Today was a big day for my baby girl. She learned to pull herself to a stand and how to applaud her efforts! Watching a baby clap for the first time always brings a smile to my face. I don’t know if it’s because I automatically start singing “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands” or if it’s just that babies are so darn cute, especially when they learn something new.
As I watched the giant grin on my baby girl’s face, encouraging her to clap, I got this sudden feeling that I have yet another thing to work on as a mother. You see, my second born, who was diagnosed with autism last June, didn’t start to clap until he was 19 months. Our daughter is 10 months. At the time that my second born learned to clap, I knew it was later than typical – one of the many red flags that led to an early diagnosis. Today, as I watched my baby girl do something so seemingly easy for her, I couldn’t help but compare her to C. Immediate I was flooded with feelings of guilt. I know how important it is to treat our children as individuals, to help them develop their God given personalities and abilities. I know how dangerous it can be to compare our children and how it leads to the slippery slop of favoritism. I don’t want to be THAT parent, who values one child over another.
It was then that I began to realize that my comparison was causing a battle in my heart. On one side my heart was breaking for Mr. C and his daily challenges – even clapping was a struggle he once faced. I want so desperately to hold my baby boy and make life easier for him. I think back to all the times over the period of several months that I would take his two hands and clap them together, hoping and praying he would do it on his own – until he finally did.
On the other side I look at my baby girl who learned to clap on her own, with little instruction or manipulation from me. I’ve probably only clapped her hands together on a half a dozen occations. I see her effortlessly become confident in something that was so difficult for C. I am happy for H and ever so proud, but I also feel relief. Relief that with every milestone she reaches I can say with certainty that at THIS point she is typically developing. My relief brings guilt as I wonder if it means I am bad mother. Am I a bad mother for being so happy and relieved that daughter can do things so easily that my youngest son cannot?
I cannot help but wonder if my fear of my daughter showing signs of autism somehow means that I don’t love C enough, that somehow I want to change him. I know this fear comes from a heart that breaks for my son. I want so desperately for life to be easy for him. And if C were different, maybe he could tell me what he needs and I wouldn’t feel as helpless and useless as a mother.
A dear friend of mine, while trying to teach her little ones an important lesson, in turn actually taught ME the lesson. “You get what you get and you don’t get upset”. At this point in his life, Cayleb doesn’t seem to be upset in the least by his autism. He just goes through life working really hard to face and overcome his challenges; allowing his challenges to build character.
I am learning that a big challenge set before me as a mother, is to love my kids during their difficult moments, love them as they struggle through their challenges – that’s when showing my kids unconditional love is most important – AND when they learn to clap at no matter what age that happens.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Tough Days
There are days when raising a special needs child is harder than others. The constant screaming and crying that come from the frustration of not being able to express the simplest of things can be emotionally and physically exhausting. Only a handful of people who meet my son can even begin to sense what life with a two year old who battling autism must be like. Most people see the sweet innocent side of C. He is so happy and just loves life. You can’t help but see the joy in his eyes as he discovers new things, or is reintroduced to old things. I took the kids to the park a couple of weeks ago, and we’ll probably go again today as the weather is lovely, and the way C’s whole face and body lit up as I put him into the swing melted my heart. As much joy as he experienced in that swing, and equally strong frustration was soon to follow as it was time to get out of the swing. I held my baby boy as he cried and kicked and screamed for “MORE”. I felt like the worst mother in the world for having to end this blissful moment in time. Two minutes later as I pushed the stroller, homeward bound, he was content again, singing the ants go marching ‘HORRAH, HORRAH’. One of the biggest challenges I have been facing lately is to not compare my little C to other kids around him. This gets increasingly harder as I see kids less than half his age speaking so clearly and acting so ‘typically’. My heart breaks for my baby boy as I want so much for him, I want him to be able to accomplish so much. I think back to B at this age and remember what he was doing and saying and want so badly for C to be able to do the same things. I look to the future and know that C won’t be able to play soccer on a team or take independent swimming lessons at the same age B did. Our walks to the park will surely always involve a stroller, wagon or harness because he’d run off at the first opportunity otherwise. It is so easy to fall into the trap of negative thinking and on focusing everything C cannot do! A type of thinking that I could justify and get away with forever and I don’t think anyone could blame me. When I’ve had my moment of self pity, my moment of having my heart break for C, I look up, and focus on the good parts of our day, our life. Even the worst of days have good parts; the parts where C says a new word or discovers something new. 6 days ago, C said “Mommy”. Not “Mam ma” like he’s said for the past 6 moths, on and off, he said “MOMMY”. Then yesterday, he screamed “Mommy” and I came running. He was upset and wanted a hug. But no matter how much he continued to scream and kick and cry, I couldn’t help but smile because he called me by name! The world is right again and I know that my baby boy is living life to the fullest. He is working so hard to get his words and his hard work is paying off. C has just over 50 words now (and I’ve probably missed a few in my counting) and that number will continue to grow, no doubt. He’ll play soccer one day, on a team and we’ll walk to the park hand in hand. Those days will come, eventually. For now, I’m going to celebrate the small steps, that are ironically, HUGE!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Forever Labeled
Last June, a few short days after his 2nd birthday, C, my baby boy was diagnosed with autism. Even now, 8 months after receiving his diagnosis, I still choke up when I say it. It's not that C changed the day we received the news, actually he remained the exact same kid he always was and still is. It was the way I viewed him that changed. As much I tried to not label my son, for the longest time every time I would look at him the doctor's words echoed in my mind. I could hear her apologize and attempt to reassured me that she was here to help. I thought, ‘if you are here for me, why do I feel so alone?’ She asked me if I had any questions, but the questions I had have no answers.
