Category Archives: what’s your challenge?

TBT–Out of the Mouths of Babes

Welcome to Throw Back Thursday, blog style.

(Originally posted 18-JUL-2012)

Abby is taking some summer help in math at a local school. This morning when I dropped Abby off she was telling me about the kids in her class. Some were from her current class and others she didn’t know. Abby said that there was only one other girl, a bunch of boys and one weird boy.

Weird boy, I asked, do you mean the boy with Down syndrome?

What’s that? Abby replied.

Well he is special needs, like Boo, I explained

Oh, is that why he has a teacher just for him in the class? (Yup) That makes sense now. I thought there was something different but couldn’t figure it out. Why didn’t they tell me so I could help him?

This conversation floored me on many levels. First, Abby has intuitively known that there is something special about Boo and has accepted her without conditions. I automatically assumed that she would recognize and accept it in another child. Second, Abby attends enough of Boo’s therapy appointments to see other children like this boy. I was completely astounded that she even had to ask, or worse in her mind label this boy as “weird”.

Abby has been a staunch defender of Boo. She would never let one of her friends use that term with her sister, so why did she do it with a boy she just met? Have I failed in some way in to prepare and nurture her to accept all others like she does Boo?

Of course, I asked Abby. Not that specifically, but why she did she not understand that this boy was special. She thought because he was so big and not little like Boo he was just a boy. I asked (just to make sure) that she hadn’t made fun of this boy. She was quick to say no, but that she wished that the teacher had told her because the other boys in the class did. Abby was so cute, telling me that she would make sure it didn’t happen again! We had a long talk about Boo and how would Abby feel if one of her classmates called Boo “weird”.

But it made me think, is inclusion working? Are the teachers and other parents explaining to their children that not all children can run, read, speak like others. Whose responsibility is it really? Mine, in some way because while I can educate/prepare Abby and she can then teach her peers. But neither Abby, her dad or I can go into Boo’s class and wake up the other children/parents. I can only be responsible for the children who interact with Boo in my presence.

Is it the teacher’s responsibility? Certainty, but how can they do this without embarrassing (not the right word, but hopefully you get my point!) the child in question. Abby thought the teacher should have let the kids know. But by privacy laws, they cannot.

I think the biggest obstacle is that the other parents are not on the playground or in the classroom with their children. So they might not even be aware, like me, that their child may be prejudging some one. Think about it, if you do not have a special child would you think to educate your ‘typical’ child about a child with Downs, CP, and autism or like Boo one who is undiagnosed? I will admit that before Boo I cannot honestly say I would have said something to Abby until she asked/made a comment in my presence.

I think as children get older they may become more aware (and yes, mean). But at Abby’s age it is just a sense of innocence where they don’t really notice differences in others until the difference is glaringly obvious.

Boo is in an integrated preschool with a not so equal ratio of special/typical kiddos. Even there I notice that some parents look at us askew when Boo is not participating like their ‘typical’ kid in the class. Once a child asked their mom what was wrong with Boo and the mother, instead of educating, told the child to ‘hush’.

So I don’t know what the answer is, if integration is worth it or how to educate the world at large that Boo just has a different sense of typical.

My Challenge: K

10 Replies

Today’s Challenge is from my friend “K” who prefers to remain anonymous. She is a young woman who one day soon will change the world with her writing, her heart, her well just awesomeness. K was a contributor to the Challenge program at Abby’s school. Allowing us to use her essay, The Little Dancer, that had such an impact on the Junior High students.

“K” has Cerebral Palsy. She is one of the reasons the What’s Your Challenge? program at Abby’s school was so important to me. I wanted people to stop looking just at a disability and see the person first. I thought for sure I knew what her challenge would be. Of course, per usual, she surprised the heck out of me.

I sat in the corner of the shoe store and broke.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I was surrounded by boxes and boxes of shoes, shoes that weren’t made for people like me.

Somewhere in the background, the sales associate was staring at me, and there was an odd expression on her face. Pity? Revulsion? Embarrassment? Or maybe she was just grateful that she wasn’t my mom, who stood over me with an armful of rejected shoes.

It was 5:00 p.m., the evening before I was to give my senior project presentation, a presentation that determined whether or not we would graduate from high school. The rubric for the presentation included a phrase that made my heart sink: “Must wear formal footwear.”

To make matters worse, as I was leaving, my teacher called over his shoulder: “Remember, no boat shoes and no sandals! The guys should wear dress shoes and the ladies should wear something like a nice pair of heels.”

