Joys of Autism: Friendship

Last week, I started a series on my blog called the Joys of Autism.  The series came about when I realized that most of my posts on autism tended to be a little more negative and dealt more with the difficulties and challenges of parenting an autistic child.  Although I don't intend to sugarcoat the realities of autism, as a parent to a kid on the spectrum, I can appreciate and enjoy the blessings and joys that come with the territory also.  I want to share those joys in this series, to help people better understand autism and to encourage parents or caregivers of those on the spectrum.

The other night, I was talking to a friend on the phone.  We were making final plans for a Saturday outing and just chatting about our kids and life in general.  After I hung up, I began folding a basket of laundry and thinking about my friend.  The realization hit me that she and I would probably never had met, let alone become such close friends, if it were not for David's autism. 

The truth is, our journey with our autistic son has led us to meet some pretty amazing and wonderful people.  I remember well the first time we encountered "Mr. Scott," David's teacher in 3-year-old preschool.  He was the first adult that seemed to have an uncanny ability to connect with David and get him to do things that we thought were impossible.  He patiently listened to our concerns, went out of his way to help us solve problems that we were having with David, and most of all genuinely cared about our kid.  David had several more teachers that took extra steps to help him hit milestones.  I will never forget "Miss Sally Ann," David's physical therapist at Neurotherapeutics.  She was so kind, so gentle, and undoubtedly David's biggest cheerleader during that time of his life.  His confidence grew in leaps and bounds as well as his overall body strength.  I looked forward to each Wednesday so I could chat with her and hear someone talk about my son in such a positive and encouraging way. 

Most of all, one morning while I was dropping off my three-year-old at his class, feeling scared and unsure of the steps we were taking with him, another mom approached me and introduced herself.  She had twins in the same class as David.  We immediately connected and starting to get together with our kids often.  Dawn is one of those rare friends that you feel like you have known forever.  We have chatted for hours about our families, schools, and churches; and we have found ourselves buried in deep discussions on faith, relationships, and our children.  We are dedicated moms.  We are loving wives.  We are faithful friends.  We are encouraging women.  But the thread that ties us together and keeps our friendship strong is our mutual desire to help our kids in the special challenges they are facing.  I can share all the details of a rough day with David, and she understands.  She doesn't just have compassion - she gets it!  She doesn't have to try to comprehend it;  she is experiencing similar issues and challenges with her own children.  She knows.

I am grateful for the friendships that this journey with autism has forged for us.  Did I mention that Dawn faithfully came by every morning to pick up David for school so that my big old pregnant self wouldn't have to pack up my crew and do it? 

She's a pretty amazing friend, and I am blessed to have her. :)

Homeschooling and Autism

I knew that homeschooling our autistic child would be a challenge this year.  He is strong-willed and very opinionated, and I would be lying if I said I didn't consider putting him in school just so "someone else could deal with trying to teach him."  I feel very inexperienced and unqualified to teach anyone on the autism spectrum.

But I'm his mom.  I know him better than anyone else.  I can sense his mood swings, communicate with him patiently, and use his favorite things to my advantage.  Most of all, I love him like crazy and want him to learn; so you'd better believe that I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

I have a college degree in education.  I am trained to teach in a classroom setting.  All of that training has been thrown out the window as the Beast forces me to think outside the box. 

This morning, during math class, I gave him a worksheet in which he had to read the number and then color the same number of boxes above it.  Then, he simply had to trace the number to practice writing it. 

And the drama began.  "This isn't right, Momma!  The number says eight and there are ten boxes!"

"I know, honey.  So just color in eight of them, okay?"

"But there are too many!  I can't do it!  It's too hard!  There are ten, not eight!"

This conversation went on in a similar and very repetitive manner until I finally convinced him to color in eight boxes.  He hates coloring.  I never understood why until I started teaching him at home.  The poor kid is a perfectionist and freezes up when he can't color the object perfectly.  He drew one tiny dot in the first square and stared at it, obviously frustrated.

