I’d like to start off by thanking Mike for so graciously adding to my Blog. I have to tell you, he sent his entry to me at work one morning and I was in stitches reading it. I had to be careful not to laugh too loud…lol.

After the evening of his Mom’s birthday party we were together every day and every night. We had lots of fun and lots of very serious talks. It was as if we had known each other our entire lives. We were best friends, we were soul mates. He made me feel special and started to teach me so much about the person that I thought was gone forever. There were still times however; that I would hide behind my walls thinking that everything he was doing or saying had an ulterior motive. It was hard for me to accept that someone would be kind to me just because. I wasn’t used to that in my previous relationship and at times I found it hard to let him get close to me. I didn’t want to be hurt again. I couldn’t be hurt again. But was I pushing him away with my apprehensions? At times I felt that yes, I was and I almost thought that I wanted to push him away. I was scared everything. He was so patient and so caring during all of this. I don’t know too many people who would have put up with all my foolishness the way he did. To be quite honest, I was pretty nasty and even though it was a defence mechanism, it wasn’t right. I’d pick fights just for the sake of fighting and try to do whatever I could to stop him (and perhaps even myself) from getting too deep into the relationship. Mike read me like a book. He knew what I was going though and he made it very clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was my protector and he watched over me and kept me safe.

Two and a half months after we started dating (I think it was June 27, if memory serves me correctly) we arrived at his house to pick up his mother. We were going to a wake later in the day for a cousin of his who had passed away. The phone was ringing in the kitchen and he answered it and suddenly started acting very strange. He was almost talking in code. Once he hung up the phone he said he had to go out for a few minutes. I asked him where and he didn’t want to tell me. Now you have to understand - there is no one on the face of this earth any nosier than me. Nothing doing, I had to know where he was going. He told me he had to run up to the mall so I was going too. He tried to get me to stay home with his mother, but once again, there was no way. His mom decided she wanted to come too, so off we went. Once we arrived at the mall his Mom headed for one of the shops and wanted me to go with her. Nope. No way. I was going with Mike. He was just up to something and I wanted to know what it was. After he grumbled something under his breath he agreed to let me tag along and I found myself standing in the middle of the jewellery store. I was just looking around letting him do his thing as he told me he had applied for a credit card from the store a while ago back. I worked my way over to the counter just as the lady was handing him a small box. (*GULP*) He opened it up, looked at me and said, “You were so anxious to see what I was doing. Here, have a look.” Inside the tiny box was a ring - and I didn’t think it was just any ‘ol ring. There were sparkling diamonds on that ring. I looked at him and said, “I think I better go find your mother”, turned around and got out of that store as fast as I could. I was stunned, shocked, excited, and scared to death all at the same time. I found his mother, said nothing to her and stood in the corridor waiting for Mike. We drove home in silence. There were millions of thoughts going through my head, not the least of which was that we had only been together for two and a half months. How could he possibly think we were ready to be together forever? I know, I know, he said he was going to marry me someday. That’s all well and good to say it but to actually mean it and want it to happen now totally threw me for a loop.

Once we arrived home he took me into the living room and told me to sit down. We talked again for the longest time and he told me exactly what I meant to him and where he wanted this relationship to go. He wasn’t blinded by infatuation nor was he taking this lightly, he just knew in his heart that we were meant to be together forever. I’m glad someone knew, because I sure didn’t. I knew I thought I loved him, or at least that I was starting to love him, but how can I make a decision like this after only being together with him for not even three months? I was still so scared. I wanted to love him with all my heart. I knew deep deep down inside me that yes, he was the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, but how could I get my head and my heart together on this one? “Never second-guess yourself,” he told me, “go with your heart”. I told him that I was scared he would break my heart and he promised me he would never do that. That could be a hard promise to keep. I knew I had to stop living in the past and learn to trust again. He had given me no reason thus far not to trust him, not to love him and not to want to spend the rest of my life with him. I cried and I cried and I cried. I knew right then and there that yes, this was right. Michael was the man for me. He was my Knight in Shining Armour. He was the man I wanted to call my husband. As he was kneeling in front of me, holding my hand I decided that my walls had to come down because if they didn’t I was going to lose the best thing that ever happened to me. He told me that this wasn’t quite the way he had wanted to ask me to be his wife, but it seemed as good a time as any other. Looking in his eyes I saw nothing but love. Of course I wanted to be his wife! With that, he took the small box out of his pocket, opened it and placed on my finger the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. I was so happy. All my fears and all my insecurities were gone in that instant. Could this really be it? Is it possible that I had really found the man for me? My heart told me yes, my head told me yes and the look in his eyes told me yes. The sound of our laughter echoed through the house and it wasn’t long before his Mom and grandmother joined us and shared in our happiness.

Shortly after it was time for us do go to the funeral home. I waited in the car as the 3 of them went in to pay their respects. While they were inside another relative of Mike’s (whom I hadn’t met to this point) jumped in the car with me and started carrying on with me. He was a super funny guy and I knew from that second that he and I would become good pals. After they came out of the funeral home, we dropped his Mom and grandmother off at home and headed to my place. I had to go home and tell my Mom and Dad that we were going to be married.

When we arrived, Mom and Dad weren’t home, but my sister was. She was ecstatic! Mike and her clicked from day one (as he did with my entire family). He was the big brother she never had. She would join us on many of our outings and we always had lots of fun when she tagged along. Sitting there waiting for Mom and Dad to arrive home was one of the most nerve-wracking times of my life. They were visiting neighbours up the road and it was close to three hours later when they decided to return home. We were in the rec room of our basement and asked them to join us. I can remember that Dad came down and sprawled out on the couch making himself quite comfortable. Mike started talking to both of them and told them how much he cared for me. He then asked for their permission to marry their daughter. Even though they were shocked, they were thrilled beyond words. We hugged, we cried and we laughed. They were so happy for us and wished us nothing but the best. Their biggest concern was that I finish my education and Mike assured them that we had no intention of me not finishing university.

The next few days were filled with excitement and joy. We decided that we would be married the following summer and started planning immediately. Even though we were still meeting members of each other’s families, everyone was thrilled that we were engaged and it was a summer I will never forget.

A year doesn’t take very long to go by. How did we survive the wedding preparations and the months and weeks leading up to our big day?

Until next time…

So, was Michael the man to tear down Tracey’s walls?

I think you’re going to have to wait a bit to get the end of Tracey’s story. You see, she asked me to step in for a wee bit, and give you MY side of our story. If you haven’t already guessed, this is Michael and just a hint, her story has a happy ending!

Reading through T’s last entry to her blog, I’ve come to realize I’m a lucky man. Either that or she felt REALLY sorry for me. I was a scuzball.

Kidding, just kidding. I clean up nice. What T left out was that I had gotten back from 10 days of camping, gotten a call for work, and went right to work. Heck, it was radio, who was going to see me? HA! I went home that night and told my mother that I had met the girl I was going to marry.

T’s pretty much covered everything. While she was still seeing “The Boyfriend” (please imagine dark, ominous music when that reference is made), we spent many hours having breakfast, coffee, and talking. Lots and lots of talking. To say we became close friends is an understatement. We became best friends. Her family was great as well. I came from a big family, but I was a loner. Hiking, fishing, camping, hunting, canoeing, that was what I liked to do. I was not a “people-person” (no dark ominous music here). The hours we spent together brought out a part of me that I didn’t know existed.

One of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life was the day I told her she had to make a decision. Talk about a kick in the stomach when she picked “The Boyfriend”. I went home that night, and pretty much decided that I was going to spend the rest of my life alone. You see, I knew from the minute I met her that Tracey was the only lady for me. Well, anyway, she had made her choice, and life goes on, so suck it up sideburn-boy.

Over the next few months I continued to “bump into” Tracey occassionally when she would be at the radio station with “The Boyfriend”. And even though I didn’t let on, I knew it was her that called different times requesting songs. I might have been a scuzball, but I wasn’t stupid, and I’ve always had a good ear for voices. Every time she’d call, I’d tell my mother I’d heard from her, or if she’d been in the radio station I’d tell Ma that she’d been there. It was hard, but I was convinced she was the one for me. But hey, she had made her choice.

