Category Archives: ABA

The Challenge Wall

A few weeks ago I wrote about a new program at Abby’s school that celebrated Special Needs Awareness Month. I had to take down the children’s challenges as the program had ended (I did save a few) but thought you might like to see how incredible this project turned out.


We incorporated celebrities who are outspoken about their difficulties and placed the students (and others) challenges above, below, next and over them.

Each week the poster of the celebrity changed, but the children’s never did. To show that you might always have a disability, but you will always be you.


Then the kindergarten teachers took our idea and blew us away, having the students draw their challenges.





I am overwhelmed by how honest and forthcoming the students were. There were so many honest conversations at home, at school and on the playground.


This video was shown on World Down Syndrome Day. The one response from the kids? They wished it showed all disabilities not just Down Syndrome. But they understood the message: your friend is your friend. It’s as simple as that.



I would like to thank Abby’s school for taking on this month long program and simply rocking it. The Challenge will be back next year and in more schools. I cannot wait to see how the kids evolve.






Decisions not made

The best decision I ever made was one I never would have, if given the choice. People make choices all the time. Those decisions have unknown consequences and unknown victories.
Had I been told while pregnant that Boo would be admitted to the NICU on her fourth day of life, that we would be told her brain was not developed and she would never walk, talk, jump, love or progress. That five years later she would still be proving to be a medical enigma, I may have made a difficult decision. I would have thought I was making the best choice for myself and my family.

I would have been wrong. So wrong. 

Doctors don’t know everything, testing is not always 100% accurate. The doctors for boo were well-intentioned, but they were wrong. Yes, Boo hasn’t had a tranquil childhood. I have had fears that she wouldn’t survive. Fears that she would never have a life like Abby’s. I worried, lost sleep, became a master at using Google to find remedies, treatments and novel ideas. I became a warrior mom, an activist an optimist.


I broke and continue to break.

Every time I break I think of that Fellow who didn’t believe in her. That did not understand the absolute power of a warrior parent. I remember that moment and am thankful for those broken moments as they make me appreciate how unbroken Boo really is. Being unbroken means there are a lot of decisions to make.

The decision to bring her home from the hospital and not let them define her.

The decision to send her to a daycare that loved her, that transitioned to a school that adores and supports her.


The decision to allow surgery (or not).

The decision to provide intensive therapies when we were told they were too much for her.


The decision to let Boo defy expectations, not once or twice.

There are a lot of decisions I make with Boo. Some large, some small, but all must be thought out, researched and agonized over. Yet there is one decision I never had to make and am so thankful the choice wasn’t offered.


I realize that best decision I ever made was one I didn’t have to make. 




Finish the Sentence Friday

This is one face…

Today is Autism Awareness Day. While I may not (yet) be comfortable with Boo having an added diagnosis of Autism, I am getting there. There is no escaping the fact that Boo was tested and she has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. But what does this a child with autism look like?
It depends on the child. When Boo was first diagnosed my friend Julie told me that Autism Speaks has a motto: Meet one child with autism and you have met one child with autism. The children are as unique as a snowflake. Each wondrous and magical and heartbreaking beautiful.  

A child with autism is born just as perfect as a child born without.



A child with autism will light up your world with their laugh just as child born without.


A child with autism will love and be loved by their parents, siblings and friends just like a child without.


A child with autism may love the beach, just like a child without. However it might take them longer to enjoy the experience. They may also wear sneakers at the beach but that’s okay.


A child with autism will learn to walk, run, jump and talk. Just like a child without.


This is what a child with autism looks like.

Photo Credit: Jen Strano


Can you tell? Can you see the autism? Probably not. I hope not. I hope when you see Boo or any child you see them and not one of their diagnoses. A child with autism works harder than the child without. A child with autism spends most of their days in therapeutic environments working to attain behaviors that will allow them to be included. A child with autism is loved by their parents and their peers. By their community.

“You are so out there” is a comment I hear a lot about Boo. But how can I hide her? If I am not out there how can you know a child with a special need and realize they are just like your own child.

Beautiful. Funny. Smart. Frustrating. Heartbreaking. Mysterious. Loving. 

