This IS our normal.

I started reading a sample for a book on Autism, and it starts by saying that Autism changes everything in your life.  This was a light bulb moment for me.  People around us have asked how we are coping with this new part of our life.  They wonder if we are shocked, or overwhelmed, or scared, or sad, and I feel like that ought to be our reaction, but it's not.

Our life has been different from the beginning.  Of course with every milestone and every bit of growing up that Oliver does our lives all change, but this is normal for any family with any sort of child.  For us, Oliver is our normal.  Nothing has changed with this pre-diagnosis/impending diagnosis except for an increase in knowledge and understanding, and doors opening for assistance. 

Of course it is overwhelming, but life has been overwhelming for a long time.  The increase in amount of doctor visits, and information, it is overwhelming, but the diagnosis itself is not.  It's a relief.  It's a relief to have a focus, a reason, an abundance of information and support. I feel like this makes our story a bit different. 

Because Oliver is our normal, Wynter is full of surprises.  It's impossible to describe the first time she said, "What's that?" and pointed at an object.  She asks for information all day long, every day.  And the first time she said, "Bye Dada!", I almost cried!  I almost don't trust myself to know for sure that she is talking, but I also can't deny that I hear these phrases, and new words consistently.  I'll be even more excited as her pronunciation becomes clearer, but until then I'm content to keep listening and hearing her speech develop.

I had always promised myself that I would do my best not to compare my children, but I've learned, especially now, how impossible that is.  I still try not to compare negatively, but with two children so different from each other, how can I not compare them to some degree?  Even in the way they ask for attention, they are different.  Wynter comes to us and lifts her arms up, or climbs into our lap, or rests her head against our legs; Oliver hits, kicks, pushes, or throws things in order to get a hug or a cuddle because he doesn't understand the appropriate way to ask for attention (we're working on this).

Autism does change everything in your life, but it has been changing our life before we even knew it.  The newer changes have been good ones.  We've gained insight into Oliver we never had before.  We've learned to see things around us with a different perspective.  We're not living completely in the dark, at a loss for how to relate to Oliver.  It's still a challenge, and I do still often feel at a loss, but the challenges are not that new, and the feeling lost is not as often.  This is how Autism has changed our lives.

Can it really be?

Oliver turned 3 years old on May 15th.  It seems impossible that it's already been 3 years since his birth.

 

Look at the happiness on this little man's face!  He is so full of love, and life, and joy, that he daily fills our lives with it.

Books, books, and more books!

There are some really great books about parenting and motherhood, about being a wife, and about being a woman of God, for $5.00 or less on Amazon Kindle today.  I've read a few of them, and own most of them now (I bought 5 of these today).

I don't ever do posts like this because this blog is more about my family, and there are plenty of other sites dedicated to letting others know about these deals, but there are so many good ones today that I just have to share!  And just so you know, I get nothing from sharing these links.

1. A Mom After God's Own Heart by Elizabeth George  $1.99
2. Don't Make Me Count to Three by Ginger Plowman  $1.99
3. Feminine Appeal by Carolyn Mahaney  $3.99
4. Beyond Bath Time: Embracing Motherhood as a Sacred Role by Erin Davis  $1.99
5. Comforts from Romans: Celebrating the Gospel One Day at a Time by Elyse Fitzpatrick  $3.99
6. Disciplines of a Godly Woman by Barbara Hughes  $4.99
7. God, Marriage, and Family by Andreas J. Kostenberger  $4.61
8. Hope for the Weary Mom: Where God Meets You in Your Mess by Brooke McGlothlin and Stacy Thacker  $4.99

And I want to just highlight two others that are $6.00 each, about motherhood, written by one of my favorite authors:

Fit to Burst: Abundance, Mayhem, and the Joys of Motherhood by Rachel Jankovic
Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic

I also want to remind you that if you can download a Kindle app for your iPhone, or a Kindle reader on your computer for free.  You don't have to own a Kindle to take advantage of this!

(I totally sound like a commercial, I know, but seriously, these are good books by great authors and the prices are pretty much amazing!)

Broken

I find myself on the verge of tears this morning.

