Category Archives: ABA

I owe an apology

Like many, I have fallen trap to a Facebook hoax. I reshared a link that stated Jenny McCarthy informed the world that her son did not have autism. Thankfully she was quick to rebuke the misleading information. By misinformation I am speaking to the fact that she has never said her son does not have autism.

I rarely reshare celebrity stories or thoughts because I usually do not believe (or care about) the hype.  But in this case it hit a nerve.

 

I admire Ms. McCarthy for being a proponent of autism education. I admire her dedication to her son and her willingness to say this is what autism looks like. I do wish more people would say MAY look like.  As any friend of mine with a child who has autism will tell you, they are unique from the color of their hair to their behavior to their abilities.

However her strong campaign against vaccination is something I cannot agree. It worries me when people use a celebrity endorsement to justify their own actions or non-actions. It is one thing to decide to go gluten-free to do your own investigation on how your child will react. It is another not to vaccinate your child (and potentially expose other children) to a life-threatening disease. In the only published study linking vaccinations to autism the lead researcher lost his medical license due to his irresponsibility in the conduction of the study and the study was revoked from medical publication. 

I understand that you can interpret a study to suit your purpose. Pro- or anti- vaccine link. I am not speaking to that as I am completely inept at that discussion.To paraphrase the Vice President of Clinical Innovation at Cedars-Sinai stated to the National Geographic: you can have an opinion but you cannot state that opinion as fact.

I have two different views on this subject, from two ladies I both respect and admire.

The first is a mom who decided not to vaccinate her children. However she did this after reading medical journals, doing her own research and consultation with her children’s pediatricians.

The second is a mom who vaccinated her children, but to her it was a deep seeded belief to vaccinate. Her mom was a polio survivor. But survivor is probably a poor term. Her mother was a polio warrior. One who suffered in the time before vaccination. She fought polio until her death at age 70. Her children watched her suffer and live with grace.

Myself? I honestly didn’t think of it with either child. I automatically vaccinated them. However with Boo I spoke with her pediatrician and they modified the schedule due to her health issues. Our Pedi is great. She is very conservative when it comes to vaccinations–even the flu shot–and will minimize the quantity of vaccinations given at one visit. And if you have a runny nose? She will reschedule your appointment and not six months from now. Just call and stop by. She is quite awesome, in addition to saving Boo’s life five years ago.

I am on my soapbox here, and I admit it. I also have no problem telling you and everyone else my opinion on something. But you should never use a “Jenn said” as your reason for choosing a course of action with your child.  

As far as autism and the decision not to vaccinate, research has proven that there is no correlation. In most cases this would be a non-issue. The studies have proven time and again that there is no link. However celebrity causes will continue to advocate for more research. Which is great, that is what you should advocate: more research not telling a scared mom that a vaccine gave her child autism.

The decision not to vaccinate your child should be based on your own research, consultation with your physician and a heck of a lot of soul-searching.

But never on the basis of a celebrity. 

A year of thankful

I haven’t played with Lizzi in a while. Not that I haven’t been thankful, just been to busy to give Thanks. I am sure I’m not the only one! To suck up show how thankful I am here I am breaking the rules (go figure) and doing 12 things of thankful. One for every month of 2013 I survived. 

January, I was thankful for the Liebster award.

February, I was thankful for Abby’s sense of humor and honest about who her favorite person is (hint, not me).

March, I was thankful for people understanding that the word Retard means something different to me now and joining me in abolishing the word.

April made me thankful for Jimmy Buffett as I realize he gives us the soundtrack for a laid back life. The sound track, not the manual.

May I was thankful to be able to tell people what drives me crazy.

June I was not thankful for yard work but happy to know I am not alone.

July I was thankful for all the ways my girls make me smile.

August I was thankful for husbands.

September I was thankful the girls were back in school. Also that boys are gross.

October I was thankful for Boo’s therapists and friends that let me take the easy way out.

November I was just thankful for Boo.

December I am thankful that I have come a long way since January.




Ten Things of Thankful

We are still okay…

Boo has had to undergo neurological/psychiatric testing over the past two weeks. There hasn’t been any issues, other than her turning five. In our state (for insurance purposes, I believe) once you turn the ripe old age of five you are no longer allowed to be undiagnosed and/or globally delayed.

