We'll, that is probably true. So I have decided to devote this post to the things Tony thinks I should have put in here and didn't, and a few other things.
Tony has been supportive of my writing; but he thinks I should be writing a book. I told him I want to do the blog, because with the blog, I can reach more readers, and in reaching more readers, I can help more people understand that while having a child with Down Syndrome is challenging, it is absolutely more than worthwhile. Maybe I'll write the book one of these days, we'll see.
I met Tony when he was a graduate students at one of the most prestigious art schools in the country, that is, California Institute of the Arts. He received a Master of Fine Arts Degree in 1992, and proceeded to embark on a career as a Scenic Designer. He spent a few years working in the film industry, until in 1994, a community theatre opened in our growing desert community of Palmdale, and he was recruited to take the job as their Technical Director.
For the next five years, he devoted his entire being to this endeavor. It was a new facility, and for him, it was a labor of love. But it was also a job that took sometimes as much as 80 hours a week of his time.
So since he was so devoted to his career, and I was so wanting a career for myself as well, and I already had Jared, I didn't think having another child would be such a great idea. We were satisfied with our life. At least I thought we were. But as I've written before, I always, deep within, wanted another baby.
Because he was so devoted to his career, when I got pregnant, I was not sure what kind of a father Tony would be. But Mishayla is truly the love of his life, of that I have no doubt. I could not have asked for a more devoted father for my daughter. The fact she has Down Syndrome never bothered him for two seconds. In all honesty, I think it was more of an issue for me in the beginning than for him. I felt more grief, more loss in having a child with a disability. His only concern was her health and survival.
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| Tony and his "peanut" |
Anyway, these are things that Tony thinks should be included in the story of our journey.
The first thing, is that he wants everyone to know is about his trip to the hospital, which he achieved in lightning speed. He was able to do this because he drove on the sidewalk.
He had the monumentus task, from the time I finally reached him and said, "You better get here, because they are wheeling me in the delivery as we speak," to get to the hospital to see his baby born. It was 10am on a Tuesday morning. You'd think there wouldn't be a lot of traffic, but then if you do think this, you must not be from Southern California. In So. Cal, no matter where you are, there is traffic, 24/7. So if you know the Antelope Valley, he exited the 14 freeway, turning right on 20th St W., which at the light, takes you to Avenue J, which takes you to the hospital.
He got to the light at 20th St. W. and J, and got stuck. People were slow. Nobody was moving. So he drove up into a turn pocket, and up onto the sideway with our 1995 Saturn SC-2. This enabled him to make his turn onto Avenue J and proceed to the hospital.
He was very lucky, because the Antelope Valley is rife with Los Angeles County Sheriffs who are nasty, crabby people, and this would not bode well for even emergency journeys on the sidewalk. He could have ended up in jail. How he avoided pedestrians, bus benches, fire hydrants, and trees I have never been able to ascertain. But he did. And he made on time. By the grace of God!!
Speaking of God, Jesus, Buddha, Alla, Zeus, whatever you believe, Tony also thinks I should relay another experience I had while giving birth.
I didn't initially write about this, because frankly, I thought people would think it was a little corny; you know, spirits and ghosts and all.
There is a belief in the Jewish faith that when someone dies, it takes a while for their spirit to settle down, and go with God. At the time of Mishayla's birth, my father-in-law, Jim Moore, had only been dead a mere six weeks. His loss was felt heavily by all of us, especially his oldest son Tony, whose child I was giving birth to, and his father would never see.
Jim was the protector of his family, not only to his wife and five children, but to his numerous nieces and nephews, and of course to his grandchildren. He was the sort of the "go to" guy. He was there for people, and he could be depended upon in a tight spot.
So after they took me off the pitocin in the middle of the night, and the contractions started again, and I was lying there in a dark room with only the machines to illuminate the walls, I felt a presence in the room. The blanket that covered my feet and legs moved, as if someone was at the edge of the bed, as if someone was visiting me there.
I immediately felt it was Jim. At first I felt startled, and a little frightened. I had never experienced anything like this before. People talk all the time about these types of experiences. Just after my own grandfather's death, my mother claims she saw him at the edge of her bed one night. She saw him, and once she was startled fully awake, my grandfather was gone. It had been momentary presense, as if to say "it's okay, I'm still with you, so it's fine to let me go; I will never truly leave you."