The day I found out that Tracey had gotten engaged to “The Boyfriend” was more than heartbreaking. I came home from work that day and went out in the yard with an axe. Wait a second… don’t panic, it’s not what you think. We had an old railroad tie in the yard. A creosote log 8 feet long, and 8 inches square. I took the axe, and over the next three hours I cut the log into kindling. When that was done, I gathered up some of my camping gear and did what I always did when I had to think….I headed for the hills.

I went to a place that was very special to me, and I sat on a rock, a place I had sat many times where I could look over a lake. I could feel the wind, hear the birds, watch eagles soar, and if I was still enough, and quiet enough, the odd time deer would walk right into the clearing with me.

So, as I sat there, contemplating what T had done, I thought out one day, and brought in another. The next morning I gathered my things, walked out of the woods, and back to my car. The only thing I could do was realize that even if I thought she was making a mistake, Tracey had made a decision she thought was best for her, and I had to respect that decision.

Tracey had made her decision, and had to live with it. Life goes on, and Tracey hated all those sappy quotes and sayings at that time. But it’s true.

I would be lying if I said I was heartbroken when I found out about her breakup with “The Boyfriend”. Did I pick up the phone to call her? Hell yes, about 487 times. But I never dialled the numbers. Did I think I had a chance of getting her back? Well now, that was her decision. See, I had some walls as well, and I was not about to let myself be hurt again. I just went on with things, and whatever happened, would happen.

Time went on. Did I date? Not really. I had some good friends, and a couple of times I went out, but no one stirred my heart the way Tracey had, and I was never content.

The night I came home and my mom told me that Tracey had called, I wasn’t sure what to think. What did she want? Did I want to risk getting my heart broken again? Was she worth the chance? Was I wrong in thinking she was the woman I wanted in my life? So, I headed for that special place, and I thought. I thought and I thought and I thought (do I see a bit of a Robert Munsch influence there??).

The only conclusion I could come to was that I at least owed her the courtesy of returning her call. I headed for home, and picked up the phone. And put it down again. Was I crazy? This woman had ripped my heart out of my chest, stepped on it, thrown it in the garbage can, dumped an ashtray on top, then tap danced on my chest. Hell yes I was crazy. God help fools and men in love. Come hell or high water I loved her, and I was going to take the chance to talk to her again.

So, I called. And she answered, and called back a few minutes later. I’d like to say you know the rest of the story, but dear Reader, we’ve only scratched the surface.

I’m going to step back now, and let Tracey take over again. Enjoy the story, and stay tuned. It’s a humdinger.

How did you meet your husband? I have to laugh at this question. We certainly didn’t meet in a conventional way, that’s for sure. However, it was memorable, which I guess has to count for something.

Mike and I were introduced to each other during the summer of 1988. I had recently started dating a guy who worked at a local radio station where Mike worked and I was all caught up in the “glamour” of meeting all these radio personalities (I was 17 years old). I loved music and always listened to the radio and I knew the names of everyone who worked there so this was really exciting for me. I always wanted to work at the radio station.

You know how you always get a mental picture of someone when you hear their voice, but have no idea what they look like? Mike had this deep, strong voice like nothing I had ever heard before. He worked midnight - 6AM and I can remember always wondering what he looked like as I lied in bed listening to him. I was SO excited the night I knew I was going to meet him. The guy I was going out with was working so I decided to stop in. It was during the summer and Michael was working 6 - midnight this night. While I was there, Mike was doing a give-away and came on the intercom and asked if I liked Glass Tiger. He was giving away a cassette tape and wanted to know if I wanted it. Sure!!!

So over to the other control room I go to meet Mike. WHAT?????????? No way!!!! My mental moment certainly did not include red jogging pants, a lumberjack plaid shirt, a 10 day growth of beard (at least), sideburns half-way down his face, coke bottle glasses and hair that looked like it should have been cut months ago. To say I was devastated was the understatement of the year. Where was this tall, dark, handsome man I was expecting to be introduced to???

However, it gets better…

I said hi, (I tried not to let my disappointment show) and he said hi, and gave me the voucher for the cassette I “won”. We made small talk for a couple of minutes and then he looked at me and said…are you ready for this??….”I’m gonna marry you someday!” WHAT???? And before I knew what I was saying my response was, “I wouldn’t be caught dead on a date with you, let alone married to you.” Good grief. I left the control room and never did tell the guy I was seeing what he said.

Over the next little while I ran into Mike again and again at the radio station and at functions. We talked and started getting to know each other. He was so funny, and really a very nice guy. The fella I was dating seemed to get along with him pretty well and it was always fun to go into the station with him while Mike was working because there would be a lot of laughs.

One evening while I was at work at a local mall and my boyfriend was out of town playing a dance, Mike came into my store with his mother and his Aunt. We chatted and during the course of the conversation I told him that I had to try and get hold of my father to pick me up from work as boyfriend was away for the night. Mike told me that he could drive me home so I called Dad and told him not to bother. We went for a coffee and he took me home. I liked talking to him. He was a great guy. We were becoming very good friends and I found I could talk to him about anything. I laughed like I couldn’t remember laughing before and I started to really look forward to seeing him.

When boyfriend returned to town he wanted to know how I got home from work. To say that he was not impressed that Mike took me home was an understatement. He was furious! He was a very insecure man and our relationship had long since started to deteriorate. Mike and I talked about that a lot. I wasn’t happy, but I couldn’t see that. I know now it’s because I was totally infatuated with him, for whatever reason. He was ten years older than me and in so many ways began to strip me of my identity. He tried to keep me from my friends and ostracize me from my family. Everyone else could see that, except me. Funny how that happens, isn’t it?

Anyway, I stopped talking to Mike after that. Boyfriend and I became engaged and we were happy. No one else was. My parents told me it was him or them. They were devastated and made me give the engagement ring back. I was told I had to finish university and then we would see where things went. He took the ring back and they agreed to letting him get me my hope chest instead. We continued dating for a while and things became progressively worse. I found that I started calling Mike at any chance I could, just to talk. He was a good friend and I missed talking to him. He tried so hard to make me see that I was wasting my time and my life with this other fella, but I was so confused and didn’t know what to do. Always, in the back of my mind I remembered what Mike said to me during our initial meeting and I thought he had ulterior motives.

One night, Mike was at my house for supper (boyfriend was again out of town). Mom and Dad thought he was fantastic. He got along great with them, was very respectful and didn’t mind spending time with the family. What a switch that was. After supper Mom and Dad went out and Mike and I were there talking. He told me that he couldn’t continue to be caught in the middle of my relationship with the other fella. I had to make a decision. I had to chose. He couldn’t handle talking with me and spending time with me knowing how I was destroying my life. He was concerned with the grief I would have to take if boyfriend found out about the friendship we had. He was scared for me and didn’t want me being hurt. That night I chose my boyfriend. Michael walked out of my life. I was heartbroken, not because I was attracted to him, but because I felt like I had just lost my best friend. Once again, I chose a man who could offer me next to nothing over someone who had my best interests at heart. What was I doing?? Oh, how love can be blind.

Finally, after many incidents and continued heartache, boyfriend and I broke up for good in February of 1990. I was lost. I didn’t know how to be “Tracey” anymore and I withdrew into a shell that I thought I’d never come out of. I had lost contact with all my friends and I didn’t want to hear “I told you so” from my family. Other than going to classes and work I stayed in the house. I became trapped in a world of sitting down in the rec room in my rocking chair and did absolutely nothing else. As unhappy as I was in my previous relationship I wanted him back in my life. I missed having “someone” to be with. I missed feeling like I was somebody’s world, however distorted it was. I was falling into a deep depression.

It was a Sunday night, April 2, 1990 to be exact and I was doing what I had been - sitting in my rocking chair feeling very sorry for myself. For whatever reason, for the first time since the break-up, Michael popped into my head. I had to talk to him. But could I call him? What if he was seeing someone? What if he didn’t want to talk to me? What if he told me to get lost? *sigh* What should I do? I sat with the phone in my hand for the longest time and finally mustered up the courage to make the call. His mother answered the phone and my voice was shaking like crazy I asked if Michael was home. “No, I’m sorry he’s not. Who’s calling?” “It’s Tracey phoning.” “Tracey?” and I told her my last name. “No dear, he’s gone downtown, but he shouldn’t be too long.” “Oh, ok, could you please tell him I phoned?” After she said yes, I hung up the phone and continued with my rocking marathon. The rest of the night came and went and the phone didn’t ring. I went to bed, fell asleep and suspected I may not hear from him.

