Category Archives: empathy

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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.

Would you CARE?

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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.

Grab This Button

I will gladly stand in line….

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Like many moms of a child with special needs I am a little worried about the changes Disney is having to make to their Guest Assistance Card policy. Here’s the thing though…I am not upset with Disney.

I’m upset with those who take advantage of a Company’s good will. How dare anyone make life more difficult for those who already struggle. To add insult to injury, there are those who state that our children “cut in line”.

Really? Hmm…I will gladly stand in line for a ride and have done so before and with Boo. So here is the deal I propose:

How about if Boo stands in line and you stand in her therapy appointment?

How about if Boo stands in line and you clear her airway when she chokes on her drool?

How about if Boo stands in line and you hold her on your hip because she is too week to stand on her own?

How about if Boo stands in line and you hold her down while she undergoes blood work, cardiac testing, MRI’s and other medical tortures?

How about if Boo stands in line and you spend some time in Our Land?

How about if Boo stands in line and you do not look at her with condemnation because she cannot control her squeals, muscle spasms and vocalizations when she invades your personal space?

When we traveled there last year I was amazed at how well they took our daughter’s needs into consideration. Each cast member was trained how to treat all patrons with respect and courtesy. We never expected to “cut in line” in front of those who stood in line, but needed to keep Boo in her stroller/chair until the last possible moment.

Just to be clear, in our experience the only “cutting” in line was when there was no feasible way to get Boo’s stroller/chair to the ride through the normal line. We stood in line, like everyone else, in attractions that had a safe method to get her to the attraction. Even when we “cut in line” we did not immediately get on the ride. Rather Disney allowed people who had been waiting to enter the ride and put us on in a reasonable (to me) manner.

When asked if Boo has so many ‘issues’ why would we even consider taking her to a theme park I have the following response: Well, for one, her sister shouldn’t miss out on life events because her sister needs some consideration. And two there is this….

Why shouldn’t Boo get to see the Magic of Disney just because she is unable to stand in line?

I agree there is abuse, like all great plans some fool has to mess it up. But it is not Disney’s fault. The Company really has no option to try and improve on their system. I applaud them for being proactive and for listening to the parents like me.

And I hope those who ruined this beautiful experience lose sleep tonight.

Remembering the parent

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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

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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.

I gave up Diet coke. Can I give up something else?

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About three months now (woo hoo three!) I gave up Diet Coke. It wasn’t pretty, my friends. But I did it. Recently I read a great post by Jen Kehl and am going to try to give up one more thing.

I do not think I yell, a lot. But I do know sarcasm is my friend. In my house I am famous for the eye roll (now mimicked by Allie) and when I do lose my temper, well it is as pretty as me off the Diet Coke.

Jen had this great post about parenting Brady-style. Now I know what you are thinking. Every once in a while I wish Marsha got a slap upside the head. I would suggest you go read her version here, but then you might not come back. She has some great posts. So here is my synopsis of her post in a nutshell:

Treat your kids with empathy, cool-headedness, use disappointment to guilt them and most importantly don’t yell. Now I am a total fan of living in Kristi’s Our Land of Empathy and Wonder. But I am not always empathetic when dealing with my own children, husband and definitely not with the puppy-turned-toddler-dog.

I may use guilt, but only that they have upset me. Not that I am disappointed in their behavior. I am definitely not cool-headed, I blame this on my goal of having the perfect family and why the hell don’t they conform to my wishes. And yelling? I don’t typically yell unless I am pushed just over the edge of reason. Then the neighbors can hear me.

Again, none of this is the picture of perfect motherhood I was promised in Lamaze class. Although there was screaming there.

Back to Jen, what struck me about her post was that she noticed her son was reacting based on her action. If I roll my eyes at her father, won’t Allie do the same behavior? Hell, yes.

Now this might not be the brightest idea during summer vacation. But I am going to try Jen’s Brady-parenting style. I will (try to) eliminate yelling, be more empathetic when Allie has an issue and speak quietly.

I figure it is better to master it before homework starts up again. I’ll let you know if life becomes calmer or if Allie decides to move in with her crafty aunt.