That’s why I blog. Why I refuse not to just stay home and hide. To hope just one person sees my child as Boo first and whatever label they put on her second. Well, eighty-third. Because let me tell you this, there is a lot of things about Boo I want people to see way before they see autism or undiagnosed genetic syndrome or intellectual disability.

This is just one face of autism. 



Please join me in sharing your child’s face, their story, their life. 





3.5 I took the pledge. Will you?

Is she going to be retarded? I asked the neurologist. Boo was 11 months old. She had two EEG’s and an MRI of her brain. They told us she had a “slow” brain pattern. That her development was delayed. That Boo would possibly need care for the rest of her life. That they don’t use the word retarded any more. They use intellectually delayed.

I had moved from wondering if Boo would live past her first week of life to would she be retarded in 11 short months. It took another year for me to evolve from retarded to delayed. To understand and feel that a word is not just a word. That it matters what you call people. Here is why that revolution matters.


The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines retarded as “sometimes offensive : slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development”

Why is this “sometimes offensive”? After all the definition simply states that Boo is limited in intellectual or emotional development. That is true. That is not offensive. She is limited. What is also true is she is gaining. Limited does not mean stopped. 

Here is why the caveat of “sometimes offensive” the dictionary also defines retarded as: stupid, obtuse or ineffective.

My daughter is not any of these. She is not slow, anyone who has had to chase her down a hallway in her attempt to escape knows that fact. She is not stupid. The moment you meet her you see the spark in her eyes. Boo is not obtuse. She is sensitive and caring. Boo is not ineffective. The change she has made in my life, her classmates lives and some of yours disproves that definition. 

Words have power. Would you say nigger or faggot? No. Because you know in uttering those words you are hurting someone. So why is retard exempt? Because it is part of your vernacular, because you have always said it, insert an excuse here.

Last year during this campaign people told me that the word isn’t used often anymore. That this is an older terms those of us from the 80’s use. But that is untrue. It was used last Thursday in Abby’s school. The administration used a video depicting dyslexia. Overheard in the assembly of middle schoolers: they are just retarded and dumb. Whispered, of course. They knew the word was wrong. They knew the word was insulting. 


They used it anyway. 

When I asked the neurologist 5 years ago if my daughter would be retarded, I wasn’t being insensitive. I was not being derogatory or insulting Boo. I was uninformed. I was ignorant of the harm and tears this word can cause.

Maybe you can use that excuse too. You were uninformed. You didn’t know that a word could hurt. Then you met Boo. Now you are not uniformed. Now you know that a word can cause pain. I ask you, the next time you utter the word retarded picture this face:



And ask, would you say that word in front of her? In front of me? In front of her family? If the answer is no, then you have your answer to the question is the word retard is just a word.

When I first put this picture in this post I had the word RETARD stamped over her face. But the image made me gag. I cannot imagine my daughter as a retard (stupid, obtuse, ineffective). I hope the thought of RETARD over her face makes you shudder as well. I took the pledge, will you?


Will my child cause your favorite teacher to be laid off?

Last week there was an article in our local paper titled, “Special Education costs blamed for (school) layoffs“. Lucky for Boo this is not her school we are talking about. However it struck a chord. Why must we pit one against another?

Our town is small. We do not have many businesses therefore the tax burden rests on the property owners. Frequently we see battles pitting the school department against the municipal side of the budget. This is the first time, to my recollection that we are putting students (and their needs) against one another.

I am extraordinarily grateful that this article was not about our town. Yet I live with a fear that it will be soon and we should explore ways to avoid it at all costs.  


Probably because this is the first time I have had a child in the “special education” cohort of the school system.

Which is not quite true. My older daughter goes three mornings a week for extra help in math. She has gone to summer school for math assistance. This is the only subject she struggles in and the school (and tax payers) have supported her needs. I am sure it is for the care they show all students and also to increase the MCAS standing of the school. A quid pro quo, if you will.

Boo on the other hand is a different situation. Boo brings tremendous value to her classroom. Her classmates will grow to be more empathetic, understanding of another’s needs and more accepting of their peers. Inclusion means that while Boo is exposed to peers for advancement while she advances their sense of community. 

