Team Whitby – Home

 

This is a first. Using a song twice – never done that here before. But for all the searching, I just kept coming back to this song again and again. When the lyrics are this good I guess they have a right to be re-purposed.

 

Hold on, to me as we go

As we roll down this unfamiliar road

 

In December 2002 I moved to the beautiful seaside town of Whitby North Yorkshire in England. Whitby is a close-knit community where it’s not uncommon for people to have roots that go centuries back. People often grow up in Whitby, move away for a time but are drawn back like the waves on a beach. The pull of  home is stronger than the adventures they might find out in the ‘sea’ of the wider world. Whitby pulled my husband back from Canada and me with him. Whitby is the home of fishermen – casting nets far from here yet longing for return to the safe harbour of home. Whitby is not a large place – but it makes people with large spirits.

 

I’ve always known that the people of Whitby were big-hearted, family centered, loyal, generous and courageous but recently the local community have awed me with just how incredible they truly are. Let me tell you about it.

 

On July 27th – 30 + extraordinary individuals will be traveling from Whitby to London to compete in the 2013 Virgin Active London Triathlon for Cure Rett and specifically for my daughter Emlyn. 30 people from Whitby – a small seaside town. 30 people – most of which have never done a triathlon before. 30 people who – when asked – said ‘I can do that!’. 30 people who have hearts as big as the sea they live beside. 30 people.

 

That’s pretty awesome right? But that’s just the beginning. These 30 + people aren’t content to just train for a triathlon – heck no! They’ve planned a series of events leading up to the triathlon that’ll set your head to spinning. Every week for the next 12 weeks has something or other planned. Events to raise awareness of Rett syndrome in the community and beyond. Events to help raise funds to contribute to the team target of £10,000 by July 27th. The team will be bag packing, spinning, rowing, growing and having bad hair days. The team will be dancing, dressing up, dressing down and changing the colors of the town – all to make a real difference.

 

That’s pretty inspiring right? But that’s not all. The team have been tweeting, sending out sponsor forms, making collection tins, putting up posters and asking their family and friends to donate to their Just Giving pages. They have been giving interviews, encouraging each other and signing up new – unsuspecting victims err, scratch that – signing up new volunteers almost daily. They are gathering the most amazing momentum.

 

You’re getting excited right? But there’s more. The team have asked in many of the local businesses for sponsorship – they never get turned down. They’ve asked for help with poster printing, for counters to put tins on, for walls to put posters on, for help with equipment they need to train – they haven’t been refused yet. The local community is amping up the momentum, spreading the word and giving the team a large dose of  ‘true Whitby spirit’. It’s fair to say…we’re all feeling just a bit emotional.


Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

 

Tonight is the first event in our countdown to London. It’s in Emlyn’s school and it’s been organized by the staff who make every part of Emlyn’s education experience incredible. The school – East Whitby Primary – where the teachers are so compassionate they have visited Emmy in the hospital (on the weekend no less!). The school where Emlyn’s Head Teacher – Mr Mok – wrote, composed and recorded a song exclusively for her (he will be performing it tonight…I will need a full box of tissue!). The school where children generously donate some of their pocket-money to Cure Rett because they want to see Emlyn have a long, full and free life….and because they love her ‘just the way she is’ as well. That’s part of what I love the most – these people see Emlyn for who she is and they love her just like that, but they also love her enough to want her to have the same opportunities, and the same good health that other – more typical – children her age have. I couldn’t have asked for more if I’d known what to ask for.

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

 

One of the events in our Team Line-up is called Walk a Mile in my Shoes.

 

That is Emlyn’s own personal challenge.

 

On the 14th of July Emlyn will attempt to walk a mile. A mile might not seem like a terribly long distance but it’s more like a marathon if you have Rett. A good friend of mine aptly called it ‘Emlyn’s Everest”.

