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Natural Harmony: Jade's Story

by Gail Albrechtson

200 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0761; ISBN 1-4120-0392-X; US$20.00, C$23.00, EUR16.50, £11.50

The moving and unforgettable life story of an endearing little girl born with distinct challenges. Her whimsical, loving spirit captured the hearts of everyone she met.

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About the Book      About the Author      Readers' Comments      Excerpts      Catalogue Info

About the Book Frank, courageous, and deeply moving, Natural Harmony is the memoir of an endearing little girl named Jade, who was born with Down syndrome and a congenital heart defect. Placed in foster care at birth, she was eventually reunited with her mother, who struggled against all odds to get the best for her child. While the story recounts many setbacks and disappointments, its heart is Jade herself, with all of her comical antics. Despite the formidable obstacles she faced at times, this child was able to elicit genuine, deep emotion from everyone who came into contact with her. Readers will be enlightened by Natural Harmony's universal life themes of frustration and coping, sadness and joy, loss and lasting love--and they will be touched irrevocably by this heartfelt re-creation of Jade's unique spirit.

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About the Author

I grew up in Montreal, Quebec, the fourth of eight children. I now live in Victoria, British Columbia with my husband and three children. Having earlier had a child with Down syndrome and a congenital heart defect, I had long felt the need to convey the spirit and meaning of my daughter Jade's brief life.

In writing Natural Harmony, my intention was to move, to inspire, and to educate people about the injustices dealt to those born with distinct challenges. As well, I wanted to share some of the joy that I found in the love and laughter of my sweet little girl.

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Praise for Natural Harmony

An affectionate memoir...poignant...humorous...deeply affecting.
-Sidney Allinson, Victoria Times Colonist newspaper

I laughed at some parts, cried at others, felt anxious, distressed, happy, hopeful--it did exactly what a book needs to do--give the reader feelings. A sensitively written work full of love and insight. A book as special as the child whose story it tells.
-Ann Alma, author of bestselling novel, "Summer of Changes"

This book will have you experiencing every emotion: joy, anger, sadness, and everything in between. Any parent of a child with Down syndrome will be able to relate to Gail and Jade's heartwarming story--and it is a blueprint for how we should all fight for our children's rights.
-Dennis Dykes, director, Canadian Down Syndrome Society

Undeniably inspiring . . . a most enjoyable read!
-Ann Jonaitis, National Association for Down Syndrome

I was captivated with the turn of every page.
-Heidi Dauer, Down Syndrome Association of Wisconsin, Inc.

Easy to read and hard to put down.
-Kathryn Sadgrove, New Zealand Down Syndrome Association

This honest account of a short but powerful little life elicits strong emotions. A good read for parents, professionals, educators and the general community. We can all learn through the eyes of a loving mother and a vibrant child.
-Sue Wilson, Down Syndrome Association of West Australia

As a healthcare professional, I've gained greater insight into the triumphs and tribulations of a critically ill child. Deeply moving with a good dose of humour. Jade is a real scene-stealer, who inevitably stole my heart!
-Maureen Garland, RN

A gentle, yet powerful story of the profound love between a mother and her child. An interesting read for every parent and every educator. This book is a strong reminder that children learn from their peers, and that all children have many gifts to share.
-Sue Johnston, educator

A beautiful tribute which also acknowledges the cause--and positive effect--of foster parenting.
-Tracey Morrissey, medical foster parent for the State of Missouri

An excellent addition to the home library for those who enjoy a true slice-of-life type work.
-Molly Martin, teacher, writer, and reviewer for BookPleasures.com www.angelfire.com/ok4/mollymartin/

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Excerpts

PROLOGUE

It was a beautiful sunny morning, around eleven thirty, when I met Jade at the schoolyard. I was so happy to be picking up my daughter from kindergarten--thrilled with the whole concept that she was even attending school, let alone a regular school with regular kids.