Boo had to go twice, for two hours each day, to meet with a psychologist for a battery of tests. (I think battery is a strong word, she didn’t hurt Boo). The tests varied from intelligence/cognitive testing to behavioral/autism to play skills. Part of me wanted Boo to bomb the testing, securing her services. The good mom in me wanted her to excel.

Typical Boo she did a little of both and managed to frustrate the doctor. I wish I could have Kristi’s artistic talent to demonstrate the following (I tried, I failed, I didn’t want to hurt your eyes):

Doctor: Boo stack the blocks like this (imagine, two next to each other and one on top)
Boo: (hands the doctor the blocks after banging them for a minute)

Doctor: Can Boo climb onto and out of an adult chair?
Boo: Moves said chair next to exam table, proceeds to climb on top of chair, to table, to window sill in an attempt to get out of the room. We happen to be on the 10th floor and very thankful the windows don’t open.

I’m impressed that Boo realized she had to do something with both the blocks and the chair. The doctor is distressed that she cannot follow direction.

At the end of the two days the doctor asked us if we had any questions. I ask her how she feels Boo did. She had previously thrown out words: autism, PPD-NOS, mentally disabled, intellectually disabled, ADHD and a bunch of other terms. Her response:

I have to score the tests.

Hm…now those that know me know that I tend not to be brushed off. I (politely, I swear) reminded the woman that she was an experienced professional who must have some instinct to how Boo had tested.

After a moment or two she told us that she honestly didn’t know. That she wanted to show the test results and video to not only Boo’s neurologist (whom I adore and trust) along with other colleagues. How Boo performed was baffling:

She shows signs of Autism: Will not look the doctor in the eye.

She shows signs that a child with Autism wont: She told the doctor to “look” and sought her attention.

Autism: Hand flapping, quickly distracted, would not follow directions, toe walking
Not: Social, engaging with materials, attempts to please, would put heals down when prompted by cue

Autism: lack of safety awareness
Not: asked for help when trying to get down off the exam table


Intellectually disabled: Cannot copy a “t” on the paper
Not intellectually disabled: can hold a pencil in the correct grasp

ID: Cannot follow a two-step direction
Not: Knew she needed a pencil to draw on paper

ID: Poor motor planning
Not: Pushed chair to get to top of exam table

The examples go on and on. In the end the doctor said at this point Boo is a Medical Enigma.

Where have I heard that before?


She will convene a team (about damn time) to look over everything. She agrees (as do neurology and genetics) that whatever is going on is neurological in origin. In the end it doesn’t really matter what “term” they give Boo. I think Bridgetitis is a lovely term. We will continue to advocate, get therapies that work and love her the same with or without a medical diagnosis.

At five years old, she remains undiagnosed and we are still okay with that.


Happy Day!

Today Bridget turns five. FIVE. That is half a decade I didn’t think I would have with this beautiful child. I have a tradition. Every year I thank everyone who helps her be the best she can be.


Her school. Her teacher and assistants. Her classmates that include Bridget not due to inclusion but due to friendship. With their help she has found her voice. A year ago she was in class but quiet. Now she bosses her classmates at the top of her lungs. A child we were told would never speak shouts.

Her school therapists. They have the hardest job out there. They remain kind but strict, loving but firm. I honestly do not know how they care for the children in this program day in and day out. They are poorly paid, over qualified and have unending patience. We are so very lucky to live in a town where children with special needs are included and counted.  With the upmost care they have taught Bridget how to jump, how to draw a circle and how to be plugged into the world around her.

Her Spaulding team. She has the best bunch of therapists at Spaulding. They have become our support system, our friends and our race buddies. 


They care for more than just Bridget. Her SPT has helped Abby with her homework, or well tried to. Her OT has let Abby be involved with sensory play. Her PT has let Abby be a part of the obstacle course. It’s more than the therapists. The secretaries greet Bridget with a smile and a hug. The medical assistants whom we are not patients for pick Bridget up and listen to her babble. They meet David & I out for dinner. They see us as more than parents of their patient.