When the door closed as the doctor left the room, the silence was overwhelming as if it mirrored the silence I would hear after asking C a question and receive no answer. I took a deep breath and walked out, remaining composed until I feel apart in the car on the way to my Mom's to pick up the boys. I was 38 weeks pregnant and already emotional but I somehow held it together as I repeated the word the doctor had labeled C with. ‘AUTISTIC’.
Life seemed to switch to slow motion and fast forward all at the same time, since that day last June. Speech therapy, behaviour therapy, nursery school, various consultants, phone calls, appointments, doctor's appointments, blood tests...each day blurred together. Waiting list after waiting list. A special diet. Vitamin B 12 shots. A newborn baby.
Most days I feel like I'm in a sail boat, in the middle of a storm at sea, all alone with no where to go. Some days are lonelier than others, and most days I also feel spent, exhausted, scared - surrounded by darkness in unknown waters. I watch other kids who are younger than C, speaking, saying so many new words each day. My heart hurts for C, broken that life will never be easy as he faces so many challenges. C can't tell me how he feels, so I'm left to guess as I sort through my own feelings, wondering what the future has in store for us.
I look at my baby boy, occasionally he looks back at me and our eyes will lock. C says a new word, makes progress, reaches a new milestone. His face lights up with pure joy, a joy most never experience over such seemingly small feats. I look at my boy and see his label, this word 'AUTISTIC'. This word begins to fade and is replaced with a new word. I know that no matter what happens today, tomorrow or in the distant future, the label C will forever wear is ‘LOVE.’
When the door closed as the doctor left the room, the silence was overwhelming as if it mirrored the silence I would hear after asking C a question and receive no answer. I took a deep breath and walked out, remaining composed until I feel apart in the car on the way to my Mom's to pick up the boys. I was 38 weeks pregnant and already emotional but I somehow held it together as I repeated the word the doctor had labeled C with. ‘AUTISTIC’.
Life seemed to switch to slow motion and fast forward all at the same time, since that day last June. Speech therapy, behaviour therapy, nursery school, various consultants, phone calls, appointments, doctor's appointments, blood tests...each day blurred together. Waiting list after waiting list. A special diet. Vitamin B 12 shots. A newborn baby.
Most days I feel like I'm in a sail boat, in the middle of a storm at sea, all alone with no where to go. Some days are lonelier than others, and most days I also feel spent, exhausted, scared - surrounded by darkness in unknown waters. I watch other kids who are younger than C, speaking, saying so many new words each day. My heart hurts for C, broken that life will never be easy as he faces so many challenges. C can't tell me how he feels, so I'm left to guess as I sort through my own feelings, wondering what the future has in store for us.
I look at my baby boy, occasionally he looks back at me and our eyes will lock. C says a new word, makes progress, reaches a new milestone. His face lights up with pure joy, a joy most never experience over such seemingly small feats. I look at my boy and see his label, this word 'AUTISTIC'. This word begins to fade and is replaced with a new word. I know that no matter what happens today, tomorrow or in the distant future, the label C will forever wear is ‘LOVE.’