I scanned the large groups of children leaving the building. Anticipating Jade's happy face, I looked around but couldn't see Jade in any group. Then I spotted her by the chain-link fence. Looking quite dejected, she just stood there. There was no cheerful greeting, no smile, no kisses, no hugs--nothing. My God, I thought, maybe the special education teachers were right. Maybe the social workers, along with all the other professionals, were right. Maybe Jade doesn't fit in with normal children. Maybe she's been ridiculed, rejected, and left to cry in some corner of the classroom, just like they said she would. Maybe all of my efforts toward her successful integration into a normal school have indeed proven to be a failure, just as the experts had predicted.

Wanting to walk home with her and talk about her morning's experience, I took Jade's hand, but she pulled hers away and held onto the metal fence. Finally she looked up, and her eyes met mine.

"No papo," she said in a quivering voice, "Miss Kine gimme no papo." Accusingly, Jade looked over toward the teacher, who was speaking with another parent. "I wan one," she said, "I wanna papo!"

I had a private chat with Miss Klein. She explained that the children who knew their address and telephone number were awarded a sheet of paper, on which was a picture of a house and a written acknowledgement that the child had indeed learned his or her own contact information.

"I can't believe how hurt Jade is over this," she said, "but I can't very well give an award sheet to her when half the class couldn't give their address either. For safety reasons, it's important that the children know this information. Each child has been reassured that once he or she has learned it, they will then receive an award sheet."

As we walked home, I tried to explain to my deeply disappointed little girl that many of the students didn't receive a paper--it wasn't just her. Jade hadn't said a word all the while. We no sooner got through the front door, when she let it all out. I picked her up and she clung to me, her arms tight around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist. She sobbed into my neck. I was so annoyed with myself for not having taught Jade this vital information. That piece of paper meant so much to her, and it hurt me to think how disappointed she felt because she "hadn't got it."

That afternoon, I was determined to teach Jade what she needed to know. We went out for a walk, observing and pointing out all the little number signs that indicated an address. We walked to the corner, and I pointed out the street sign. We made up songs: "Where do you live? I live at 319A Westminister Avenue." By the end of that afternoon, Jade knew her address, but as for her phone number--that was a tough one and would probably require an additional day's practice.

Two days later, while I prepared lunch, a friend of mine met Jade at school. She later mentioned that Jade hadn't said a word all the way home, yet had a mischievous grin on her face. When Jade walked in the front door, she headed straight for the kitchen to see me. With a beaming smile on her face, she plunked her backpack onto the table, then pulled something out.

"I got it!" She waved it in the air. "I gotta papo!"

It was moments like this that made me want to scream out with joy.

************

Jade followed me into the kitchen and sat down at the table to keep me company while I prepared supper. "How was your day at school, Jade?"

"Fine," she replied. She started to peel a banana, then added, "Wanna fammy."

"You want a fammy? I don't understand, Jade, what's a fammy?"

"Budders, sissers, daddy," she answered.

Taken aback, I said, "Oh, you want a family! Jade, we are a family. You and me."

"Jade daddy?" she inquired.

"Oh, sweetheart," I replied, "your father lives someplace else and there's nothing I can do about it. But Jim is like a father to you, and you love him, don't you? And Andrew is good to you and he loves you. And guess what? You do have a big family. You have a grandmother, a grandfather, four uncles, three aunts, and two cousins. So, you see, we do have a big family."

I didn't know what else to say. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes and listening to the sadness in her voice, I just wished that I could have snapped my fingers and had an instant family, the kind of family that Jade was now asking for--one that included a daddy and a brother and a sister.

Without saying a word, Jade wandered off into the living room and turned on the television while I went downstairs to get the laundry out of the basement. A few minutes later, she was back in the kitchen with a big black cat dangling from her arms.

"Where did you get that?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders, then pointed to the back door.

"Oh, he was waiting at the door?"

Jade shook her head, then sat on the floor to pet the cat. "Ah, cat's cute, eh, Mommy. I keep it, kay?"

"No, Jade. I know this will be hard for you to understand, but I'm allergic to cats. They make me itchy, and they make me sneeze a lot. Besides, that cat already has a home. He must live somewhere around here."

Jade ignored me. She started rubbing her chin against the cat's fur, saying, "Aah, you my sisser, kay?"

"Your sister? Oh, Jade, please don't do this to me."

