When I joined the LTYM Boston cast I had no idea the breadth of stories that would be told. Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Divya. (Four Kleenex warning, but a must watch) I am honored that she is allowing me to share her piece.
I remember when I met Divya she said she “wasn’t a writer”. She is so much more than a writer, Divya gorgeous from her spirit outwards, a mom of two wonderful children, a postpartum depression advocate working diligently to make sure all women have the tools needed to triumph and (my hero) helped to create a state-funded perinatal program to help other new moms in need of support. Divya is co-founder of the Every Mother Project that provides much needed training and support to professionals to increase availability of care to women in perinatal crisis.
A fellow blogger, Jamie, did a recent post entitled “if we were having coffee”, what would she say to the person across the table. I thought it was a great idea, but I don’t drink coffee. Thus the change in title.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you about the hectic weekend we had moving my parents moving from Virginia to our home. That we left at 3am on Friday for Logan airport, flew down and packed up her house. That we left VA at noon on Saturday and everyone in the free world was on Route 95 so it took us until 4am to get home. That it was only possible to do her move because we have a great village of supporters who took care of the girls, the bunnies and the Bailey. How much I appreciate the gift of friendship and families. How glad I am that both our parents will be in close location of their granddaughters and the positive changes happening in their lives.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I seem to be on a World War II reading binge. In the past month I have read The Nightingale, Unbroken, The Heart of a Soldier, I Lived a Thousand Years: Growing Up in the Holocaust and am just beginning Escape from Davao. I would ask if you had any recommendations for maybe a lighter read.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how excited I was to be leaving in a few days to go camping with our friends. Our annual retreat where there is no WI/FI or cell service. The one week a year where we completely unplug from the world. How we were looking forward to floating down the river, campfires and community meals. That I would be using this time to hopefully break the Facebook obsession that is taking too much time away from actually living life.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I am currently failing in my running goals but that I hope to get back up to speed and dedication soon.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I feel the summer is slipping by faster than I can breathe. That while we have traveled and taken vacations it seems like September is coming faster than expected.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell how nervous I am about all I have taken on recently. That I am worried I am doing too much, yet not enough. I would ask you where you thought I could extradite myself from or how to manage my commitments better.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you about how David has been working too much and we recently had a conversation based on the Zac Brown song, Free. How that someday we want that life. The one where it is just him and I in a van traveling the country. How before marriage, “real” jobs and family we would put the tent and dog in the car destination unknown. That we want to get back to that feeling of just being us, no qualifiers. That I miss that connection of my husband and yet am thankful that after all these years we still wake up and want to be there for the other.
If we were having a glass of wine I would ask how your week was and what was new with you.
Part of Bridget’s program at school involves monthly workshops. An afternoon every month where all of her educational support personnel, the head of her SPED program, her preschool teacher, speech therapist and occupational therapist meet and go over every one of Bridget’s programs. Parents are encouraged to attend so we can follow through with the therapies at home. It also is a time for them to learn what behavior we are seeing at home and vice versa. Continue reading →
It finally happened. Bridget was invited over for her first ever official play date. A girl she went to school with last year had moved onto kindergarten without Bridget. Although “A” made new friends in kindergarten she never forgot her first “best friend” Bridget. She invited us to birthday parties and other events.
This would be the first time I would be just dropping off Bridget and going to work. In full disclosure, the mom is a trusted ESP who knows Bridget inside and out. I probably would not have been comfortable otherwise. Nervous, though, when I heard other neighborhood girls might be over to play.
Will they understand Bridget? I wondered. What if her friend is embarrassed or doesn’t want to play with her when her friends arrive? I worried.
For nothing. While I was at work worried that Bridget would not be accepted this happened:
She also played tea party, play dough (a substance banned from my house), painted and played. Bridget spun on the gymnastics bar and tried to do a cartwheel. She had snack and watched Sofia with the girls. She played Legos and colored. Bridget played for hours with children her actual, not developmental, age and older then her. It wasn’t noticed by any of the children that she was different than them.
My heart got three sizes too large as the text updates came in.
