Emily Orton: Running Down a Dream

Emily Orton is a former middle school teacher turned New York City SAHM and part-time writer.  Her most recent offerings can be found on Work. Life. Balance., The Apron Stage, and Segullah.  She is a huge fan of Dare to Dream and pleased as punch to contribute.  When she's not reading or writing, Emily enjoys walking all over Manhattan, coastal sailing, and editing her apartment.  She and her husband, Erik, home school their five children. 

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By four months old, my daughter Mermaid was showing signs of developmental delay.  Despite reassurances from my midwife and my pediatrician, I wearied myself with inconclusive internet research about Down Syndrome.

My husband called me paranoid.  I craved certainty.  Even the highly praised geneticist of thirty years couldn’t give it to me.  Finally, with Mermaid at six months of age, blood tests revealed the microscopic extra chromosome that shook our paradigm.  There was some reeling and some relief.  At least now I didn’t have to worry if anything was wrong.  I could get to work.

Source:  istockphoto

Genuine acceptance and resilient humor, two of my husband’s hallmark qualities, buoyed us over the first few hours of transition.  He wanted matching T-shirts that said, “We put the O in Chromosome” or “I’m down with Downs.”  He said Mermaid’s four older siblings would be so jealous of all the cool trips Mermaid got to take with us in our wild retirement years.  Encouragement from friends and family enveloped us as a whirlwind of evaluations and a battery of medical tests, I thought reserved only for politicians and celebrities, ensued.

Through it all, I held my girl.  I nuzzled her soft warm head.  I considered her future.  So much was still uncertain, but I knew she would have to work hard for every achievement.  I wanted to do something hard, too.  The circumstances of my life aligned to make a marathon possible.  It had been scratched off my dream list for years, but the shape of my dreams was changing.  I wanted to run to honor Mermaid.

Source:  istockphoto

I began training by taking the stairs instead of the elevator.  I had worked up to ten miles with my steady friend, Heather, as my trainer/partner when Mermaid began having seizures.  Tracking down a pediatric neurologist on a holiday weekend (these things always happen on weekends or holidays, don’t they?) was a saga unto itself.  She interpreted the mass of EEG scribbles as electrical misfires in Mermaid’s brain and we had a shared suite in the NYU pediatric ward within three hours.

Fortunately, Mermaid obliged us by having a seizure shortly after she was hooked up to the EEG and video monitors. She was immediately diagnosed with Hypsarrhythmia.  Sounds like a dance craze, right?  I wish.  It was actually the beginning of an insurance tango, learning to give my infant injections, and more tests than I ever took in college.  By day two of hospital vigilance, I needed to run.  I knew I might have to give up the marathon, but my body needed to move.  My husband took over the bedside duties while I held my other children, slept in my own bed and ran with Heather.

Source:  istockphoto

That crisp morning air, the steady rhythm of our tandem footfall, the oxygen, the endorphins and the encouragement of my dear friend convinced me that, now more than ever, I needed to run this marathon.  Mermaid came home and I continued training. The neurologist assured me that the chaotic electrical impulses in her brain weren’t causing damage. Mermaid descended into a developmental pause.  I ran.  She got very fat.  I ran.  Her eyes were dull and unfocused.  I ran.  She never smiled.  I ran.  My husband and our four older children needed me, too.  I ran.

Almost every day I trained with Heather.  On weekends a larger party would form for the long runs.  Sometimes the conversation would transport me into the concerns and joys of the other women.  Miles of quiet along the river was the sanctuary for my searching prayers.  Often enough that Heather wasn’t surprised, my voice would tremble and the wind would send my tears sliding sideways across my cheeks as I uncovered my unbearable fears.  But we laughed a lot, too.  I always came home with flushed cheeks and the crazy notion that I could do hard things.  I could carry my load that day.

The whole family came to cheer for me at the marathon.  They were at mile 1, mile 20 and mile 26.2.  The older children held signs, waved bright orange pom-poms and shouted out to me.  Mermaid was slumped, disinterested, in her stroller.  The medication wasn’t working.  I hugged her and gave her a big kiss.  I ran for both of us.

Source:  istockphoto   

Running down my dream kept me two steps ahead of despair.  This unexpected protracted trial gave focus and purpose to my marathon dream.  My training schedule gave routine, energy and sustaining friendship to my uncertainty.  Achieving what I set out to do reminded me that I can do hard things one step at a time.

Epilogue:  There are only two medications for treating Hypsarrhythmia.  The second one worked for Mermaid.  She is alert, engaging, determined and curious.  She’s beginning to walk and talk.  She smiles and laughs.  She will be two in December.