 

Emlyn struggled very hard to learn to walk (something the majority of girls with Rett can’t do) and has worked hard to maintain that ability despite numerous setbacks. Next year Emlyn will be having surgery to correct advancing hip displacement. She will have her hips and both of her femurs broken, reset and rigidly cast for months. We’ve been advised that it’s unlikely she will walk again after this surgery – however, with Emlyn I have learnt to NEVER say never. Only time will tell what she can and can not do. But while she still definitely can, we wanted to give her an opportunity to use that skill. So that’s what she has indicated she wants to do. She will – of course – have the whole team doing it with her, and should she get too tired there will be many heroes to take turns carrying her towards her own finish line. Eye Of The Tiger will be playing as she crosses it…and the cheering will be heard for miles. This isn’t a big town – but it’s home to big people.

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

 

 

Image

Categories: Cure Rett, Love | Tags: , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Read All About It

 

A couple of weeks ago I got to watch something that thrilled me. I watched thousands of people come together, using their voices and their choices to make something incredible happen. These people united from all over the world for a common purpose. There was a science challenge called BeHeard where a vote a day could deliver $10,000 to accelerate rare disease research on a given number of projects. One of those projects was an entry by Dr Qiang Chang for Rett Syndrome research {please click here to read more} and would – if successful – allow him to further investigate the function of the gene MECP2 which is mutated in Rett Syndrome. $10,000 dollars raised though votes is a pretty exciting opportunity. Parents have to work really hard to raise $10,000 dollars to donate to research. This was a chance to raise money without having to run a marathon, climb a mountain or organize an event. So people got busy spreading the word, setting up a Facebook event page, sharing it with friends and asking for votes. The result? A landslide victory! And a certain person publicly fulfilling a promise with a Funky Chicken dance.

 

It was inspirational and it started me thinking about the power we have as individuals to affect change in our communities, nations and even globally.

 

 

You’ve got the words to change a nation

but you’re biting your tongue

You’ve spent a life time stuck in silence

afraid you’ll say something wrong

If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?

So come, on come on

Come on, come on

 

 

Those lyrics really resonate with me personally. I started writing this blog roughly 10 months ago and hitting publish on that first post – sheesh, I wanted to throw up I felt so vulnerable. Saying what you think, what you feel, is so empowering but before you get the rush you gotta suffer the fear and the pain. I had massive fear of ridicule, exposure, belittlement. What if people thought my musical tastes were blasé? What if they thought I was a terrible writer? What if someone fell asleep halfway through reading about my inner conflicts? What if they thought I was whiney for sharing those conflicts? What if no one ever read it, or commented, liked, shared? What if I failed.

 

 

You’ve got a heart as loud as lions

So why let your voice be tamed?

Baby we’re a little different

there’s no need to be ashamed

You’ve got the light to fight the shadows

so stop hiding it away

Come on, Come on

 

 

One day I just stopped myself, shut the door on the ‘what ifs’ and did it. Does it matter if no one likes it? Will it kill me to suffer a little embarrassment in the pursuit of bravery and sincerity? No. The adrenaline rush that follows feeling fear and going forward anyway is A-Mazing! I love it when I get positive feedback on a post, I love knowing that I connected with someone about something – of course I do – but the real payoff for me is in allowing myself to be vulnerable, in cultivating authenticity.

 

 

I wanna sing, I wanna shout

I wanna scream till the words dry out

so put it in all of the papers,

I’m not afraid

they can read all about it

read all about it oh

 

 

 

As a Rett Syndrome advocate, as the Director of a charity this is something I get to see happen every day. Heroic Vulnerability. I see people reach deep within and pull out strength from the core of a nameless place. They go to extraordinary lengths, not once, or once in a while – but again and again and again. The hero of the story is not the person who never suffers, struggles or doubts. The hero is the one who overcomes. Peter Parker was just an ordinary geeky kind of guy until he was bitten by a spider.  Yes he changed – but that was only the beginning.  He loses his uncle before he truly becomes aware of his strength, before he understands that power and responsibility go hand in hand. Peter Parker agonizes over his choices, suffers with guilt and is largely misunderstood by those around him – but he battles on and that’s the part I find heroic.