"Momma, I can't!  This crayon isn't working!  It's not right, it's not right!  Here, you do it for me.  I can't make it right."

"No, you have to do it.  It doesn't have to be perfect.  Just color eight boxes."

"I caaaaaaaan't.  This is not working, Momma!"

And he was right.  It wasn't working.  He was frustrated;  I was frustrated.  Then I thought, "What am I trying to teach him here?  To color boxes?  Or to work on his numbers?"  Did it matter how we got there, as long as we got there?  I suddenly had an idea and fished a few packs of stickers out of a drawer. 

"Here, use these to fill in the squares.  Show me eight."

"But that's not what you said to do. . ."

"I know - it's okay.  Let's just make it easier so you can focus on the numbers."

"Okay."  And he cheerfully and (dare I say it?!) eagerly put the stickers in the correct places on his worksheet.  He did indeed know how many eight was.  For that matter, he was able to easily demonstrate that he knew how many six was, and five was, and ten was.  It just took a different (and perhaps a little unconventional) path to get there.

Now don't go asking me how he did when it came time to trace the numbers.  There just isn't any fun, catchy way to go about doing that.  It's a lot of "I can't do this" and "Yes you can.  I will help you." 

We are in our third week of the school year so far.  I am learning that he learns better when he lies on the floor or hangs upside down off his chair.  I am finding that he digests information in little bites so as soon as I see the frustration becoming too much, I cut the class short and return to it later.  I am seeing that he is an extremely tactile learner and am digging deep to find ways to use this information. 

This is why we chose homeschooling for him - for all of my children.  I have the time and the freedom to teach each child how he best learns. 

Just remind me of that when the Beast and I butt heads again tomorrow morning. 

PS.  Yes, I know the kitchen floor in the picture is disgusting.  Can you guess why he had thrown himself so dramatically there? 

Taking Him to Church

It's a beautiful summer afternoon, and although the warm sunny weather entices people to spend the rest of their day outside, many of them hurry back to their church to enjoy the evening service and to fellowship with one another.  Large families, newly-wed couples, sweet elderly folks, and single ones too gather in the auditorium to praise God and delve into His Word for more truth. 

The service is just about to start.  One family tries to slip in to the back of the balcony unnoticed, but you can't help but notice them.  At first glance, they look like a "typical" church family.  The mother and daughter are dressed in pretty summer dresses: one of the boys carries his little Bible and flashes a mischievous glance at his mother before darting off to their pew.  Then you see that one of the children in the family doesn't seem "to fit in."  His shirt is buttoned haphazardly and is on backwards.  Two more brightly-colored shirttails poke out underneath, and his shoes are so trodden-down in back that they keep slipping off his feet.  He is gripping a small flashlight so tightly that his knuckles are white, and he keeps asking his mother questions in a loud, somewhat robotic-sounding voice. 

The pastor is now reminding the congregation of upcoming events for the church family;  so you hastily return your attention to the service.  You try to focus on the announcements in order not to miss anything, but a thudding in the back row distracts you.  The little boy that had so attracted your attention in the first place is lying on the floor, slamming his feet into the pew and doing some strange flapping motion with his hands.  His father quickly puts a stop to his pew-pounding but makes no effort to get the boy to sit in the pew like the rest of the family.  Meanwhile, a lovely woman gets up on the stage to sing a special.  As she begins her song of worship, the boy clamps his hands over his ears and screeches at his mother to make the noise stop.  "Momma, it's hurting my ears, make it stop!"  he implores.  His mother attempts to shush him, and frustrated, he rolls around on the floor, chanting gibberish and being incredibly distracting.  His father finally convinces him to join the rest of the family on the pew.  The boy, all fifty-some pounds of him, clambers up onto his father's lap and repeatedly squeezes his father's neck while slamming his head into him.  The father holds the boy tightly and patiently endures the abuse.