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What's the hardest thing you've ever done?  How has running that down helped you face other challenges?  Achieve your dreams?

After you read Emily's post, re-read Elizabeth Stewart Dunford's post Solace in Creativity.  What similarities do you find?

I'd also re-read Emily Anthon's Suiting Up and Showing Up.  What similarities do you see here?  What can we learn?

And finally -- Stephanie Soper's Portrait of an Artist.  

Comments

[Jenny]

WOW Emily.
A powerful and inspiring story.
Keep running!
xo

[Teresa]

I'm impressed that something completely unrelated to running gave "focus and purpose" to your scratched-off dream. It made me ask myself how can I channel difficult emotions to support and enhance my dreams. What have my children enabled me to do that I wouldn't have had the courage to complete before? (Because if there's anyone I would do hard things for, it's my kids.) A beautiful story, Emily.

[Rebecca]

Such an inspiring story. Congrats on your marathon...what a huge accomplishment. Mermaid is blessed to have such a strong mother.
I love that there were so many aspects to your training and going for your dream that saw you through such a hard time. Thanks so much for sharing this, Emily.

[Jaime]

Emily,
I knew the story but the pieces had never fit together so nicely in my mind. Thank you for sharing it. I've always been inspired by you--I honestly think it's half the reason we moved back down the hall.

I'm at a point now where I'm incredibly challenged professionally, and I need the personal and physical release for myself. I chased down my dream of starting a school, but in the midst of it, I think I lost myself. And she has to be found, for myself, my family and my school. I've known something has to give for a while now. Thanks for giving me the added inspiration.

[Blue]

you write beautifully emily! as if each included word was inspired. i don't have any comparable experiences; most of my life has been less about reaching a set goal or end-point and more about keeping on keeping on. but there have been milestones. and i'm going to go read the other articles linked to to see if there are things i haven't realized about myself that i'd glean from them. and then when i'm making my 2010 goals in the next few weeks, i'll be thinking about this. thank you for sharing this.

[Whitney]

Jaime has just said something that hadn't occurred to me. We can lose our self if we only live through others. But Jaime seems to be saying that the reverse can also be true. If we become focused on executing against a dream, excluding all else, we are also at risk of getting lost. I want to think on this some more. Jaime thank you for sharing. You can do this!

[Donna ~Blessed Nest]

very encouraging! So glad little Mermaid is smiling and you're running!
xo

[Macy]

I just read this for a second time, and I don't feel like I have adequate words to comment about it. I will just say, I'm so glad you shared this. I remember reading Heather's marathon report and seeing your photos and being so proud of both of you, but there is so much more depth to that story and the lessons I can take from it after reading this.

I'll get back on track with my running schedule so I can keep up with you two the next time I'm down there. :)

[Kaedi]

Emily, what a beautiful, and inspiring post. I love vision of you and Heather running along the Hudson -- I can imagine there were many healing moments along the way. I also really like the idea of being able to break things down and just carry the load for that day. What powerful perspective. You are amazing, my friend!

[leslie graff]

Emily- great post (and I have to say I love Heather H- she is such a sweetheart and make great falafels!) As a child life specialist I can really appreciate the evolving diagnosis. What a great form of coping and honoring.

[Anne Waddoups]

Emily (and Whitney), Thanks so much for a wonderful post. There's so much to be inspired by here--thanks for a great Monday morning read.

[Julia]

After a few weeks taking my son to a therapist for social issues the therapist told me she thought I was the problem. SO of course now I'm the one in therapy. My shrinks best advise was to start running again. 6:00 am I leave the kids snoring (DH is already gone to work)and hit the road. I LOVE IT and when I feel like I can't do it not only do I remind myself what I tell my kids - I can do hard things, but I think of how my relationship with my son is improving every day. He's my motivation. Thank you Emily!

[Emily]

I want to express my gratitude to everyone who has responded. Thank you! Your comments have touched me.

I was speaking with Chrysula W. from Work.Life.Balance. regarding rewarding ourselves for our successes. I realized that running wasn't just a coping strategy, but it was also a cause for celebration. Celebrating our wins (at every level) is important. I don't need a medal every time I accomplish something important to me. But I need to take notice and give myself a pat on the back, time to read or paint my toenails. I hope you all will give yourselves a little time to treasure up whatever you are feeling good about right now and reward yourself. You are AMAZING!

[Lisle]

Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

[Brenda Winegar]

Thanks Chrysula,
What you are doing is very exciting. I may write you a blog myself.
Love you
Mom