But she is a drain on the school system. Boo receives physical, occupational and speech therapy from the school system (which in my opinion should be the responsibility of our insurance company to pay). She has a dedicated 1:1 therapist that is with her during the school day. This is for Boo’s safety (she wanders) and to make sure she can participate in class activities. That is, after all, the purpose of inclusion: to have Boo participate. Without the aide she simply cannot. 

Due to the layoffs, that other school system has modified some 1:1 care. Now a therapist will have 2 (or more) children under their responsibility. Let me explain why that is an impossible task to give that staff member. Logistically it is difficult. If you take your two children to the playground you know they will not leave. If a therapist takes Boo and her other charge, she cannot have Boo on the slide and the other child on the swing. How can she make sure both are safe? What if one has to use the bathroom? 

Education-wise it is still ill-advised. The therapist sits at a table with Boo and reviews counting. If she has another charge, how can the children and the therapist concentrate and make sure the program is run correctly and with consistency? Just as a teacher with 30 students in a class cannot make sure every child understands the Vietnam War, a special needs therapist cannot split their attention equally with more than one child and be confident they are getting the most out of the child. Having another child is a distraction for all.

But who should pay? That is really the question and you are probably not going to like my answer.

I believe the parent should pay for some of the care and education. It is our child and our responsibility. However we cannot. We simply do not have the money to pay. Just as the town budget is stretched a parent of a special needs child is under a financial burden unlike no other.  Our medical bills are higher, we pay out of pocket for supplemental insurance and at age 5 we are still purchasing diapers, wipes and pull-ups. Due to the amount of physician and therapy appointments we also cannot work 40 hour work-weeks. A family with a special needs child budgets in ways you never imagined. It is constricting and inventive.

Here is where I will again anger many. I also think that the tax payers should not have to pay for music, sports, clubs or electives. English, foreign language, history, math, science? Yes. That is education. But electives, including music and art, should be the responsibility of the parent to pay. Those electives are also a drain on the school system. There are pensions, salaries and healthcare costs associated with those staff members just as the special education staff. 

There are a lot more students taking electives than using the special education department. 

I am not sure of the answer. I do believe that we should pay a portion of Boo’s care. I firmly believe that our insurance company should have to pay for her therapies that happen in school, including her ABA therapies. I think some sliding scale should be in place to take some portion of the expense off the community.

However, if I am going to pay privately for Boo’s public education than I believe I should also have to pay for my older daughter’s music instruction.  


Got humor?

How to survive life as a parent with special needs. Okay that is a lofty goal! It is hard enough navigating parenting with a child who is typical. Add in a few diagnoses and life can get overwhelming. But here is my go-to list for surviving the life I never expected.

1. Keep your sense of humor. If you have lost your sense of humor because it was drowned by vomit, poop, tantrums or tears Google comedian Steven Wright. How can you not chuckle at thinking: “Is it weird in here or is it just me?” (Steven Wright)

2. Make a daily goal. For me it used to be brushing my teeth at least once a day. Now it is making sure I get to work without evidence of Boo’s breakfast on my shoulder.

3. If you feel all alone in this life as a parent with special needs, you probably are. But it is your job to find support. To scream at the top of your lungs I NEED HELP. If no one hears you, let me know and I will add my voice to yours.

4. Make your child’s teacher/therapist/doctor your friend. Find out about their lives. Interact with those who your child spends most of their time. It will enrich your life in ways you cannot imagine and make issue #3 far less likely to happen.

5. Have a glass of wine. Not the bottle a glass. 

6. Allow yourself to cry, laugh, grieve and rejoice all in the same minute. It doesn’t mean you’ve lost your mind but that you may have found it.

7. Find “ME” time. I know, I hardly ever do. But when I can run for just 30 minutes I come back a much nicer wife, mother and person. It doesn’t have to be every day (oh how I wish I could find me time every day) but make time for you.

8. You hopefully have a partner. The child’s mother or father. Guess what, they are your partner in this and they too are parents with special needs. So lean on them. Consult them. Do not do this all on your own and remember that partner is there. Make them take your child to therapy, a doctor’s appointment or do drop-off at school. For too long of a time I tried to be super mom, handling everything for Boo. Once I let David in our lives were much easier. If you don’t have a partner look at rule #3.