By this time, you are thoroughly disengaged from the service.  You notice the other two children break out in a little scuffle over the hymn book, and the mother quickly and firmly deals with them both.  But the boy is back down on the floor again, slapping his mother's legs and talking to himself. 

Tell me, what do you think of these parents and their son?

Do you wonder why they can't control their son?

Do you judge them for being so lenient with him while so firm with his siblings?

Do you wish they had chosen to sit somewhere else, or worse yet, had not come to the service at all?

Do you wonder why they would allow their son to dress that way for church?

Do you constantly find yourself staring at him even though you know you shouldn't?

Do you whisper comments about them to the person next to you?

Do you roll your eyes?

Do you think to yourself how you would handle that rowdy boy if you were his parent?

Go ahead - admit it if it's true.  I did.  Before I had a child on the autism spectrum, I judged.  I stared.  I wished them somewhere else.  I was bothered.  I thought I had all the answers.

And now I am that mother in my story.  I wish I could say this is an isolated incident, but it's not.  It happens in one way or another nearly every Sunday night.  Some weeks I just want to stay home.  I don't want to muster up the sheer energy to handle my son in the extremely public setting of evening church, let alone be present and positive for my other children, too.  Some weeks I feel an overwhelming sense of shame at being embarrassed of my son's behavior. 

I know that a lot of it - the whispers, the comments, the judgmental looks - is imagined on my part.  We are blessed and fortunate to be part of a church where many people know our Beast's struggles and show compassion and love continually.  For that, I am so grateful.

But I want you to know this.  That little boy is not kicking the pew to get a rise out of you or to aggravate his parents.  He is overstimulated, and his body is reacting in a way he can't control.  He can't be disciplined for that. While a church service may be relaxing and encouraging to you, it takes great physical effort and strength for him to get through it.  He wears those funny clothes because they help him feel safe and grounded.  His parents are not ignoring his behavior;  they are constantly doing their best to keep him from detracting from the church service.  They have had to rework "the book of parenting" in their minds and are learning to accept that it's okay for him to be on the floor sometimes.  His mother in particular is learning the painful lesson that it doesn't matter whether others "get it" or not.  It doesn't matter what others think of her parenting skills.  She has to do what's best for her son.

So, next time you see a child flipping around on the pew, talking too loudly, pummeling his parents with his fists, or maybe even "throwing a fit," surprise his mother with a compassionate glance.  Give her a smile that says, " I know this isn't easy for you."  Shock her by offering to sit with him for a few minutes so that she might actually get to hear what God has for her in the service that evening. 

She gets the judgmental looks and negative comments everywhere else - the mall, the grocery store, the post office, the local playground.  But at church, she needs to feel loved and supported, not judged or derided.  Isn't that what Christianity is all about?  We need to love one another, and demonstrate to the world the love of Christ.

"Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love, in honour preferring one another." Romans 12:10

It's Not the Vaccines' Fault

My son is autistic.  We've known that officially since he was about three years old, but I think I've always known that something was just a little bit different about my boy.  He was a quiet but happy baby - never any trouble but even then, he always seemed a little distant, as if he often chose to hang out in another world.  I thought of him then as a wise little man that had a few quirks here and there.  It wasn't until he got older and I saw him amongst his peers that the differences started to stand out and the evidence started to add up.  Those observations and subsequent frustrations eventually led us on the path that would ultimately determine the autism diagnosis. 
When people find out that the Beast is autistic, the responses are varied, but the two most common responses are these:  "But he seems so normal" and "Oh, that's from vaccines, isn't it?"  The vaccine comment always gets under my skin.  Well-meaning as they might be, I always feel as if it is a personal attack on my parenting.  As in, "Oh, you took your child to get vaccinated and now he's autistic.  It's your fault that he's this way - he probably would be completely normal if you had skipped the vaccines or at least spaced them out more." 

