Category Archives: Abby

Dear Abby

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Dear Abby,

When I had you I was terrified. The hospital nurses actually wrote, failure to bond in our chart. I was so sure I was going to fail you. Or worse, hurt you. You were an emergency c-section because (and I quote a doctor here) my body wasn’t meant to survive childbirth. I thought that meant I wasn’t supposed to be a mom.

In all honesty you were all I needed. You taught me how to be a mom. Not a perfect mom by any means. I did not think I had the love, patience or endurance for another child. You wanted a little sister so badly. You even had an imaginary friend whose name was simply “imaginary baby sister”. 

Then there was Boo. From the beginning you at just five years old were my rock. You, my dear sweet child, showed me that I was strong enough to handle two daughters. You, my sarcastic truth-teller were there to keep things in perspective. You, my great educator taught others how to care for Boo. 

The time you told Dawn that Boo couldn’t have peanut butter because she was allergic to dairy. The time you told a teacher that Boo was perfect, she was just in the hospital. When you taught a friend that being having a sister with a “funny pattern in her brain” just means that your sister takes a little longer to learn things. The countless times you practiced “I LOVE YOU” with Boo never knowing that is my secret desire for her to tell us she loves us.

You, Abby, are my hero. I wish I had your grace, your patience and your sense of self. You are confident in ways I can only strive to be at 40+ years. Your imagination astounds me. You are so brave, trying things that would normally terrify me. You are your father in the ways that make me love him. And in the ways that make me want to strangle him. You have an old-world soul mixed with a new-world outlook on life. You are me in the ways you are picky about eating food and in the way your sense of humor aligns with my own. You are so beautiful in your smile, your laughter and yes, your sarcasm. 

On Saturday morning, I awoke exhausted. I lay in bed and listened to Boo over the monitor at 6:30 am. She was gleefully calling your name. As I got out pretended to get out of bed to get her I heard another voice. Yours. You entered her room and quietly said, “I’m here”. You then proceeded to take her out to the living room. You got her IPAD and gave me another hour of semi-rest. You got her muffins and only called to me when her diaper exploded.

Mom I’ll do a lot of things but I won’t take care of that!

That afternoon you received your first phone call from a classmate. You went on your first ever sleep over where I did not know the parent. I didn’t sleep that night for another reason. I was worried of course. But also marveling over how quickly a decade has gone by. How the little baby I was terrified of now completes my heart in a way I never imagined. The house is empty without your presence. I am astounded by how you have grown into such a sweet young girl soon to be tween. The excitement in your voice when you called to say good night. This is the girl you would be, maybe, if you didn’t have to tailor your life to your sister. Not that you complain, ever. But I promise you, I know the sacrifices you make for Boo. That you cannot join girl scouts, after school activities or miss birthday parties because we have Boo-centered appointments.

So thank you, my sweet Abigail. For being you. For giving me an extra hour of dozing. For giving me peace. For sharing your dreams. For giving Boo your unquestioning love. For just being your awesome self.  

Keep living the dream, my Abby. When you obtain world domination this world will be a better place. I simply cannot wait to see the woman you will become.

Love, 
Mom

PS you are still not getting a pony

The Mommy War with herself

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The other day Rachel from Tao of Poop had a wonderful post about how she wonders why she says she is JUST a stay-at-home mom. See, Rachel brings up a great point. What happened that made us think poorly of ourselves, and others, for being a stay-at-home mom.

Quite frankly I blame ourselves. We women are to blame for the mommy wars. And I am not talking about the war between the stay-at-home and working mom. But the war we have with ourselves.
The feminist revolution happened when I was too young for it to impact. When I had Abby you fell into one of two categories: the stay at home or the working. One of us definitely looked down on the other. But for different reasons, I think, at least for my generation.

There is this theory that the SAHM (crappy acronym by the way) is the lucky ones. We working moms think their houses are spotless, their kids are well behaved (and probably don’t watch TV) and they have real family meals every day. We also think you could drop by and use their bathroom and they won’t be running in to give it a quick scrub down first. Working moms, at least this one, views the SAHM as their superior, falling just behind those fools saints moms who home school. We feel they have the patience we could never attain.  

In truth, the stay at home and the working moms are equals. We are all fighting the same battles. We are trying to manage our house in this 24-hour world. All of us at some point have hidden in the closet eating the last M&M. We are the CEO of the house, the Keeper of the House, the Chief Financial Officer of the House, the Cruise Director for every day off/vacation/snow day, the Executive Chef, Homework Tutor and Head Stylist/Fashion editor. 

Where a SAHM feels she has to apologize for being “just” a mom, I feel I have to apologize for working and not being there. I am not at the girls school parties. I am not chaperoning field trips.  I am not doing a project for science. My house is never company clean and some days (gasp) my kids wear their pants from the day before. I drop Boo off and feel that I am “just” working when I should be with my child. I rarely meet Abby’s bus in the afternoon and feel guilty that I only see her for two hours before bed. That those two hours are usually filled with screaming and crying over math homework doesn’t help the guilt.

The Mommy Wars suck. But the war we create in our own heads? The guilt we feel by whatever choice we made, that sucks more. 

We are not just moms. Not anyone of us. I am declaring a truce in the Mommy War. We are no longer thinking poorly of ourselves. We promise to end the judgement of how we are doing by the mom next door. We will embrace who we are, dust bunnies and all. I declare a new mantra:

I’m a mom, no qualification necessary.

Who’s with me?



My best dream ever….

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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. 

Thanks but I’d rather have a glass of wine….

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It was difficult to find the thanks this week. But I’m going to try because Lizzi is hounding encouraging me. But this week was full of floods.

