The Turtle that Turned Into a Frog

Over the course of our lives the people we love will go through countless transformations.
Love them in the present moment, remember them softly and help them
boldly walk out into their future.

My adrenaline would skyrocket and my palms would sweat when I realized that I hadn’t felt her kicks in almost 8 hours. I scolded myself for not paying close enough attention. I tried to scan my recent memory for any movements and then I would lay down and wait with my hand over my belly. The waiting was the worst part. My thoughts would go limp, time stretched out for an eternity. I would softly call out to her, “Turtle, wake up.” And then there was faint movement, so slight it could be and would be missed time and time again.  

For the first week of her life no one, including us, could remember her given name. All of us continued to call her Turtle. She was such a soft child, calm and slow. On the 8^th day of her life however that all changed.

My Love rushed her to the ER on the 8^th day of her life. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, her breath sounds were raspy and her skin sucked in at the bottom of her neck when she would take a breath. My Love held her while she had her trachea scoped, was stuck a few times with an IV line and was monitored overnight. Reflux was the diagnoses.

It is hard to remember what followed next. Her vomiting started at around age 1 when we tried to transfer her off of formula. At one point I had counted 8 visits to the ER for vomiting. Constipation was the diagnoses most times. If I am honest however, it started long before the vomiting. I would watch my restless newborn try to sleep. She would reflexively kick her legs up and let out strange cries during the night. While rubbing her tummy at odd hours of the night I wished for the slow calmness that she once had felt.

Two years later she was diagnosed with a dairy and soy allergy.

My turtle was given no choice in her transformation. She became movement. Movement it seemed helped her tummy feel better. Kicking her legs out and up at night as a newborn, sucking furiously and unrelentingly on her pacifier as a one year old, crouching down and jumping up as a two year old were some of her first uncontrollable movements.

As we started to understand her allergies better she started to feel better but movement had been etched on her soul. Dancing, twirling, kicking, wrestling, biting, scratching, laughing, jumping and running. She reflexively collided into us and everything around her with brute force. As an almost five year old now she much prefers wrestling over playing with dolls. She lives and breathes kinetic energy.

 She is a turtle that turned into a frog.  It happened over time, so slowly that her name, Turtle, was forgotten.  Lost among old memories. Boxed up with the maternity clothes, ultrasound pictures and baby shower announcements. I think about her now and again. I lay still sometimes and remember how soft and slow she felt. I whisper her name, Turtle, and I wonder if she remembers the stillness that we shared.

To transform into something utterly different than what might have been is truly a remarkable feat. It is a rocky road that can cause pain, suffering, sadness and an eventual death to that which has always been known. We can either choose to be angry about the uncontrollable transformation or we can choose to watch closely to see what comes next. The next will be different than the before. There will be new sensations, new names and new memories.   Our love shifts, it makes room for the present moment, knowing that we did the best we could in each moment leading up to the now.

My daughter’s movement and energy are tantalizing. It is contagious. As we wrestle for the 10^th time together in one day I find myself giggling at her squirminess. Her bombastic wildness is refreshing. We have taken the hint and have enrolled her into Martial Arts. The strength and fortitude that she is learning coupled with her wild movements is creating yet another transformation.

Over the course of our lives the people we love will go through countless transformations. Love them in the present moment, remember them softly and help them boldly walk out into their future. Many times the transformations that are underway cannot be fully appreciated and will never be fully understood.   There is no clear finish line...And the finish doesn't matter anyway. Our lives are lived within the transformations.