Many girls my age owned a closetful of shoes that fit that description, but I only had two pairs of formal shoes that I could wear safely: a pair of boat shoes and a pair of sandals.

“I can call the school in the morning,” my mom offered, “and ask them not to penalize you for your shoes.”

“I don’t want them to make an exception for me,” I said, my tone desperate.

So my mom took me to the mall for a last-minute shoe-shopping trip, my own personal version of hell. Each store was the same…the sales associates approached us with their fake, overly-cheerful smiles, all too eager to help, and returned with a pair of shoes for me to try on. Then they’d hover over me, watching closely as I tried to cram shoes on my feet, and their chipper smiles would fade into blank stares as they watched me walk.

I had told myself that I would be strong, and I managed to keep it together for four stores in a row. And then, at the fifth store, the associate brought out a pair of heels.

“She . . . those won’t work for her,” my mom said.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I turned away to hide my face.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered. “I just want to wear pretty shoes like everyone else, and I’m tired of people staring at me like I’m some kind of freak.”

My mom set down the shoeboxes and looked me in the eye.

“Listen to me,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear. “This is your challenge. I know it’s hard, but I’ve seen you overcome so much in your life and I know you can overcome this. Shoes don’t matter. You could wear a pair of sneakers with your dress and you’d still be beautiful.”

With that, she took my hand and turned to the still-gawking sales associate:

“I think we’re all set, thanks.”

The next day, I slipped on my boat shoes and presented my project to the panel of judges: a teacher and three members of the community.

As I presented my project—I had joined an acts-of-kindness group whose mission was to help others with theirchallenges—I spoke of Tanner, a boy with cerebral palsy who was homebound after surgery. His mother didn’t have the financial means to purchase Christmas presents for him and his sisters, so our group banded together to buy them gifts. I bought Tanner’s present—a basket brimming with DVDs and popcorn, because he was a movie buff—and signed an anonymous note explaining that I had CP as well and I understood what he was going through.

When I finished, one of the judges looked at me with tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “For Tanner. My daughter has CP too.”

Just then, I knew that what my mom had said was true. Shoes don’t matter. Shoes don’t define us.

People do.

****

Alright, who wants to take K shoe shopping with me? As in shop til she cannot shop anymore. And if we cannot find shoes that are beautiful and comfortable we knock on Manalo Blahnik's door and demand he design something immediately. Or some other famous shoe designer's door. I'm sure we can find at least one.

"K" is one of those gorgeous people. Inside and out. She is the reason I wrote the letter for Boo. I am happy to call her friend and hope that my daughter Abby grows up with "K"s character. You can read more of "K"'s writing at her blog, Transcending CP: Shattering the Limits of a Disability.

What's your challenge is a series that was inspired by a program I created at Abby's school. I am amazed at how honest and hopeful the challenges have been. Thank you to all who have contributed. To submit your challenge, please e-mail me at firebailey@gmail.com

My Challenge: Jessica

7 Replies

I introduced you to my friend “J” about two years ago. She was Boo’s Yogi before life got too crazy to keep up with it. I am happy to officially introduce Jessica, the mother of four beautiful daughters. She practices and teaches Yoga for the Special Child. In her “spare” time she organizes The South Shore Buddy Walk and Co-Founded a non-profit Heart Beats for Down Syndrome.

Her challenge?

My Challenge: Being Present

All of my life I have always looked to the future, planning and making lists, trying to be older. I used to sign up for things in magazines so I could get mail (at age 10). I couldn’t wait for responsibilities and bills and being an adult. I didn’t have to wait long. At seventeen, I became a mom, and not just a typical teen mom-but a teen mom to a baby girl with Down Syndrome. This is not my challenge. As I write this, it’s nine years, four more daughters and plenty of bills later, and my challenge has nothing to do with the circumstances of my life. The responsibilities I always wanted are in abundance, and can be overwhelming and stressful. There are lots of things in my life that are challenging, but not internally, causing damage to my spirit. My biggest challenge is that I struggle to be present, to truly live in the moment.

