A Month of Gratitude – Day Fourteen: Little Big Things

Ok, so I know today is the whole Wordless Wednesday thing and I could skate by without a post and just slap up a cute picture of my kid and be done with it. But I can’t because, in this case, the picture is just a small part of the story. And this story is too good not to tell.

We’ve been going through a few bumpy stretches around here as we work to find a new equilibrium. Between Niksdad working nights now and getting less time with Nik, the wonky school schedule, the “super storm,” the broken speech devices (it’s fixed now!), the belly troubles, the ear infections and the early triennial evaluation of every aspect of Nik’s needs and services…yeah, bumpy. When we get into a challenging run of days, it’s easy to forget to look for the good stuff.

Like this:

He’s a great date!

So, what’s so special about a picture of my uber-cute son sipping on a beverage at our local Starbuck’s? The fact that he asked to do it.

Our pediatrician’s office is near a Starbucks with a drive-thru window. Whenever we go to the pediatrician, as we did yesterday for yet another raging ear infection, we stop at the drive-thru for Nik’s favorite treat: lemon cake. Nik only ever gets it after seeing the doctor. I don’t even recall how we started it, but it’s become a part of the ritual, part of the litany he recites endlessly as I drive with his speech device. “Doctor’s office first, lemon cake next!”

Over time, we’ve progressed from sharing a slice between us to Nik hogging it all to himself wanting a whole piece. I usually drive and sing and hand back a bit of cake here and there as we head home on the highway. It’s not exactly the neatest way to do it, but it’s always been such a hassle to try to wrangle Nik in public places with lots of things for busy hands to get into while Mama pays for stuff. In short, it’s been a sanity-saving measure for me.

As we passed the Starbucks on our way to the doctor’s office, Nik kept repeating the word inside on his device. “Yes, baby, we’re inside the car.” “Yes, Nik, we’ll be inside the doctor’s office soon.” I didn’t really understand what he wanted but was following the pattern of AAC use which is that you acknowledge every utterance so as to encourage continued communication. It’s become so ingrained that there are days I have to catch myself from doing this to my husband as he speaks!

I assume that I have interpreted Nik’s communication correctly because I didn’t hear it again. Until  I am about to turn into the drive-thru lane. From the backseat of the car, I hear it…

Inside. Inside, please. Inside, Mama. Inside. Want sit inside.

My boy knows what he wants and can tell me. My miracle child, who was once able to communicate only  through self-injury and tears, can make himself understood without endless prompting or cajoling! The magnitude of this milestone, years in the making, does not escape me. As I pull into a parking space, I am rewarded by the sound of laughter as Nik claps his hands in delight. Clearly, his success does not escape him either.

Once inside, Nik proceeds to use his device to tell the barista “Want lemon cake.” I admonish him to use his nice words; “Please,” he says in the quirky digitized monotone I have come to love. In this moment, the endless hours of teaching, prompting, shaping and modeling fade from my mind as I watch the naturalness with which he connects with the girl behind the counter.

For a fleeting moment, I tell myself I might consider buying a pony if he asked.

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A Month of Gratitude – Day Eight: The recorder

Today, I am grateful for the recorder. Nope, that’s not a typo, I swear! Yes, the recorder. You know, that simple carved flute which, through the ages, has made parents cringe and dogs howl as children endlessly torture the eardrums of everyone in a ten-mile radius attempt to make something resembling music. (See yesterday’s post for a visual.)

Now, in all fairness (and in my defense), I am slightly biased; my parents played in a baroque recorder ensemble when I was a young girl. I’ve always loved baroque-era music so I enjoyed it. Once a month, the group would meet at our home to rehearse — for what exactly I’m not certain; I don’t think they actually ever performed except for each other. But I loved those nights; mom would make coffee and serve some sort of snack and I’d sit in Daddy’s avocado green corduroy chair in the corner of the room and listen, maybe even do some homework.