My son has been autistic since birth and will be for the rest of his life.  Oh, with therapy and help, he will make definite improvements in areas such as social interactions, physical interactions, and general sensory behavior, but he will never be "cured."  With the knowledge and experience I have now, I can look back and see signs of his autism even in early infanthood.  My son's autism was NOT caused by his vaccines.  He did have every vaccine on schedule as suggested by his pediatrician, but I did the research and decided that it was not worth the risks of deadly or injurious diseases to skip the vaccines. 

There is a large group of autism parents out there that have what they call "vaccine-injured" children.  They maintain that if it hadn't been for a specific vaccine, or perhaps the number of vaccines given their child in one office visit, their child would be not be on the autism spectrum today.  Most notably, the celebrity Jenny McCarthy has perpetuated this school of thought and rallied thousands of parents against vaccines.  Due to her activism, people who don't even know anything at all about autism will quickly spout off a comment on how autism is caused by vaccines. McCarthy and other vaccine-opposers quoted the research findings of one Dr. Andrew Wakefield, who used twelve different families in a study in 1998 to "prove" that in all cases, vaccines had been the cause of autism.  Last year, another research study discovered that Wakefield had altered the medical histories of the case studies and reshaped the facts to support his claims that vaccines caused autism.  He was a fraud, and his research study no longer can hold any merit.  Still, it took over a decade to find out the data had been falsified, and during that time, hundreds of parents used that misinformation to make the decision to decline all vaccinations for their children. Since then, diseases which had mostly been eradicated in the US and Great Britain (where Wakefield's study took place) have made a reappearance.  Here in the Northwest, where it is even more common to forego vaccinations, many cases of severe measles and whooping cough have been recently reported.

I am not trying to convince you that you should vaccinate your children, although that is what we have chosen to do with our four littles.  That decision was made with much careful research and prayer, and it continues to be the right decision for us.  I personally know people whose children have not been vaccinated, but I  know that they also made that decision carefully, researching all the risks and benefits.  Other people choose to vaccinate on a delayed schedule so that they have a little more control over the what and when. 

No, I am just saying that don't assume that those vaccines are the culprits behind autism.  And even more importantly, don't make your decision on whether to vaccinate or not based on that assumption. 

Don't be a Jenny McCarthy follower.  And while you're at it, visit JennyMcCarthyBodyCount.com.  I think you'll be surprised and even a little shocked at what you find there. 

Dear Brain, Please Stop

Ah, I haven't posted in a whole week! That's not to say that there aren't a host of them swimming around in my mind, though. The month of April is Autism Awareness Month, and as most of you know, our Beast was diagnosed with high-functioning autism almost two years ago. We are currently in the midst of a series of evaluations, teacher meetings, specialist meetings, and an ever-growing mound of paperwork. The Beast just celebrated his fifth birthday (fifth?!!!!) yesterday while he and I try to navigate through ever-increasing meltdowns, struggles to communicate, and most recently, bedwetting.

My brain is so literally filled to the brim with autism-related problems and hopeful helps that I am having trouble sleeping at night. I spend copious amounts of time researching and trying new ways to communicate and help my son. Then I worry and feel guilty that I may not be paying enough attention to my other children. It's a balancing act that makes me uncomfortable, but discomfort is all a part of parenting, anyway, as I am finding out more and more each day.

So while my head has been spinning and my heart has been hurting, life has still been a joy. God has given us more than we ever imagined, and my heart still smiles at the memory of my three oldest excitedly whispering to one another in their bedroom last night after a birthday celebration at John's Incredible Pizza. This weekend will be filled with Easter happiness and yes, probably a LOT of overstimulation for our little man.

Decisions are in the making for the Beast's education and other well-being. Next week, our whole family will be starting a new adventure as we tackle the Feingold diet(http://feingold.org/) and the drastic changes that will bring to our lives.