I set my intention for this summer to be present, to be grateful for each moment, whether they are good or bad. Not even two weeks in, I find myself at 8am counting the hours until bedtime. I spend so much time planning and rushing for the future: bedtime, back to school, vacation, that I am unable to be happy in the present. I have a history of anxiety and depression, and looking to the future has always been a coping mechanism for me. It has served its purpose, and I have better techniques now that I can use to get through rough patches. Unfortunately, as the saying goes: Old habits are hard to break. By looking to the future, and planning, and making lists, I am depleting so much joy that is found in sitting back and watching my girls grow up and explore their world. Sure, I can get so much done when they are playing outside and doing crafts, but I lose out on seeing what interests them and how they accomplish things. I miss out on bonding and teachable moments by choosing to write lists instead of coloring and penciling in playtime rather then always making time for play. I want to wake up, and instead of rushing the day away, I want to be content just letting the day unfold and not view that as being unproductive. I may be too hard on myself, which is another challenge I face J, because it’s not like I don’t do all of these things, it’s just that I wish it could be more natural for me so that it could be more of an occurrence in my daily life.

There are so many times I am in the grocery store, frustrated and losing patience, when someone stops me and tells me I’m going to miss these days. I am grateful to these people, because I know it is true, but I usually have so much going on, I forget. By not being present in the moment, but rather operating on auto pilot, I miss out on what my girls are finding to be so funny and why they think the grocery store is a giant play place. If I were present, I might enjoy the shopping trip a little more (emphasis on little) instead of being preoccupied and snapping at them, which only leads to guilt and discontent on my end. By committing to too much, and having to rush around, being present is impossible. I want to accomplish this goal by being easier on myself and reduce the expectations I set that cause me to lose out on the little things that happen when I am physically present but too preoccupied to notice and be grateful.

I’m sure that many people face this challenge, and some may not even view it as being worthy of such a title. It’s the way of life today. For me, though, it is important and it is something I have been trying to work on, and fail time and again. Again, setting the expectation for myself to change right now, this summer, and all of a sudden be present in every moment, is unrealistic. I just hope that some of the time, instead of rushing to the next moment, I will have the strength to just stop and watch it all unfold and find my happiness in that.

*****

Don’t we all, working moms, stay at home moms, dads, those without children…don’t each and every one of us forget to stay in this moment. This precious moment in time? We struggle with being HERE, right here watching the sunrise because our child woke up at five freaking am. Instead our thoughts race ahead to the coming day wondering how we are going to deal with this child who will be cranky in two hours. Rather than just enjoying the moment of their smile.

Even if it is five freaking am.

What's your challenge is a series that was inspired by a program I created at Abby's school. I am amazed at how honest and hopeful the challenges have been. Thank you to all who have contributed. To submit your challenge, please e-mail me at firebailey@gmail.com

A letter to myself

3 Replies

I’m semi-participating in a Summer Blog Hop Challenge meant to show others how the life with a disability, or with a child who has a disability, is a journey. A never ending one, for sure. But a journey filled with triumphs and some tears. Of course per my usual ~~stick~~–to-break-the-rules reputation instead of starting in week 1 it is now week 3. So today we are starting the journey half-way through with a letter to myself. Even though that was week 2’s prompt

Dear Younger Me,

I was going to write to the much younger us. The one who is upset because our first love left us. Or the one who just met David and thought um….not my type but sure let’s go to dinner. To the younger us who on the eve of her wedding and asked David to elope instead. Or to the new mom to Abby who was scared out of her mind at this thing that wouldn’t stop crying and tell you eventually she would no longer seem breakable.

Instead I am writing this for you to receive after Boo’s birth. She is now four months old and you are thinking Holy Crap not only did I just get puked on from my neck to my toes I am getting a letter from the future. You are also thinking I’m writing to give you good news except you know us by now and realize maybe not.

First I want to tell you that Boo will survive. You can cry and breathe and rejoice. Now the other shoe dropping on your head is me telling you she will survive but it will not be easy. I am not writing to tell you what will happen. Because no matter what I write it either won’t change things or worse give you the magic answer you are looking form. Rather I write this to the mom of four-month old Boo to give you some advice.

Now you know it is really me, right?

Well here it is:

Never listen to a doctor, a nurse, therapist or school teacher that Boo cannot do something. There will be a doctor or two you will want to punch in the nose, but you will refrain from harming them.

Pay no attention to someone who says that Boo is just like their daughter/son/grandchild and “will grow out of it”.

Never give up hope. In yourself or in Boo.

Do not ever, for one minute, stop searching for an answer. Do not listen to the doctor who says just accept Boo for who she is. It is too important. You and she need the answers and being an unknown neurological syndrome is not an answer.