 

At night we’re waking up the neighbours

while we sing away the blues

making sure that we remember yeah

cause we all matter too

if the truth has been forbidden

then we’re breaking all the rules

so come on, come on

come on, come on

 

So what does Peter Parker have to do with a voting contest on Facebook? What does any of this have to do with Emeli Sandé? Let me tell you…

 

Victory is powerful. Victory in the face of overwhelming odds is exhilarating! This is not the first contest that’s been won by the Rett Syndrome community. Ever heard of Pepsi? Yup! IRSF knocked that contest right out of the park! {read all about that HERE}  Whenever these contests are won in our community they’re won by the incredible power of families, friends and networks resulting from Rett Syndrome!

 

‘Of course they are’ you say. ‘How else would they be won’? ‘Why is this even relevant’? Here’s why…

 

This kind of win – a community driven win – sends a very important message to scientists.

 

It says – like the famous Little Engine {not exactly Marvel but still a Hero} this ‘little’ syndrome is becoming the incredibly powerful syndrome that could!!

 

It says – This community will beat the drums for research, this community will tirelessly promote science, scientists and the hard work they do. This community does.not.stop.

 

You wanna hitch your wagon to an express train? This is the little engine that will storm the hill and NEVER give up.

 

 

Let’s get the tv and the radio

to play our tune again

it’s ’bout time we got some airplay of our version of events

there’s no need to be afraid

I will sing with you my friend

Come on, come on

 

 

We are living in a time of great opportunity. We are living in a time of change. Power lies at the tip of our fingers if we can just find the courage to take it. There are many things we must endure, there are many things we must accept…but there are some things we need to shout about. We need to make our voices heard where and when they can make a difference. When we stand for something, when we stand together – we become an army. An army of unlikely heroes.

 

Yeah we’re all wonderful, wonderful people

so when did we all get so fearful?

Now we’re finally finding our voices

so take a chance, come help me sing this

 

I wanna sing, I wanna shout

I wanna scream till the words dry out

so put it in all of the papers,

I’m not afraid

they can read all about it

read all about it oh

 

Please read below for a letter of gratitude from Dr Chang, the scientist who will now work extra hard because he saw the overwhelming support from a community of committed, crazy, Funky Chicken dancing Superheroes!

 

 

Dear Rett families, supporters and colleagues,

 

Early Saturday afternoon, I received the official confirmation that Rett syndrome research has won the Rare Disease Challenge voting competition.  On behalf of our whole community, my lab will receive $10,000 for studying the disease mechanisms of Rett syndrome.  By voting our research proposal to the first place, our community has once again come together to show the world our will and determination in finding a cure for Rett.  I cannot even begin to tell you how proud I have been in the last two weeks, because our research proposal was included in the competition to represent our community.  It was quite an experience for all the people in my research laboratory as well to see how passionate our community is in supporting Rett syndrome research.  The research fund means a lot to us, because federal funding is very tight.  But your support means even more, because that keeps our eyes on the common goal we share.  As of ~48 hours ago, you have done a wonderful job in securing necessary resource for my research program.  Looking forward, we are committed to use that very resource to advance research in eventually finding a cure for Rett.  We believe, as you do, that together we shall prevail.

 

Thank you!

Qiang Chang, PhD

 

 

 

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Sweet Disposition

 

Sweet disposition

 

sweet  [swēt]

 

Adjective

having the pleasant taste characteristic of sugar or honey; not salty, sour, or bitter.

 

Noun

used as an affectionate form of address to a person one is very fond of.

 

Synonyms

nice – lovely – pleasant

 

 

dis·po·si·tion [dis-puh-zish-uhn] 

 

Noun

the predominant or prevailing tendency of one’s spirits; natural mental and emotional outlook or mood; characteristic attitude: a girl with a pleasant disposition.

