Thursday, January 06, 2011


The Beast has a fifty minute therapy session every Wednesday morning with his dear Miss Sally Ann. No one has been more kind, loving, or helpful to Davey than Miss Sally Ann (who sports a British accent, to boot!) Sally Ann has encouraged him, brought him out of his shell, and helped him build his strength in so many areas. I am so grateful to her and thankful for health insurance that makes these rather costly visits possible.

However, those fifty minutes are very draining on my little guy. He is forced to consistently pay attention and make his muscles do things he would rather not do. When he comes out of neurotherapeutics, two things usually happen: he cries hysterically that he is not ready to leave Miss Sally Ann, and he begins a day-long meltdown. His brain simply cannot handle any more stress, and he throws tantrums at the smallest and simplest of things.

Next, he moves into what I call the "check-out" stage. Davey moves into his own little world, a faraway place that is very hard to reach. It is difficult to get him to obey simple instructions and impossible to have any sort of conversation with him. This is a time when he often does inexplicable things, like tearing all of the pages out of his favorite book. He may also sit in a corner and start reciting lines from one of his favorite movies or TV shows.

By evening, he will reach the "ridiculous" stage. My Davey will sit on the floor laughing hysterically at nothing. There have been times when he has lain on the floor in the middle of a store, eyes glassed over as he giggled uncontrollably. Besides the crazy laughter, he also makes strange noises and grunts a lot.

Last night, after our midweek church service, I had to stop at the store for milk and a few other items. David was in "ridiculous" mode by that point, which made us the receiving end of many stares, glares, and rude comments. I kept telling myself that I didn't care what these strangers thought - there was no way they could possibly understand anyway.

And then this morning I read this post. Her simple but compassionate words touched my heart and reminded me of the extraordinary task God gave us when He gave us Davey. Today I am so thankful for God's unconditional love and blessings. It's the same way I love my son. Unconditionally and without reserve. So who really cares what other people think?


  1. What a great post!! I know those stages so well, and we see a lot of the ridiculous mode around here :) I do often try to redirect it, but sometimes there is just nothing to do but join in and have a tickle fight! Good for you for not worrying about what others are thinking. I wish I could say I never did, but I'm working on it.

  2. Thank you for sharing your experience and the link to the other post. It really makes those of us who don't have special needs children to stop and think. And not be quick to judge. We weren't put here to judge, lest we be judged ourselves. I pray that God would continue to give you the gifts you need to raise your children the way you have been.

  3. Oh, Jeanette, your post brought tears to my eyes and the link to the other post put me over the edge. Cassie used to throw herself on the floor and have a kicking screaming fit every time we walked into a store. I never could figure out why. I know the rude remarks and the dirty looks. Luckily for me she out grew her fits in about a year. I know that you are one of the best Moms I have ever met. I know that God gave you David because he knew you would be the best mom for him. You and your family have been in my daily prayers ever since we left Oregon. When things get really rough just remember that there is some one in Illinois who loves you and prays for you.

  4. thanks for all the sweet comments! I know I have lots of people besides us rooting for David to progress and succeed.
    and Mrs. B, love you and miss you so much!


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