Inevitably, as the group was about to call it a night, someone would decide it was a good idea to play a solo on the sopranino recorder. (Think piccolo-like but not as pretty, and far more shrill when played off-pitch.) We all would laugh with great amusement as our poor dog, Baroness, would sit and “sing.” Of course, knowing what I now do about sensory processing and hyperacusis, I feel badly that my poor pup was probably in pain.

I also have many, many fond childhood memories of listening to my Nana playing violin and recorder duets with my parents when she and Granddaddy would come to visit. Nana was a remarkably talented violinist who played with an all-female group called Polly and her Pals way back in the 1920’s or 30’s and who also once played as regular member of the chamber ensemble at Music Mountain in Connecticut. Call me weird, but I’ve always associated baroque recorder music with warm and happy memories. I had always hoped to share that love of music with my children.

A few decades later –the recorders have long since been given away and my beloved Nana and Granddaddy many years passed. Somehow, I ended up with a child’s music set which included a wooden recorder. It was given to us by well-intentioned friend of the family who knew Nik loves music. What she didn’t know at the time was that Nik doesn’t have the manual dexterity or control –or the oral motor skill—necessary to play any of the instruments she gave us. With more than a touch of sadness, I put them away in a drawer –along with sharing my love of music with my son– and forgot about them.

Nik is nonverbal. We don’t know if he will ever talk –and frankly, I don’t care as long as he can learn to communicate his wants and needs. He can make some vocal sounds including several letters of the alphabet. The letters he struggles with are the ones requiring shaping of his lips or the voluntary movement of air forward. He says the letter F by sniffling through his nose. Pretty smart, actually, since that’s pretty much the way he hears it. He can make the PUH sound for the letter P, but cannot blow air out as if he were blowing out a candle or pushing a cotton ball along a table top. Years and years of speech/communication therapy and it’s all been tried over and over to no avail.

Ironically, Nik is all about music and sounds and making the sounds have meaning. In his own way, he is a supreme linguist of a language so unique that almost no one but he and I understand it. Truly, he associates meaning with certain songs that even I can’t figure it out for a while. He also adores his once a week music class at school. So, when he started digging through a drawer the other day, looking for “triangle block” (don’t ask—I have NO.IDEA!), he pulled out the recorder and refused to put it away. Not wanting to make that my “hill to die on,” I let him have it.

Nik immediately brought the recorder to his mouth; I can only assume he’s seen this in his music class. God knows I haven’t shown him!  Then, a light bulb went off in my mind. Or is it that it went on? Either way, I had a Eureka! moment.

“What if I could use Nik’s ability to say the letter P sound and his love of music and sound to help him learn how to blow out of his mouth? I mean, it’s been tried a million times before, but, well…what if?”

It’s a work in progress, and I’m sure the day will come when I will regret it. However, for now? All I know is my son is, little by little and with growing confidence and consistency, learning to make that god-awful shrill TOOT! from that recorder. The combination of that sound and the laughter which echoes after are the finest music I’ve ever heard.

Someone remind me of this later, okay?

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A Month of Gratitude – Day Seven: Wordless Wednesday

I may regret this later…

 

 

 

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A Month of Gratitude – Day Four: Sleep

It’s been roughly a year since my son’s sleep troubles have decreased dramatically. For years, yes, you read that right, years (five, in fact), my son would wake in some sort of heart-rending distress multiple times a night at roughly ninety-minute intervals and they lasted about 20-45 minutes each. To say those were brutal times would be a gross understatement.

It took a long time to finally debug what we think was the root cause; if I told you, you’d look at me like I had three heads. Even our son’s fantastic neurologist took a while before he believed we were right.  But, suddenly, the screaming, writhing bouts of self-injurious behavior…stopped.