Her Children’s team. This year Bridget graduated out of three programs. Her MD list is down to eight. That’s right EIGHT. She still has her quirks but now only needs to see the other doctors in an emergency. She is STABLE people. As in stable does not need intense monitoring. As in has not been hospitalized in TWO years. As in only has to go to CHB twice a year.

Her friends. The little girl who invited Bridget to a birthday party. The friends that come over to our home because it is easier for her than going to theirs. The friends at our Irish pub who smile at her antics when we take her out for dinner. The friends that encouraged her all summer so we could have this moment. This beautiful moment:

Her family. The ones the read this blog and don’t get upset with me for my openess. The ones that know by reading this blog they are helping Bridget. The ones that don’t read this blog but show their love to Bridget by supporting her every moment.

Her sister.  Abby is aware that her sister is special. Each year the definition, in Abby’s mind, of special evolves. But what never wavers is her love and support. She is the reason Bridget went into the ball pit of terror in OT. Her name was Bridget’s first word and she is the first person Bridget runs to after school.

Today is Bridget’s Happy Day. And I thank each and everyone one of you for making it so.

I’ve written before about Boo’s wandering. It started about as soon as she came off the walker. If she is outside you blink and she has eloped. It is beyond scary to know your child will wander off and not realize she is unsafe. I even had a bright idea and e-mailed NIKE about putting a chip in children’s shoes.

They refuse, on principal, to take unsolicited advice.

So I remained scared and worried. A lot of my fear is due to Boo’s lack of verbal skills. Then a police officer friend told us about Safety Net by LoJack.

Let me state right here, I am not being paid nor has LoJack asked me for any type of endorsement. They have no idea I am even writing this post.

Safety Net is a bracelet Boo wears. It has a rocking purple strap and about the size of a watch. Okay, it is a tad big on her….but she is a petite little thing! She wears the bracelet 24/7. If she wanders we alert 911 and provide her name. Our local department has her signal ID. If we travel we let LoJack know our destination and they will alert authorities that we will be in there area.

Unlike cell phone and GPS signals, LoJack uses a radio transmitter that can be used in any condition and locale. Since we like the mountains, we were relieved. Her bracelet is waterproof. She can use it in the bath, the pool and the ocean. And if we can convince her the sand.


It is expensive, $400 for the first year. We asked our families to contribute. We let them know what we were doing and asked that instead of getting her a birthday/Christmas present this year they take whatever money they normally would have spent and put it towards her safety.

All responded with generosity. They understand that Boo doesn’t “play” and doesn’t need material things…but she does need to remain safe. While her bracelet will not stop her from eloping, it will help us locate her with a great chance of finding her alive.

The system arrived within a day. We put it on Boo. She did NOT like us putting it on. But now that it is securely on, she has been showing off her “bracelet” to everyone she comes into contact with. She has slept, bathed, done crafts (with grandma I was banned by Abby) and gone to school with it.



She has been wearing the “bracelet” about a week. She has asked for it to be “off” once and a while but for the most part has realized it is staying put! 

If you see Boo around town make sure you ask her to show her new rocking accessory.
 
 

Would you CARE?

It’s the last day of the 31 for 21 Challenge. I didn’t really make the goal of blogging everyday. However I was beyond happy to participate. As this is the last day I was thinking about Robert Saylor. How this young man with Down Syndrome lost his life because those who are there to protect were not trained to work with those whom have special needs.

Because while you might be aware of Down Syndrome you might not really understand it.


Then last week I read an article about the C.A.R.E. program. C.A.R.E. stands for Children and Residents Encounter program. It is the brainchild of the Colerain, OH police department. To my understanding, this program is designed to educate emergency personnel to those within their community with special needs. Be it Alzheimer’s, autism, mental health issues or behavioral issues.

Colerain has an estimated 1 out of every 150 residents on the autism spectrum. Chances are pretty great that at one point the emergency personnel will come into contact with a person who has special needs.

C.A.R.E. is a program where the family gives the emergency personnel information regarding the child’s (or adult) health and mental issues. The parent provides detailed information: are they on a monitor, do they have anger issues, what medication are they on, do they elope, what if anything do the police need to know if they are responding to your home or anyplace in town where that person might be in need of assistance.