The next evening we were all just coming in the house and the phone was ringing. I ran and grabbed it and much to my surprise I hear “Hi there.” It was Michael. My heart started beating, I smiled immediately and I got butterflies in my stomach like never before. Since we had last spoken I got my own phone line down in my bedroom so I asked him if it was ok if I called him back in a minute. We hung up and I flew down over the basement steps without a foot touching the ground. I can remember Mom asking me what that was all about as I headed downstairs and I yelled back that it was Michael. She told me afterwards she hadn’t heard me sound so happy in a long time.

I didn’t want to appear too eager so I took a few minutes before I phoned him back. It was like I was 15 years old. My palms were sweaty, my heart was still pounding and I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life. I knew he would have heard about the break-up and I didn’t want to come across as being on the rebound. I wasn’t. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I just wanted my friend back. We talked, we laughed, I cried. It was a fantastic conversation that lasted for absolute hours. It was as though we had never stopped talking. He asked me if I wanted to go out the following evening and I said sure. We were going to go out for Chinese food. The following day I floated on air! I was so excited! I must have tried on every piece of clothing I owned and started getting ready hours before he was to pick me up. Finally he arrived and we drove back over to his hometown (about 20 minutes away) arriving at his favorite restaurant. The staff recognized him and were very friendly. We sat there for hours talking, eating and laughing. It was a phenomenal night. Little did I know that this night was the start of the rest of my life.

The following day was his Mom’s birthday and Mike picked me up so we could go shopping for her. She collected Trolls, so we decided to get her a Troll Cake and we also got her a pair of fuzzy bear paw slippers. I was nervous to go over and see his Mom and his grandmother but I was assured I would be welcomed with opened arms. It was a fun evening with lots of laughs. I was made to feel at home from the moment I walked in the door. It was such a wonderful feeling. It was now April 5, 1990 and I was the happiest girl in the world.

Where this was going, I had no idea. I was beginning to hope it was going somewhere, but he was my friend, my buddy. How could it go somewhere else? Could I let myself get close to someone in that way again? Too much to think about right now. I would just be satisfied that I was smiling again and having fun. There’s no need to rush into anything, right? A guy and a girl can be just friends with no strings attached, right? I still hurt, I still didn’t know how to trust, and I was still scared of being hurt again. I had a lot of baggage that I was still dealing with and had to get things straightened out in my head. As much as I was enjoying our time together I was looking at all the “what-if’s” again, and he knew that. I had many many walls built up around my heart. Was Michael the man to tear them down?

Until next time…

After we received Matthew’s diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome I buried myself in any and all information I could get my hands on dealing with Autism Spectrum Disorder. The books I read and the online articles I found could have been written especially for Matthew. You can’t possibly imagine the absolute relief and comfort we felt learning as much as we could about this aspect of Matthew’s life. Knowledge is definitely power and we were prepared to gain as much knowledge about what made our boy tick as we could.

I wrote letters to every politician (municipal, provincial and federal) that I could find addresses for and surprisingly I was astounded by the responses. Each member who replied to me seemed to have another resource from the one before or another avenue that I could explore. I had more information and contacts than I could possibly go through. I was well on my way to expanding our support network.

Closer to home we started working with the school board to make sure there would be a Teacher’s Assistant (TA) in place for Matthew come September. This proved to be somewhat more of a challenge. Our key contact at the school board was amazing but her hand’s were somewhat tied due to what I like to call political red tape and chains of command. I found out what had to be done and I went in full steam ahead.

For the first week of school (September ‘06) Matthew did not have a TA with him. He would get off the bus everyday and be physically ill coming down the road. It was too much. He was in a class this year with several high-needs children and the chaos and turmoil was quickly taking its toll. Into the second week there was still no placement for Matthew and things were going from bad to worse. He cried after school, he cried going to bed, he cried getting up in the morning. The buck stopped here. We decided to pull him out of school until the position for his TA was approved. Mike went to the principal and the staff at the school and explained what we were doing and why we were doing it. They were as frustrated as we were, but unfortunately there is only so much they can do at the school level. The school stood behind us 100% and totally understood why we had been driven to the point of keeping him home. Once the school was aware of our situation, the phone call was made to the board offices. Our contact, as well, understood why we reacted in the way we did and said the message would be passed along to the power’s-that-be. Within 20 minutes we received word that his permanent TA would be assigned within the week (with posting, interviewing, etc), but in the mean time he would have a casual TA in the classroom starting the following morning. Gee, that was difficult, wasn’t it? I was thrilled but absolutely infuriated that it had to come down to hauling my son from his right to an education before we saw results. Results that were specifically stated as essential from a psychologist. What more did they want? Sometimes “the system” makes me lose all hope. Why is it that I had to resort to such an extreme measure to make sure that my son received what he needed to get the most out of his education? I quickly learned that while the school agreed and empathised with us, they only had so much power. We, as Matthew’s parents are his biggest advocates. If we aren’t going to stand up for him and fight for what is rightfully his, no one will. He’d get lost in the system of political red tape and end up who knows where. I have made it my goal to find his rightful place in his world. I’m not exactly sure where that is yet, but there is a place for him, there is a reason for his being, and there is a lifetime of happiness and success just waiting for him. I plan to help him find it.

His TA began with him two weeks later and much to my delight, we knew her. Matthew attended preschool years before and she was one of his teachers! This would be fantastic. I knew her and was very confident that she was EXACTLY what Matthew needed to thrive. She wouldn’t put up with any of his “little tricks” nor would she allow him to coast his way through. She would treat him the way I would treat him, and I liked that.

Now of course, nothing is ever easy, as I have come to realize. We just get Mr. Man settled with his TA and it’s time for his regular scheduled visit with his pediatrician. At the end of August, as we always do, we took Matt to our family doctor for his regular “Back to School” check-up. Since he was born we knew that he had a heart murmur. Nothing to be concerned about, we just kept an eye on it. On this visit with our family doctor, he said something sounded not quite right; his heartbeat appeared “more different than normal” and he was going to schedule a cardiac ultrasound just to be on the safe-side. Not having heard anything on the date for the cardiac ultrasound, I mentioned this to the pediatrician, who is aware of Matt’s murmur and decides to take a good listen for himself. He sounded him for what seemed to be forever and the next thing I knew, he was on the phone calling for chest x-rays and a cardiac ultrasound with a conference call to the IWK Children’s Hospital in Halifax ASAP. He agreed with our family doctor that something was not quite right and wanted it looked at immediately. The ultrasound could not be performed for 2 hours, but in the meantime we went down for the chest x-ray and much to Matthew’s delight went to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. It takes so little to make him excited! Of course, he was wondering what all the commotion was about so we told him that the doctor just wanted to check and make sure that everything was okay with his heart. He wanted to know if there was something wrong with his heart. I told him his heart was just fine; he loved me just as much now as he did this morning and that’s all he had to concern himself with.

After a two-hour wait and another hour and a half of the cardiac ultrasound and consultation between the pediatric-cardiologist and our pediatrician we were told that Matthew has had a CHD (Congenital Heart Defect) all these years known as a bicuspid aortic valve. Where a normal valve has 3 “flaps” or leaflets covering the opening, he has two. In bicuspid aortic valve the valve leaflets are often thickened. This can result in obstruction of blood flow across the valve, a condition called aortic stenosis and/or valve leakage, a condition called aortic valve regurgitation. He will have to be followed regularly (meaning annually at this point) by the cardiac clinic to make sure there these two conditions are not presenting themselves. Odds are good that during the fourth

decade of his life, he will have to have the valve replaced, but that’s 30 years away so we’re not even going to concern ourselves with that at this point. Just another chapter to the book. Never a dull moment, for sure.

Back at school we find Matthew adjusting well. He has a few minor issues with his TA but they are able to sort them out. They have to find a common ground and a way of working together that will be conducive to both of them. I think that happened a long time before Matthew was ready to admit that it happened.