 

 

My nickname for Emlyn is Sweetie-my-heart. It’s the perfect nickname for her. She IS sweet. She IS my heart. And she most certainly does have a Sweet Disposition.

 

It’s something I hear quite regularly from parents of girls with Rett Syndrome – “She has the sweetest spirit”, “She has such a sweet countenance”, “She is just so sweet-natured”.  I also hear “She’s a flirt” and “She’s a terror” and “She certainly knows how to get what she wants” ….but ‘sweetness’ crops up again and again.

 

That really amazes me given the struggles I know these girls face.

 

If something stopped me from speaking, using my hands purposefully, moving with ease and making hundreds of daily independent choices I hardly think ‘sweet’ would be an accurate reflection of my character. Frustrated, enraged, terrified maybe – but sweet? I doubt it.

 

Emlyn just came along – in her eccentric way – and changed the meaning of sweet. She’s re-defined many words for me. Unique. Typical. Special. Brave. Strong. She tore up the dictionary and started from scratch. Actually – she did, once, literally tear up the dictionary.

 

 

Emlyn has especially changed my perception of what beauty looks like. Beauty from within. Sweetness. The radiance that transcends physical attributes. She’s radically altered the way I think, feel and experience life. The things I ‘d historically overlooked – until she shook me up and set me on a better path.

 

 

 

A moment, a love

A dream, a laugh

A kiss, a cry

 

 

A moment – like the one I get every night when I creep into her room and check that ‘one last time’ before I go to bed. When she half smiles in her sleep and it feels like she’s saying ‘that’s my mom, all is safe, all is sound, I am loved’ before she nestles in and really settles for the night.

 

A love – like the explosive BOOM of my heart when I see her coming down the hallway at school and her face is lit up with delight … because she sees me!

 

A dream – like the recurring one in which she says ‘I love you mommy’

 

A laugh – like the contagious giggle that always follows ‘I’ve got a lover-ly bunch of coconuts’ or anything else I sing.

 

A kiss – like in the morning, as I drop her off for school, when I pick her up, when I ask for one, when I’ve soothed a bad breathing episode, after a seizure, if I’m sad, when I cry, when we dance. Hands on either side of my face, looking deeply into my eyes she brings her sweet face close, leans in and shows me love…huge heart squishing love.

 

A cry – like when her lip wobbles and her face comes undone. When she is trying so hard to be brave but sad wins. When she is scared because she lost her balance and knows the pain that could follow. When she can’t stop her hands from disobeying her thoughts. When she feels a seizure closing in on her. When she can’t breath. When she wants to say something but the words are trapped in her mouth.

 

 

 

Stay there

I’ll be comin’ over

 

 

My daughter brings out the warrior in me. She took a lifetime of skills and distilled them into a fire of pure determination. I don’t know what I was meant to be when I grew up, I don’t know what I would have been without her – frankly I don’t care. What I am now is all that matters. Everything I’ve ever done, or known or learnt the hard way is a tool fashioned for this purpose. To give her the best Today. The best Tomorrow I can manage and the best Future possibilities. In that order.

 

 

 

We won’t stop til it’s over

Won’t stop to surrender

 

 

Emlyn’s inspired me to write this blog. She’s inspired me to learn sign language. She’s got me out of myself. She’s motivated me to co-found 2 charities. She’s made me work up the courage to write speeches, research teaching methods, fundraise, knock on doors and lay my heart bare. She’s taught me to look beneath the surface, and then look beneath again for another 4 or 5 layers. She’s taught me when to compromise and when not to. She’s taught me the value of silence. And the value of a voice.

 

If music is the voice of my heart, she taught me a new tune.

 

A tune about a brave little pirate princess, with the heart of a giant and the sweetest disposition.

