10 Weeks

Remember how I yanked my fingernail out while I was moving our refrigerator back in June? If you don't, you can read about it here.

The kind doctor who checked out my bloody stump of a finger (do you like how descriptive I'm being?) in church the day after The Incident happened said my fingernail should regrow in 8-10 weeks. Some scoffed. Google said it would take longer. But I held fast to the fingernail prophecy of the reputable doctor (and also took lots of vitamins). And, ten weeks after The Incident, I'm happy to report that the doctor's prognosis was right. Mostly.

The fingernail has another week or two to completely regrow, but I'd say it's mostly regrown. Of course, some may say there's a big difference between being mostly regrown and all regrown. Like Seth. When it's all regrown, Seth will be able to look at it again. While it's still in the mostly stage, he's refusing to allow his eyes to gaze upon my healing finger. His loss.

Kudos to the cheerful doctor who assured me I wouldn't need to wander through the rest of my days cradling my pinky finger and moaning about that stupid milkshake that brought it all about in the first place.

Earning their keep

It's been almost five months since our new chickens came to live with us. In that five months, we somehow lost one of the new ones. I have no idea how she disappeared, but Seth went out one morning to let them out of the coop and when he came in, he said, "How many chickens were in there last night when you closed it up? One is missing." The speckled Sussex vanished without a trace--no scattered feathers, no bloody carcass (sorry, did I just say "bloody carcass"? my bad), no signs of claw marks dragging across the ground, no "I've run away to join the circus" note. She didn't even say good-bye (name that movie). Maybe there's some sort of Bermuda Triangle happening in the middle of the chicken yard that sucks up unsuspecting chickens.

At any rate, the other five new chickens and three old chickens (for a total of eight chickens, in case you didn't feel like adding those numbers together) have been getting along well. And Cael and Kieran enjoy interacting with (aka "chasing") them.

Since chickens can begin laying in their fourth month, for the past month, I've been reminding the new chickens that their food and lodging aren't free and that they need to start earning their keep.

And my friend, who got chickens the week after we did, has been asking if ours are laying yet, so that she knows when to expect hers to begin. So I was happy to post a message on her Facebook page today letting her know that one of the new chickens had finally started laying.

Seth found two in another part of the coop this morning -- outside of the nesting box where the older chickens lay. They look the same, so I'm assuming they came from the same chicken and that I just hadn't noticed the first egg. They're smaller than the other eggs, too. I'm not sure which of the new chickens is making the contribution and holding up her end of the bargain, but I encouraged them all to get on the ball -- or the nest -- today.

Since Seth changed jobs, he doesn't know if any of his coworkers will be interested in purchasing our excess eggs, so I haven't quite figured out what we're going to do with EIGHT eggs a day (assuming we have good layers). I foresee lots of quiche in our future . . . .

Ear Mupps

If you've been around Kieran for any length of time, you've seen him with his hands over his ears. Somehow, as a result of Williams syndrome, he hears things differently from the rest of us -- a condition called "hyperacusis." His hearing is more sensitive than most--sounds from things such as blenders, mixers, and vacuum cleaners startle him and can cause physical pain to his ears in some cases.

The first sound I noticed that he reacted to was our mixer. He would cry uncontrollably while I was using it and even just at the sight of it. Over time, he's gradually become accustomed to the sound and now will even help me use it. There are other sounds, however, that he's come across that he doesn't like. Some of them we've been able to help him acclimate to by gradual exposure over (a long) time, but others he still reacts to.

The vacuum cleaner has been a source of trouble for him lately -- he had become accustomed to ours, but one day at church, the teacher got out the vacuum cleaner and turned it on to clean up some food that spilled. It startled him, he cried, and ever since then, he's been more wary of them and returned to the crying-hands-over-his-ears state when he sees one in unfamiliar settings (and sometimes will even react that way at our house).

Some noises I can predict will bother him; others are surprising for me. And sometimes I'm surprised when a certain sound doesn't bother him that I had expected would.

I've read about children with WS using ear muffs to help with the hyperacusis but hadn't felt that he really needed them (we're still working on helping him with his reactions to sounds; although I will admit that I use our blender far less than I'd like because I don't want to bring on the crying). And I'd read that consistent long-term use can actually do more harm than good as they can cause the hearing to become even more sensitive and make it more difficult to reestablish a tolerance for sound.

A few months ago, however, Seth came home from Lowe's with a pair of ear muffs for Kieran to wear -- apparently, the last time he'd gone there with Kieran, they had talked about how the ear muffs would help him like our quad (which he has an aversion to) and that Seth would get a pair for him to try.

So, Kieran tried them on and began to wear them in situations that made him cover his ears. We took them with us when we went to a fireworks display over the 4th of July and he wore them for a while, but I think they were a little uncomfortable for him (and too big) and he took them off. (And then Cael put them on.)

They did seem to help him deal with some sounds, so I decided to get him a pair of child-sized ear protectors to use. The kind that many in the WS community use are called Moggies.

They arrived the other day and he immediately wanted to try them on.