But, today, I am going to try to enjoy this day I have been given. The kids are playing with the Beast's new giant bowling set in the hallway, and Momma's got to show them her awesome bowling moves.

Figuring Out the Puzzle

Key words appearing in my Swagbucks search engine recently:

homeschooling an autistic child

how to make a weighted vest for autism

spiderman toys for gift ideas

how to help your autistic child adjust to new baby

My not-so-little Beast has been on my mind a lot lately, probably because he has evaluations later this week and because my little man is turning five in a month! It can be so overwhelming, treading the territory of "autism spectrum" and relearning everything you thought you should do as a parent.

I am so thankful I serve a God that is never overwhelmed and can guide us through this new stage in our lives. Psalm 32:8 is testament to that: "I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go; I will guide thee with mine eye."

Of Changes and Autism

A few weeks ago the Nerd and I met up with all of the Beast's teachers to discuss his IFSP (Individualized Family Service Plan) for the upcoming year. I came prepared with a whole list of questions and things I felt our Beast needed to work on. Overall, the meeting went very well, especially since his teacher was new and really didn't know a whole lot about our son yet.

One thing that was especially concerning to me as a teacher is the fact that Davey does not have the hand control to make a simple line or circle on a piece of paper. When instructed to do so, he makes barely legible dots randomly on the paper and then gives up. At four years old, he needs to have this very basic skill in order to start learning how to write the various letters of the alphabet. I am hoping that the ideas the teachers came up with will help him gain the control he needs to master these simple skills.

However, near the end of the meeting, I was feeling pretty good about the direction David and his special education would be taking this year. I just had one more question for his teachers. I knew that this special class he currently attends is only for children age five and under, and I wondered what was going to be next for our Davey. Should we be preparing him to try to attend a "normal" kindergarten class, or would there be a special needs kindergarten class available for him if he needed it? When I presented this question, all the teachers looked at me blankly. Well of course he would be headed to a regular kindergarten class, I was told. Why would I think David needed to go to a different class? I was surprised but said simply that I was not sure based on his autism diagnosis of the previous year. At this bit of news, the teachers just stared at me. Get this - not one of his teachers was aware that David had been diagnosed with high-functioning autism! Granted, they had all noticed that he was a little "off" and thought perhaps he had an attention deficit disorder, but none of them had ever been informed that David is indeed autistic. I was shocked - somehow the information had been lost from point A to point B, and while his teachers have accomplished some amazing things with him this year, I wondered what more could have been done had they known the proper diagnosis??

So now we are facing yet another set of evaluations and tests for David within the next few months. I am so glad I asked that question, and yet I am concerned about what is next for us. Lately our sweet Davey has been having a lot of "sad days" - days in which he has meltdown after meltdown and sits and mopes in a corner for hours. These days are usually triggered by some sort of change - new teacher, new Sunday School class, baby coming, etc. Two of his good friends from his class will be moving up to the integrated class this fall, and I wonder how David will handle it.

Still, despite the worry and anxiety for my little guy, I know that a God much more powerful and greater than all of this is "handling it." He gives us so many promises in the book of Psalms:

"Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD." (Psalm 27:14) And what about "I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go; I will guide thee with mine eye." (Psalm 32:8) We are beyond thankful that our almighty God is traveling this way with us!

Dear Therapy

Dear Therapy:

At first I worried about you. I hesitated to be associated with the stigma that your name comes with. Did we really "need" you? Did this mean that the Beast's "problem" was a lot more serious than we thought?

And now we have walked quite the journey with you. Twenty fifty-minute sessions. Twenty Wednesday mornings with twenty co-pays and twenty "Hi my Sally Ann!"s. Twenty times to see progress, over and over again.

Thank you for giving my little guy confidence. He couldn't even stand up straight for more than a few minutes at a time, and now look at him perfectly balanced on the rocking board while getting ready to toss his bean bag.