9. It’s okay to wear your sweat pants with a hole in the crotch for a few days in a row. Just try to remember to wear underwear so you are not arrested for pulling a Miley Cyrus at school drop-off.

10. Mix-up your friends. Try to anyway. Keep a healthy mix of parents with special needs and those with that normal kid who just talked back to them. It will make you appreciate your own little wonder. It will also help to make sure you feel alone.

11. It’s okay to get pissed off. Seriously pissy at this life you didn’t expect or prepare. And once you think you’ve got it handled someone will take the rug out from under you. Consider yourself warned. It is okay to question yourself, your God and your child’s doctor. It is not okay for any freaking one to tell you that you are not allowed to feel anger, grief or whatever emotion you may be going through.

12.  Your house doesn’t have to be Martha Stewart Spotless. I will say the state of our life is directly reflected in the mess state of the kitchen. But I have stopped saying to people, sorry for the mess. Instead I say, This is how it always looks and today is actually better.

13. Remember you are more than a parent. You are more than a parent of a child with special needs. You are you and may I say you are doing a fine job of navigating this life the best you can.

Lastly, and this is important: Five years into this life as a parent with special needs I will say this is our life. What we make of it. A glass of wine helps. But what really makes me survive?

The friends who have stood by to hold, comfort and more importantly laugh with me. So find some of those and keep them close. They will help you keep your sense of humor and your sense of self.

My best dream ever….

When I was little I had a very active imagination. My parents would put me to bed and I would spend hours imagining a life other than the one I was currently living. Sometimes I was a princess, sometimes I was a warrior and sometimes I was just a girl living a different life.

Each night it was the same. I would wait until Mom put out the light and close the door and I would line up my stuffed animals all around me. I would begin to imagine this fabulous life where everyone was equal and no one was sad.

As a child I did not know that prejudice existed. That children were born with different needs and talents. That adults would look at a child and judge. The parent and the child would be judged and found lacking. That you would be judged for who you loved, your gender or your skin color.

As an adult I wore blinders. I saw those who were disabled but did not see past their disability. I saw children who appeared disobedient and thought not like mine. I admit to not seeing a person’s color but not standing up to those who did. I lived my life on my terms, never seeing how we are all intertwined.

Then I had Bridget and my ideals evolved. A person who was a wallflower became an advocate. It took Kristi’s Our Land to put my dreams in perspective. She dreamed of a world of empathy and wonder. One where we looked at others with the imagination of a child. Not with the jaundiced vision of adulthood. A land where it would matter that our children had a disability only to make people stop and see the wonder that is this life we live.

My best dream ever? It is a dream where Abby & Boo’s story show the world what wonder and empathy look like. A dream where we judge others like we did back in the sandbox. Not by color, race, creed or gender. But with the opening line:

Do you want to be my friend?

My best dream ever is the one where our children never lose their empathy. That they continue to look at the rain with wonder. That our children make friends first and judgments last. A world where we shared the joys, the heartache and the triumphs of living a life full of blessings.

The cool thing is? My dream is coming true. I was astounded this week when not once or twice I was stopped on the street and told that this blog affected them. In a positive way. When someone sees Boo and looks with kindness and not judgement. That some parent knows they are not alone.  A world when we are allowed to break and heal with someone there to help and not to judge. A life where others view Boo through Abby’s eyes. 

My best dream ever is the one that never ends. A life where Boo shows others how to live in a world of empathy and wonder. Thanks for being with me on my journey to make my dream come true.



Finish the Sentence Friday

Oh and if you haven’t checked out Kristi’s Our Land yet I recommend the trip. It’s not about living with a disabled child. It is about living your life to be better. There are posts about body image, friendships and not judging a person (or yourself) before you meet them. Kristi is the blogging equivalent of Oprah’s AHA moment. 

A funny thing

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming Boo’s mom. I knew Boo was not going to be the same from Abby right from the start. In a way that does not diminish my love and adoration for her sister, but in a way that makes me a better mom to both.  However her being Boo turned me into mom that celebrates moments that shouldn’t happen.
Those who know this story are probably bored by now, but with Boo I am reminded every moment is precious. Even when she shits down my leg I can think “EW” and “wow she said poop” at the exact same moment. The thought that follows close after is thank the Good Lord and all that is Holy I had pants on. 