The transition from those hellish years to sleeping through the night has not been without some bumps along the way and I’m not sure I believe we’ve fully crossed a threshold yet. But, here we are several months later and we have all finally retrained our bodies to sleep (mostly) through the night. Nik still has nights where he is up for a few hours in the middle of the night, but that’s more often the exception than the rule these days and usually only when something is brewing with his health.

I am extremely grateful that we now have a home health aide here to help us every night during the overnight hours. My husband works nights and I have to be able to function to get Nik ready for school and doctor’s appointments and to manage the day to running of our home which includes managing all aspects of Nik’s educational and medical plans and needs. It is a full-time job and my boss can be kind of, well, a bitch sometimes — especially when she doesn’t get enough sleep!

So we’ve been on cruise control for a while now and I was just starting to feel cocky. Until Super Storm Sandy came along; Nik’s sleep hasn’t been right since. He didn’t have any obvious anxiety from it, but his sleep has definitely suffered. Nik’s gone from sleeping up to nine hours straight through the night to either being awake for a few hours then going back to sleep or, worse, simply starting his day a mere small handful of hours after I’ve gone to sleep.The poor boy was so exhausted all day! I thought (ok, PRAYED) he would nap this afternoon so we could push his bedtime out a little later to help make the transition to Standard Time a little easier. Ha!

Nik came sooooo close to falling asleep on the sofa a few times and then would rebound suddenly. It was an ugly sight to see; the poor child was so dysregulated and exhausted that I described him to some friends on Facebook as being like a malfunctioning robot. At one point, immediately after he had eaten lunch, Nik got very upset because he couldn’t have his ice cream — which he always has after dinner. He started to fray around the edges and tell me he was hungry and asked me to make dinner. Then breakfast. Then lunch. Then dinner. Then ice cream NOW. Then the tears and frustration came followed by kisses and soothing from Mama. Then it all repeated in a seemingly endless loop. By late afternoon, I knew I had to get him out of the house to keep moving. We went to Target where he was…a complete angel.

As soon as we got home, the demands for dinner and ice cream began again in that anxious, perseverative kind of manner. He only ate half of his dinner before deciding he was done.  By six o’clock his body thought it was later (and he’d been up since the wee hours) and he was starting to fall asleep on the sofa for real this time. I helped him don his spiffy new pajamas, got all his myriad meds into him and brushed his teeth before heading upstairs.

Nik never actually made it upstairs under his own steam.

Halfway up the stairs, he stopped, turned around and put his arms up for me to carry him. “No, baby, you need to walk; we’re almost there,” I said. He looked at me and his lower lip quivered. He shook his head NO then sat in the middle of the staircase, laid his head on the stair above where he sat and closed his eyes. He’s such a little stinker. I convinced him to make it up to the top landing before I scooped him up and tossed him over my shoulder.

I think he may have been half asleep before his head even hit the pillow, but as I turned out the light and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, he snuffled and raised his lips to mine. Resting a palm against his soft cheek, I smoothed his hair and whispered my goodnight. It’s a ritual I started when he was in the NICU so he wouldn’t ever feel alone in the middle of the night. I have whispered those same words every night since he was born. Even on the very rare occasions when I’m away from him, I make my husband put the phone to Nik’s ear and I softly say –

“God bless you and the angels keep you overnight, baby. I love you. I’ll meet you in Dreamland with Papa and I’ll be here when you wake. Good night, little bear.”

Today, tonight, I am grateful for sleep and the rituals surrounding it. For the progress my child has made in sleeping again and for the fact that he is here for me to kiss and snuggle each night. There were so very many scary days and nights in his early life when I thought we might not have this time together.

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones’ watch am keeping,
All through the night

Angels watching, e’er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night

 Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones’ watch am keeping,
All through the night

All Through the Night ~ a Welsh Lullaby often associated with Christmas

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Twisted

So, um, yeah…about this Autism Awareness Month? I do have something to write about how my local Home Depot has completely embraced not only awareness in the month of April, but, well…I’ll tease you and tell you you’ll have to wait another day for that post. It’s worth the wait, I promise!

