I gotta feeling...

I have to admit that these past few weeks I have let my worries get the best of me.  My usual, ever present optimism, was replaced with doubt and a whole lot of what-ifs.  Optimism is a funny thing in that it waxes and wanes.  There are a few people in my life who are able to stay entirely optimistic (Amy and Kerstin, to name a few).  And while I am for the most part an optimist, there are times when I let my worries get me down.  Someone once told me that "Once you have a child, you never stop worrying."  and this is even more true when your child is born with any type of medical condition.  It hasn't been easy accepting that things won't be perfect for Magnus, but I wanted to share a few experiences that have given me hope. 

Two weeks before Magnus was diagnosed with nystagmus, Kerstin and I had a friendly chat with a blind woman in the ocularist's waiting room.  She was young and beautiful, accompanied by a black lab guide dog, and her story still amazes me.  Blind from birth, she grew up in a small farm town in Indiana.  After finishing high school she realized there wasn't much her town had to offer, so she moved away for college and finally ended up in Arlington to do a Masters degree at George Mason University.  Her specialty is in Human Capitol, requiring air travel 3 out of 5 days of the week.  If that still doesn't impress you, she's married and owns a home in one of Arlington's most spricey neighborhoods.  I know what you're thinking, "Damn, Ellie is such a snoop!" But we learned all of this after giving her a ride home (a full 30 minutes) AND she seemed happy to share her experiences and advice for raising children with visual impairments. So when the news came that Magnus' vision was worse than we expected, I took comfort in her story and knew that Magnus too, would be OK.

Weeks later though I started to feel down again.  I worried (and still do) about his inability to drive, employment limitations, and social awkwardness (it'll be really hard for him to make eye contact).  Then I read a story in People magazine that hit me like a brick.  One of the members of the Black Eyed Peas is legally blind because of nystagmus.



Apl.de.ap's story also touched me because he's from a part of the Philippines where I spent part of my early childhood, Angeles City.  You can read the story for yourself, but here it is in a nutshell: He was born to, then abandoned by his American father.  Adopted through the Pearl S. Buck Foundation, in part because of his visual impairment, he went on to form the Black Eyed Peas with will.i.am.  Now he DJs, dances, and performs in front of millions without much sight.  Amazing.  I think back to my childhood and remember driving past impoverished children on the way to my school on Clark Air Force Base.  They sold chewing gum and newspapers in intersections and I always wondered why they weren't in school.  Did I ever drive by apl.de.ap on the way to school?  Looking back and comparing my upbringing to his, I lived a privileged childhood.  Either way, if he could overcome both poverty and low vision to fulfill his dream of making and performing music, I gotta feeling that things will be more than alright for Magnus. 

I believe that if he dreams and works hard enough, things will be downright amazing.

Headshot

If Mattias and I have ever given off the impression that we were 1) super smart or 2) professional, we are sorry but you have been fooled.  We are just a couple of dorks who happened to choose to stay in school way longer than most sane people.  Having known each other since before we could drive, we still chuckle about the fact that our degrees have granted us the Dr. prefix, and I downright laughed when a person we met at a party referred to us as a "power couple." 

Mattias likes to tease that I'm not "a real doctor" because I work on animals.  I tell him his doctorate is so fake, they spell it with a ph (as in Phake Doctor).  Then someone has to chime in that Jonas is the only real doctor in the family, because he has the MD.  No matter, I get to say that I was the first Dr. Karlsson in the family because I graduated before both Mattias and Jonas.

Just recently the two of us had to get professional head shots taken for work.  Now let me ask you, which Dr. Karlsson would you trust with your life?

The real Dr. Karlsson

The other Dr. Karlsson

Heart

This time of the year, many years ago, you would have found me sitting at the table creating numerous, meticulously crafted Valentines.  Without any time, space, or energy to spare, I think I'll do something different than in years past.  I have so many thoughts that I want to share with my little boys, I worry that I'll invariably get caught up in the business of living that I'll forget to tell them.  So this year, and hopefully every year from here on out, I will craft a Valentine's wish for them from my heart, and share it with you all in my blog.

Those of us who have kids (and even those who are planning on having kids) think frequently about what we wish for our kids.  Sometimes this list leans on the superficial side-- good teeth, perfect vision, height.  But mostly it's not-- we want them to be happy and healthy, generous and kind.  My list used to be a little long, but with recent events I've reevaluated these priorities.  Perfect vision isn't so important any more; good looks (even though I know both boys will be hotties) isn't such a big deal either.  Nowadays, my list is pretty short.

My wish for my boys is: to have, above all other things, heart.

I think a side story is needed here to explain what I mean by heart.  Flashback to the Fall of 1994, when my big brother suggested that I join the Milpitas High School wrestling team.  (That would be the boys wrestling team, since there was no girls wrestling at the time.)  I was never particularly attracted to wrestling, or sports in general, but it sounded fun so I thought, "Why not?"  Five days a week I trained with a group of 20 or so boys, doing strength and endurance training, and a whole lot of wrestling.  It wasn't easy.  We would sometimes do a run that took us to a golf club at the top of a big hill, and I was always amongst the last ones there.  And compared to the 3-5% body fat most wrestlers had, I competed with a staggering 18%.  So while I wrestled boys in my weight class, they all had a significant advantage in terms of muscle mass.  That year I won one match the entire season.  

The next year and the year after that was more or less the same.  My losses didn't really get to me since I never expected to win, I just went out there and did my best at not getting pinned.  I enjoyed the challenge and the camraderie with the guys, and my record didn't influence my vision of success.  

In the middle of my third season I had a conversation with my coach that I will never forget.  Out of all the talent we had on our team, he said that he wished my teammates were more like me.  Why?  Because I had heart.  I kept going out there, to physically fight with a boy in front of a crowd of people, no matter how many times I had been beaten.  Coach Duran taught me the value of my perserverance, over talent and circumstance.                                  None of us is born perfect.  In the scrambling of recombination that goes on before that fertilized egg first divides, we are each dealt a hand of cards.  We each have to learn how to play that hand, good or bad, in a way that will produce the most positive outcome. And this is where heart comes in.  When life gets difficult you can sulk in defeat, or you can fight and fail until you are finally successful. 

So, Linus and Magnus, have heart. 

Our little fighter, with his new painted prosthesis.