There have been times when I have been in shorts.

When Boo runs to her sister to get her off the bus I think this is the child who Early Intervention told me might never walk.  I rejoice because I can think of not one other person who gets to see their children race towards one another every afternoon at 4pm. Trust me on this, I never raced to get my brother off the bus.

 
When Boo says “mum” over and over again I never get tired of hearing her voice. I may wish for an indoor voice at 6am but I never shut the monitor off. I lay in bed and think wow she is up to her 20th word in a row. This is the child I worried would never speak and had her entire family learning sign language to help her communicate.

When I walk into the kitchen and find that Boo has relocated the furniture, managed to climb up the chair and is laughing like a loon I think to myself this is the girl they say has poor motor planning skills.

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a mom…I became a mom of a child with special needs. Not only special but unique. One who five years later science still does not have a true diagnosis, other than unknown genetic syndrome. With a lot of other issues.

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a mom with a child who has special needs I discovered what really matters in life.

 

Finish the Sentence Friday

I don’t know if I’m ready….

I don’t know if I am ready for this post. To write it. To understand it. To mean it. To be comfortable with myself to say here I am folks and it may not be pretty. You have been warned. This post is long and rambling but while writing it I had an epiphany.

Regular readers know that Boo has an undiagnosed genetic disorder, probably neurological in nature. A month ago she had to undergo neurological-psychological testing to have a better excuse than we don’t know what the freak is wrong with your daughter to satisfy the State and Insurance Gods.

Last week we received the results of the neuro-psych testing. Most of it was unsurprising. Boo has an intellectual disability (no kidding), she has a sensory processing disorder (um, yes but did you see her video at the beach?), delayed language and….autism.

I’ll get back to that last one in a moment. For the Intellectual Disability we were thankful that her skills are scattered, so she shows not only growth but potential. The majority of her skills is in the “very low” (disabled) IQ but she did have a smattering of “low” IQ in some areas. 

They asked me if I believed the testing and I said I did with the caveat that had Boo’s known therapists had performed the tests she would have had stronger results. I do not believe the Psychologist put the tests in a context where Boo understood what was being asked of her. But they are standardized tests and the tests have to be done the same way. Let’s just agree to disagree on that one. Right, Boo’s therapists who are reading this rant?

I asked why, when for all this time we were repeatedly told our daughter did not have autism this decision was made. I am not adverse to the label, but I want the reasoning. According to the “standardized” testing Boo qualifies as Autistic due to her hand flapping (although this is only with excitement and not a stim), her sensory issues, her toe-walking and her social skills. Plus some other fancy words but I had kind of stopped listening.

Um, what? You had me until social skills. I agree with everything above when except social. I did not think I could have a child more social than Abby. Boo loves people. She loves to please, she loves to be around her friends. 

What I learned is that social interest/motivation is different from social ability. The Psychologist also expressed worry that Boo will interact only on her own agenda. But when prompted to look at the Psychologist she wouldn’t. Again I said, had her therapists she sees everyday had conducted the testing I believe the results would have been different.

But they are standardized tests and the tests have to be done the same way. Yeah, I heard you the first time.

I asked if where Boo is developmentally may have some impact on her social “ability”. Unfortunately as delayed as Boo is, developmentally her social development is even more hindered. Had the delays been closer together they would not have been so concerned.

But here is the kicker…when asked how this changes what we do for Boo. Now that she is autistic what therapies do we add, what do we take away, do we try play therapy, try yoga again, anything that I haven’t thought of….I was told:

“Keep doing whatever you are doing”.


Yeah, thanks for that.

I’m not upset by the autism label. Okay I was at first. I was worried that I am in denial. However in truth, my fear of the label is that doctors, teachers and therapists will stop looking to see what is at the root of Boo’s issues. I called her neurologist, whom I not only adore but respect and trust. 

Am I in denial?, I asked. Has Boo had autism all along and I just didn’t want to know?

No, she replied. With the standardized testing Boo qualifies for the autism diagnosis. We have never tested her before with ADOS due to her intellectual disability. Once you get down to the testing, where her strengths and weakness are clearly shown you get a better picture.  But (and this is an important but she stressed) autism is not only what is wrong with Boo. What is wrong with Boo is she has an unknown genetic disorder, an intellectual disability and other medical concerns that now include autism. 