I was all set to post pictures and write pithy verbiage much sooner than this, but, well… Nik, apparently, had other ideas.  More specifically, his brain had other ideas. It began misfiring a few weeks ago with some breakthrough seizure activity. We upped his medication and thought we had it under control.  We were mistaken.

The past couple of weeks we’ve been not only monitoring Nik’s seizure activity, but increasing meds again and watching the seizures (or seizure-like activity) transform. We’ve had some unplanned phone calls and office visits with our fabulous neurologist and we have a plan in place.  It’s a short-term plan, but it’s a plan; it includes another ambulatory 24 hour electroencephalogram (EEG) in the immediate future. We need to know if we’re dealing with increased seizure activity or a severe movement disorder.  Think tics which occur at such a rapid and constant rate that they interfere with nearly all functioning and definitely with Nik’s safety and you’ll have an idea of what we’ve been dealing with.

Yesterday morning, we watched Nik lose consciousness for the first time in a long time. Then he napped for more than two hours. We’re pretty darn sure that wasn’t just a tic. So, we’re looking at options for short-term treatment until the EEG. Good times, my friends. Good times.

In the meantime, this week also threw us another curve ball in the form of Nik’s hearing; his hearing is getting worse and he now needs hearing aids.  Those will be fitted in just a couple of weeks.  That news was a bit of a kick in the gut at first, but I’m getting more used to the idea; I just hope Nik will cooperate with wearing them because we’re running out of options. The issue is not volume so much as loss at certain frequencies which fall right in the ranges necessary for speech comprehension.

This new knowledge about Nik’s hearing explains several things with which Nik has struggled during the school year— including attention, following directions, and reading skills. It’s difficult to know what is being asked of you if you can’t understand the words being said.  This change opens up a whole host of questions about what additional supports Nik needs that he is not currently receiving and whether the current placement is best for him. We’re left wondering how to deal with the significant vision impairment and hearing loss and autism and cerebral palsy in a way which allows Nik to play to his strengths versus remediation of weaknesses and in an environment which doesn’t become isolating.

We have no answers yet… just a lot of really good questions. I’m sure I’ll write more about this as it unfolds.

Our biggest goals and strongest desires for Nik are that he learns to read and to communicate more independently. I feel that if we can give him those skills, the rest will either come or he will find ways to compensate. Without those skills, his shot at independence is incredibly limited.

So, on the heels of a very emotionally difficult week (which included a scare about a broken iPad and a 2 hour trip to the nearest Apple store) —and because I may be just a smidgen of a Pollyanna, I am holding on tightly to this little nugget I shared on my Facebook page tonight:

OMG OMG OMG!!! I completely forgot to share this news:

Nik READ the word PRETZEL on a sign yesterday. I was like, “Sweetie, where did you see that word?” He pointed right to it on the sign. Then he promptly asked for ice cream. (We were at Rita’s so it wasn’t an odd request.)

HE.READ.

Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang. The journey continues.

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Sometimes it hurts to breathe

And so, without a backward glance, my heart scrambled up the steps of the big yellow bus. His excitement at this new development —this milestone years in the making— was so great, I had to make him stop and turn around to kiss me goodbye. It is no accident, then, that the heavens opened and the sky began to pour down upon me as the bus pulled away from the curb. I watched until the bus was out of sight, letting the rain mingle with my tears.

No one told me putting on my own oxygen mask would hurt so much.

Mother sits down at the table
So many things she’d like to do
Spend more time out in the garden
Now she can get those books read too.

She’s had 18 years to get ready for this day
She should be past the tears, she cries some anyway.

Oh, oh letting go
There’s nothing in the way now,
Oh letting go, there’s room enough to fly
And even though, she’s spent her whole life waiting,
It’s never easy letting go.