I never thought I would cry so much, although I've heard therapy does that to you. Every milestone, every tiny step taken in the right direction has filled my eyes with happy tears. A successful slide down the incline, an arduous climb through the hammocks, a joyful exploration in the ball pit, a tedious cutting out of simple shapes, a step into a tub of scary textures and facing the fears - all working to make my Beast a little closer to being "the same" as his peers.

And oh the encouragement from Mrs. Sally Ann! I leave you each Wednesday morning beaming with pride at the praise and kind compliments I have heard about my son. The benefits of therapy for him and for our whole family have been more than I would ever have imagined.

I am sorry to be saying goodbye, sorry that frustrating healthcare policies and insurance qualifications are preventing us from going further. If each session wasn't the cost of a small car payment, perhaps we could continue; but until the insurance company sees it our way, I am afraid that we will not be seeing you for a while.

Thank you for what you have done for my son.

---dedicated to the best, kindest, most brilliant therapist ever - my Sally Ann.

---pictures were taken on my cell phone, hence the lower quality.

I See It Now

I hurried across campus, clutching several large pieces of posterboard protected by plastic bags. Sliding into my desk with a few minutes to spare, I couldn't resist taking one more peek at my art work. The shading on each seashell and the detailing on the treasure chest had taken me hours; but I felt confident that the time was well-spent and would pay off with a good grade. My Materials and Methods professor stopped at my desk to collect my project. She glanced at it briefly. "You always put so much effort into your visuals, Miss Vasel," she remarked. "Just remember you can make great visuals and still not be a good teacher." The comment stung - I was hoping she would notice the detail and quality of my visual pieces. I knew she was right however; and I determined to spend more time on learning and practicing good teaching methods and disciplines practices. Still, on the weekends and during my summers, I created dozens of visuals for teaching aids, preparing for my future teaching career.

I had no idea what a large part visual aids would play in my life. At first, I did not use them that often because I took on a junior high teaching job in which the students were not impressed with carefully-shaded dinosaurs or hand-chalked clowns. When I moved to teaching elementary grades, I took great delight in creating jungle decorations and Peanuts visual aids for my classes. With our first child soon to be born, I stopped teaching to be at home with my baby. I missed drawing, painting, and coloring visuals for my students, but my mommy life was crazy busy. Life marched on as we added more children to the family, and I even enjoyed a brief stint as owner of my own home art business.

When David was diagnosed with high-functioning autism last summer, we began immediately to seek out methods of connecting with him better. I knew he did not learn things the same way that most kids did, and putting him in an ESD preschool helped tremendously. They helped us figure out that our David is a very visual learner. He needs visuals for EVERYTHING! I started out with a comic-strip visual to help him remember all the steps for potty training:

He panics when he does not know what is happening next; so this helps a lot in the potty arena. He is still not "potty-trained"; but he is getting closer to that goal.

With that success, I decided to tackle another problem area - haircuts. Because he has sensory issues, David screams/cries/melts down every time he gets his hair trimmed. It takes both of us to hold him down while we attempt to make his hair look decent. However, with the visual above, we have been able to reduce the screams/meltdowns to just crying. It's a major improvement.

David's teacher provided us with these visuals, called PECS (Picture Exchange Communication System) visuals. The little pictures attach to the strip with velcro so they can be changed up as needed to match that day's schedule. This particular strip goes with us everywhere we go, along with a few ziploc bags of pictures we may need. David is a lot calmer and more focused when he can see what's next on the schedule. This strip alone has cut our "get-out-the-front-door-in-the-morning" time from fifteen minutes to five minutes!

We have other PECS strips posted up in the house to help David too. One is designed to help him remember to stay at the dinner table, and another helps him make the transition from playtime to something else, such as dinner time or nap time.