Keep Early Intervention. As awful as it is you will need them when she is three. But do not listen to them when they say she does not need Spaulding Center for Children. You are right they are wrong and they will deal with being offended.

As much as you have to fight to make Boo all she can be, you will spend more time loving her than fighting for her. She will impact not just your life but those around her. Boo is making a difference in this world one smile at a time. You just have to get through the what seems to be unending puke phase. But I promise it does end.

You know all the friends that say “let me know if I can help”? Here’s the thing they WANT to help. You have to TELL them how. Instead of waiting for them to call you, call them. Say I just need someone to come over and sit with me. Call them and say David’s home do you want to go to the canal with me. Call them and say I’m drowning and just need a friend. Cry and laugh with them. You will be amazed at the support just waiting for you. Your future self knows she waited way too long to reach out. Once you do life will become so much easier and less lonely.

Remember that David is there and he is your partner in this unexpected life. Don’t wait so long to include him in Boo’s therapies (yes, there is more than one). You will be amazed at how well he does.

Lastly, give yourself a break. You are allowed to feel tired and overwhelmed. You are entitled to feel like this just isn’t fair. I promise you that this life becomes easier. You will one day brush your teeth before dinner time. You will one day wear a shirt without Boo’s remains on it. You will be amazed at her journey.

I won’t spoil the good parts for you. Be prepared to be amazed.

Love,
Older (but less tired) Me

PS–oh and don’t worry you will not cave and buy Abby a pony.

My Challenge: Eric

6 Replies

I consider myself very lucky today. I have read a lot about autism from the perspective of the parent, the teacher, the doctor, etc…but today I want to introduce you to Eric. A young man who recently graduated high school and entered the work force.

My Challenge: Autism

My name is Eric and my challenge is having autism. Sometimes I have a hard time coming up with the words to say what I am feeling. Sometimes I think people are acting a certain way for a certain reason and my mom and dad tell me that it is probably not for that reason.

I graduated from high school in May of 2013 and I did a lot of volunteer work. I finally got a paying job last month and now I work as a dishwasher three nights a week. I really like that I’m finally getting paid. I am looking forward to my checkbook balance going up. One day I would like to own my own car instead of driving one that my mom and dad own.

I like being able to drive myself and get around. I’ve been driving for two years now and I haven’t had an accident. I am a very good driver.

My favorite things to do are golf, bowling, watching movies, hanging out with my cat, working puzzles, building models and making things. I created this marionette puppet out of pipe cleaners.

I thought it was pretty cool and brought it to school to show off.

I need people to be willing to explain things to me different ways so I can understand, but then I am just as capable as any other teenager to do jobs. I like being useful at home and at work.

It is a challenge to have autism and sometimes I wish I didn’t have it but I am learning to live with it.

************

Wow. Eric. Just. Wow. Thank you for being so cool and honest about living with Autism. How it makes you, well, you but it also changes how the world perceives you. Here’s the thing, though. Almost every one of us knows some one with Autism. They are learning next to you in school but then they grow up. Just like you. They get jobs, they have a fulfilling life. A person with autism has just as much impact on the world as one who doesn’t, thank you Eric for showing that. And good luck on your new job!

To find more information about Autism, please visit The Organization for Autism Research.

What's your challenge is a series that was inspired by a program I created at Abby's school. I am amazed at how honest and hopeful the challenges have been. Thank you to all who have contributed. To submit your challenge, please e-mail me at firebailey@gmail.com

My Challenge: Kara

4 Replies

This is my friend, Kara. She is the best teacher in the whole wide world according to Abby and her friends. Kara is also the mom to Robbie, the best dressed almost 2 year old I have ever seen. Seriously, he is gorgeous. Except when facing a challenge all parents face.

My Challenge: Getting my child to sleep

My challenge is getting my toddler to sleep! My degrees in psychology and education couldn’t prepare me to transition my son out of his crib. Nightly, we would hear the loud THUMP and pterodactyl like scream as he escaped his crib, yet again. I know what you’re thinking, how much of a challenge can sleep training really be? Well, after weeks of sleep deprived nights for the whole family, we realized what a luxury sleep really is. Although this is a bump in the toddlerhood road, we won’t let this challenge define us. Extra cuddles, bedtime stories, and special attention will get us through this challenging time…Oh, and loads of coffee!

