I never thought I would have to live a year without one of my children, let alone did I think I could survive a year without them. Understandably, it feels a little different with a miscarriage than if we had gotten to know the little person we were growing, but it feels a lot the same too. Our love, hopes, dreams, desires, and gratitude for Baby Locke were no different than those we have for our older three.
I started running in September.
Yesterday we joined some friends at a local burger place that has an outdoor play area for the kids. It was a decent day, the food was great, and the company better. One of the kids we were with adores Johnny and takes him off to play with him any chance she gets. I love her heart for him. As we supervised from across the lawn, we took notice of the other kids running around and all took turns counting to make sure everyone was accounted for. After some time, MacKenzie came over to me and said that a pair of older boys (9 or 10 years old) said that "Johnny walked funny".
One of the first questions we got when we began announcing our fourth pregnancy was whether we desired a boy or a girl. Just as with our three, it never mattered. When my stepfather asked, I began to respond with my old fallback, "It doesn't matter as long as he or she is healthy." Then I remembered our boy, how worrisome and fretful his pregnancy was, how erratic his health is, and my realization since having him that even healthy makes no difference. So I stopped myself mid statement and responded "It doesn't matter, God will equip us to care for whomever He needs us to."
There is a campaign out there to encourage more companies to include kids with special needs in their advertising. I'm not going to link their name because on one hand, I appreciate what they are doing.
On Monday, Mac started school. It was a day she, and her parents, looked forward to for weeks. She carefully picked out her backpack, lunchbox, first day of school outfit, and requested a family trip to IHOP to commemorate her next step. I could be sad, I could cry, I could voice my frustration that "it all just happened too fast". I could. But I honestly didn't feel that way. I began to feel a little like everything is happening too fast, but our journey with her isn't over, it's just different now. I was too excited to see her move on to school to be sad. And my heart spilled over with pride to see her excitement and confidence.
Mac has always been an accelerated learner. We have always proudly boasted new things she has learned or skills she has acquired. We have also always struggled with a plan for her education. We do not have the income for private school at this time and after careful reflection, feel that mainstream public school is our best option. That being said, in preschool and looking forward to elementary school, I was worried about her being challenged enough. She learns quickly, she learns vast amounts of knowledge, and she just plain "gets it". Two years ago we found a preschool program that would allow her to attend the 4/5 year old class instead of the 3 year old. This past year we placed her in a different preschool program, in a 4/5 class in order to learn how to function in a larger group and in a group that would transition well into the school district. Part of the way through the year, she received one on one attention from her high school buddy teacher in addition to working on other assignments with her peers. Throughout her life we have worked on learning with her, sometimes formally with lessons and workbooks, and sometimes informally. She soaks it all up.