Just think, if the police had known about Robert he might have lived. They would have been aware of his triggers, known he had Down Syndrome and been trained to deal with a person who has diminished capacity.

Yes, apologies to all the parents I just offended, but our children have diminished capacity and do not understand that  their behavior has unintended consequences. Sadly, neither are the first responders always educated.

One argument against C.A.R.E. is that we are giving up our children’s privacy. Do you really want your neighbor who listens to the police scanner (my MIL) know that your child is suffering from (insert your child’s diagnosis here).  Heck, I do it everyday here on this blog! But I see their point. Some parents are not “out” they don’t want the neighborhood to know that their child is autistic or bipolar or clinically depressed.

But in an emergency does privacy matter? If your child has suicidal tendencies wouldn’t you want the first responders to know? If your child is prone to throwing lamps in anger wouldn’t you want the first responders not to respond with force but with patience and kindness? If you child is deaf and does not hear the police say stop as they run in fear would you like them not to use force?

If you were Robert’s mom wouldn’t you have wanted the police to know that her child didn’t understand why he couldn’t just rewatch the movie? While I have never met Ms. Saylor I can imagine her anguish.

Upon learning about the C.A.R.E. program, I reached out to our local police and fire departments. I asked them about signing onto the program, or a similar idea. I explained how the Ohio police department minimized training costs and related expenses. They replied that this was one of their long-term goals.

Which I appreciate.

But I want more. I don’t want a goal I want a program. I want our police and fire to have a card on Boo. I want them to know her name, what she looks like and how to react should they encounter her during one of her eloping episodes.

Screw her privacy. Her life is more important.

To be preachy, so should your child’s. Forget their privacy or your embarrassment. Contact your local police and fire departments. Tell them about C.A.R.E. or another program that will protect everyone. If that doesn’t work, tell them about your child! Tell them you have a child in your home that has special needs and they NEED to have this information.

Think of Izzy and her mom, whom the area hospital knew and still couldn’t protect.

Think of your child and their temper tantrums. When they are out of control and you are doing the best you can but the neighbors call the cops to protect you.

Think of your child who climbs or wanders and the new neighbors do not understand that your daughter is autistic and does not realize they cannot swim in any pool they come across.

Think of your son who is manic depressive and might encounter emergency personnel during one of his psychotic breaks.

Truthfully, the neighbors and police and EMS are not wrong. When faced with an out of control person or a child that looks much older than they are developmentally, they have no other thought than to protect those in control. They will try to reason or restrain with compassion. But in fear for themselves and those around them they will also respond with force.

It is not anyone’s fault. Not your neighbor’s for calling the police, not the police for seeing an out of control person and trying to restrain them, not your child’s fault for having a disability and not your fault either. Ultimately we need to protect our children and those they come into contact. I think C.A.R.E. is a great start.

Think of Robert and know that could be your child.

Screw privacy and think protection.
 In Robert’s Memory and in Respect for a mother’s grief I end this month of Down Syndrome awareness in their honor.

I’m taking the easy way out….

Today I am failing as a mom. I am taking the easy way out. No, this isn’t a post for you to say Kerri you are fine, stuff happens. I am not looking for you to make me feel better because I do not deserve it. Because a mom isn’t supposed to be selfish. A mom is supposed to put her pain, her failings, her fears and her sadness aside for her child’s joy.

But I am not doing that today.

Today I am hiding my head in the sand, okay my body at work, and letting David take Boo on her field trip. Last year, I took Boo and we went to a pumpkin patch and apple picking. This year it is the same trip and I am bowing out. This is Boo last year:

You might not be able to see it, but there are tears running down her face. I let her go at her own pace (way behind her classmates). When we got to the patch all the kids were running around, she was overwhelmed. By the dirt, by the pumpkins by the noise, by who knows what. Her teacher came back with us so we were not all alone but by the time Boo got her pumpkin everyone had proceeded to the apple orchard. Again Boo tried but she was in her own world. She hated the field trip and I felt awful for making her go outside her comfort zone, even if it was what she needed. So I held back the tears (incredibly thankful for sunglasses) as the teacher gathered all the kids around for the sign along. Boo was there but not there. Her mind tired and I saw her retreating into herself.