One of the big social stumbling blocks for someone who has Asperger’s is their inability to “get” sarcasm, puns, and many little idioms of the English language that a lot of us can take for granted. Matthew would get very upset and distraught when someone would “tease” him or try to carry-on with him. His classroom teacher and TA made it their personal mission to teach him how to deal with and appreciate sarcasm, how to know when someone was carrying-on with him and how to develop the cute personality that they (and we) knew he had.

Along with the teachers, we started working with Matthew as well. We had to basically teach him all the social rules of everything. We had one huge area covered already; his manners and his etiquette were better than that of some adults. He is the most polite, well-mannered, well-spoken little boy that I have ever seen (as I am not just saying that because he’s mine). It almost embarrasses me at times to hear people talk about him the way they do. Mike and Matt started a little game that they were only allowed to play at home. In order to show Matthew that people could tease and play without being “bad”, he was allowed to try to think of as many “funny” names for his father as he could. They had an on-going competition, which has seen such funny names as “whale-slime”, “skunk-fart”, and “turnip-breath” become absolute terms of endearment between the two of them. Good grief! BUT the good news is, he’s getting it! He has matured so much this year (if you can say calling someone “whale-slime” is maturing), people are continually amazed. Sarcasm rolls off his tongue now and he doesn’t run and cry when someone says anything to him in a joking way. I can’t imagine anything being as exasperating as teaching someone how to react in almost any social situation that you can imagine. A lot of the social instincts we have are innate, we are born with them. This is the part of the brain that is wired differently for Matthew. He has to be taught so much of what we take for granted, he has no concept of social cues and the frustration begins when we find the same concept come up but in a different situation. He is very literal and cannot think past what he can see. He does not understand how to relate the same social rules to different scenarios. So we are constantly teaching the same ideas to him over and over again. When he finally “gets it” and we know he actually understands, we could jump over the moon. Sometimes it takes endless times of repeating and coaching over and over and over before we are confident that socially, he is progressing.

Academically, Matthew had a wonderful year. His IPP was designed to give him the success he needed to begin regaining some confidence in his abilities. He surpassed many of the goals set forth and even though he struggles with his reading, the successes far outweighed the struggles. At the beginning of the year his journal entries consisted of pictures and perhaps a few words. By the time he did his last entry in June he was composing, on his own, between 8-10 sentences to go along with the picture he would draw. Again, we were over the moon. The little things with him are so big. I have explained to people that I would never expect perfection from Matthew, as I don’t believe that’s realistic. The number on the top of the test can’t always measure ability and understanding. If he worked and performed to the best of his ability, then in my opinion, success has been achieved. He was selected this year to have a journal entry published in a book for the school board and the reason he was selected was based on the level of improvement he showed over the course of the year. That meant more to us, as his parents, than if had achieved 100% on every test or assignment that he completed over the course of the year.

The summer of 2007 is shaping up to be one full of joy, fun, excitement and adventure. September will see Matthew starting grade 4 in a new school with a new Teacher’s Assistant. Am I scared and apprehensive? Of course! Am I optimistic and open-minded? Absolutely! Who knows what tomorrow has in store for any of us? I think it would be pretty boring if we did. No matter what obstacles we may or may not encounter, we will face it all together with our head’s held high. We are very fortunate to have a wonderful little boy in our lives. I wouldn’t change him for anything.

Now that you have been introduced to our children and some of our struggles and our joys, perhaps next I will focus on what brought Mike and I together. That’s a book in itself! I have enjoyed sharing my stories, but they are far from over. We’re just getting started so hang on for another great ride, coming soon.

Until next time…

Matthew’s second year in grade primary saw him capitalize on a lot of the skills he didn’t quite grasp the year before. He had a different teacher, which was good. She expected more independence from him yet she didn’t take it for granted that he “knew” everything. There were still academic issues, but he advanced and we saw great improvements. Socially, he almost seemed more comfortable with the younger children. He was more at ease and even though he was two years older than most of them, he seemed to “fit in” better. He had his first real “Grading Day” and was pleased as punch to be going into grade one.

His grade one teacher was also wonderful. She soon recognized that Matthew appeared to have issues which were more than ADHD related. Although he was still having trouble paying attention and staying on track, it was more than that. His fine/gross motor skills were lacking, he would get completely frustrated when attempting to copy things off the board, and was constantly playing with items in his desk. He was referred by her for a full scale Psycho-Educational Assessment. This would not happen for almost one year. With a lot of hard work, determination and commitment from all of us, we were able to get him through the year. He was so frustrated. He hated school. There were obvious problems there. We had to get to the bottom of it. He was 8 years old and much too young to be facing frustrations of this magnitude this early in his little life.

Early in his grade 2 year, Matthew received the recommended testing and the results were definitely conclusive with what his teacher had suspected in grade one. Matthew met the diagnostic criteria for a Nonverbal Learning Disorder and likely a reading disability. A Nonverbal Learning Disorder is a neurobiological disorder affecting right hemisphere systems, the area of the brain which processes nonverbal or performance based information. The three categories of dysfunction associated with a NLD are motoric (gross and fine motor), visual-spatial organization (a lack of image, poor visual recall, faulty spatial perceptions and difficulty with spatial relations), and social (a lack of ability to comprehend nonverbal communication, difficulties adjusting to transitions and novel situations, significant deficits in social judgment and social interaction).

Well this is great. At least now we have a name for what is causing Matthew difficulties, but how do we help him? How much support are we going to get?

Fortunately, a lot of those questions were answered in the report from the school’s psychologist. There was a list of recommendations for Matthew’s schooling with hopes that his frustration level would decrease and he would be able to start enjoying school.

Matthew’s program was immediately adapted to better suit his needs. A computer was brought into the classroom for him to help in various areas. The assistive technology support was amazing! There was appropriate software introduced which helped him with reading, math and writing. The use of the computer on a daily basis also started to strengthen his hand-eye coordination and we could see a difference with his visual spatial organization, as well.

Some other recommendations for Matthew included having his notes copied for him (including homework), allow him to dictate responses to a scribe, substitute discussions and oral presentation for some written work, provide clear step-by-step instructions, giving one instruction at a time, provide extra time to complete tasks, reduce the number of questions or problems to be completed, and oral testing. Gee, there really are a lot of “little things” that could be done to help him out during the course of the school day. And with his homework, we were advised to ask him to spell his spelling words verbally as opposed to writing them down, limiting the amount of times he spends on one subject and doing projects verbally more as a presentation. These changes were implemented immediately and by his report card at Christmas time, there was a noticeable improvement. We worked with him every night and tried to find different, fun, and unique ways to help him with his schooling. He was still getting easily frustrated, though. The school approached us about the possibility of an IPP (Individual Program Plan) for Matthew starting in his grade three year. The IPP outlines areas of strengths and weaknesses that Matthew had and the goal of the IPP is to capitalize on his strengths while working on his weaknesses. The program is designed so the student will see success and get the most out of his school experience. We sat down with his grade 2 teacher, the principal, the resource teacher, the school psychologist and our own child and adolescent psychologist that we had been seeing for about a year and a half and talked at great lengths to see what type of program could be designed to allow Matthew to “like” school and have success at the same time. The program that was implemented was amazing. He had computer time every day (structured and leisure) and was able to elaborate on some of the scholastic areas where he was shining.

Even though we were pleased with the way his grade two year had ended, we felt we didn’t quite have the full-picture yet. There were a lot of questions we were able to get answered this year, but at the same time, there were still as many unanswered questions. There were pieces of the puzzle that just weren’t fitting. I spoke with our psychologist and asked if there was any other testing available, something more extensive than the testing the school board provided. Much to my delight there was. It would cost us $600 but we could have him privately assessed through a very well known psychologist who is tops in his field in our area and whose testing results hold high impact in the medical community.

During the first week of July, 2006 we began the process which went like wildfire! The doctor met with me and my husband to get and extensive look at Matthew’s background from day one. He asked us about absolutely everything you could possibly imagine. This interview lasted well over the hour for which is was scheduled and I knew we were at the right place to find the answers we were so eagerly looking for.

The following day, Matthew went in for testing. This was 3 hours of non-stop interaction between him, the doctor and the lady administering the tests.

