Today is your birthday. You're 5th birthday, to be exact. Last year, we had a bright purple and pink cake with sprinkles all over...and Shopkins as "cake decor". We bought you a small gift-a Doc McStuffins medical bag, and you played with it almost everyday. You will never know I remember. You'll never know how much I still care. I wanted to send you a birthday card, but my request was denied. So, I'll pray for you, instead. It isn't like you won't be cared for. You'll receive plenty of presents. There will be cake and maybe even balloons. The new people in your life, and the old, will care for you. The lack of gifts from us will not make a difference.
But, you made a difference. To us. To me. Your presence in our lives stamped my heart, and changed me forever. It isn't that I don't have more work than I can handle. It isn't even that I would like more children-five is more than plenty. It isn't that I think you should still live with us-you need your biological family more than they might ever know. When you were here, you were so conflicted. You asked me if you could take our last name, but then cried when a visit was missed. So, I know you are where you need to be...where you should be.
Before you were here, I never realized how true the statement, "It's better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all" was. I loved you. You weren't the easiest child for me to bond with. You held me at arms length, and pushed every button you could find to make me prove I would love you no matter what. You let me know I was not your momma...a lot. You let me know how much you had at your other home. You made sure I knew I didn't do things your way. You changed me. You taught me love was a choice, and a verb. You taught me that choosing to love can mean signing up to be hurt...over and over again.
People told me how strong I was. Little did they know, the only thing this crazy situation proved 100% was how absolutely weak, ineffective, and incapable I am without the Lord. You say you could never love knowing you would lose. I was taught that loving, knowing a devastating loss was coming, was the lesson Jesus died to teach me...teach all of us. Yes, it hurt. It still hurts. In getting out the winter supplies, I found the jackets they used. The boots. The mittens. One of their stuffed animals. My heart hurts. I'm missing her birthday today. Facebook popped up a picture of the cake. There are reminders everywhere they were here. It hurts, and I am weak. I am sad. My heart is forever changed because a dark-haired, dark-eyed, half-pint of a little girl came through my door. She left the same way she came in...in a quick flurry. But, given the chance, I will do it all again for whoever the Lord allows. So, happy birthday, my Borrowed #2. I love you. You were a precious gift, and I will forever be grateful.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Quiet
It has been said that to create, keep, and grow your reading audience, one should never let too much time pass between posts. People will lose interest, their affections will wane, and the rise to being more well known will stop. Although I completely understand the truth in that exhortation to write, I cannot write that way. There are SO many words out there. With the boom of blogs, facebook, twitter, snapchat, and other media sources, there is a plethora of words. Those words are rarely used to edify others, though. They back-bite, they judge, they scorn, they ridicule, they tear down. The words that used to be eloquent have become ugly, and we are all the worse for it.
Obviously, as a "blogger" I am not opposed to social media outlets. But, as the Lord has been teaching me in an intense manner, sometimes the best way to grow is to be quiet.
The past few months have been painful. They have devastated my hopes and dreams and left me with scars. The loss of our +2 was intense, but we moved quickly into the next phase of what we thought God had for us. We actively pursued foster care. I had personal phone calls with the intake coordinator at the agency we were going to work with. Then, during our only date in months, we had my dear sister watch our kids so Richard and I could go to a three hour orientation meeting. After, we spent (literally!) four hours filling out the mountains of paperwork. We also had the "opportunity" to humble ourselves in asking several people to be character witnesses for us (a part of the approval process). As soon as that packet was finished, Joy Baby and I walked to the post office to get it directly into the mail. Two days later, we received the phone call that there had been a misunderstanding between the agency and us. Due to the size of our home, and the age of our oldest, we would not be approved to foster. It was another loss, and a painful one at that. We were stopped from helping little kids?!? The "why's" to that were unanswered. We then realized the only way we would ever be approved to do foster care would be to get a bigger home. With our condo constantly losing value, that would include me going back to work to help with finances. Low and behold, a few days later, the school sent home a letter begging for substitute teachers. Richard's start time for work had been pushed to a late start during the day, so I was available! I spent (more) hours getting the application, paperwork, and interviews taken care of. I was hired, and ready to go. Two weeks later, Richard's start time changed, and I could no longer work.
As a type A++ personality, seeing what needs to be done, and not being able/allowed to get the job done is maddening. The pain of loss was real, the confusion was growing, and my hope was "tired." My hope was never lost, but the pain of hope after hope being taken away can really wear a girl down! That brings me back to where I started. Quiet. Be still. Those are most definitely NOT my strong suits! Apparently, though, those are "strong suits" the Lord wants me to work on, because He will not let me get away from them. Being frazzled and hyper does nothing but take away from the place where God has planted me. If I am going to truly grow, so that, Lord willing, I will ever be able to help anyone, I have to sit down, shut up, and listen to the One Who knows and loves me best. In all reality, the story is not about me...it MUST be about Him and His glory. Out of the beauty of His living and active Word (Hebrews 4:12...my favorite!), grows the depth of character that can have its hopes dashed, and continue steadfastly on the path set out. And, perhaps, out of those lessons can come something new and unforeseen that is more useful than ever hoped for.