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Not in this alone
I originally planned on blogging "Not in this alone" a couple of weeks ago. I was trying to do the entry on my iPhone when instead of going to the next box after the title, my blog was just posted. So I'm finally getting to it now....Here's what it would have said:
Today has been one of 'those' days. I'm over tired because H was up many times in the night. I got C to school late because as we were leaving H peed everywhere and then I had to chase C around the house to get him to put his coat on. At C's school I could only find a parking spot that was far away from the door, and of course it's bitter cold outside. C was upset about going to school. I couldn't help but sigh out of relief once C was in the care of his teacher and I could go home and enjoy a cup of joe (that coffee is more often wishful thinking than reality, as inevitably when I get home there's something else to do). As I went to leave the nursery school, there were a few people in front of me going through the double set of doors, obviously in a rush to leave. I waited no big deal. Then it was my turn to use the door when another lady came in the first door and just stood in my path, staring off into space. After what seemed like a few minutes, but was actually just a few seconds, she looked at me, smiled and apologized. "Sorry, I'm just having one of those days, I was up all night with the little one, I'm so tired".
I couldn't help but smile to myself on the way home. As tough as many of these days seem during these early years, I'm not in this alone; I'm not the only one having one of 'those' days. Suddenly I don't feel so small, so overwhelmed with what life puts in my path each day, suddenly I feel, well just, HUMAN.
Today has been one of 'those' days. I'm over tired because H was up many times in the night. I got C to school late because as we were leaving H peed everywhere and then I had to chase C around the house to get him to put his coat on. At C's school I could only find a parking spot that was far away from the door, and of course it's bitter cold outside. C was upset about going to school. I couldn't help but sigh out of relief once C was in the care of his teacher and I could go home and enjoy a cup of joe (that coffee is more often wishful thinking than reality, as inevitably when I get home there's something else to do). As I went to leave the nursery school, there were a few people in front of me going through the double set of doors, obviously in a rush to leave. I waited no big deal. Then it was my turn to use the door when another lady came in the first door and just stood in my path, staring off into space. After what seemed like a few minutes, but was actually just a few seconds, she looked at me, smiled and apologized. "Sorry, I'm just having one of those days, I was up all night with the little one, I'm so tired".
I couldn't help but smile to myself on the way home. As tough as many of these days seem during these early years, I'm not in this alone; I'm not the only one having one of 'those' days. Suddenly I don't feel so small, so overwhelmed with what life puts in my path each day, suddenly I feel, well just, HUMAN.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
40 Years
This week my Grandfather reached 40 years of sobriety! What an amazing accomplishment! I am so proud of the strength my Grandfather has demonstrated!
I never knew my Grandfather as a 'drunk' - none of his grandkids ever did. Grandpa made a choice to change his life for the better, no matter what it took, and still makes that choice every day.
My grandfather is 87 years young and still golfs 3 times a week. He is a husband of 62 years (minus 2 weeks), who buys his wife flowers every week so "she'll remember who I am". He is a father of 4, grandfather of 9. My grandfather is a veteran from WWII, who's plane crashed into the Atlantic and who saved the lives of two men who went down with him. My grandfather is the last living of the 9 children in his family. He is a great-grandfather of 4 (3/4 of which are my kids). I couldn't ask for a better person to have as a grandfather, and to be a great-grandfather to my kids.
Talking to my cousin, who had the opportunity to attend the AA meeting where our Grandfather received his 40 year medallion (I had the honour of attending his 30 year accomplishment), he made an observation. "Everybody there really likes Grandpa". Upon further discussion, we both came to the conclusion that EVERYWHERE Grandpa goes he is well liked, he just has that type of personality".
This got me to thinking, when my Grandfather was an addicted alcoholic, as apose to the sober alcoholic that he has been for the past 40 years, I'm sure he wasn't always well liked. I'm sure that there were moments where my Grandmother and the rest of the family, did not 'like' my Grandfather.
I then look at my own life and wonder, am I the type of person who is well liked everywhere I go? Are there times when I am not well 'liked' by my family? I'm sure there are. We all have our moments of weakness and times when we don't like ourselves. When do our weakness and flaws become our character and make us unlikable or unforgivable?
Reality is no one can be liked by everyone. Human nature is to find flaws in others to make ourselves feel better about our own flaws. And the truth is, I've hurt people and I will hurt people in the future. Does that mean they don't like me as a person? Ultimately I'm the one who has to live with myself and the choices I make. Can I live with the person I am?
I'm proud of my Grandfather for the choice he has made and continues to make. His strength and determination encourage me to be a better person; to live each day, trying to be a better person than the previous.