The field trip ended and we left the farm. I cried all the way home. It wasn’t the teacher’s fault, the students or the other parents. They all included Boo. These feelings are my own and incredibly selfish. Because I looked at Boo and felt bad for her. That she didn’t enjoy herself but more than that. That I looked at Boo and saw her disability.

Not what others perceived but, as Kristi posted on Friday, how being in Public showed me how my child was not typical.

And moms are not supposed to do that. We are only supposed to see the beauty and innocence of our little ones. I failed. I cried. I realized that this is my problem and cannot blame anyone other than myself.

I know that this year will probably be different. Boo has more mobility, more words and is no longer afraid of dirt. I am sure that David will come home and tell me what fun it was, that she had a great time. So I apologize to her. Because I cannot face it. I will not chance it being a repeat of last year. I simply do not have it in me to go on another field trip of nightmares.

This is my failing, not Boo’s.

I’m so sorry Boo.

 

Remembering the parent

I’ve been really hesitant to write this post. First, I hate to jump on a bandwagon. I also hate being late to a party, even a pity one. Mostly, though, I do not ever want to come across as ungrateful or one that complains.

Truthfully, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I am beyond lucky. I acknowledge that my situation is as wonderful as it is rare. I have a terrific village who supports my sanity. When life gets overwhelming I have some one within a text, an e-mail, a call or a walk to lean on. I get date nights with my husband and girls night in.

Not everyone is this lucky. They are isolated. They stay at home with their child, change how they go to Worship, do not attend family events, cannot find a babysitter and not even think about getting a pedicure. Moms like Kelli try to do everything right. They think that it is less disruptive for their child to stay home. They feel family gatherings are too hard to keep everything together and peaceful.

I do not know Kelli and only know about her circumstance from Julie, Jill and Kristi’s blogs. But I do know that not every child is like Boo. Some children with special needs are violent. They hurt themselves and those who love them the most.

When Kelli tried to kill herself and her daughter there was a lot of condemnation.  People have a difficult time understanding suicide. Let alone a mom who tries to harm her child.

The sad truth is, Kelli is not the only one out there. Statistically children in the US with special needs account for almost 10% of those who are abused. And they are abused by their caregivers. This is not just the US. World-wide disabled children are harmed more often than typical.

This is just supposition on my part, but I believe the abuse and the killings and the suicides happen because the parent has little or no support. We are very lucky where we live. Our Boo has a terrific school, afterschool therapies and if she was autistic we would be eligible for in-home support. But those therapists and teachers deal with our children hitting, spitting and hurting them. Yet they love our kids. They want our children to succeed.

Parents and caregivers are becoming the walking wounded, suffering from post-traumatic stress of living and working with a child who punches, kicks, sets fire to the house and destroys relationships. We love our children. We hate what their disability makes them do.

There is a difference.

There is also a reason why persons who work with children and adults with special needs have an extremely high burnout rate.

While our children in the US have a tremendous amount of government support available (if you know where to ask) for them, there is zero support for the caregiver. I am not talking about financial. I am talking about emotional support. That shoulder that you need to lean on.

Since I have that support I know full well what those of you without it must be feeling. Know that you are not alone but you have to let us know you need it. My friends know because I go to them. I break with Boo’s therapists and vent to her aides. Sure a few will reach out, but the responsibility is mine to say I cannot do it on my own.

So I implore you, the Kelli’s out there, to know you are not alone. But you need to scream and raise the white flag.

And if you know a parent out there with a child who has special needs reach out. Stop by their house tonight with a pizza and a bottle of wine. Stop by and check in on them. Keep inviting them to events, even if they have to say no. Remember that e-mail is great, but you can hide there. Call, speak to them. Make sure they know you are available to listen without judgment.

Let what happened to Kelli be a lesson to all of us to reach out before there is no one there to catch.

 

The Journey

Yesterday while waiting for Boo in therapy there was a little boy who was walking around, in his own world and knocking on the walls. He was beautiful. It occurred to me at that exact moment that if I didn’t have Boo in my life I might not have noticed how absolutely beautiful.