Matthew started off having quite a bit of fun as the tasks he was required to do were “fun” and quite stimulating. He was given breaks periodically, but they lasted no more than 10 minutes. He’d come out to the waiting area and see me, get a drink of water and go back in for another round. The second time he exited the room, his look was far less enthusiastic. It was harder, he told me, and he had to do work that he didn’t know how to do. I assured him he was doing great and that there was no right or wrong with these tests and he went back on his way. Almost an hour passed before I saw him again. He looked like a little rag-doll. The moment he saw me he started to cry. He wanted to go home. He was getting very frustrated. (We were told the evening before that this would happen. It was the structure of the testing. He would have to be pushed far beyond his level of capability in order for the results to be accurate.) Again I tried to talk with him remaining as positive as I could. He had one more session to go through and then it would all be over. With some coaxing, we were able to get him back into the testing room so they could finish up. The last thing they wanted to do was have to stop the testing to resume it at another time. The “true picture” wouldn’t be reflected. It’s just not the way the program is set up. As much as it tore the heart and soul out of me to see him so upset, I knew it was necessary if we wanted accuracy. Finally, he was done. He came out of the room looking like he had been drug through a knot-hole, but quite happy do be done. The doctor informed him that he did fantastic and that he was a real trooper. A meeting was set up for the following evening to go through the preliminary results.

After going through a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo, facts and statistics, we were finally getting to the bottom-line, end-of-the day results. Matthew has ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), which in itself is very complex and multi-faceted. More specifically, the area on the spectrum where Matthew fit is known as Asperger’s Syndrome.

AS is characterized by:

*Narrow interests or preoccupation with a subject to the exclusion of other activities,
*Repetitive behaviours or rituals,
*Peculiarities in speech and language,
*Extensive logical/technical patterns of thought,
*Socially and emotionally inappropriate behaviour and interpersonal interaction,
*Problems with nonverbal communication,
*Clumsy and uncoordinated motor movements

That’s it!! That’s Matthew! If I could describe him in point form, that would be it! I felt relieved, ecstatic, scared, overjoyed, nervous, sad, elated and a million other conflicting emotions all at the same time. What now? We’ve seemed to have finally “pegged” him. What can be done to help him? What can be done to help us?

There are big changes on the horizon, I can feel it.

Until next time…

Even though our summer got off to a rough start, we tried our best to shift our attention to the joy and excitement of Matthew starting school in September. My baby was growing up and I was so proud to see him heading off on a journey that would take him the next 13 years to complete. He seemed to be looking forward to school and was not apprehensive about it at all. We met his teacher back in June and we were very pleased with her. She ws a lovely lady and thought of each of the children as her own. Matthew would be attending a small school and it took no time at all before we knew all the teachers and support staff. He was making quite the impression at his school. He loved to tell stories and always had something exciting to share with his teacher, principal and fellow students. His teacher was amazed with his vocabulary and thought process. He was a very well-spoken boy for his age, seeming to be far beyond his years; an “old-soul”, his teacher said.

After just getting Matthew settled into the routine of school, our house sold in mid-November. Even after we lost Emily, we decided to keep the house on the market as we felt it may help with the healing process - we were all in need of a fresh new start. So it’s mid-November. A closing date was requested for the end of November! Two weeks! We didn’t have another home yet, but we couldn’t pass up the only offer we had received on our house so far. I called my Dad and he came down to talk with us. He said to accept the offer and move back in with them until we had the chance to find something. There was only one catch. The basement apartment was being rented by university students and if we moved back in with my parents we would be “in” with my parents. The three of us would be living in their tv room converted into a bedroom. We had no choice. It wouldn’t be for that long. We’d find something soon. I knew what I wanted anyway.

The home I grew up in was built by my Dad. It was sold when I was 11 years old. I loved it. It was located in a quiet neighbourhood and was surrounded by all my Mom’s family. About 5 years previous the people who bought the home from Mom and Dad put it up for sale. They didn’t get an offer and decided to take it off the market. Mike and I talked about it and decided that we would go and speak to them now to see if they were still interested in selling. They were. The day we went in to look at the house is a day I will never forget. It was like I walked back in on my childhood. So much of the house was identical to what it was when I lived there as a child. The part I was most excited about was the Bar down in the rec room that my Dad had built. It was still there! I had to have my home back! I knew I had found what I wanted and it wouldn’t matter if someone offered me a $500,000 home, this is what I wanted. We made them an offer and they said no. I was devastated. They came back with a counter-offer and although it may have been a wee bit more than what the house was “worth”, we made a deal. I added a few things that I would like and we were good to go. I couldn’t believe it - I was going home! The only thing standing in our way was the owner’s had no intention of selling, so we had to give them time to find something. We were at Mom and Dad’s until March 17. It was a long 4.5 months, but we made it through. It was a different Christmas for everyone and lots of sacrifices on all parts, but the end result was awesome.

During all this we had to try and keep Matthew’s schedule and routine as normal as possible. That was kind of tricky living out of one room at the grandparent’s home. His Christmas report showed that he was having trouble settling in at school. His attention span was practically nonexistent and he had no interest at all in doing any work. Group work was also very difficult and continually resulted in Matthew crying in class. He spoke out of turn and didn’t want to follow any rules set out by the teacher as to the day-to-day routine of the classroom. We felt that perhaps because his little world had been turned upside down so much over the last few months, he was just acting out. This was not an excuse, by any means, but it certainly was a lot of turmoil for a little boy to deal with in a short time. Just to be on the safe-side, we decided to make an appointment with the pediatrician as we have thought for a while that Matthew was having trouble focusing on things, yet spent too much time focusing on other things.

By the time we received the appointment, it was April. We were settled into our new home and loving every minute of it. It was a real full-circle moment for me. We were living in the home that was built by my Mom and Dad. In a home where I had so many wonderful memories of my early childhood. Now I get to make memories of my own with my son and husband in the very same home. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I was happier than I could ever remember.

The result of that doctor’s appointment began another chapter of our lives. Matthew was diagnosed with ADHD and the doctor wanted him to start on medication right away. I was heartbroken. I cried until I had no more tears left in my body. I was so confused. I had heard so many bad things about medicating and overmedicating children with ADHD. It was over-diagnosed and the medication was used to keep children quiet. I was freaking out!

We have an excellent relationship with our family doctor, so I immediately made an appointment to go in and talk to him about this. He would see how wrong this was and make everything better, right? Wrong. I had the best conversation with him that I have ever had with anyone. He tells me how things are and has no problem bringing me back to reality. I went in there on the defensive not wanting to believe that our son had a “problem”. He let me ramble and tell him all my misconceptions and erroneous facts about ADHD and the medication. When I was finished with my verbal diarrhea he looked at me asked me a series of questions. “If Matthew was diabetic, would you give him insulin”? Of course. “If Matthew had high blood pressure, would you give him medication”? Of course. “If Matthew had any physical condition requiring medication or treatment, would you make sure he received the best care possible”? Of course! “ADHD is a result of a chemical imbalance in the brain. His brain is not wired the same way as yours and mine. The medication will allow him to focus and concentrate. It will slow him down.”

We talked at great length and learned a lot that day. The following morning we started Matthew on 5mgs of Dexedrine and within 48 hours saw a huge improvement. His teacher was amazed. It was like a tots transformation. His wonderful personality continued to shine through but now she was able to get him to sit, do some of his work and take his turn. Even at home, things were easier. None of us were as frustrated which meant a happier home.

However great all Matthew’s leaps and bounds, because of how much of the school year had passed, it was strongly recommended that Matthew repeat his first year. In speaking with the teacher and principal, I again cried until I no longer had any tears. Over the next few days and weeks we had a lot to think about. Once more we called on the advice of our pediatrician and family doctor. Matthew had already missed a year of school due to his birthday. He would be 7 years old repeating his first year. How would this affect him socially? After many hours of talking and crying and talking some more, we agreed that it would be better to hold him back now, than have him go on and struggle in higher grades because he failed to get the basics. Now the hard part. How do you tell your son that he won’t be moving on with his friends to a new grade in September? We decided to be upfront with him. While he’s been doing fantastic in school, there wasn’t quite enough time for him to learn everything he needed to learn to go to grade one since he started taking his medication. If he returned to grade primary next year, he’d be able to learn all the stuff he had trouble with at the beginning of the year, he could also be a “helper” for his teacher with all the new kids coming in and he’d be able to have a super year right from the get-go and grade next year knowing that he had all the work that he needed for the next grade. He seemed pretty ok with it, although I knew he was disappointed. Understandably so.