 

 

A moment, a love

A dream, a laugh

A kiss, a cry

A moment, a love

A dream, a laugh

A kiss, a cry

 

 

Won’t stop to surrender

 

Categories: Cure Rett, Love, Music | Tags: , , , , | 14 Comments

Don’t You Worry Child

 

There was a time

I used to look into my father’s eyes.

In a happy home

I was a king, I had a gold throne.

 

Last night I dreamt of my Grampa. He was young in the dream and so was I. He looked handsome and healthy, dignified yet sparkling with mischief. I don’t remember what he said or what we did in the dream, but when I woke up I cried. The need for his wisdom and calm steady familiarity made me ache with sadness. I wanted to remember his words, to have one last nugget of ‘Grandpa-isms’ to carry me through a life now devoid of his physical presence. But I couldn’t remember.

 

 

Those days are gone,

Now the memory’s on the wall.

I hear the songs

From the places where I was born.

 

 

So I decided to think back and recall all the things he’d said, things of remarkable influence anyway. There were funny things, profound things, ordinary things. There were things that became family jokes – getting better with each retelling. There were sad things, happy things, irritating things. A lifetime of words to treasure.

 

But none as powerful as these “Kori, God has big plans for you.”

 

He said those words so many times they’re tattooed on the invisible skin that makes up my character. He said them and he lived them and he meant them.

 

He said them to me when I was so small I can barely remember. He said them after the death of my sister when I felt like our family was made of glass. When I wanted to know – why her and not me?. He said them when the first boy I loved made me cry and I asked him how I would know if love was real. He said them when I moved away from home – leaving Canada for England – and I was suddenly afraid I’d made a terrible mistake. He said them to me when I became a mother and gave him his first grandson. He said them when Darren and I left England to move back to Canada. He took me for a drive around Kelowna (where they my grandparents lived and I’d grown up), just the two of us. He drove me to every place of historic importance to our family. We didn’t look at the time, we just drove and drove. I cried and told him how scared I was of all the changes in my future – so he showed me my history. At the end of this perfect drive,  we went to the lake. He reminded me of all the times I’d been afraid and all the times God had brought me through.

 

Okanagan

 

Upon the hill across the blue lake,

That’s where I had my first heartbreak.

I still remember how it all changed.

My father said…

 

“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry, child.

See heaven’s got a plan for you.

Don’t you worry, don’t you worry now.”

 

 

Darren and I lived in Canada for just short of 2 years. We lived close to my grandparents and saw them almost every week. We spent weekends at their house and vise versa. I purposefully soaked up every minute with them – aware that I was so fortunate to have this beautiful adult relationship with the people I loved most. Emlyn was born while we lived in Canada and after Darren and I, Grampa was the first person to hold her in the hospital…she was minutes old. I could see him looking into her tiny face and I knew in his heart he was saying “God has big plans for you!”

 

 

Don't you worry child

 

There was a time

I met a girl of a different kind.

 

 

By the time Emlyn was diagnosed with Rett Syndrome we were living in England again. When I told my grandparents about the diagnosis we cried together over the phone and they prayed for me. They prayed that God would give me strength. They prayed that God would guide me in the best ways to care for Emlyn. They prayed for many many things. Then Grampa said “God has big plans for you both”.

 

 

“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry, child.

See heaven’s got a plan for you.

Don’t you worry, don’t you worry now.”

 

Grampa is gone but his legacy endures. His words and his faith, his love and direction.  God had BIG plans for him and he more than lived up to them.

 

 

See heaven’s got a plan for you

See heaven’s got a plan for you

See heaven’s got a plan for you

 

“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry, child.

See heaven’s got a plan for you.

Don’t you worry, don’t you worry now.”

 
Categories: Love, Music | 21 Comments

Say What You Need To Say

 

I’ve been a bad blogger. I’ve let all the words build up in my head with no outlet for far too long. This post might be a bit rusty and overly verbose but given the topic I think that’ll be ok.

