18 seconds

This afternoon I got a phone call from a friend that made me cry.  The good tears. My friend Rachael phoned to tell me A REALLY important something.  She just saw me yesterday and so I knew it must be a DIRE emergency for her to be calling me at 3:50 pm today.  She started right in, "Did you see the video?  June is walking!!"  I said, "What? What are you talking about?"  She continued, "I'm sitting right here in the waiting room in the therapy building and I just saw June walk by me! Like down the hall...with no one holding her hand...like she's been doing it for years!!" I gasped and clung to the chair.  Was this really happening?  Rachael of all people was delivering this news. Rachael, who has a daughter much like mine, who knows full well the anticipation and the waiting for the miracle of walking to occur.  We both cried.

My mind started reeling.  My 4 and a half year old baby's life started flashing before my eyes like in one of those Hallmark commercials sort of way.  I thought of those first agonizing motions she made to crawl, I thought of the first time she looked into my eyes, the first and only time she said the word "more".  I thought of her perched on the table, perched on the piano listening to notes and vibrations penetrate her core, and then, even last night snuggled up beside me so tightly because we both had insomnia.

I would no longer be introducing my daughter and getting strange looks that my four year old was in the stroller and my one year old was crossing the street all by herself, leading the way.  I would no longer say, "This is June and she doesn't walk or talk yet, but she's working real hard to do it real soon."  I might, just MIGHT, by Winter be able to tred through snow and stand and look up at the Connecticut Winter sky as snow flakes fall on our eyelashes and in our mouths and we giggle that cute June-bug giggle.  And maybe, just maybe June bug will twirl.  By Christmas. 

When June got home from therapy, I peeked out the upstairs window and watched her get out of the car and wobble her way into the house...with some guidance.  I grabbed my kids and we all raced down the stairs 100 miles an hour and greeted her at the door with kisses and hugs.  She must have known her secret was out because she smiled her impish grin and then of course I had to get my camera and we had to go exploring in the yard and the sidewalk, because I had to see for myself...all 18 seconds of it.

And that was a good day.  I have that good feeling and I am thanking God, and singing Hallelujahs and sort of floating around...that kind of feeling when you think you might be in love, or you first find out you are pregnant (for the first time), or you are about to take a trip to an island.  I would like to thank Kayla, June's attendant for having the ingenious idea to put a belt on her in the therapy office one week ago today.  And of course, I am forever indebted to Kat who has encouraged her to walk as much as possible with holding her hand and loving her like her own.  June has been blessed beyond measure with teachers and therapists from CHKD, Early Intervention, and Norfolk Public Schools.  You guys rock!

Steps

I had the privilege of watching a little 4 year old boy this week who stole my heart in about two hours and who decided to break it the third night. He came down with croup in the middle of the night and I swear I was watching my own child there, gasping for breath, praying over him that he would somehow make it to morning.  It was frightening at times.  Croup is a weird thing.  It gets really bad at night and then by morning, your kid is bouncing around and smiling, acting mostly normal, all except for the nasty barking cough which will again, become too much to bear the next night, filling up lungs and shrinking airways. 

Isn't that how it is?  We dance in these circular waves of existence, acting like things are fine at times, and refusing, or pushing down emotion, stuffing and compacting old and new trash, and then when we take a second to rest, we're choking, gasping for air, asking God to take away the pain because we can't breathe, can't sleep.

It's hard to balance your life perfectly.  Having it all equal out into 8 perfect apple-pie sections where we spend the right time in the right place, with each child, husband, friend, and God...having the right amount of time set aside for cleaning bathrooms, dusting shelves, baking bread, running 3 miles, reading some non-fiction, researching the latest obsession on google, emailing a teacher, socializing, being hospitable, being crafty, adventurous and daring, blogging, and baring your soul to one another. 

This got me thinking about how simple June's life is, how simple it will always be.  She will always be searching for the beautiful in the landscape...the lines, the contrasting color.  She is generally content when her basic need of being fed, clothed and toileted is met.  She could live in a yurt and in fact, would want to.  She will most likely never have an over-crowded life, too much to think about or time-manage.  She will forever take pleasure in the little loves of nature like the wind blowing, or the trees swaying, or water splashing.  She will take her time learning to talk, learning to walk. 

My little June certainly teaches me something almost daily, and tonight as we practiced walking with her new "belt" on, I saw her face light up with joy as we praised her for her accomplishments, every little step a little closer to the real steps that she will take one day soon. 

We ended the night in a living room huddle.  The clock kept ticking away and we kept prolonging the bed-time ritual.  I almost never do that, but tonight, it felt good to watch June walk in circles with her belt on, face beaming.  Tonight, I read a magazine while the kiddos played on Daddy, taking deep, strong, healthy breaths and hearty laughs.  Tonight, I made pumpkin pancakes and eggs for dinner, because a green veggie and chicken (again) seemed too boring.  Tonight, I let the dishes rest in the sink while I reflected on the day.  Tonight, I spent extra time reading to June bug the story of the Velveteen Rabbit...because she was listening.  With all my family snoring upstairs, tonight I will join them.