My Monkey. My Eric. Special and Needed

My Baby

Twenty year ago today I gave birth to my second child. From the very first moment, life with my Eric was to be different than anything I had ever known. Three ultrasounds had said HE was a girl. Nope. My labour with my oldest son had been text book. With Eric it was completely different and I had to be treated for shock. Eric slept straight through the first 12 hours of his life. That would be the last time he would sleep longer than a few hours at a time, ever. He didn't cry. Not a single tiny 'wah', until he was 6 months old. Then every other week or so he would cry for hours and hours straight, as if in extreme pain. No doctor could find a reason. Despite that,  he was an incredible baby. and I felt blessed. So quiet. So easy. He was fussy around people, but if I held him, or he was allowed to play on his own, he`d be content for hours. A beautiful baby with cascades of blonde ringlets and massive mahogany eyes, I was approached often about putting him in pictures. Eric crawled early, walked at 9 months,  he was physically very advanced. But he still wasn't making sounds. At 9 months I spoke to my family doctor. He set up appointment after appointment with specialist after specialist for years to come. He knew that if I thought something was not quite right, than it wasn't. I took Eric for hearing assessments and psychological assessments blood tests and MRIs but I often felt we were being brushed off. 

Finally at just over 3 years old, Eric was diagnosed with autism. 

The Paths We Travel

 High Park and the Paths We Travel

One of the few things every human being has in common is their exposure to stress. It comes in different forms and levels for all of us, but nonetheless we all feel its effects. Physically or mentally stress left unchecked takes its toll so we each must find our own ways of handling and minimizing it. Live music, and the arts in general, work like magic for me, but are not available 24/7. And stress knows no time-line. So recently I started to re-visit an old childhood hangout of mine. High Park.

Through our greatest trials we discover ourselves

I chose to believe that evil cannot simply beget evil

I originally wrote this as a 'facebook note' on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. With very minor editing I am re-posting it here because the thoughts, feelings and sentiments remain the same. 

We all have the images of that horrible day ingrained in our memories, thus I have chosen not to provide pictures or links. 

Instead, all I ask of you is to please open your mind to your own memories and feelings of that time and perhaps you will discover how your own life has changed for the better. 

Perhaps even discover your own awakening. 

Good triumphs

I invite you to join me on the  journey back through my personal awakening and discovery brought about by the horrors of that time. 

 

Toronto's Croft St, an Ode to Street Art

One of the very first LEGAL pieces of Street Art

Two years ago, my son Eric was rushed to the hospital. He was in acute care for two weeks. I went to visit him twice a day. To alleviate my own anxiety before and after each visit I would go for an hour long walk. On one of those walks, I discovered Croft Street.