I would have looked away.

I would have thought to myself what is wrong with that boy?

I would think, yuck look at that drool.

I would not have spoken to his mom, thinking I was sparing her embarrassment.

I would have been wrong and heartless and selfish. Because I would have thought to myself thank God Allie is ‘normal’.

Thankfully, I have Boo.

So I saw the beauty in the way the little boy comforted himself by knocking on the wall. I looked into his eyes and saw the light shining inside. I recognized his drool and realized it was because he was concentrating so hard. I spoke to his mom, asked how old he was, what school did he go to.

I made small talk.

Not about her son being in different, but how he was the same.

In that moment I was thankful that Boo had made me a mom with special needs.

I remember when I was pregnant and told that due to my “advanced” age my baby was at higher risk for birth defects (hate that word now), Down syndrome and a host of other scary things.

I opted for just the blood test and told God I could handle Down syndrome. But nothing scarier. Why Down syndrome? Not because I knew a lot of about it, but because children and adults with Down syndrome were the least scariest to me. I saw them in the playground, the market, in my life. “It” seemed manageable.

By the way, I realize how arrogant and condescending that sounds. Bear with me.

When the geriatric tests came back negative, I was relieved and moved on with my pregnancy. Then Boo was born and I learned that it doesn’t matter what your child was born with, a trip to the NICU is beyond scary. At that time I thought it was the scariest thing I would ever go through. Boy was I wrong.

It is also enlightening.

Being Boo’s mom has opened my eyes and my heart. I am a better person because I am a card carrying citizen of Our Land. When I see a child (or adult) not acting typical, I do not jump to the conclusion that the child needs discipline. When I see a parent at the end of their rope in the grocery store, I reach out to them.
I learned that by never hiding Boo’s light I am opening our family and friend’s hearts to others in the community. Most of them have now banished the word retard. They are teaching their children to do the same.

My friendships are now more meaningful and important. I have become more vocal and more of an advocate. I have gained friends that I would never have come into contact. I have become more outgoing and outspoken. I certainly wouldn’t have begun blogging. Blogging opened up a whole new world of laughter and support.

All because of Boo.

Do I have moments when I wish that Boo had been born “typical” or with what I thought I could handle? Sometimes, but only because then I would have a tour guide who would know what path to take.

Yet I wouldn’t trade this undiagnosed journey for the world.

 

End of summer

This is, by far, the easiest post I have ever written. Boo has struggled since her first year to overcome sensory issues. She doesn’t have a severe disorder that impacts our daily life. Jen Kehl can tell you more about that.

We are not alone in our navigating how to expose Boo to the sensory input she needs while balancing her innate fear. If you are a visitor in Our Land you will see a lot of other examples of having a child that is afraid of hair.

Boo doesn’t so much suffer from her sensory issues. It is more like she avoids them and it is easy to do so. For example, snow. We do not have a lot of it, well except when Nemo killed our February vacation. Grass? That was the best defense against Boo’s bolting. I really was kind of upset when she overcame that fear. 

Boo still has issues with a lot of sensory input. Be it noise, texture, smell or sand. Boo despises getting her hair brushed, as one example. She has a paralyzing reaction to sand. You can feel her heart racing, she whimpers low in her throat like a cornered animal. With a lot of therapy during and after school, Boo worked really hard to overcome her fear.

The difficult part of this is that Boo doesn’t realize she is afraid. She doesn’t have that comprehension. She only knows that she “no like”. But we live surrounded by the beach. This was one fear, unlike snow, that she had to overcome.

Selfishly the rest of the family really enjoys the beach. In truth, we kind of forced her to like it. The first few attempts were horrid. But we persevered. Every time we got to the beach she would whimper. We forced her out of the Jeep a couple of times over the summer. She would sit on my lap, but eventually (sometimes it took hours) she would stand on the sand. We kept it easy for her, always in her sneakers. Never forcing her to do more than she could.

And then, my friends, Boo danced. 

This is how I finish the sentence, My best summertime memory this year was Boo dancing on the beach.

 


(Gosh I hope the video works) 

Now tell me, what was your best summertime memory this year?

Finish the Sentence Friday