This is David's choice board. I actually use it with all three kids. For example, I tell them that they have five minutes left of play time. After play time, they will have five minutes to clean up. If they are successful, they will get to choose an activity from the choice board. (I usually put up two or three to choose from.) It surprises me how often they choose books or crafts over TV or movies

I had no idea back in college while I was slaving away over those teaching visuals that God was preparing me to be a parent of an autistic child. God's plan is always amazing to watch as it unfolds! Every time I open my purse and catch a glimpse of my sketchpad that I use to draw quick visuals for David on the go, I smile at the thought that God gave me a talent I can use to help my child.

Wednesdays

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?

Autism and Grief

After we got the official diagnosis of "high-functioning autism" for Davey from his evaluations, life suddenly got extremely busy. I had a wedding cake to make for a friend. I was behind on custom orders for The Framed Frog and so was working on them every spare minute I had. Both the Beast and the Drama Queen took turns being up all night with a stomach virus. I had to write scripts for the VBS puppets and then perform them every night with my puppeting friends. My sister had her baby. (long phone calls).

Finally, yesterday, the chaos slowed a little. I actually spent my morning in normal activities, like cleaning my kitchen and doing loads of laundry. Despite the Nerd being home from work sick, I managed to straighten up the living room and make the place look somewhat comfortable. After all, we were having company!

At 1:30, there was a knock at the door, and an energetic man named Scott came in, immediately taking off his shoes and bounding up the stairs in search of Davey. Davey, who almost never acknowledges when we have a visitor, especially strangers, ran up to Scott and began shouting random things like "Hey I have a brother" and "I like hot dogs!" Within five minutes, Davey was seated on Scott's lap being tickled while the Drama Queen filed in and out of the room, showing off each of her Toy Story toys to our guest. You would have thought that Davey and Scott had known each other for years!

Scott is going to be Davey's teacher at the Early Intervention Preschool in the fall. For two and a half hours every Tuesday and Thursday, he is going to be working with Davey on specific objectives that we have set for him. I was grateful to see the connection between Davey and his new teacher, and the two of them spent over half an hour just playing and talking and getting to know each other. Then Scott went over some of the specifics with me, drawing some diagrams out on a sheet of paper and talking. He left with a "See you at school, David!" It was a very hopeful and positive experience.

But last night, as the Nerd dozed off on the couch and I tried to get some things done, I found myself in tears. Frustrated that I would be crying over "nothing", I turned on the TV and tried to focus on my to-do list. Before I knew it, I was sobbing - the kind of crying that doesn't allow you to do anything else but cry. The Nerd woke up and asked me what was wrong. I didn't really know. I finally realized that in all the busyness of the past week or so, I hadn't allowed myself or even had time to think about David's diagnosis. The tears came fast and heavy, and strangely I felt embarrassed, as if no one would really understand why I was crying. I didn't really understand why I was crying. David's diagnosis is the best possible diagnosis we could have gotten. Unlike many other children on the autism spectrum, David has a wonderful vocabulary and is very loving. In fact, there are some days when I wonder if we should have even taken him in to get evaluated - he seems so "normal."

But then he has a "bad day" full of melt-downs when he reverts to speaking in gibberish and cries hysterically at the smallest things. He bites his siblings and does things that have no explanation. Those are the days that are painful reminders of why we chose this journey in the first place.

I guess I didn't really understand it when the special education therapist offered us a grief counselor as a resource. Now I know. There is grief for the obstacles and uphill battles ahead of us, and grief for Davey. He has such a promising future, but he will have to work harder at things than most kids. Making friends will never be easy for him.

The tears are still coming this morning, although not nearly as much as they were last night. I know that God is in control and that He has a special plan for my son; but I also know that it's okay to cry and release all those feelings and fears.

