My beautiful daughter

We interrupt this program for a special message: In exactly one week  two days, my beautiful, talented daughter will be 25 years old. I was a terrified 24-year-old when I discovered I was pregnant with her. I didn't know what was in store for me then, and definitely did not know the boundless love I would have for her.

Each year, on her birthday, I call her at 7:06 am, the time she was born. When I was pregnant with her, I was working at Holiday Inn in Gainesville. I had been a server, but when I became pregnant, the food and beverage director pulled me aside and told me I could not wait tables when I was pregnant - it just wouldn't look good. They told me that I could be a hostess.

I didn't know much then, but I knew this was illegal. I filed a complaint with the EEOC ( I forget what it stands for at the moment), and I consulted an attorney. It ended up that I won the complaint, which meant they had to give me back pay (it might have been $300 back then), and Holiday Inn was also admonished that they could not retaliate against me - meaning, they had to treat me nicely from then on in.

Boy, they didn't like that one bit. The one guy, his last name was Bolno, would come to the restaurant every once in a while, and he would make a report on what he had observed. The manager at the time, who liked me, and was disgusted by what they had done to me, showed me one of the reports. In it, Bolno singled me out, and said that although I appeared to be taking care of my tables, I was "grossly overweight." This was shortly after I returned to work after having my beautiful Annette.

Bolno didn't last much longer at the Holiday Inn. I have always fantasized about really telling him off - and have hoped that karma caught up with him at some point in time.

But enough about that. My beautiful Annette.

I had been hostessing Thanksgiving Day - all freakin' day. It was so busy. At the end of the day, I walked into the kitchen and - wouldn't you know? it was right in the middle of a roll fight. One of the servers was in the middle of a lob, and it hit me in the neck. I burst into tears, because I was emotional, not so much because it hurt, and the server felt so bad.

By the time I got home, it was about 9 pm, and I was tired, but I was keyed up. I tried to sleep, but I kept having pains. Thought it might have been gas. The pains became stronger, and more frequent, until I thought I MIGHT have been in labor, but my actual due date was a month away.

My doctor said I could come in, it was possible I was in labor. I was in denial, however, and even on the frantic way to the hospital - with my husband blowing through at least one red light - I was convinced it was false labor.

When we got to the hospital, I walked through the ER doors, and climbed up on a gurney the wrong way.    I couldn't move. They examined me shortly thereafter, and I was at 9 centimeters. I was going to have a baby. No time for an epidural or anything, just some medicine they said would take the edge off. Not so much. It did, however, drug Annette after she came out (they gave her some medicine to counteract that).

Hubby was feeling faint. They gave him a cool cloth and some orange juice, as I was doing the pushing. I guess it was rough on him. And then, after Annette made her debut, he left with her to see where they were taking her. Meanwhile, when he was gone, the nurses made me go to the bathroom - I guess they have to to see if my bladder was torn. I passed out on the toilet, and when Hubby came back, there I was, on the toilet, with nurses huddled around me, giving me smelling salts.

When I felt better, and was in my own bed, they brought my beautiful Annette in to me, and I cuddled her like she was a bag of glass. I was afraid of breaking her. Somehow, I didn't.

When the pediatrician on call came in to talk about Annette, she was careful to talk about her birthmark. I knew what a birthmark was, knew it was permanent but harmless, and the doc was talking about it  like I didn't know what it was. Sheesh.

All I could feel was wonder and love, and fear and hope. Twenty-five years later, nothing has changed. Happy Birthday, Annette. <3

Fearless

When I first realized that Tanner was losing his sight, I was afraid. Afraid that he had a life-threatening illness and that he would be taken from me. I was also afraid his life had changed and he would not be able to cope. I was even afraid he would never meet a girl and fall in love, just because he couldn't see anymore.

I cried almost every day, sometimes in front of him, sometimes in private. Now, almost six months later, I don't cry all the time anymore, but I still get sad.

It's just the little things that make me sad: when he puts his cell phone down on the sofa, then comes back a few minutes later and has to sweep his hands over the sofa because he can't see it. He can't always tell what food there is to eat in the fridge or freezer, and sometimes his favorite snacks go uneaten.

I get sad when he watches "King of Queens," his favorite show, but he doesn't really watch the TV, he just listens.

One time, he crouched down to pet what he thought was our dog Schatzi, and it was just a pile of stuff that his dad was taking outside.

He can't read the menus in fast food restaurants, or see the different types of soda when he gets himself something from a fountain machine. Sometimes, his close friends walk right by him and he doesn't even know they are there.

Through it all, he has had an amazing spirit. "Mom," he said, "There are people who have it worse than I do."

The Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind

Throughout the summer, I was concerned about Tanner's education. I knew he had a legal right to education, no matter what his disability, but it's quite another thing to know how to go about it. I had contacted the local school system, but they were moving slowly to get him the services he needed.

I heard about the Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind in St. Augustine. This is a 100 + year-old school that is the model for teaching children with hearing or visual disabilities. It is a public school, so the education is free, but the services they provide are far beyond anything we have  been acquainted with here in our area. 

The school comprises two separate campuses, one for the deaf, one for the blind. Class sizes are no more than 10 students to a teacher, most teachers are nationally certified. They have sports, including the wrestling that Tanner loves. There is a two-lane bowling alley in one of the common areas, three gyms, including a heated indoor pool and a rock-climbing wall. And on and on.

The downside to this is that Tanner would be gone Sunday afternoon through Friday afternoon. He would live in the boys' dorm, with one or two other roommates. This would initially suck for Tanner, and although I am convinced this is the right place for Tanner to be, I am afraid he will hate me forever. He does not want to leave his friends, his school, or his sports teams.

I understand, I really do. I am praying for guidance and God's peace, but my gut right now is telling me that he needs to go to this school.

Last night, Tanner told me: "Mom, the only thing I want for Christmas is to not go to that school." He was half-serious, but he looked at me with those big green eyes and I wanted to melt. I said, "Tanner, don't even try to play me like that."