Our Boo, she said, is something unknown and also all these things we can name. Our goal now is to make sure no one ever stops looking at the whole child.  

I struggled with this post, for some time. I struggled with understanding what autism means to me. I have plenty of friends whose children have autism. I know it doesn’t make them less. I know that they are just like Boo, unique and lovely and precious. But after all this time this was one diagnosis I never considered. Or been told to consider by her team.

I just thought Boo had an intellectual delay. I think, honestly that was easier to deal with because delay just meant she hadn’t caught up yet. Flights are delayed all the time but eventually you get to your destination. 

Epiphany time! There was a hope that was buried deep in my heart that I never knew was lingering: that she would, someday, catch up and plateau. Did I think she would be a Harvard grad? Not so much. But then I am not too impressed with Harvard grads lately. 

You don’t recover from autism. Boo will always be intellectually disabled. The hope I didn’t know existed kind of broke my heart for a day or two. I struggled with this added diagnosis and the realization Boo may never catch up. My love never wavered that she will always be my Boo. That we will always do what we have been doing and continue to defy those who say she will not do….

It wasn’t until someone asked me if Boo was “a little autistic” and I could realize with a smile, that being a little autistic was like being a little pregnant.

Yes, Boo is autistic but she is also something so much more”, I replied.



Different choices

When Abby was young we research schools, private and public. We started in Montessori and would have kept her there if there was an option of a larger school. When we had Boo that changed.




We could no longer afford private school. Thankfully that is the only thing we had to compromise with having Boo. But still, the choice to move to public school for both girls was one we thought long and hard about.

Long enough to contemplate giving up wine, vacations and chocolate.

Thankfully we live in an awesome town. One that has a great educational program, both for the typical and the special. Abby had a hard transition to the formal education program, rather than the more nurturing Montessori. It took time for her to find her groove, but she did. 

I haven’t really thought of our choice for public school. Boo has thrived, simply thrived in her program. Unlike other families we have fallen into a simply awesome program. And then it happened.

I was at the grocery store and ran into a mother of a child who was a classmate of Boo’s last year. Her child had moved on to kindergarten. I asked, innocently enough, how E was enjoying kindergarten. For some reason I assumed that she was in the same public school system. Until the mom informed me they had gone the private school route. 

“You have to have Boo go there for kindergarten”, she innocently said.

In my head I am thinking do you remember Boo? She is right here sitting in the shopping cart. Unlike other 5 year-olds who no longer fit in the cart. Boo is being Boo. Cute, adorable Boo. But not anywhere on par with her own child.

I simply reply that we love the program she is currently enrolled. In my mind I am thinking that we won’t know until late Spring if Boo will be ready for kindergarten or if she will spend a 4th year in pre-K. Which, if needed, I am generally fine with. Until a mother innocently assumes that Boo is “normal” and will be following the normal trajectory of education.

This mother didn’t mean to make me catch my breath. It is just one of those moments when I hit the wall. The wall of knowing that with Boo I have different decisions to make. Ones that will impact Abby more than Boo. Ones where Boo takes precedent of Abby. Our family. Knowing that where we live matters. That we cannot move or change careers or schools at a whim. Knowing that to give Boo the best life possible we all make sacrifices.

Even Abby. Although she doesn’t know it. Abby is in public school because the cost of a special needs child is quadruple (made up figure) what a typical child costs. That we need a larger car to fit Boo’s chair. That we have to pay for extra health insurance . That I have to limit my hours at a well-paying job to be there for Boo’s appointments. Limiting my paycheck and David’s as well. We haven’t saved as we had before Boo. Our savings account has not grown as we expected. This Christmas was a perfect illustration of our new situation. That we didn’t spoil our loved ones as in years past.

We are so, so, so, very lucky to live in a town with a great public school system. One that nurtures both girls. That allows both girls to not only achieve their potential but surpass it. I don’t begrudge Boo. David doesn’t even consider it. Abby, if she knew, would be okay with it.

And I am too. 

Until an innocent bystander assumes that Boo could just transition to a typical classroom.