The house is quiet, Wynter is napping and Oliver is out having fun with Grandma Sandy, and Grandpa James. I have some of my favorite music playing; The Civil Wars, The Lumineers, Iron & Wine, Mumford & Sons, and Imagine Dragons.  I’m slowly sipping freshly brewed coffee.  Laundry has been folded and put away.  

This moment feels peaceful, quiet, still.

And suddenly I’m hit by how much I fail at this job of mine, motherhood.  It’s staggering, the depth of my failure.  I so often lack so much, patience, forgiveness, peace, thankfulness…

Instead of speaking softly, I yell.

Instead of being full of grace, I get angry.

Instead of exhibiting patience, I am quickly irritated and often snap at my children in frustration.

And I get stubborn and rebellious.  In the midst of messy life, instead of turning to God, I stubbornly turn away.  This quiet moment, however, God stepped in and whispered to me.

“Let me help you.” He said.

And I broke.

Oh how I need Him!  I am lost without him.  So lost.

This quiet morning I’m turning back to Him, seeking His love, His grace, His strength, His forgiveness. I’m so thankful for such a patient, forgiving, loving God.

Mr. Holland's Opus

The past several days have been particularly trying with Oliver.  He seems to have regressed some in his communication skills.  Even though he has very limited speech skills, he has been able to communicate his needs and his wants increasingly well since the beginning of the year, and even before then.  He would grab my hand and take me to what he wanted, gesturing with purpose.  Now he seems aimless, as if he either doesn't know how to tell me what he wants, or he doesn't even know what it is he does want. It's frustrating to say the least, for both of us.  Along with that there seem to be more autistic like behaviors occurring, hand and finger movements in front of his face, more frequent spinning, banging his head on the floor, hitting himself when he's frustrated, shaking his head back and forth repeatedly for no apparent reason, hyper focus on the wheels of his cars and just cars in general, etc.

Last night I was discussing this with Andrew, he agrees with my observations, and he understands how frustrating it is.  Oliver walks around making this high pitched whining sound because he wants something but can't communicate it to anyone.  I admitted I'd had a little break down, a few minutes of crying because I feel so lost, and Andrew decided he wanted me to see this scene from Mr. Holland's Opus.



(Watch the video from the 1 minute marker, to the 2:17 minute marker for the exact portion Andrew wanted me to see.)

It's heartbreaking to watch this mother unable to communicate with her son, and to watch her son so obviously frustrated because he can't communicate with his mother. 

It's also heartbreaking because, aside from the fact that Oliver can hear me, and he does have a small (but increasing) vocabulary, that boy is Oliver, and that mother is me.

That scene, from the minute markers I specified, was like watching a scene from my own life.  That little boys sounds, actions, the tantrum of frustration, all of it was like watching an imitation of Oliver.  The mother's own frustrations and her meltdown over them was like seeing myself in a mirror. 

"Show me. Show me what you want. Do you want dessert?  This?"  Every day, countless times each day I am saying this to Oliver, guessing at what he's gesturing to, or looking for.

"I don't- I don't know what you want."  Every day, countless times each day I fail at deciphering his attempts at communication.

"I don't know what he wants! I don't understand what he's trying to tell me! I don't know what he wants, or what he thinks, or what he feels!"  I have fallen apart, and uttered these exact words.


She goes on to yell out of frustration that she wants to be able to talk to her son.  If you replaced that with, "I want to understand what he wants, I want to help him and I don't know how to help him!  I want him to talk to me!" then it would have been a very accurate duplication of my own moments when the frustration builds and builds and then breaks me to the point of sobbing over Oliver.

I have held Oliver, crying, like that mother held her son.

I don't break down every day, but that scene of the mother trying to understand what her son wants, and her son throwing a tantrum because he is frustrated that she doesn't understand (and that tantrum is just so much like Oliver's own) is a daily occurrence, often several times each day.

On a good note, I made some calls today, and Oliver now has appointments tomorrow morning for Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy.  I am so excited and thankful for this development!

Making messes on purpose

Yesterday, 3 different times, Oliver spent a few minutes dumping water from the bathroom sink onto the bathroom floor.

This morning Wynter and Oliver crumbled rice cakes onto the bedroom floor while eating them.

I'm pretty sure I hear Oliver dumping water on the bathroom floor again as I write this...

