2005 Journal Entries

A few weeks ago I spent the morning in Archie's classroom. We dyed Easter eggs together and participated in an egg hunt. I watched him eat lunch, mold clay with his occupational therapist, and dance along to the words in music therapy. That night I wrote Archie's teachers and therapists a thank you note. I wanted them to know how much I appreciated everything they did for Archie each day I leave him in their care, how much they truly love my son. My note was well-received, and subsequently passed around the school. Barbra, the program coordinator, asked me to write a similar letter for the school to mail donors as part of their spring fundraiser. I was honored by the request, and excited to have the opportunity to revisit something I used to do while I worked at Limestone College before Archie was born. You can find what I wrote below.

Dear Donor,

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning I drive my two-year-old son Archie to school at the Meyer Center for Special Children. Right before I pull into the parking lot I sing to Archie a silly song I made up: “School is cool! School is cool! Archie goes to school ’cause he is cool!” My son always rewards my off-key rendition with tapping toes and clapping hands. “Hooray!” he hollers, pumping his fists into the air. I have never seen such a small person so excited about going to school.

When we were planning our family, my husband and I never imagined the birth of our first child would initiate the extraordinary string of events that have led us to the Meyer Center. Back then the promises of parenthood looked so pretty, so attainable. We looked forward to first words, first steps and the first day of school. Our expectations were so ordinary.

In the fifth month of my pregnancy a routine ultrasound redefined those promises of parenthood when my husband and I learned that our baby had a severe congenital heart defect that would need to be repaired in infancy by way of open-heart surgery. Further prenatal testing revealed that this baby also had Down syndrome, a genetic condition that affects all areas of development. Although daunted, we were still hopelessly devoted to our child. We kept our chins up. We reworked our ambitions. We still couldn’t wait to meet our baby.

Our sweet Archie was much sicker as an infant than his prenatal diagnosis had indicated he may be. Days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit turned to weeks, turned to months. Hope waxed and waned. We almost lost Archie twice before the surgery to correct his heart defect, and then nearly again that day. Sometimes even now I watch my son play and wonder how in the world it is he’s here with me, all dimpled grin and dancing eyes. During all those days and nights in the hospital my husband and I once again had to redefine our expectations of parenthood, of our son. Suddenly our baby had much more than a syndrome with which to contend.

We enrolled Archie in the Meyer Center as soon as he was healthy enough to attend regularly. We were so excited to send our son to school. We had high hopes; our dreams felt refreshed. At the Meyer Center our son’s teachers and therapists gave Archie a safe, nurturing environment in which to thrive. Everything Archie needed to advance was accessible to him, to us. But my son cried each day I left him at school, and the child the teachers and therapists came to know wasn’t the Archie I loved.

Only a few months after he began attending school Archie was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. My husband was stunned. I was angry. Once again days in the hospital turned to weeks, to months. But this time our hospital stays were brightened by visits from Archie’s teachers and therapists who hadn’t forgotten our boy even though he was on medical leave from the Center.

This winter Archie returned to the Meyer Center for Special Children. Now in remission, our little boy is a renewed toddler. My heart feels full as I accompany Archie, so eager to learn, to his classroom each morning. He walks down the hall with stuttered gait, clutching my hand. He waves at everyone along the way. They all know his name and mine, too. Everyone is invested in Archie’s wellbeing, and everyone celebrates his achievements, however humble. These morning walks feel like tiny miracles, but I know they’re not. We’ve had our fair share of those. This is ordinary and it feels so good.

Because it is such an important part of Archie’s present and future accomplishments, the Meyer Center will be a part of every Mother’s Day for the rest of my life. All the efforts of all the therapists will echo in my son’s every action, every day. My husband and I so appreciate the compassion, attention and patience each teacher and therapist at the Meyer Center freely gives to our boy. Their dedication to helping Archie become his best self truly enriches our family. Won’t you please honor the Meyer Center for Special Children this Mother’s Day by making a donation in honor of your mother? They certainly honor the mothers of their students each day simply by coming to work and investing in each child, offering nothing less than a mother’s love.

Sincerely,
Anne Moore