Did we do the right thing? Would we be sorry?

Until next time….

The summer of 2002 started out like any other. Everyone was excited for a couple of reasons. #1 Matthew would be starting school in September, and #2 we were expecting our second child. We were in the process of selling our home and trying to find something bigger as the home we lived in only had 2 bedrooms and with a new baby on the way, we definitely needed something a bit bigger.

Our excitement would be short-lived. On July 12 I was scheduled for a routine 20 weeks ultrasound. My sister had missed so much of my first pregnancy as she was attending university away, I wanted her to come to the ultrasound with me. My pregnancy had been great, no morning sickness, no spotting, no need for concern. Of course, I went in myself initially and she could join us after the technician did all the measurements. Things seemed to be going well and then the technician became very quiet. She was focusing on a certain area and took many more pictures and measurements than I could remember having with Matthew. She told me she wanted to go get the radiologist to come and have a look at something and I asked her if everything was ok. She said she thought so and as she left to get the Doctor, I asked if my sister could please come in. I was getting a little nervous.

My sister came in and the radiologist entered and introduced herself to me. She was a younger woman and immediately I liked her. She was very up-front with me. She said, “Tracey, there is something here. Just give me a couple of minutes to have a look, ok?” Well, a couple of minutes turned into almost 45. My heart was pounding through my chest and I had to pee so bad I thought my bladder would rupture. I could see the screen. I could see my baby moving all over the place, what could possibly be wrong? I was getting a belly and I could feel movement for about 3 weeks now. I wasn’t sick. What could be wrong?

“The problem seems to be with the baby’s bowel.” The Doctor’s voice snapped me back from my thoughts. “It appears as though the bowel is located outside the abdomen.” WHAT??? That’s not right. That can’t be. A million things started going through my mind all at once. First and foremost was that my husband should be here with me for this, however, my sister is a nurse, she’ll know what to ask and she’ll be able to explain all of this to me. The Doctor suggested I get up and go to the washroom and then we could talk.

In the two minutes that I was in that washroom by myself I took a few deep breaths and decided that I was going to listen to what had to be said. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. Her voice didn’t sound too “end-of-the-worldish”, so let’s just see where this is all going to go.

The condition is known as Gastroschisis, which is basically a hole in the abdominal wall. It is fixable. That’s all I needed to hear. Nothing else mattered - it is fixable. She wants me to go to the children’s hospital in Halifax (4 hours away) for further testing, though. No problem. She explained that the u/s equipment was better and more delicate in Halifax and it would show us exactly what we were dealing with. Again, no problem. She has an appointment for us on Tuesday (…this is Friday). She explained that when it came time for me to deliver, it would be at the Children’s Hospital in Halifax as the baby would require immediate surgery to fix the abdomen wall and reinsert the bowel. I remember her writing down the directions for us to get to the hospital and she told me that she lived close by and gave me her phone number in case we needed a break for a cup of tea or anything. (WOW! How nice was that?)

The one thing she did ask me to do was to please stay away from the internet for the weekend (I think my sister may have asked her to say this as my sister knew I would be researching this all weekend). She made me promise her that I would, and I did. By waiting until I got to Halifax to find out exactly what the issues were I wouldn’t have myself all worked up by reading information that may or may not pertain to my case at all. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me. This radiologist was wonderful and I couldn’t thank her enough. Now to go home and tell Mike.

We are not the type of people to sit and feel sorry for ourselves - it’s not going to change anything. We talked a lot on the weekend of possible scenarios that we may be faced with but decided that whatever would be would be and no amount of worrying on our part this weekend was going to change any of that. We enjoyed our weekend with Matthew, informed our families (and our family doctor) of what was happening and headed to Halifax Monday at noon time. We’d leave as soon as our appointment was finished on Tuesday. We’d be home to put Matthew to bed on Tuesday night.

This was the first time we had any dealings with the Children’s Hospital in Halifax (The IWK). I could easily tell why it was so highly recognized. The staff at the Fetal Assessment Unit were amazing. They explained that I would be having an ultrasound and then I would have a consultation with the head of the Unit, who would explain the results and outline the course of action for us. The first thing that amazed me was that I didn’t have to drink any water for this ultrasound. The equipment is so sophisticated that my bladder did not need to be full for them to see the baby. Awesome! The second thing that pleased me was that hubby was permitted to be with me from the get-go.

My enthusiasm was unfortunately, short-lived. The events that transpired over the next half-an-hour would change our lives forever. The ultrasound technician didn’t waste any time doing her thing and after about 10 minutes went to get the Doctor. He came in and looked at things for about the same amount of time and told us very point blank that things were much more serious than first anticipated. Not only was the baby’s bowel exposed, but all lower internal organs were exposed as the abdomen wasn’t closing over at all. There were also issues with the size of the lungs and the heart size. Scoliosis of the spine was also evident as were extra digits on one hand and foot. The baby would stay alive as long as I carried, but there was less than a quarter of a percent change that survival outside the womb would be possible. The extent of the condition was too grave. Simply put, there was nothing that could be done to save our baby.

The baby suffered from ABS (Amniotic Band Syndrome). Basically the amniotic sac developed a tear and the tear caused that part of the sac to almost “shred” and attack the baby. Normally, the shredded sac will attach to the umbilical cord, or digits or limbs. In our case it attached to the umbilical cord at the base of the baby’s abdomen and a hand and foot. There is a greater chance of survival with children born from the condition. Death of a child is uncommon and noted only in the most severe cases.

He explained that even though the baby would continue to grow and move inside me as the pregnancy continued, the added stress on my uterus could possibly be too much for my body to handle. As the baby grew, my life was actually in jeopardy and he strongly advised delivering the baby immediately to avoid and unnecessary trauma to me. When Mike heard that there was even the slightest possibility that carry to term could put me at risk, he made the decision. We had to do this now. We had a 5 year old boy at home who needed his mother. If there was no chance that the baby was going to survive regardless of whether I carried to term or not, he couldn’t take the risk of anything happening to me. It my head, I knew he was right. My heart however, was another story.

We left the ultrasound room and met with a nurse from the Fetal Assessment Unit who sat with us, talked with us, cried with us. She explained how everything was going to work. Because of the size of the baby and the fact that I was over 20 weeks, they had to induce labour. I would have to deliver this baby. This could happen as early as the following day. My head was spinning, I felt like I was going to be sick and I couldn’t remember half of what we talked about. All I could think about was having to call our family, 4 hours away and tell them that the appointment I went to Halifax for has turned into so much more. I came to Halifax pregnant and I would be going home with nothing. During the time we spent with the nurse, there was paperwork we had to take care of. In the event that the baby was born alive, we had to do birth-certificates and death-certificates. She explained that the odds of the baby being born alive were very very slim. The trauma of going through the birth canal would be more than the baby could handle, but these things had to be done - just in case.

We left the hospital feeling numb. We went back to our hotel room and started making phone calls. My parents (with strict instructions to try and keep everything from Matthew until we arrived home), Mike’s Mom, my sister, and our closest cousins and friends. We cried and we cried. But we knew it was for the best. Mom and Mike’s Mom wanted to come to Halifax to be with us. No. This was something we had to do ourselves. Once we finished up with the phone calls, we had to go out. Just go get away from things. We went and got some dinner, and with not being prepared to stay in Halifax, we had to go buy a few things to get us through the next couple of days. We spent the evening talking and we realized this was the first thing that has happened to us since we were married 11 years previously that we handled 100% by ourselves - just the 2 of us. No parents, no outside influences, nothing. I felt at peace with that. Mike and I were able to deal with and try to come to terms with this on our own before we headed back home to face everyone. We were back at the hotel room and in bed early. Tomorrow would be a long day.

