Three Little Birds

I've been having very vivid dreams lately. The kind of dreams that you wake up from, not sure if they really happened or not, having sworn you could touch, taste, smell....feel pain. These dreams weld themself with reality in clever small truths that make them hard to shake when morning hits. There was a time when I had these dreams about Elisabeth. In the early months after her pregnancy ended and we were left with nothing but the knowledge that life could have been so different. I dreamed a lot then of what that life would have been like, with her in it, what our family would be. And sometimes I was left with that same feeling when I woke up, often wondering "did that really happen?"

5 years later right after Asher's diagnosis, I had those dreams about him. In my dreams he was older, sometimes severly disabled (thank you stressed out brain) and sometimes looking just the way my heart hoped he would. But they were real. I swear I could remember what it felt like to hug him and what his voice sounded like. My happiness or sadness in those dreams...so tangible.

It's been a while since I've dreamed that way. My brain it seems, only likes to torture me when life is not going the way I had hoped, when I'm struggling to remain in control of my emotions, when I'm filled with a sense bitterness. And those dreams have started to come back, which makes sense because I'm feeling really bitter now.

These dreams are about Lola. And I have to back up before I go and just talk about her for a minute. My Lola. My daughter. There is something so so special about having a daughter. I love my son of course and I always wanted boys. I was unprepared for how this little girl would steal my heart and the connection I would feel being so different than the one I have with my son. My little girl. And she is amazing. She is the sweetest, easiest baby. She is a love. I have no complaints. Lola does nothing but make our lives richer, brighter, happier. She is amazing.

So it's hard to say. It was hard with Asher too, learning how to say "My son has Autism" was pretty hard. So I'm not surprised that I'm fumbling over this and feeling awkward about it. So I'll just rip the bandaid off and say it.

My daughter has Cerebral Palsy.

There I said it. My Lola.

I remember back to when I was still pregnant with Elisabeth but we knew that things were going to end badly. We were just waiting for her heart to stop, just waiting for things to end. I used to sing Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" to her over and over again. "Don't worry, about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright" I mean of course we knew it wouldn't be alright, but it was comforting.

I sang it again to Asher as an infant when he was in the ICU and first DX'd with PID and EoE. I leaned over his clean room crib and sang it over and over and over and over again. It went on to become our mantra. Every battery of testing, every blood draw, every procedure. "Don't worry, about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright"

And now I've started singing it to Lola. She was fitted for her AFOs (Ankle foot Orthotics) this week and all during the appt I sang it to her. She did awesome and she smiled the whole time I sang. It was comforting. Everytime she curls her foot in and falls because it can't support her body, I sing it to her then too. And a few times, I've caught Asher singing it to her. Three babies, the same song. I guess there is some comfort in that.

My first vivid dream of Lola was deep and sad. I dreamed she was around 10 and for some reason even though she looks so much like Phill, in my dream she looked just like my sister Michelle had at 10. She was tall and thin and looked like every other ten year old on the playground, except she was dragging her foot behind her. Off in the corner on my field of vision, was a gaggled of mean girls making fun of her. And bam, in my dream I could taste tears. So real.

And the unfairness of life just sort of rolls over me and I think to myself. Multiple miscarriages, 3 babies....1 dead....1 autistic....1 cerebral palsy. I mean what the actual fuck?! And people offer those same awkward comments that are meant to comfort

"God only gives us what we can handle" Thank you God for the vote of confidence.
"God doesn't make mistakes" Oh....so then God hates me.
"Everything happens for a reason" Nice. That makes everything better.

When really sometimes bad things just happen. For Elisabeth it was a lack of progesterone, a bad heart, and a mother who couldn't stay pregnant. For Asher is was a cruel roll of the genetic dice and for Lola, a stroke that probably happened in utero or in the first few weeks of life. And those things suck, but they just happened. We weren't chosen and we are no better equiped to deal with these things than anyone else.

A couple nights ago I was rocked by a dream that was more real than any dream I've ever had in my entire life. It has taken me few days to really process it, because seriously, I can still feel the breeze on my face from it.

I was sitting in the garden Phill and I plan to grow for Elisabeth, under the cherry blossom tree we have picked out for her ashes. The breeze was warm and rolled over me in comforting waves. I was humming to myself and running my fingers over a blossom that had fallen from the tree. I heard the chirping first and then my eyes focused in on three little fluffy yellow birds. And they looked so familiar to me. I knew. I know these little ones. They are part of me. One fluffy little bird with a feather on the top of his head that stuck up straight, one little bird who hopped around on one leg, and one bird paler than the others, but fluffier. They chirped and bounced around. And I sang to them "three little birds, brisked by my doorstep, singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true" And two of the little bird changed. The one with the feather on his head turned into Asher and the sweet little bird hopping on one foot turned into my Lola and they sang with me "this is my message to you you you...."

And I sighed. I hugged them and I ran my fingers through one fluffy dark blond head of hair and then one fluffy brown head of hair. We laughed and hugged and I told them about Elisabeth and her garden. I said "I wish Elisabeth was here, then everything would be perfect" Then Asher took my face in his hands and said "But Mama, she is right there" and he pointed to the third little bird, the pale fluffy one. And I knew. She was there.

And my third little bird bounced over to me and jumped into my hand and whistleled "Don't worry about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright" and then nesteled herself down and went to sleep as a stroked her fluffy little back.

And then of course I woke up, feeling like I had just been hit by a truck. So real. So bittersweet. But I'm choosing to take my brain's message and run with it "Don't worry, about a thing" So I'm not. I'm looking at the bright side of the hand we've recieved and telling myself over and over again, Asher's autism is high functioning and Lola's CP is mild. They will struggle but every little thing is gonna be alright. And I have to believe that. I do. Because it is true. There isn't any other option.