I really wish I had the magic answer for Kara and all other moms out there. Abby was that first child that just went to bed. Boo? Holy crap that child would scream for two hours, dose for 30 minutes and then start screaming again. We tried the Karp method, we read the Parenting advice, the cry it out method, the sleep with your child even though you are not supposed to method. Finally she just slept. Yet each time we go away, she returns to screaming herself to sleep for three nights.

I am sure Kara would appreciate any advice you can offer in the comments!

What's your challenge is a series that was inspired by a program I created at Abby's school. I am amazed at how honest and hopeful the challenges have been. Thank you to all who have contributed. To submit your challenge, please e-mail me at firebailey@gmail.com

Being okay doesn’t mean being satisfied

16 Replies

A few months ago I wrote a post titled Paging Dr. House. One of the most fantastic benefits of blogging is when a reader might not comment but instead send you a lifeline. To protect her privacy, “T” wrote to me shortly after that post and encouraged me not to give up. Not to despair. But more than a pat on the shoulder “T” gave me the name of a doctor who might be willing to review Boo’s history. She may have found our Dr. House.

So last week we took a little 20 hour road trip hoping to find an answer to what is Boo.

We were worried, to be honest. David was nervous of walking into a Justina Pelletier issue. I was excited, we might have an answer. A little nervous that we were making a huge monetary investment in a hoax. Then I got excited again. Until the day we left and I realized that answer might be that Boo has only five years left of life. I wasn’t quite ready for that news. I sent a panicked text to Tia who replied: BREATHE.

Thankfully our fears never came true. Instead we were given a new hope: finding an answer. We might not, the doctor was very honest with us. However just looking at Boo she said she was confident that not only did Boo have a syndrome but that the answer was out there. Not five years from now, but as near as six months.

For the first time in too long a Doctor got it. A Doctor looked at Boo from her beautiful hair, to her teeth, to her fingers and toes. A Doctor didn’t talk with just me, but looked at Boo and spent time (almost 2 hours) with her. She noticed that Boo grinds her teeth, that her hands/feet are slightly webbed, that she is the best hugger and has bowed legs. She took out her medical books, laid them on the desk and said, “I’ve seen this characteristic before….” and “wait let me think about this…”

She was also honest and said we might not find the answer today but that it was important to never stop searching. She understood the why of it all. That to get Boo the best life possible we cannot be in the dark. We need to be aware of what she has so we give her the best chance at living her life that is this beautiful miracle.

This Doctor was clear: While Boo’s tremendous advances may have “ruled her out” for certain syndromes that might not be true. Without her therapies and schooling she would not be where she is today. Her advances might be in spite of a syndrome rather than because of one. She was also honest: She might not find the answer but that didn’t mean the answer isn’t out there somewhere.

She solidified for us that we have to continue to be warrior parents. That the hole in her heart may be “trivial” but it is important, that her temperature issues might be manageable but they are important, that Boo has dysmorphic features and they are important. In her terms, Boo has “structural issues” and these are due to a genetic syndrome and not by chance. That we need the answers because one day these “trivial” issues might prove to be catastrophic. That it is our job as parents to continue to be the thorn in the medical establishment’s side. She understood on an intimate level that this is our child, the most important child in the universe.

Boo will have to undergo more laboratory testing. The tests take about six months to result. The six months will be worth the wait, even if the answer is we don’t know. At least we found someone who won’t stop looking with us. We will know we have exhausted every option, for now.

Maybe, just maybe I will have to change the name of this blog from Undiagnosed but Okay to something more appropriate.

Won’t that be a cool problem to have?

Thank you, “T”. You know who you are. Thank you for reaching out and “stalking” until you found me on Facebook to offer us a lifeline. When I was in despair and worried you were willing to take time out of your life to offer me hope. I won’t forget it and hope to pay it forward someday.

My Challenge: Laura

5 Replies

Today’s challenge comes from a fellow warrior mom: Laura. Her son is gorgeous. Like a mini-Elvis gorgeous. You know before he got old. Laura is an incredible photographer, gorgeous inside and out. Her smile lights up a room. Like many of us, she has a challenge that I am so thankful she is willing to share.


My Challenge : Undiagnosed Postpartum depression.