Out of the Quiet place, a book has begun. Lord willing, Autism: Our Journey to Grace will be published June, 2017.
Obviously, as a "blogger" I am not opposed to social media outlets. But, as the Lord has been teaching me in an intense manner, sometimes the best way to grow is to be quiet.
Psalm 46:10 says to, "Be still (quiet), and know that I am God." emphasis mine.
As a type A++ personality, seeing what needs to be done, and not being able/allowed to get the job done is maddening. The pain of loss was real, the confusion was growing, and my hope was "tired." My hope was never lost, but the pain of hope after hope being taken away can really wear a girl down! That brings me back to where I started. Quiet. Be still. Those are most definitely NOT my strong suits! Apparently, though, those are "strong suits" the Lord wants me to work on, because He will not let me get away from them. Being frazzled and hyper does nothing but take away from the place where God has planted me. If I am going to truly grow, so that, Lord willing, I will ever be able to help anyone, I have to sit down, shut up, and listen to the One Who knows and loves me best. In all reality, the story is not about me...it MUST be about Him and His glory. Out of the beauty of His living and active Word (Hebrews 4:12...my favorite!), grows the depth of character that can have its hopes dashed, and continue steadfastly on the path set out. And, perhaps, out of those lessons can come something new and unforeseen that is more useful than ever hoped for.
Out of the Quiet place, a book has begun. Lord willing, Autism: Our Journey to Grace will be published June, 2017.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Loss
It has been said that grief is not a line, but a circle. It is never "over," even though the pain may lesson over time...unless there is a trigger that knocks you to the ground, takes your breath away, and wracks you with sobs.
A year ago, (according to my facebook, "on this day"), I posted that our family would be +1. Within a few weeks, it actually became +2. I didn't even ask for the second, their mom just told me she would stay because it was best for the girls to be together. For twelve months, I did laundry for 9-an unbelievable amount of work! I did dishes for 9-we don't have a dishwasher. (Richard does do those a lot, though, so perhaps I kinda have a dishwasher.) I did meals for 9. When they first moved in, the younger ate more that I did. A 25 pound little girl was so malnourished, she ate more than a 5'11" woman who works out everyday.
Over the next few months, we rearranged our entire home. We gave up the master bedroom to move the kids into it, since it is quite a bit larger than the other room. Oh, yes. We live in a 2-bedroom condo...we aren't exactly the "Fritz" here. We bought furniture, clothes, toys, school supplies, every single thing they needed. We trained and trained our 5 to love them-they were "different" and it was a struggle. We had to change our vehicles, and ended up driving two vans every single time we were all together. I joked we were the Grand Caravan caravan each Sunday morning. They became our family, and we started to think long term.
My heart was always "long term." I loved them before I even met them, and begged God to make it happen. For the first time in my adult life, I talked to people who terrified me. Social Services ended up being called by an outside person, and I had to talk to them. In the end, they literally told me it was me that kept them safe. I started making other phone calls, and found out our +2 were living in our home illegally. Since we are not, nor could we be, an approved foster care home or family of the girls, it was illegal for the girls to live with us. So, we started looking into guardianship. We all talked, and it was agreed upon. We decided to move forward, fully believing it would all work out. We found a lawyer, and got the paperwork we needed to start. All we needed was a signature...
There are a few more details, but needless to say, the bottom fell out of our plan. I was a signature away from being #2 momma, and it all stopped. One thing Richard and I were deeply convicted of was that we would not "fight." We fully believed the Lord had called us to this process in peace. We knew we could do a "contested guardianship," but for the sake of the girls, and based on our convictions, we refused to go that route. One of the things I am struggling with, is that I told her how much I love her girls, and how afraid I was that she would take them away. As her circumstances increased, she decided to use my fear against me. When I would not cave to her threats or ultimatums, the decision was up to her. After sixteen months of having the girls as often as needed, almost without warning, they were gone.
Little did I realize, but I had begun to wrap my identity around having them in our home. It was always work, and honestly I was more of a referee most days than anything, but I saw myself with them around. And, as the calendar would have it, school was just around the corner. Within the period of three weeks, we went from 7 kids in our home 24 hours/day, to 1. The loss of our +2 was fairly devastating to me. (And I am fully aware that "devastation" is a pretty major thing...) I could not walk past the kiddos room without checking if they were there. I would think I heard their voices as our kids played together. I thought I heard the ringtone of their mom a few times. When your identity slowly wades away from where it should be into something or someone, the loss of that item will probably knock you out. It did for me. As a side note, I did not stop reading my Bible. I did not stop praying. I did not stop my routine of fasting. I had "simply" added to who I am in Christ, and the removal sent me into a tailspin of near depression. As my four olders headed back to school, my sadness was deep and overwhelming. My poor husband... I was "losing" my entire identity.