Today is going to be a good day. I just got a big smile and hug from Davey, and the Drama Queen has politely asked me to please stop using the computer so we can play. :)

A Diagnosis and Chai Tea Cupcakes

So another intensely busy week has begun. I feel a little overwhelmed with all the appointments and meetings for Davey, and the etsy shop orders keep piling up. I've had so many custom orders with specific deadlines in the past couple of weeks that I've stayed up past midnight every night and risen at 6:00 am just trying to keep up.
As many of you have been probably been wondering, we did receive an "official" diagnosis for Davey last week. After his long morning appointment with a speech therapist, occupational therapist, physical therapist, child psychiatrist, and pediatrician, Davey has been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. I have in hand an Autism Speaks 100 Day Kit that is helping us understand a little more of what the future is going to be like with this diagnosis. We still have a lot to learn, and tomorrow we will be discussing specific therapy options and preschool possibilities with the special education therapists. I am still processing the diagnosis - amazed that God found us worthy to undertake such a task and terrified of the responsibility and life changes.

I'll keep you all updated on our little man as we continue through this process. Davey did amazingly well throughout the long process and especially enjoyed the physical therapy room with its balance beams and bouncy balls. The therapist discovered that Davey has very little core strength, causing sitting up and climbing up into his car seat to be an exhausting task. This is why he has such poor balance and has difficulty doing simple tasks, like walking backwards or jumping off a step.

Meanwhile, I wanted to share a recipe I discovered recently when I was getting ready for a premiere jewelry party. I made these chai tea latte cupcakes - divine! and so here is the recipe:
Vanilla Chai Tea Latte Cupcakes
Ingredients:
1/2 cup sugar
2 oz butter, softened
1/2 cup milk
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
1 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground ginger
dash of salt
1 or 2 chai tea bags
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place liners into cupcake pan.(recipe make about twelve)
Heat up milk on stove, remove from stove. Place tea bags into milk, cover and steep for 5-10 minutes.
Cream sugar and butter together. Mix in egg and vanilla. Mix in milk.
Sift flour, baking powder, spices and salt together. Mix dry and wet ingredients together.
Divide batter into cupcake liners. Bake for 15-18 minutes or until a tester inserted comes out clean.
Allow to cool before frosting with your favorite buttercream frosting. Sprinkle with cinnamon. :)

Yummo! Happy Monday all!

Update on Davey

Many of you have been asking if we have gotten any answers regarding our concerns with Davey yet. (initial post on these concerns here). I figured it was time for a Davey Update.

So far we have had an in-home observation session, in which a special education therapist came to our house and observed Davey in his "natural environment" while asking me a lot of questions. Surprisingly, Davey did really well with the therapist, giving her more eye contact than usual and even answering some of her questions. She did have an opportunity to see his unusual running habits and flapping of his hands. After assessing her observations and my answers to her questions, the therapist told me that he is definitely a candidate for Early Intervention Preschool(EIP). She felt that if he got into EIP now, he may get the preparation he needs to go to a regular school by kindergarten age.

Before he can start attending EIP, we have a barrage of appointments to attend in the upcoming weeks. Tomorrow he meets with the orthopedic specialist, where he will be examined to see if there are any physical reasons why he always runs on his tiptoes.
In July, we have a five-hour-long meeting with several specialists - an occupational therapist, a child psychiatrist, an educational consultant, etc. Then we will be meeting with the EIP folks for another lengthy appointment. Once we get an official diagnosis, we will be able to get him into EIP and also start getting some education for ourselves to help us learn better techniques for dealing with our Davey.

All in all, I am encouraged so far. The pediatrician had us start giving Davey melatonin at night to help him sleep better. He used to be up until midnight or later every night, and I figured he was just a night owl that liked to stay up late. Of course, dealing with him the next morning was no picnic! Melatonin has worked wonders for him! He usually falls asleep now within thirty minutes of taking the natural supplement and sleeps steadily through the night. It has greatly improved his overall behavior because he is finally getting the rest he needs.

And, we are on the path to finding more answers and helping our sweet Davey. It is looking more and more like Aspergers, but we'll see. We are trusting God that His plan is greater than ours and that whatever the outcome, Davey will be used in a special way for Him. :)

Thank you all for your prayers and supportive comments - it means so much to me. :)