My challenge is a common one. One that crops up among new moms
everywhere. But many of us who experience it are completely unprepared. Sure,
we all read the books. We spend months agonizing over what colors we should
paint our nurseries. Should we nurse or bottle-feed? What kind of diapers
should be buy? Moby wrap or Ergo Carrier? There’s a thousand decisions to make
concerning BABY when getting ready to have a child. But a little known thing
happens to us once that baby comes out.. Our hormones go haywire. And
sometimes, they stay that way. It’s shocking and unexpected. I say it’s
unexpected because “THEY” don’t warn us. “THEY” meaning the baby experts. There
is a 500+ page book on all of our bookshelves talking about every detail to
expect when you’re expecting - but the chapter on the postpartum baby blues
isn’t given any real fanfare. And, well, maybe it should.




Like most moms in their last trimester, I was anxious for my baby
to come early. I really wanted to deliver somewhere around the 38 week mark.
That didn’t happen. 41 weeks and then some, I was induced. 24 hours later, we
were talking c-section. So, right from the start nothing was going as planned.
I was fine with that knowing soon I’d have my little boy in my arms. I cried
the next 4 days in the hospital. The nurses assured me it was normal to be a
little ‘weepy’. But I was totally confused.. This was such a joyous event and I
was full of anxiety and was on the verge of a meltdown anytime someone new
walked into my room.. I stuffed it down - not wanting to appear weak. I got
this. I can handle motherhood. Whatever this emotional shit is, it’s gonna have
to take a hike.




We went home.. The crying continued. I looked at my husband
sleeping soundly next to me as I had a 6 day old infant attached to me. I
quietly thought to myself, “What if I just returned him to those nurses... They
know so much more about how to handle this.. We are completely unprepared” and
I cried some more. 




I went to my follow up OB appointment. She asked me how I was
feeling. It was the first time anyone asked me that.. I choked back the hard
lump of tears that was still so readily available and said, “I’m ok. I cry a
little. But I’m ok”.. It was a lie. I was a mess. But I was terrified. The
crazy hormones in me made me believe if I showed her I was weak, she would take
this baby away from me. And I wasn’t very much in love with motherhood yet, but
I didn’t want to be fired from it just yet.




The days turned into a blur. I started to walk outside. I found my
way to a nursing support group and that helped a ton. But every night the
anxiety would return. Was this really for us? Did we make the right decision?
Yes, of course we did. But I would obsess over whether I could do a good-enough
job. All these other mothers around me all seemed to have it soo together. It
just seemed an insurmountable task to be a good mother.. 




Somehow - we made it through the first year. And then another. I
casually accepted my emotional status as just ‘a mom in love with her kid’. It
wasn’t that. I had postpartum depression. Big time. I never was formally
diagnosed because I never admitted it to anyone but myself. 




Being in a baby group has it’s advantages in that you can watch
your child’s development alongside other children their age. For us, this was
another trigger for my depression.. My son was no where near where these other
children were in every area of development. It was no surprise when he was
diagnosed with autism at age 2.5 . But those waves of anxiety were flooding
back. Except this time, my son was really relying on me to keep it together so
we both could get the help we needed. 




In my frenzy of setting up a list of therapy appointments for him,
I found myself a therapist whom I still see today. And a girlfriend introduced
me to the world of essential oils (which I originally passed off as hippie
juice for a while - but I’ve since turned the corner and am now addicted). I
can self-manage the anxiety when it hits hard. My down-swing periods are not
nearly as frequent and I recognize them when they’re coming. 



Postpartum
depression is a very real thing. It’s not a fun part of preparing for a baby,
so, nobody really gives it a good discussion. But it’s worth reading that
chapter in the book. And to be honest with your doctors about how you feel
afterward. I may not have been prepared for what came following my son’s birth,
but I know now that I can overcome some serious stuff. 




And that’s a beautiful realization.

******************************

Isn't she wicked awesome? For those not from New England there is no higher compliment. I am so happy to know Laura and to have her be open and honest about her challenge. Approximately 15% of women suffer from postpartum depression. That is ONE in every SEVEN women. With that statistic you probably know at least one fellow mom who need your help. I am very grateful Laura found her village.

I am proud to call her friend, thank you Laura.

For more information about postpartum depression see your doctor as soon as possible. Help is available, even answers if you feel concerned about yourself or your child. There is also an enormous amount of information available online. It is most important to remember: you are not alone, you have done nothing wrong and you should never feel ashamed. Please visit Postpartum Progress for more resources.

What's your challenge is a series that was inspired by a program I created at Abby's school. I am amazed at how honest and hopeful the challenges have been. Thank you to all who have contributed. To submit your challenge, please e-mail me at firebailey@gmail.com