To “repay” our friend we had them over for dinner the following night. I watched as “A” interacted with Bridget. How she slowed down for her without realizing or explained how to play with the Barbie. I thought this is how it will be for Bridget. All her hard work, the therapies, the schooling will enable her to forge friendships. The typical peers will accept her for who she is and she will be included in their lives. Not because they have to, because they like Bridget.
Then “A” called Bridget a weirdo.
Here’s the thing though, Bridget was acting silly. “A” wasn’t being mean at all. She was laughing and treating Bridget just like she would any of her other friends. She called her on her silly behavior. When her mom (horrified) went to explain that “weirdo” wasn’t a nice word, “A” replied: it’s my best friend Bridget. I would never hurt her, she was just being silly and we were laughing. I felt bad, honestly. I had overheard the exchange and knew “A” didn’t mean any harm. She was just laughing with her friend. Yet thankful that my friend had overheard as well and used the moment to make sure that harmful words would not used to describe my child.
Sometimes a word is just a word but it serves as a learning moment for a little girl who just repeated a term she used in school.
One word she will now defend her best friend Bridget against.
I was reading this post by my friend, Sandy, the other day entitled Will Hate Win? It got me thinking about how each generation faces something that makes a parent cringe with fear. When I watch the news I wonder how is this the world I am raising my child in? How do I teach her to live a life without fear, when I have to teach her not to let her friend take a photo and put it on Instagram? Continue reading →
The conversation started innocently. I was at a friend’s cookout. A mutual friend and I began conversing about CCD (Catholic education). Bridget is of the age to begin CCD and learn the rites of passage in the faith. There are just a few small problems with that: 1. While she is of “age” she is not of “grade” (most children begin at 1st grade) 2. Learning (enough said) and 3. while most kids do not understand what sin is they do know right from wrong.
Do I wait for Bridget to become “aware” or enter first grade or do I enter her now (at the age she should)? Do I push her through the system because that is what Catholics do, go through the rites or do I say screw it and just let those rites pass her by. Somehow the conversation turned to my unspoken deeper issue with God.
The woman innocently said to me, God only gives special children to special parents. Unknowingly opening a wound I had held in secret. She was trying to be nice, trying to comfort and she (probably) truly believes those words. As a mom living with a special needs child this was my response: Continue reading →
A personal guest post from my dear friend, Laura. She is a warrior mom to her son, Zachary. 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.This is her feelings on autism awareness and why she struggles to define what it means to her.
April is Autism Awareness Month
A day where many Facebook posts are made showing supporters wearing blue shirts, lots of puzzle piece memes floating around, and posts declaring support for family and loved ones affected with autism.
I struggle with this day for so many reasons. Mostly I’m grateful for the support and recognition for my son and his friends who live with autism. But I also try so hard to be a little vulnerable and allow people to see into our world of struggle, meltdowns, heartache, therapy, triumph and successes. But this is where the ‘awareness’ part of ‘autism awareness day’ comes in. I have to be strong and let people see that we do struggle daily with our own ‘norms’ and having the outside world understand what our ‘normal’ looks like. Continue reading →
Bridget started in a Montessori daycare within her first few months of life. Before we knew that our fragile daughter would soon become a ‘special’ child.
Transitioning at age three to an integrated preschool was difficult. She was nurtured at Montessori, they accepted her for where she was at her developmental age and they encouraged her growth. There were no labels, there were no educational plans or processes. She was just Bridget. I was so nervous the first day of preschool. I felt like I was leaving my baby, the one who had so many struggles, in a cold classroom. I wasn’t ready. She was, thankfully, more than ready to spread her wings. Continue reading →
About a month ago two bloggershad this idea: to flood the internet with stories of compassion. To battle back the dark news, the horror of this world and show that there is still good to be had. The date was chosen, Feb 20th and the rallying cry was heard: Let’s get 1,000 bloggers to talk about compassion.
Kind “wanting and liking to do good things and to bring happiness to others”
I want both of my girls to be kind. I want to be kind yet find myself struggling to bring happiness to others. Anyone who heard me screaming at Abby over the weekend for just once to do something I ask without asking why can attest that I am rarely kind. I am not a model of behavior that I want my children to possess. Continue reading →
