daddy might be coming home from work tonight. I hope you have a great weekend.
I'm looking forward spending time with my family, and probably cleaning some more. (Note to my dad: Yes, I know I need a life. But, this will have to do, for now.)