 

It’s not that I haven’t wanted to blog, it’s not that I’ve had nothing to say – I’ve just been really busy listening instead. My new job’s filling up a lot of my time…and I love it. I love my job!! How many people get to say that? For anyone who doesn’t know what I do, here’s a brief description.

 

I’m the Director of Family Support and Advocacy for a very special Charity called Cure Rett. Cure Rett was created to address 2 important needs in the Rett Syndrome community. We provide care for families dealing with a Rett Syndrome diagnosis. We also raise funds to support researchers in their efforts to develop treatments and find a cure for Rett Syndrome. This is a pretty incredible task so we have an awesome team working super hard to makes those goals a reality.  Some of the team have daughters with Rett – like me – and some of the team do it because they know and love girls with Rett. Everyone does it because they really believe they can make a difference. It makes for a pretty inspiring work environment.

 

So what does the Director of Family Support and Advocacy do? Why does there even need to be a Director of  *insert long-winded title here*? Well, mainly it’s about having someone to listen. It’s about having someone who’s been through a similar situation and can relate compassionately to what you’re going through. It’s about having someone on your side. It’s about being able to say what you need to say.

 

 

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say

 

 

Why is it important to have all that? Because sometimes the words build up – the pain and frustration, the sorrow and fear, the anxiety, the guilt – the words piling on top of each other like bricks as they go unsaid for days, weeks, months…years. Clogging up in your throat until you’re choking on thousands of unspoken words.

 

Walking like a one man army

Fighting with the shadows in your head

Living out the same old moment

Knowing you’d be better off instead,

If you could only . . .

 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say 

 

 

When you speak a fear – it losses strength. When you speak of pain – you share it’s burden. When you let the words fly out of your mouth – they stop choking you. This is especially poignant for parents of children that can’t speak. Having a child who struggles to communicate through unconventional means, who has no spoken words – like Emlyn – makes me so aware of the power of speech. It makes me appreciate everything I say, and the fact that I have this ability makes me determined to use it for good.

 

So when I have the opportunity to speak to the parents of a child with Rett Syndrome – I value each one of their words. I listen, without judgement, to their fears. I listen to what they can’t say as well, hoping that as time goes by, and they gain confidence they’ll be able to say what they need to say.

 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to say

 

Eleanor Roosevelt said ‘You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’

 

Curing Rett Syndrome is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. Even if the hope we have for a cure were to become a reality tomorrow, I would consider the journey only partly over. The struggle would go on. The rehabilitation would be extensive. The steps forward – though filled with joy – would be arduous. The cure wouldn’t be the end,  but it would be a brighter beginning to the second half of the road trip.

 

If this is a journey, it’s vital to pace yourself. It’s vital to stay healthy physically and emotionally as you go the distance. Saying what you need to say – when you need to say it – is a big part of staying healthy.

 

 

Have no fear for giving in

Have no fear for giving over

You know that in the end

Its better to say too much

Then never say what you need to say again

 

 

It’s not always the easiest thing in the world to pick up a phone, or write an email to someone you don’t know. It’s scary to show your vulnerabilities to a stranger – but once you’ve taken that step the stranger can become a friend. I’ve seen it happen time and time and time again. I’ve been on either side of the coin. I’ve been the one with a mouth full of words, a pounding heart and a phone clutched in my fist as I worked up the courage to make that call. I’ve poured out my heart to a stranger, worried about being judged and worried that if I started to cry I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’ve mentioned this before but it bears repeating – that stranger is now my good friend Paige, and phoning her was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve also been on the other side of the phone, listening to the tentative first words of a broken-hearted mother. I’ve watched that mother grow in confidence as she learns, is heard, and has a chance to say what she needs to say.

 

 

Even if your hands are shaking

And your faith is broken

Even as the eyes are closing

Do it with a heart wide open

 

 

Say what you need to say 

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to say

 

Categories: Cure Rett, Love, Music | Tags: , , , , , , | 7 Comments

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