One of the primary factors that motivated me to write about my experience coming to terms with my daughter's stroke and now, motivates me to continue developing materials to encourage others, is that I know how discouraging it is to be met with negativity and how difficult it is to continue persevering when everyone around you keeps telling you something is not possible. Ultimately, as I've written, my daughter is overcoming many of the limitations placed on her by the specialists early in her life. And as for myself, even though my life unravelled at the worst possible time, I eventually found a "new normal" as well as an appreciation for the beauty in the tiny triumphs that came out of our struggles.

 Therefore, it was with great interest that I read Malcolm Gladwell's book, David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants. In an earlier blog entry, I made a link between an article he wrote years ago in the New Yorker on a study which showed that no “perfect” tomato sauce will appeal equally to all people, and my experience motivating my daughter throughout her rehabilitation.

In David and Goliath, however, the link with my own experience is much more direct. Gladwell challenges how we think about obstacles, disadvantages, disability, discrimination and loss, and shows how much of what is beautiful in the world has come from suffering and adversity. Having felt like a misfit more often than I care to admit, found beauty after persevering to overcome difficulties and actively defended my daughter against discrimination, I found this book inspiring, thought-provoking and reassuring in many ways.

Last October, I wrote about how privileged I felt about having my book included on the publications page of the International Alliance for Pediatric Stroke (IAPS). 

I feel equally privileged and grateful to now also have my book included on the list of books recommended by the Canadian Pediatric Stroke Support Association (CPSSA). When my daughter was diagnosed over a decade ago, I couldn't find any relevant resources and the experience was tremendously isolating. Just like IAPS, however, the CPSSA is an extraordinary initiative which has been developed since then, to facilitate and support collaboration between families and physicians and, it serves as an important resource for families who have been affected by a pediatric stroke.

With it's vision to provide a compassionate community for Canadian families impacted by pediatric stroke—which is indeed a beautiful and compelling vision, applicable to families facing all kinds of challenges—I encourage you to visit the CPSSA website at www.cpssa.org.

In my experience, life is rarely a straight line. Even when we know exactly what we want and plan everything right down to the smallest detail to be sure that things will turn out exactly as we want them to be, that's not always how it ends up.

The holiday season is sort of the same. For some, maybe it really is the way it’s portrayed on television—with everyone smiling and laughing together with happy-looking friends and family, receiving the perfect gift at the perfect time in the coziest of settings. But for many, that’s not really how it is.

Still, as I've written in the context of coming to terms with my daughter's stroke, given enough time and reflection, I've found that there is normally something to be grateful for just the same. For myself, I’d say that the gifts for which I am most grateful aren’t those that I’ve found under the tree (although I am grateful for those too). The best gifts have been those that can’t be wrapped—like the times when an unexpected sense of kindness and compassion has made the difference between desperation and hope, a new idea has made the difference between success and failure and a thoughtful e-mail or kind word has brought encouragement at just the right time.

So, in this holiday season, I wish everyone much happiness and most of all, a new year full of presents that can't be wrapped.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of participating in this year’s “Strike Out Kids Strokes” fundraising event in Toronto, Ontario. Started ten years ago by a caring and dynamic mother, Elizabeth Paddon, and her three close friends, this annual event raises money for the Paddon Family Paediatric Stroke Fund, in support of the SickKids Foundation. 

 In dealing with her son’s rehabilitation after a childhood stroke, Elizabeth recognized the need for support and information for those impacted by childhood stroke and set out to make a difference. Now, a decade later, this initiative has raised close to $500,000—a significant amount under any circumstances but in this case, also enough to have made a difference in the establishment of the new Stroke Imaging Laboratory for Children (SILC) at SickKids Hospital in Toronto. 

As individuals, we sometimes feel powerless to effect meaningful change, let alone deal with the kinds of difficult and potentially isolating situations that life can bring us. However, the Strike Out Kids Stroke event is an inspiring example of what is possible when one passionate individual brings together many caring people from different backgrounds to work towards something positive—in this case, a very real and tangible contribution to helping children and families affected by pediatric strokes. 

As I’ve written before, one of the things I’ve learned in the context of my daughter’s rehabilitation after a childhood stroke, is the value of the little things—how a sense of kindness and compassion can make the difference between despair and hope, how a new idea can make the difference between success and failure, and how the slightest change can serve to dramatically improve a situation.

In building this website, I know that all that’s required to link a word to another page or website, is putting a tiny bit of information in a field and clicking “OK”. It’s a small action that takes only a few seconds. However, just like the things I’ve mentioned above, the resulting impact can be so significant.

This week, I had the privilege of having my book included on the publications page of the International Alliance for Pediatric Stroke (IAPS). Just like a smile or an unexpected burst of laughter (which I am prone to...) can open the door to a new friendship, a link also opens the door to a new possibility. It is incredibly wonderful to know that in some way, my individual effort is part of a larger collective initiative, working towards bringing about positive change.

For more information on how the IAPS is empowering families to better understand pediatric stroke, I encourage you to visit their website at www.iapediatricstroke.org.