Yep.

You know that phrase, "Pick your battles"?  Those are "pick your battles" moments for me.  Yeah, they make huge messes that I normally end up cleaning up, but they also are fun moments.  I could get all scholastic here and say that I'm allowing them to explore cause and effect, gravity, textures, and have fun while doing it... and they are doing all that, but my main reason for letting these messes get made is for a moment of peace and quiet.  I know what they are doing, that they are safe, and that nothing is being damaged, and no one is getting hurt.

Sometimes the messes are worth the joy.

Letting them color on the walls with washable crayons is another one of the messes worth the joy, for me.

If it's something that isn't wasteful, or harmful, or damaging, and can easily be cleaned up then I try to let them do it.

Sometimes I'll even join in...

when I do, I find the kid in me again.   

P.S. I do clean up, or help Oliver clean up the water on the floor right away because it is dangerous and can damage the floor. We all stay safe during these mess making moments.   

And That Smile...

I have to admit that I thought I was prepared for the possibility of autism. I'd certainly entertained the thought and dismissed it, only to entertain it again, enough times.  Yet, here I am, completely overwhelmed, and exhausted.

I think emotionally I was ready to begin this journey, at least in part.  The possibility that Oliver is mildly autistic doesn't bother me.  It doesn't frighten me.  It doesn't worry me.  What worries me is the thought of Oliver not receiving services he needs.  Thankfully, at least for this year, I don't have to worry about that.  Oliver qualifies for Occupational and Speech therapy, 20 sessions of each.  Hopefully within a few weeks Oliver will be evaluated by Early Intervention and they will qualify him for preschool services through the public school system, through which he'll also receive any therapy he needs as well.  So, for this year, regardless of if he receives a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder or not, he'll be getting the extra help he needs, and we'll be learning how to help him at home too.

Yesterday, Oliver had his appointment with the neurologist.  I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn't expecting that the doctor would be simply doing an evaluation very similar to the one our new pediatrician did.  She simply observed and interacted with Oliver, asked me questions about him and Wynter, and then told me to bring him back in six months. She seemed to focus on odd things, like the fact that Wynter doesn't seem to be showing any autistic symptoms right now, and the fact that Oliver and I are fairly similar (does she think he just inherited every single "quirk" from me?), and she seemed to think that if Oliver received speech therapy and preschool services he will just blossom and the things we see as symptoms of autism now will disappear.

I have to admit that I initially felt disappointed and frustrated that she didn't order tests (because I had expected at least that much), and to a small extent I did feel like she wasn't listening to me.  At one point we were discussing Oliver's words, he currently says "hi" or "hey" and "no" somewhat appropriately, and without prompting.  He's begun to try and imitate some other words if we say them first, one of them is "Mama".  However, he hasn't noticeably connected that word with me, and he might imitate "Mama" but then he will go on to start saying "mamamamama", so I can't even be sure he understands that it is a word at all.  When he imitated the word at the neurologist's yesterday she seemed to take that as an indication that he knows what he is saying and who "Mama" is, even though when she asked him "Where is Mama?" he wandered in my direction but didn't look at me, point at me, or actually go to me.

I don't want to exaggerate Oliver's problems.  More than anything I'd love to have him turn and look at me and say "Mama" and know he understands what he's saying.  I also don't want to understate the issues we're seeing and dealing with, that won't help anyone.  It irritates me when others seem to minimize what we're concerned about.  It's also hard to trust my emotions on this.  The neurologist did say she saw a great need for speech therapy and preschool services, so logically I don't think she was minimizing anything.  She did seem to think all his problems stem from his speech delay, which I disagree with and so that put me emotionally on edge.  I have to remember she's a neurologist who specializes in pediatric neurology and specifically in epilepsy in children, which is not what we're dealing with.  She's important to the diagnosis because, as far as I understand, she looks for any underlying neurological cause, but it is the developmental pediatrician who will be able to give a more in depth look into Oliver's developmental delays.

In the mean time, Oliver's smile brings me out of this maze of questions and doctors and appointments, and back into the here and now to enjoy him as he is.  God didn't make any mistakes when he made Oliver, and his smile is a constant reminder to find the joy in him just as he is right now.