When I'm 87, I want to look back on my life and know that I did the best I could to be the best person I can. I want to look back and “like” the person I have become.
My Grandfather once told me "do something nice for someone everyday and don't tell anyone". I think that's a pretty good place to start.
I never knew my Grandfather as a 'drunk' - none of his grandkids ever did. Grandpa made a choice to change his life for the better, no matter what it took, and still makes that choice every day.
My grandfather is 87 years young and still golfs 3 times a week. He is a husband of 62 years (minus 2 weeks), who buys his wife flowers every week so "she'll remember who I am". He is a father of 4, grandfather of 9. My grandfather is a veteran from WWII, who's plane crashed into the Atlantic and who saved the lives of two men who went down with him. My grandfather is the last living of the 9 children in his family. He is a great-grandfather of 4 (3/4 of which are my kids). I couldn't ask for a better person to have as a grandfather, and to be a great-grandfather to my kids.
Talking to my cousin, who had the opportunity to attend the AA meeting where our Grandfather received his 40 year medallion (I had the honour of attending his 30 year accomplishment), he made an observation. "Everybody there really likes Grandpa". Upon further discussion, we both came to the conclusion that EVERYWHERE Grandpa goes he is well liked, he just has that type of personality".
This got me to thinking, when my Grandfather was an addicted alcoholic, as apose to the sober alcoholic that he has been for the past 40 years, I'm sure he wasn't always well liked. I'm sure that there were moments where my Grandmother and the rest of the family, did not 'like' my Grandfather.
I then look at my own life and wonder, am I the type of person who is well liked everywhere I go? Are there times when I am not well 'liked' by my family? I'm sure there are. We all have our moments of weakness and times when we don't like ourselves. When do our weakness and flaws become our character and make us unlikable or unforgivable?
Reality is no one can be liked by everyone. Human nature is to find flaws in others to make ourselves feel better about our own flaws. And the truth is, I've hurt people and I will hurt people in the future. Does that mean they don't like me as a person? Ultimately I'm the one who has to live with myself and the choices I make. Can I live with the person I am?
I'm proud of my Grandfather for the choice he has made and continues to make. His strength and determination encourage me to be a better person; to live each day, trying to be a better person than the previous.
When I'm 87, I want to look back on my life and know that I did the best I could to be the best person I can. I want to look back and “like” the person I have become.
My Grandfather once told me "do something nice for someone everyday and don't tell anyone". I think that's a pretty good place to start.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Joys of Pregnancy
First off, I'd like to apologize to my readers for the lag in between my blog entries. I know it's easy to lose interest in a blog when there are no new entries. I will try harder to make my entries more frequent…
I find myself, once again, experiencing the mixed emotions that come along with pregnancy. Oh, for those who didn't read our Christmas letter closely, or didn't get one, I'm pregnant with our third child, who is due July this year.
For me the most frustrating of ALL pregnancy symptoms is 'pregnancy brain" or "brain mush" as I like to call it. The sudden loss of simple words, the forgetting of everyday routines and tasks, or simply forgetting what I'm doing half way through. (According to my Mom, these are also symptoms of menopause, oh the joys of being a woman!). Of course, the nausea, fatigue and discomfort all compete for second place as annoying symptoms.
I have to admit, that for all three of my pregnancies, trimester one has really been the trimester of non-excitement and frustration. It’s easy to focus on all the negatives of pregnancy and forget about the unique and precious life God had entrusted me to love and protect. I find myself far too often having to remind myself of the joy that comes with a new baby. One positive; a baby’s first smile, or when a new baby holds your finger, or the smell of a new born, or just the awe of holding a brand new life; is quickly followed by a negative; sleepless nights, fatigue, the pain of child birth etc.
These days I am grumpy, tired and snappy. Thank the Lord for my amazing husband who put up with me, and has even go to the store for late night snack items. My sons are also a true blessing and often a hug from one of them is all I need to remind me of how lucky I am to be caring another little one!
So as my first trimester is coming to an end (Thank you God), I look forward to my second trimester which is often called the best trimester. May it last long enough for me to forget what’s coming in the third trimester!!
I find myself, once again, experiencing the mixed emotions that come along with pregnancy. Oh, for those who didn't read our Christmas letter closely, or didn't get one, I'm pregnant with our third child, who is due July this year.