The words "Mother" and "Guilt" were so closely entwined that I sometimes wondered what it would be like to go a whole week without denying Jade anything she wanted. But I drew some consolation in knowing that, at our old house which we shared with Jennifer, at least Jade had some pets: the field mice that invaded our humble abode.

Situated across from the Montreal West train station, the upper duplex we lived in was an old building in constant need of repair. The building trembled when a train went by--it sounded like it was tearing through our hallway. The landlord, his wife, and their two school-aged children lived below us. Our landlord was kind and extremely hardworking. We would often see him effecting repairs on the building, and he promptly obliged whenever we had any problems.

One fall morning, while I was preparing a snack of cheese and crackers, something scampered by. I stopped dead in my tracks, unsure whether I was imagining it, or if this house really did have other occupants. I saw it again. This time I freaked! Jade was in the living room watching Sesame Street when I swept her off the floor and held her tightly, to protect her from the horrible creature. I contemplated calling 9-1-1, but instead ran downstairs to find the landlord. He wasn't home.

I stood outside with Jade still in my arms, then spotted the landlord up on the scaffolding doing mortar work on the east brick wall. I called up to him, "There's a mouse in my house!" I couldn't believe his calmness as he simply replied, "Oh, that's typical at this time of year."

"Well?" I asked.

"I'll bring you some traps a little later."

The traps were set at nighttime. Jennifer was assigned the responsibility of disposals. She worked as an assistant bookkeeper at a funeral parlour, after all, so I hardly thought that a few dead mice would make her squeamish. We'd no sooner go to bed when we'd hear snap, snap. It seemed such a cruel thing to do, but what were our choices? Night after night, the same ritual. I'd hear the snap, call out, "Jennifer!" and she'd stomp down the hallway with a couple of expletives tripping off her tongue.

Eventually she muttered, "I'll take care of it in the morning." Not long after that, she said, "Forget it. What's the point? We no sooner get rid of a few, when a few more come in through the cracks and crevices of this building. Either that, or the horny little things are procreating." Well, I wasn't about to assume the role of executioner, so man and mouse learned to live together as best we could. Sometimes, in the early morning, I'd hear the pitter patter of Jade's footsteps and then her sweetest, gentlest voice. "Oh, hi mousy."

When winter came, we still had some of our resident rodents. And why would they leave when they had it so good here? A nice warm house with plenty of food to eat. While Jennifer and I were very diligent about not leaving any food around, whenever I'd swept the floors, I'd find pieces of Jade's arrowroot biscuits hidden under the furniture in just about every room.

Sometimes we'd manage to corner the odd critter, leaving it no choice but to scuttle into the paper grocery bag, strategically set for this purpose. Then I'd ask Andrew to kindly escort it to the warm shelter of the train station. "We can't let it freeze to death," was my explanation. Somehow, I think Jade's fondness and respect for all living creatures had rubbed off on me.

************

When I awoke the following morning, Jade was already dressed for school. I made her some breakfast, but she refused to eat. I didn't push the issue--it was the first day jitters, I presumed.

Jade returned to her bedroom to observe herself in the full-length mirror. With a big grin, she turned to me: "I wook nice, eh, Mommy?"

"Absolutely, Jade." I said. "You look beautiful. Such nice new clothes."

"New shoes, too," she was quick to point out.

"Oh yes, your new shoes look great too."

"I go scoo now, kay?"

"It's still too early yet, Jade. We've got another hour before we have to leave. You have lots of time, so why don't you go into the bathroom, wash up, brush your teeth, and brush your hair."

"Did it weddy, Gayo."

Jade went into the kitchen and sat on the small bench, staring at the digital clock. She asked, "What nummers?"

"Eight-three-zero," I replied.

At eight-thirty sharp, Jade leaped up from the bench.

"Time fer scoo," she shouted. "Wet's go!"

We were no sooner out the front door, when I snapped a photo of Jade and she tripped on the sidewalk, scraping her knee. She quickly got up from the pavement and was about to cry, when she must have realized that it was too important a day for tears. With a crack in her voice, she said, "Wet's go, Mommy. No be wate."

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Catalogue Information

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