With every passing hour, day, and week, God's Truth that has been poured into me did not return void. Godly preaching, an incredibly loving and godly husband, and the daily clinging to His Word did was it is all supposed to do. It revealed my sin and grew me (at least a little bit, I hope!). Did it take the pain away? Not so much. Because loss is just that, loss. It changed the pain, though. There was a quiet revelation of what God needs me to do now...and by "now", I mean today. I have no idea what tomorrow may bring, just like I had no idea a simple phone call would lead to 2 little girls entering our home (the same day!) for 16 months, and forever changing my heart.
A year ago, (according to my facebook, "on this day"), I posted that our family would be +1. Within a few weeks, it actually became +2. I didn't even ask for the second, their mom just told me she would stay because it was best for the girls to be together. For twelve months, I did laundry for 9-an unbelievable amount of work! I did dishes for 9-we don't have a dishwasher. (Richard does do those a lot, though, so perhaps I kinda have a dishwasher.) I did meals for 9. When they first moved in, the younger ate more that I did. A 25 pound little girl was so malnourished, she ate more than a 5'11" woman who works out everyday.
Over the next few months, we rearranged our entire home. We gave up the master bedroom to move the kids into it, since it is quite a bit larger than the other room. Oh, yes. We live in a 2-bedroom condo...we aren't exactly the "Fritz" here. We bought furniture, clothes, toys, school supplies, every single thing they needed. We trained and trained our 5 to love them-they were "different" and it was a struggle. We had to change our vehicles, and ended up driving two vans every single time we were all together. I joked we were the Grand Caravan caravan each Sunday morning. They became our family, and we started to think long term.
My heart was always "long term." I loved them before I even met them, and begged God to make it happen. For the first time in my adult life, I talked to people who terrified me. Social Services ended up being called by an outside person, and I had to talk to them. In the end, they literally told me it was me that kept them safe. I started making other phone calls, and found out our +2 were living in our home illegally. Since we are not, nor could we be, an approved foster care home or family of the girls, it was illegal for the girls to live with us. So, we started looking into guardianship. We all talked, and it was agreed upon. We decided to move forward, fully believing it would all work out. We found a lawyer, and got the paperwork we needed to start. All we needed was a signature...
There are a few more details, but needless to say, the bottom fell out of our plan. I was a signature away from being #2 momma, and it all stopped. One thing Richard and I were deeply convicted of was that we would not "fight." We fully believed the Lord had called us to this process in peace. We knew we could do a "contested guardianship," but for the sake of the girls, and based on our convictions, we refused to go that route. One of the things I am struggling with, is that I told her how much I love her girls, and how afraid I was that she would take them away. As her circumstances increased, she decided to use my fear against me. When I would not cave to her threats or ultimatums, the decision was up to her. After sixteen months of having the girls as often as needed, almost without warning, they were gone.
Little did I realize, but I had begun to wrap my identity around having them in our home. It was always work, and honestly I was more of a referee most days than anything, but I saw myself with them around. And, as the calendar would have it, school was just around the corner. Within the period of three weeks, we went from 7 kids in our home 24 hours/day, to 1. The loss of our +2 was fairly devastating to me. (And I am fully aware that "devastation" is a pretty major thing...) I could not walk past the kiddos room without checking if they were there. I would think I heard their voices as our kids played together. I thought I heard the ringtone of their mom a few times. When your identity slowly wades away from where it should be into something or someone, the loss of that item will probably knock you out. It did for me. As a side note, I did not stop reading my Bible. I did not stop praying. I did not stop my routine of fasting. I had "simply" added to who I am in Christ, and the removal sent me into a tailspin of near depression. As my four olders headed back to school, my sadness was deep and overwhelming. My poor husband... I was "losing" my entire identity.
With every passing hour, day, and week, God's Truth that has been poured into me did not return void. Godly preaching, an incredibly loving and godly husband, and the daily clinging to His Word did was it is all supposed to do. It revealed my sin and grew me (at least a little bit, I hope!). Did it take the pain away? Not so much. Because loss is just that, loss. It changed the pain, though. There was a quiet revelation of what God needs me to do now...and by "now", I mean today. I have no idea what tomorrow may bring, just like I had no idea a simple phone call would lead to 2 little girls entering our home (the same day!) for 16 months, and forever changing my heart.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
April Showers Bring...