For me the most frustrating of ALL pregnancy symptoms is 'pregnancy brain" or "brain mush" as I like to call it. The sudden loss of simple words, the forgetting of everyday routines and tasks, or simply forgetting what I'm doing half way through. (According to my Mom, these are also symptoms of menopause, oh the joys of being a woman!). Of course, the nausea, fatigue and discomfort all compete for second place as annoying symptoms.
I have to admit, that for all three of my pregnancies, trimester one has really been the trimester of non-excitement and frustration. It’s easy to focus on all the negatives of pregnancy and forget about the unique and precious life God had entrusted me to love and protect. I find myself far too often having to remind myself of the joy that comes with a new baby. One positive; a baby’s first smile, or when a new baby holds your finger, or the smell of a new born, or just the awe of holding a brand new life; is quickly followed by a negative; sleepless nights, fatigue, the pain of child birth etc.
These days I am grumpy, tired and snappy. Thank the Lord for my amazing husband who put up with me, and has even go to the store for late night snack items. My sons are also a true blessing and often a hug from one of them is all I need to remind me of how lucky I am to be caring another little one!
So as my first trimester is coming to an end (Thank you God), I look forward to my second trimester which is often called the best trimester. May it last long enough for me to forget what’s coming in the third trimester!!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Motherhood can do funny things...
The feelings I am experiencing right now, are no doubt ones that I will experience often on this journey of motherhood. Today my little 4 year old boy took another step towards independence, today B started kindergarten. B’s first full day isn’t until Friday. In fact, he’s only at school for an hour today and half a day on Thursday. Even still I can help but feel that this hour is going to be a long one.
While waiting for school to start, B saw a friend from his Montessori school. I encouraged B to say hi and that this little boy was probably feeling a bit nervous about starting Kindergarten, “just like you” I said. B quickly corrected me by saying “I’m not worried about starting school Mommy, I’m excited”.
I distinctly remember my first day of JK, in which I cried and cried as my Mom insisted everything would be fine and I’d be home again before I knew it. I wish my Mom were here right now, telling me those same words. “Everything will be fine and B will be home again before you know it”.
The truth is that everything will be fine from today on, just different, life has changed. Change for the better as my little boy grows up; but a change that came too soon for a mother who too easily remembers holding a brand new baby boy not that long ago. Change is funny in that I often feel the emotions from the current change and the anticipated changes of the future. I can’t help but think forward to B’s first day of high school, university, B’s wedding day and many more milestones he is sure to reach during his life time; each milestone bringing a change that will slowly turn my little boy into a man.
Amongst my feelings of loss and sadness as my B is no longer a baby, I feel extreme pride and joy. B is so smart and ready for the challenges that face him as he begins his career as a student – one that he will have the rest of his life. E and I are ready as parents to embrace and encourage B’s enthusiasm of learning and are ready to help him along the way, knowing full well that we will be learning just as much, if not more.
I know that I am not alone today. Along with B, there were at least a dozen more Kindergarteners starting school today, with their parents waving goodbye. I couldn’t help but smile when B turned toward me, just before heading into his class, to wave one last time.
While waiting for school to start, B saw a friend from his Montessori school. I encouraged B to say hi and that this little boy was probably feeling a bit nervous about starting Kindergarten, “just like you” I said. B quickly corrected me by saying “I’m not worried about starting school Mommy, I’m excited”.
I distinctly remember my first day of JK, in which I cried and cried as my Mom insisted everything would be fine and I’d be home again before I knew it. I wish my Mom were here right now, telling me those same words. “Everything will be fine and B will be home again before you know it”.
The truth is that everything will be fine from today on, just different, life has changed. Change for the better as my little boy grows up; but a change that came too soon for a mother who too easily remembers holding a brand new baby boy not that long ago. Change is funny in that I often feel the emotions from the current change and the anticipated changes of the future. I can’t help but think forward to B’s first day of high school, university, B’s wedding day and many more milestones he is sure to reach during his life time; each milestone bringing a change that will slowly turn my little boy into a man.
Amongst my feelings of loss and sadness as my B is no longer a baby, I feel extreme pride and joy. B is so smart and ready for the challenges that face him as he begins his career as a student – one that he will have the rest of his life. E and I are ready as parents to embrace and encourage B’s enthusiasm of learning and are ready to help him along the way, knowing full well that we will be learning just as much, if not more.
I know that I am not alone today. Along with B, there were at least a dozen more Kindergarteners starting school today, with their parents waving goodbye. I couldn’t help but smile when B turned toward me, just before heading into his class, to wave one last time.
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