We arrived at the hospital for 10:00. Once the paperwork for admittance was done, we were back at the Fetal Assessment Unit and more of the procedure was explained to us. We were taken to our room and introduced to our nurse (she was assigned only to me), and the other nurse who was there for the baby. There was another room right next to my room that was a sitting room, just for us. We were free to come and go as long as I felt comfortable enough to do so. They made us feel so at ease and so at home. The staff were simply wonderful. Soon after we were settled, we were introduced to the Doctor who would induce me. She was a very kind lady who didn’t leave until she was sure all our questions were answered. At 12 noon they began inducing me. The type of induction was quite simple and painless. There were tablets inserted vaginally every 4 hours. I was told the procedure could take between 24-48 hours. That didn’t thrill me a lot. Once the first tablets were inserted we went for a walk outside on the hospital grounds. It was a gorgeous day and it was nice to be out in the sunshine. We were able to talk with our family at home and checked in with them a few times throughout the day. At 4:00 we returned for another dosage of the medication. By 5pm, Mike was getting hungry and they were bringing me my supper, so he decided to walk down and get something at the cafeteria. In the 10-15 minutes that he was gone, I went from walking around the room to being very nauseated, vomiting, and starting to experience severe cramping. He was shocked, to say the least when he returned to fond the nurses hooking me up to an IV.

Over the next couple of hours I was in active labour. I was not dilating, so it was still going to be quite some time. Close to 8pm a new Doctor came in to administer another dosage. I was in a lot of pain and very uncomfortable. As soon as she finished, I felt like I had to go to the washroom. I was in a lot of pain so they brought a chair over next to the bed for me to use. Once I sat on the chair I couldn’t believe what had happened.

The baby was born. I looked at Mike and simply said, “That was the baby.” He quickly called for the nurses, they came in and he told them that I had the baby while sitting on the chair. They were beyond stunned and somewhat in disbelief. I can remember that time absolutely stood still at that point. I can remember looking up at the clock and it said 8:00. Suddenly there was a lot of commotion around me, but it was like I was watching it all on a screen. I focused on Mike, who was handing scissors to one of the nurses and I said “Leave it to me to give birth to a baby in a portable toilet.” Of course, they had to be careful when cutting the cord and getting the baby and then trying to get me back into the bed. I can’t do anything the easy way. Two of the nurses went with the baby while the Doctor examined me and together we determined the best thing might now be for me to go and have a D&C to make sure everything was cleaned out.

We decided the day before that Mike would see the baby. If he thought I could handle seeing the baby, I would and if not I wouldn’t. He knew what I would be able to handle. While the Doctor was with me, Mike went with the nurses to be with our baby. Shortly after, Mike returned holding the most precious, most tiny, most perfect looking baby girl in the palm of his hand. She was born an angel. She was a mere 7 inches long and weighed half a pound. He handed her to me and again, time stood still. She was absolutely beautiful. She looked identical to her big brother. She was Emily Ann Rose. She was our girl. Soon I was taken down to surgery and Mike kept Emily with him while he made phone calls to the family at home. It was only about an hour before I was returned to my room, my husband and my baby girl. A minister arrived and spoke with us for the longest time, but I was really out of it from the anaesthetic, and as much as I tried to pay attention, I knew I was dosing in and out. Finally, it was just the 3 of us for another little while and then I dosed of to sleep for the night.

The next morning I was given the all-clear to leave after it was determined that it was safe to do so. They suggested that I stay in the city for one more day just in case I had any complications with bleeding. We left and went back to the hotel where we both slept again for hours. We decided we would stay for the night and head home in the morning. We spent the better part of the evening again on the phone, talking with our family at home.

We had to explain to them that we left Emily at the hospital. It was our choice. It was as much a teaching hospital as it was a practicing hospital and I wanted the staff to do whatever testing they could to determine what happened with our little girl. Perhaps they would be able to find something that would save some other family from ever having to go through they horror we went through the previous 36 hours.

We didn’t leave without memories of Emily. The staff at the hospital put together a beautiful Memory Box for Emily which contained the little outfit she was dressed in, as well as the exact same outfit without the staining on the front where her little abdomen had seeped some fluid through. The little hat she had on her head and a copy of her hand and foot prints were also included. There was literature for us to read on the loss of a child and many resources were provided to us as well. The Box is placed in a special spot in our home and every July 17, we have a

look at it’s contents.

Upon returning home we told Matthew the news. We sat down in our home, just the 3 of us, and had a chat. I started explaining that the baby was sick and the Doctor’s tried their very best to do what they could. He stopped me in mid sentences and asked quite bluntly, “Are you trying to tell me that my baby’s dead?” There was no longer any need to beat around the bush. He was understandably upset, but handled things like a real little trooper.

Over the next few days our home was very busy with family and friends stopping by. I was so glad Mike and I had a couple of days to come to terms with all this. It made it a little easier when it came to having to explain our story so many times. Everyone was so wonderful and meant so well, but I longed for the time when it would be just the 3 of us again.

About a week later we held a Memorial Service for our baby Emily Ann Rose. It was so beautiful and so appropriate.

Even though she was not with us, she couldn’t have been closer. We had our Angel in Heaven. We had our boy here with us. It was time to let the healing begin. It was time to try to enjoy the rest of our summer. Our big boy would be starting school in September. Something to look forward to, for sure. Or would it?

Until next time…

Wow wee! Welcome to a brand new world. (Now that my blog is up and running again!! Thanks, Helen!!!)

Diapers, bottles, 2am feedings (which Dad has so graciously “volunteered” to handle), crying, sleeping, pooping. What an experience this is turning into! There is a brand new person living in our hose now that we are responsible for. Our days of being able to just “up and go” have changed. Once we got home from the hospital I was faced with the realization that I didn’t have a clue how to go about caring for a newborn child. I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t want to be alone with Matthew. I didn’t want Mike to leave us. I didn’t know how to make him stop crying, I didn’t know if I could bath him the right way (thank God Mom was right upstairs), I didn’t know if I was feeding him too much or not enough, I didn’t know if I was going to get through it. I was tired, I was overwhelmed, I was cranky, I was irritable. This was absolutely nothing like what I thought it was going to be like. Why was I feeling so sad? This was supposed to be the happiest time of our lives. We had a child.

Thinking back now on all these distant memories, I put in a few really hard months after Matthew came into our lives. Thinking back now I wonder if I experienced postpartum depression. I’ll never know the answer to that, as I never really showed how I was feeling, but I suspect I may have. I do know it was a horrible feeling and I am very fortunate that in time it passed. I believe my anxieties and fears passed only because of the support of my husband. He had (has) more patience than anyone I know. I can be moody at the best of times, never mind after just giving birth. My hormones were all over the place. It certainly wasn’t easy, but over time we developed a schedule and I got to know my son. I realized that he could sense my moods and emotions. In time, my insecurities went away and I was finally able to “enjoy” being a Mom.

Matthew really started to become a little person with lots of cute traits. We’d spend hours lying on the living room floor or on our bed watching him learn all about his surrounding. We have hours and hours of video of him swinging in his swing, lying on the floor “playing” with his toys, and learning how to roll over. He loved music right from day one. He would turn his head towards the sound of the music and we could tell already that there were certain types of music he liked.

As I mentioned in a previous entry, we were renting the basement apartment from Mom and Dad at this time. This proved to be very beneficial at times, and rather annoying at other times. It was great to know there was always someone around if we needed anything, but at times it would have been nice to have our own place, too. Mom and Dad and my sister were wonderful, don’t get me wrong, and it was great for them, too. Matthew was the first grandchild for both sets of grandparents, so it was special for my Mom and Dad being able to have Matthew there all the time. However, once a Mom is a Mom she always feels she knows what’s best, especially when it comes to her “grandchild”. Mom often interjected with her opinions and this sometimes caused me a bit of grief. I knew her heart was in the right place and it didn’t really cause any issues greater than we could handle. (Ten years later Mom still likes to makes sure I know what I’m doing)…lol…sometimes I wonder how I didn’t lose him, let him freeze to death, manage not to get a zillion colds, and in most ways just plain survive because Mom wasn’t right there beside me all the time! (Did that appear to be as sarcastic as I think it did?)

All in all, our first year was a real learning experience for everyone. I couldn’t believe how quickly his first birthday rolled around. He was a happy baby who was learning and growing every minute of every day.