“Letting Go” ~ Suzy Bogguss

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In which Nik gets a very special gift

I’m a bit behind-times here this week. Nik has gone back to school after a long and challenging (for all of us, but especially so for him) break.  However, he has also come down with either a sinus infection or an ear infection. Or both; we find out when we see the doctor later today.

To counter the elevated threat stress levels today, here’s something which makes me smile no matter how low I am feeling.  I hope it brings you joy, too.

A very belated happy holidays from our home to yours! May 2012 bring you a wealth of good things, good people, good feelings.

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Let it shine

Shine your light down on me
Lift me up so I can see
Shine your light when you’re gone
Give me the strength
To carry on, carry on

Shine Your Light ~ Robbie Robertson

Sometimes, you drop a pebble into a pond and you can see the ripples.  You can know the effect your actions have. Sometimes, the ripples become farther apart —so much so that you think the motion has ceased.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the ripples may not be visible to the naked eye because they have taken on a life of their own. They have gathered a momentum you could not have predicted.  And that momentum is powerful and beautiful.

I’ll let the words of a commenter on my last post speak for themselves:

Heather wrote:

Beth, I just want to let you know that your story had a real impact on Mr. W. We live across the street from Mr. W. This evening he and his family stopped over to personally deliver your story and our blue bulb. In fact, Mr. W. purchased blue bulbs for everyone on our cul-de-sac! We will proudly shine our blue bulb in honor of the child and families that are affected by autism.

For all those who wonder if a simple blue light can make a difference, just ask Mr. W., his employees and his neighbors.

 

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The summer of miracles

Oh.Em.Gee! He's standing on the sand. Barefoot. Not screaming or crying!

The boy LOVES his water!

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In which I reintroduce myself to my blog

Um, hi.  Yeah, I know I’ve been AWOL for a while.  I’m not even going to try to relate everything that’s gone on in our lives since my last post.  Well, okay, for the benefit of the fourteen faithful readers who keep checking back for posts, I’ll try.

• Nik’s been making amazing progress with his “talker” (speech device).

• Nik’s made tremendous gains in eating “real” food.  Turkey sandwiches, chicken, spinach (!!) and the like.

• We’ve hit upon something we think might be at the root of  Nik’s gawdawful gastric troubles.  But it’s complicated and difficult to explain.  It’s still a work-in-progress so I’m not ready to write about it yet, sorry.  If we’re right, it just might help us all sleep again!

• Nik’s been battling rampant ear infections…again.  On and off since Memorial Day.  We see the ENT (again!) tomorrow to discuss removal of yet another tube and whether or not to replace them…again.

• Nik’s getting over his sensory issue with sand in a major way. As in we-may-be-hitting-the-beach-this-summer kind of major way. (Insert quiet, hopeful SQUEEEEEEE!)

• Nik’s learning to play in my sister’s pool without his swim vest.  As long as he has his arm floats, he does just fine. He can now doggie paddle the length of the pool a couple of times over. The boy adores the water, for sure! Nearly every day the first words out of his talker are “Go swimming. Cool.”  Yes, we’ve figured it out; he really does say cool when he means pool.  Sometimes he’ll even voice the “puh” before touching the button for cool. It’s adorable. And annoying.  But mostly adorable.

• Sadly, the relationship between Nik’s ear infections and lots of swimming? Pretty much a one-to-one correlation. Which, no surprise, also correlates directly to broken sleep. GAH! With this latest heat wave, we’re willing to forego some sleep in order to satisfy the boy’s pool cravings.

• And, last but most definitely not least, Nik has returned to school.  Today was his first (part) day.  This topic merits a separate post for so many reasons.  For now, though, suffice to say it’s not a perfect situation but it’s so much better than we could have anticipated.  Where we once felt sick and hopeless about the idea of putting Nik back in school, there’s now a glimmer of hope.  It may be elusive— like that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow— but we’re going to chase after it with all we’ve got.

We’re ready, Nik’s ready.  I hope school’s ready for him!

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