Maybe Jim came to protect me, to see me through this labor. Maybe he came to protect his granddaughter. But for a tiny second, his presence was large in the room, and I felt a sense of comfort, a momentary sense of well-being. It was his last gift to his son and I, and his first gift to the granddaughter that would be born that morning.
Some would say this is nonsense; that the dead don't go wandering around. I beg to differ. Those we love never pass from us really. They are always present, in our minds and hearts, and they manifest themselves in many ways. Those ways are personal, and everlasting.
He had the monumentus task, from the time I finally reached him and said, "You better get here, because they are wheeling me in the delivery as we speak," to get to the hospital to see his baby born. It was 10am on a Tuesday morning. You'd think there wouldn't be a lot of traffic, but then if you do think this, you must not be from Southern California. In So. Cal, no matter where you are, there is traffic, 24/7. So if you know the Antelope Valley, he exited the 14 freeway, turning right on 20th St W., which at the light, takes you to Avenue J, which takes you to the hospital.
He got to the light at 20th St. W. and J, and got stuck. People were slow. Nobody was moving. So he drove up into a turn pocket, and up onto the sideway with our 1995 Saturn SC-2. This enabled him to make his turn onto Avenue J and proceed to the hospital.
He was very lucky, because the Antelope Valley is rife with Los Angeles County Sheriffs who are nasty, crabby people, and this would not bode well for even emergency journeys on the sidewalk. He could have ended up in jail. How he avoided pedestrians, bus benches, fire hydrants, and trees I have never been able to ascertain. But he did. And he made on time. By the grace of God!!
Speaking of God, Jesus, Buddha, Alla, Zeus, whatever you believe, Tony also thinks I should relay another experience I had while giving birth.
I didn't initially write about this, because frankly, I thought people would think it was a little corny; you know, spirits and ghosts and all.
There is a belief in the Jewish faith that when someone dies, it takes a while for their spirit to settle down, and go with God. At the time of Mishayla's birth, my father-in-law, Jim Moore, had only been dead a mere six weeks. His loss was felt heavily by all of us, especially his oldest son Tony, whose child I was giving birth to, and his father would never see.
Jim was the protector of his family, not only to his wife and five children, but to his numerous nieces and nephews, and of course to his grandchildren. He was the sort of the "go to" guy. He was there for people, and he could be depended upon in a tight spot.
So after they took me off the pitocin in the middle of the night, and the contractions started again, and I was lying there in a dark room with only the machines to illuminate the walls, I felt a presence in the room. The blanket that covered my feet and legs moved, as if someone was at the edge of the bed, as if someone was visiting me there.
I immediately felt it was Jim. At first I felt startled, and a little frightened. I had never experienced anything like this before. People talk all the time about these types of experiences. Just after my own grandfather's death, my mother claims she saw him at the edge of her bed one night. She saw him, and once she was startled fully awake, my grandfather was gone. It had been momentary presense, as if to say "it's okay, I'm still with you, so it's fine to let me go; I will never truly leave you."
Maybe Jim came to protect me, to see me through this labor. Maybe he came to protect his granddaughter. But for a tiny second, his presence was large in the room, and I felt a sense of comfort, a momentary sense of well-being. It was his last gift to his son and I, and his first gift to the granddaughter that would be born that morning.
Some would say this is nonsense; that the dead don't go wandering around. I beg to differ. Those we love never pass from us really. They are always present, in our minds and hearts, and they manifest themselves in many ways. Those ways are personal, and everlasting.
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| Tony and Mishayla at the California Poppy Reserve |
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| In Santa Fe, New Mexico, 2001 |
So there you have it for what I left out. Since my memory from nearly 13 years ago is at times sketchy, there may be a "What Tony says I left out" part II.
Since after all, this story is as much his as it is mine.
cool, I agree write the book. You have many wonderful stories to share and experiences too. Perhaps a reference book on Down Syndrome for first time parents or a how to guide.
ReplyDeleteSee you in class- thanks for sharing
~Cheryl M