When Matthew was a year and a half old, we decided it was time to start looking for a place we could call our own. We jumped (perhaps too quickly) at the first home we looked at. Although it may not have been the best decision we ever made, it would be home for the next four years. Finally, after being married for 6 years, we had a home of our own. It was like starting all over again. We had some great times there. Young Sir was a busy toddler who loved being outside and was happiest when he was playing in the water. He was a smart boy. When he started talking it was like he went from one word to a full vocabulary almost overnight. He loved to ask questions and wouldn’t be satisfied with just any old answer. He wanted things explained in great detail and could easily recite everything back to you days later.

He made up stories so believable that one day when he was maybe 3 years old he scared my sister so badly, I thought she was going to have a heart attack. It was the wintertime, Mike was working this particular day and I was out shovelling the driveway. I would stick my head in the door every two minutes to make sure he was ok. This one time when I checked on him he was on the phone and he handed it to me saying that Auntie wanted me. I said hello to hear her start tearing a strip off me for leaving him alone while I went to the store. Pardon me?? He told her that I had left 2 HOURS ago in the car to go to the store and I didn’t come back yet and he was starting to get “concerned” (remember, he’s 3!) She was having a fit not knowing whether she should hang up and get in her car and come to the house or stay on the phone with him. This all happened in the space of about a minute and a half. After she calmed down she couldn’t imagine that I actually did this, but she said he sounded so sincere and worried that she had no reason not to believe him. I told her to come down and see that the driveway was only half shovelled if she didn’t believe me. Good grief. This was the first of many “tales” Sir Matthew came up with over the years. We laughed over that!

Time started going very quickly once he started preschool at the age of 4. He went 2 days a week and really enjoyed the time he spent playing. It was hard to get him to focus learning his alphabet and he never wanted to sit still during story time. He was a busy boy with too much to do. More on this later. Socially he liked to play with one little boy in particular and would get easily frustrated during group activities. This is happening because there are no kids for him to play with around where we lived, we thought. Again, more on this later.

Before we knew it 2 years had gone by and it was the summer of 2002. Matthew was starting “big school” in September. That was a summer of up’s and down’s. One none of us will ever forget.

Until next time….

June 27

So I have been trying to think about how I want to do this whole blog thing. Do I go back to day one? Do I do it a person at a time? Do I jump all over the place? Well, the last one isn’t really an option because that would drive me up the wall. I’m too organized for that..lol.

Why don’t we start with Matthew? (I think I should get a cup of tea for this one…)

MMmmm I have my tea. Now, where do I start?

Matthew was born on October 7, 1996 (13 days early). He was our second pregnancy with the first ending in miscarriage at 9.5 weeks almost one year earlier to the day. The first three months of this pregnancy were spent on the flat of my back. I had some beelding which was a result of a amnio-chorion separation (two layers of the sack were not fusing together properly). I was assured that as the baby and my uterus grew this would correct itself, which at about 16 weeks, did. The remainded of the pregnancy was great! I felt wonderful and enjoyed every minute of it.

During an ultrasound at 35 weeks an issue with Matthew’s kidney was revealed. It seemed that there was just a mass of tissue where his kidney should be (hydronephrosis). There didn’t appear to be any kidney function there at all, but further testing once he was born would tell us what we needed to know. My Dad only has one kidney so I didn’t worry too much about it, as he has lived a very healthy life with no major complications.

It was a Sunday evening when I thought this could be it. Mike was at work but we were living in the basement apartment at my parent’s home so I knew if I couldn’t wait until 6:30AM when Mike got off work, everything would be ok. I spent most of the night pacing back and forth in our living room. I’d try to lie down, I’d try to sit down, nothing worked. I felt most comfortable sitting (of all places) on the toilet ! LOL Around 4:30 AM I decided to get our bags together and get dressed - just in case. By 5:30 I had enough. I couldn’t walk up the stairs to wake Mom and Dad up, so I called them! Mom answered the phone and I said I think we better go to the hospital It sounded like a herd of elephants upstairs…lol. They were up and dressed and running down the stairs in about 30 seconds. I was calmly standing at the bottom with my bags ready, jacket on, all set to go. Of course, I had been talking to Mike on and off throughout the night and he was not amused that he couldn’t leave work. He was working as a 911 dispatcher at this time and couldn’t very well just leave! I knew he would be off at 6:30 so I figured we’d get all the paper work done before he arrived. Off we went. Mom, Dad and I. I can remeber laughing because Mom let me sit in the front seat of the car while she climbed in back! I think Dad was a little bit nervous.

When we arrived at the hospital I was 6 cms and fully effaced. Yikes, this may not take too long at all. Dad left to go get my sister, who was in university 2.5 hours away, as soon as Mike arrived. My cousin went and picked up Mike’s Mom, so all we had to do was wait. Mom and Mike’s Mom sat quietly over in the corner of the room while the Dr.’s and nurses buzzed in and out. At 8:30 the pains were really bad in my back so they gave me a shot of morphine. Mike was tired after working backshift and started dozing off after each contraction. When 9:00 came they told me I could start pushing. The morphine had kicked in and all I wanted to do was snooze. Not an option. Pushing is a lot harder than it sounds for someone who didn’t take any Lamaze classes or anything like that. I was getting frustrated quickly. It didn’t seem to me like anything was happening, but I was told I was doing great and it wouldn’t be long now. At 10:42AM Matthew was born weighing in at 6 lbs 13 ounces and 21 inches long. We had a boy !! The 2 grandmothers were just about jumping over the moon! Mike was down at the foot of the bed with the Doctor (never mind his wife..lol) and was there to catch Matthew upon arrival! That was special. I can remember the Doctor asking me if I wanted to touch his head as he crowned. What I told him wasn’t very nice!!

After a couple of stitches, that was it. We had our boy. My sister and father arrived 20 minutes after he was born. My sister was supposed to be there with me during the labour and delivery but I neglected to call her earlier (my brain just wasn’t working right).

She was able to help out with the Apgar Score, as she had just finished her labour and delivery pratical for university (she, of course, was studying nursing). The nurses were great to let her give them a hand.

Once he was all cleaned up and deemed healthy, he was wisked away for an ultrasound on his kidney. We would be seeing a Urologist within a couple of weeks. All went well and about an hour later we were settled into our room. I was in for two days and was released just before the Thanksgiving weekend. Wow, did we ever have a lot to be thankful for this year.

So, there you have the very beginning of Sir Matthew’s journey. C’mon back next time to see how things went once we got him home!

Hi everyone! Welcome to An Angel’s Island. For those of you who don’t know me - a brief introduction.

My name is Tracey and I am 36 years old (37 in September). I have been married to my best friend, Michael, for almost 16 years. We have a 10 year son, Matthew who is the light of our lives. He will be entering 4th grade in September and is very excited to be going to a new school.

I work outside the home, full time which can make family life somewhat hectic at times, but I’m always up for a challenge! We have a great schedule and we can normally get all the little kinks worked out that fall into our lap.

As far as hobbies and interests I love to write. It has been very therapuedic for me for many years now. I started writing in junior high school and have since wrote a one-act play and many MANY poems and a couple of songs which were put to music and recorded by a local artist. Radio air-play is my goal. I know it will happen one day.

I love music of any kind. There is very rarely a TV on in our house, but try to walk into a room and not hear a radio or CD playing! It won’t happen!

I am very excited to be Blogging with CPO. This is the first time I have tried my hand at blogging, so please,
be patient with me! If there is anything you want to know - ask away. I am pretty much an open book. This is going to be a great opportunity for me to do what I love to do most - TALK! I could talk about my family all day, so I thought this would be right up my alley!

I became a member of the CPO community a short 6 months ago. I can’t explain the realtionships that I have formed over 6 short months. We have a group of people who are so diverse, yet so close it’s amazing. I have never experienced anything like this online community before.

OK, I don’t want to get into too much with my first post. There’s so much I could start off with but perhaps I’ll leave you with the suspense..lol. The general focus of my blog is going to be my family. Hubby is a firefighter and my son has special needs in a few areas so there will always be lots to talk about.

Until next time, farewell from An Angel’s Island…