The first flood was quite literal.

1. I am thankful that if a frozen pipe is going to burst in the walk-in closet on the second floor that my husband was there to go all handy and run around the basement for the shut-off valve.

2. I am thankful that the plumber who came over on a Saturday morning did not make us take out a 2nd mortgage to pay his bill.

3. I am thankful that Abby was there to feed Boo breakfast, snack and lunch while her dad and I contended with the flood.

4. I am trying to be thankful that although Abby wouldn’t change Boo into clothes or hey a clean pull-up. I am thankful nothing escaped the close to exploding diaper.

5. I am thankful that although I hadn’t showered before the flood there was still hot water left to take one after it was under control.

The second flood hurt more as this time I had a flood of emotions. 

6. I am thankful for restraint when I didn’t smack the psychologist who said that saying Boo was autistic wouldn’t change how I would feel about my child. Although I did scream really loudly in my head NO SHIT HARVARD. 

7. I am thankful for Boo’s PT not only babysat Boo & Abby so I could decompress but then stayed up until 1 am with me as we talked about Boo being labeled autistic meant to me, to Boo and more importantly to those responsible for her care.

8.  I am thankful for Jenn who always knows what to say and for Tia who thinks she doesn’t always know what to say but is the first one there to lift me up. For Becky taking Abby on the best play date of her life so Boo could attend a birthday party.

9. I am thankful that when Boo attended a birthday party (her FOURTH!!!) and when the party host asked if Boo was “a little autistic” I could reply, yes but that is like saying someone is a little pregnant. And I said it with a smile not with gritted teeth.

10. I am thankful that while I spent another birthday at CHB this time it was with Boo’s cardiologist who told me that while Boo still had a hole in her heart it would not require surgery. Just observation. She doesn’t have to go back to Cardiology for FIVE YEARS. Can I get a WOO HOO and a FREAKING THANK YOU!!!! for the best birthday present ever?

Ten Things of Thankful

Different choices

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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.

Happy Day!

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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.

The truth about Allie and Boo

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When I first started blogging I was a little nervous about the world of blog. Who would I meet, how much should I share, would anyone even read my ramblings? I also wondered on the fairness of outing my children’s lives. Was it fair to them to tell the world that they are awesome but have bad days? Is it my place to tell some one in Australia (no offense, Bron!) that Allie had a bad day at school or that Boo had a meltdown?

Also, my husband think the internet is the devil and Facebook it’s spawn. That probably colored my thinking.

However I knew that Boo’s experiences were important to share. I knew that OUT THERE I would find some one, any one, who had the same what the heck am I doing  approach to life. Turns out I first met Kristi and then Joy and then a host of other characters (admit it, you are all characters). You don’t have to have a child, or a child with special needs, I just knew that I could reach out and help just one person not have to go through the uncertainty I lived through. I also hoped I would find some one out there that would tell me THIS is what Boo has, THIS is why she is so delayed.

Hey, if the science isn’t there the community might be.

If I touched just one person this blog would have been worth it. But I didn’t touch one person, I made connections with so many that this blog evolved into something more. More than Boo. More than a Mom who suffered from holy crapness. More than the tale of how Allie’s love for Boo transcends and teaches others that sometimes a person is just a person and all the labels in the world do not matter.

I found an extended community and began to feel weird that I wasn’t reaching out to those who love and actually know us if they saw us in the grocery store.

Then I decided to come out of the blogging closet. If felt wrong somehow to be hiding Boo’s accomplishments and stumbles from those who could have immediate impact. Her therapists, her friends, her family, her teachers. The people who might read this blog and say “Hey Kerri let’s try this….”

What I never imagined, though, is that I would actually meet my virtual friends or that real life friends would start calling them Allie and Boo.

I know most of you have guessed that Boo isn’t her real name but neither is Allie. Boo came from when she was in the NICU and I used to say, I know you have a Boo Boo but I am going to make it better (yep, I thought I was all knowing back then). Boo was my secret name for Bridget because in my heart I knew she was more than the Boo Boo. I knew that she would be awesome and spectacular. I would whisper to her, you are my Boo. Maybe not perfect in the conventional way but in the mom way. I love you and will cherish every moment of the time you are with me. This was before I realized she would survive the NICU. It was also during the moment when a NICU nurse asked me her name and I spaced. In my defense I was working on having a C-section 4 days before and about an hour sleep since then. I remembered the little girl in the Monsters Movie, Boo. She was afraid but not only overcame her fear she kicked butt. Bridget became my Boo.  If she could be brave at just a week old, I could suck it up. When I created this blog Boo was the natural name to call her.

Allie though, was different. Allie was Bridget’s approximation of her name. I know, I should have chosen Sunflower so that you would know that is not her real name. But I never imagined a time when one of you would meet her in person. I was trying to protect her identity and her privacy, to some extent.

But then I came out and someone called her Allie. She was kind of like, my name is….Then I met Kate and she gave me a weird look when I was telling a story to her Joe and realized I had never clued her in that Allie’s real name is something different.

I asked Kate what she thought about me coming all the way out with the girl’s names. She said that I have such an honest blog that it would be natural for me to use them. But that I would have some explaining to do! After all I use mine and David’s real name. I put everything out there, the good the bad the ugly and trust all of you not to judge but to offer advice and support. Why wouldn’t I trust you with the girl’s names?

So as of today, I may still call Bridget Boo. Sorry it is just kind of natural for me. But Allie will be her own person, just as she is in real life.

Friends, let me introduce you to Abigail or as she likes to be called Abby. The best big sister Boo could ask for and she is kind of a cool if sarcastic daughter as well.