The year in review. Its been a long year and hard in so many ways. And most of those ways are of course wrapped around Rainee. 
January's highlight would probably be Mari though. His 2 year birthday and his sister planning and plotting and taking him to supper and shopping. He thought this was just way too cool. And of course Rainee and pneumonia number whatever. Which led us to finding out about the hole in her heart and scaring the bejeebers out of her mommy and daddy.
Febuarys highlights would be RSV and heart fixed. 7 days in the hospital with Rainee for the RSV and her first wearing of oxygen since she was a newborn.....
(rainee at her rsv hospitalization)
March's highlights Kaylin's birthday, a little bit of school with Zeria and recovering from Febuary. Oh and Rainee beginning to develop sleep apnea.
April 1st.....Rainee back in the hospital for evaluation and then a four day stay when they freaked on me during the evaluation. I came home with apnea monitor, pulse ox, oxygen and much terror. WE managed to go on a weeks vacation a week after this, but I barely remember that. I just remember the fear. And alarms going off while we attempted to "relax" around a camp fire. Ha! We were so insane to go.....
May...desperately attempting to establish a routine and admitting that we were officially parents to a medically dependant child. Highlight? Sam's birthday. It was a beautiful day and a bunch of moms came over with their boys and we played in the sunshine and visited and visited.
June, summer. It was nice. It was relaxing. I hired my sister so she was able to pick up some pieces. I ran once a week into Early Intervention for Rainee. She had gross motor delays that worried us greatly. I managed to do school with Zeria and make progress in the learning to read program. I worried. And I got to play at the lake. 
July more of the same. And Zeria's birthday. And life was just a wee bit calmer.
August the fair. And more summer. It was a delicious hot summer. I continued to do EI. And Rainee continued to scoot. And she was *gasp* healthy other then the oxygen and sleep apnea. Zeria learned the joys of rock climbing at the fair, and is now addicted. 
September; Our vacation to 'ils. It was a good vacation...except for the fact we ran out of money 18 hours from home. And ummm Rainee screamed from Boise to Bremerton. *snort*
October? Well the month I became a full time mom again. No house keeper, no early intervention. And AAAAAAAACK! Oh and the beginning of a month and a half long pneumonia for Rainee. (of course)
November? Remarkably calm. And exhausting just cause I have five kids.
December Christmas. And finally clearing up Rainee's pneumonia.
Its been a year of tears. And a year of laughter. And a year of learning how far I have to dig down to survive. I got this in e-mail today, and it sums up things quite nicely....
Thoughts of a Mom Many of you I have never even met face to face, but I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you on the Internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores. I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be. Your words ring experience, experience you culled with your every heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond the expectations of this world. You are my "sisters.: Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority. A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any other sorority, we were chosen to members. Some of us were invited to join immediately, some not for months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse membership, but to no avail. We were initiated in the neurologist's offices and NICU units, in obstetrician's offices, in emergency rooms and during ultrasounds. We were initiated with somber telephone calls, consultations, evaluations, blood tests, x-rays, MRI films and heart surgeries. All of us have one thing in common. One day things are fine. We were pregnant or we had just given birth or we were nursing our newborn or we were playing with our toddler. Yes, one minute everything was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or months, our entire lives changed. Something wasn't quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of children with special needs. We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity of our children's special needs. Some of our children undergo chemotherapy. Some need respirators and ventilators. Some are unable to talk, some unable to walk. Some eat through feeding tubes. Some live in a different world. We do not discriminate against those mothers whose children's needs are not as "special" as our child's. We have mutual respect and empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes. We are knowledgeable. We have educated ourselves with whatever materials we could find. We know "the" specialists in the field. We know "the" neurologists, "the" hospitals, "the" wonder drugs, "the" treatments. We know "the" tests that need to be done, we know "the" degenerative and progressive diseased and we hold our breath while our children are tested for them. Without formal education, we could become board certified in neurology, endocrinology and psychiatry. We have taken on our insurance companies and school boards to get what our children need to survive and to flourish. We have prevailed upon the State to include augmentative communication devices in special education classes and mainstream schools for our children with cerebral palsy. We have labored to prove to insurance companies the medical necessity of gait trainers and other adaptive equipment for our children with spinal cord defects. We have sued municipalities to have our children properly classified so they could receive education and evaluation commensurate with their diagnosis. We have learned to deal with the rest of the world, even if that means walking away from it. We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during "tantrums" and gritted our teeth while discipline was advocated by the person behind us on line. We have tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from well-meaning strangers. We have tolerated mothers of children without special needs complaining about chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that many of our closest friends can't understand what it's like to be in our sorority and don't even want to try. We have our own personal copies of Emily Perl Kingsley's "A Trip To Holland and Erma Bombeck's "The Special Mother." We keep them by our bedside and read and reread them during our toughest hours. We have coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our physically handicapped children to the neighbors' front doors on Halloween and we have found ways to help our deaf children form the words, "trick or treat." We have accepted that our children with sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on Christmas. we have painted a canvas of lights and a blazing Yule log with our words for our blind children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And all the while, we have tried to create a festive atmosphere for the rest of our family. We've gotten up every morning since our journey began wondering how we'd make it through another day and gone to bed every evening not sure how we did it. We've mourned the fact that we never got to relax and sip red wine in Italy. We've mourned the fact that our trip to Holland has required much more baggage than we ever imagined when we first visited the travel agent. And we've mourned because we left for the airport without most of the things we needed for the trip. But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never stop believing. Our love for our children and our belief in all that they will achieve in life know no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and extra points and home runs. We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at the grace of their pirouettes. We never, never stop believing in all they will accomplish as they pass through this world. But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands as together, we special mothers and our special children, reach for the stars. By Maureen K. Higgins
Its been a year of making new friends (rp world) and growing. And I wouldn't change anything in it, because I learned from each piece of it.
May Next Year be a Year full of God, and growing, and never dull.
Or as someone said....May you live in intresting times.