One interesting aspect of Kieran's bona fide condition is that Cael will sometimes overreact to sounds just because Kieran does. And sometimes even when Kieran doesn't. (In those cases, I usually say, "Cael -- look around. You're the only one crying here." And then he usually stops.) And to prevent fighting over the "ear mupps" (as Cael calls them), I ordered a pair for him, as well.

Kieran seems to like them and wore them tonight while Seth was using the wet-dry vac outside. He put them on and then would pull them off slightly to check that they were really working. And he talked about how they helped.

We still want to help him work through sounds that bother him, but if ear mupps can help him deal a little better with everyday life, then I'm happy for him to use them. 

The Black Triangle

"Will he be able to hold down a job and provide for himself?" is one of the questions that went through my mind when we received Kieran's diagnosis of Williams syndrome. So I'm inspired by reading articles (such as this one) about older folks with Williams syndrome and by meeting Facebook friends with WS -- such as Randi, Lora, and Betsy -- who have found jobs they enjoy. And I have in the back of my mind as a goal for Kieran to develop in him the abilities and desire necessary to find a job he can do well at for the glory of God (and which may or may not involve weedwackers).

The first "work" was done by the Creator as He effortlessly worked at creating the universe in six days. His rest on the seventh day wasn't the result of tiredness on His part but rather to establish a pattern for His creatures. A pattern we (mostly) follow even today--working for six days and resting for one.

And as His image-bearers, we were also created to work. In the beginning, one of the first things God did after creating Adam and Eve was give them jobs to do -- the pleasant, easy work of taking care of a garden. At that time, there were no weeds to pull, no thorns to get stuck under a fingernail while picking berries, no chemical pesticides needed to reduce the bugs on the plants. Everything worked together harmoniously as Adam and Eve tended the garden.

Of course, the nature of work changed after Adam sinned. Part of the punishment he received for disobeying God's command was that his work would now be back-breaking and bone-wearying--no longer the carefree enjoyment of tending a "very good" garden.  He would need to work hard to provide for his family. And this theme continues throughout the rest of the Scriptures and history--his descendants learned to shepherd cattle, make instruments, and work with metal . . . and eventually developed the amazing variety of jobs available to us today.

The writers of the New Testament also emphasized the importance of providing for oneself and one's family ("the one who is unwilling to work shall not eat" (2 Thessalonians 3:10)) and of heartily doing whatever work one finds for the glory of God (Colossians 3:23).

The ability to work is certainly part of what defines us as humans. But, as with any biblical doctrine, we can carry it too far and separate it from its biblical context, making it more of a defining human characteristic than God intended it to be -- even making it the defining characteristic of what it means to be human.

Enter Adolf Hitler. In Hitler's regime, people with disabilities (mental and physical) were among those sent to the concentration camps where they were eventually killed (200,000 individuals with some type of disability were killed between January 1940 and August 1941). They were classed as arbeitsscheu or "work shy" -- unable (or unwilling) to work and make a contribution to society and so unfit to stay in society and/or live. The marking they were forced to wear in the camps was a black triangle.

The entryway to Dachau--note the connection to "work"

This week, people in Berlin began building a monument to this particular group of victims of the Holocaust.

There are those today who would argue that people with disabilities should be given a chance at life (i.e., not killed in utero) because of the "work" they do -- the blessings they bring, the happiness they share, the valuable contributions they give to society.

Or, they say, "Many years ago, a young mother was encouraged to have an abortion after she was misdiagnosed with appendicitis. She refused and her baby was born with poor eyesight and later became completely blind due to a football accident. But that baby today astounds us all with his voice -- that baby is Andrea Bocelli."

It's a sweet story, but think about the implications -- it's a good thing the baby wasn't killed because his work today is so enjoyable for so many people. . . . So what does that mean for the babies born with poor eyesight who don't end up as international singing sensations? Would it have been ok if they had been killed before having a chance at life outside the womb -- because they don't contribute as much to society?

Here's the thing: if, in the debate over the sacredness of life and as a major reason for allowing children with disabilities to live (both inside and outside the womb), we offer up the idea that they bring so much to the table, that they can contribute much to society (as the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities does), we run the risk of defining the value of life in terms of "work" rather than as it should be defined--in terms of being made in the image of God. And we remove any type of absolute authority who says "Do not kill those who bear my image -- any of them."

And here's the endgame to that argument: we lose the ability to say that Hitler was wrong. In fact, if we try to define the value of human life in terms of "work," then Hitler's approach to evaluating life worth living was valid--or at least as valid as our approach.

Never mind the outfit -- it was cold in the mountains of Tennessee

and his mismatched pjs were the warmest pieces of clothing on-hand.

It's true that Kieran is a blessing to us (as are all children) and I look forward to seeing the continued works of God displayed in his life and encouraging him to do whatever he finds to do for God's glory and the good of those around him. But most importantly, he is an image-bearer of the Creator of the universe, just as you and I are, and no amount of work (or lack thereof) will ever change that--for anyone. Let's not forget the past--the black triangles--so that we dare not repeat it.