...May Flowers. That is how the saying goes. But, nobody says there could be thorns on those flowers, or that they might need some tending. As far as gardening goes, everyone in my family...on both sides, are these amazing green thumbs. Then, there is me. I am the absolute antithesis of a green thumb...my thumb is the grim reaper. I killed a flower that only needed one ice cube per week. I also killed the hardy kale plant. It is almost like a plant looks at me and just gives up the will to live.
I began this post with that old adage, because I think that is how I expected May to be. Happy. Full of flowers, beauty, and ease. April was tough. It was an intense whirlwind of change and trial. Although there were a few rainbows among the "showers," there were a lot of days that I felt cold, drained, and in need of shelter. May was supposed to be sunny and cheerful. Instead, it began with more showers that evolved into a ruthless storm. My fleshly response was a bit of shock. I felt like I had really "gone through the wringer" last month, and was quite ready for a respite from chaos.
We began the month with the final step (for now) of Joy Baby's paperwork and home visit for Medicaid. The process was revised in January of this year, so everything was new for me. Although I have done the application two previous times, it was brand new, which really unnerved me. To add to my nerves, I was told to prepare for a denial, which would lead to an appeal or a re-application. Fun times to be sure. In comparison to what came next, this now seems like a little "sprinkle on a sunny day."
A long time ago, I dedicated myself to full-time service to the Lord. When I stood up in church making that pledge, I meant that I wanted to be a missionary overseas spreading the Gospel to Indian tribes in the jungle. What God meant was I was going to serve on American soil, to five plus two kiddos-all needing some type of special care, while I live with a disease that prevents me from ever living in a healthy way outside of a first-world country. I never expected attack from those I was serving. I've heard pastor's say that the sheep bite, but man! they are downright mean sometimes! When cooking (or some fashion of making food-ish type things...I'm not a gourmet cook, either...), cleaning, bathing, loving, and laundering for yields screaming phone calls and vile texts. When a misunderstanding leads to attacks on character. When anger leads to using the very ones you say you love as pawns. I was not prepared. I was not prepared for how the series of events fleshed out sin in my life. Ironically enough, the revelation of my own sin lead me to anger...a not-so-godly response...
Then came the evidences of grace. A husband who patiently loved me. Sometimes his love has been painful-not in an abusive way, but in a way that was used to lead me back to the Lord. He consoled when I needed it, and pointed out areas I had let sin win, always cloaked in the tenderness of his faithful love. I've spoken of how much I love our church. I am not one to reach out for help often...but this time, I was desperate enough to set pride aside. When I called to talk to our pastor, he set aside whatever he was working on to listen to the situation. He encouraged, exhorted, and then prayed for our family-over the phone. Our pastor approached the Throne of Grace on our behalf-asking for grace, discernment, and wisdom. Seriously, if you need a church...
I think the truth is, April showers bring work. Sure, there are May flowers, but there is also a lot of grass that needs to be mowed. There are weeds among the flowers that must be taken out, or the flowers will die. There are rodents-even some cute ones-that will eat the buds of those flowers when they are not carefully guarded. Those flowers also start attracting insects. Bees that will sting, ants that get into the house, flies, and more of the creepy-crawly ones that make my skin crawl. Upon deeper evaluation, there is an abundance of things that just want to destroy the flowers. Springtime is not a time for complacency. I suppose a farmer or a green thumb knows that well. Yes, there is a time to sit and enjoy the beauty around us, but that beauty can only be enjoyed after actively maintaining and guarding the plants. And then, you have to get back to work...otherwise, April showers just bring May chaos.
I began this post with that old adage, because I think that is how I expected May to be. Happy. Full of flowers, beauty, and ease. April was tough. It was an intense whirlwind of change and trial. Although there were a few rainbows among the "showers," there were a lot of days that I felt cold, drained, and in need of shelter. May was supposed to be sunny and cheerful. Instead, it began with more showers that evolved into a ruthless storm. My fleshly response was a bit of shock. I felt like I had really "gone through the wringer" last month, and was quite ready for a respite from chaos.
We began the month with the final step (for now) of Joy Baby's paperwork and home visit for Medicaid. The process was revised in January of this year, so everything was new for me. Although I have done the application two previous times, it was brand new, which really unnerved me. To add to my nerves, I was told to prepare for a denial, which would lead to an appeal or a re-application. Fun times to be sure. In comparison to what came next, this now seems like a little "sprinkle on a sunny day."
A long time ago, I dedicated myself to full-time service to the Lord. When I stood up in church making that pledge, I meant that I wanted to be a missionary overseas spreading the Gospel to Indian tribes in the jungle. What God meant was I was going to serve on American soil, to five plus two kiddos-all needing some type of special care, while I live with a disease that prevents me from ever living in a healthy way outside of a first-world country. I never expected attack from those I was serving. I've heard pastor's say that the sheep bite, but man! they are downright mean sometimes! When cooking (or some fashion of making food-ish type things...I'm not a gourmet cook, either...), cleaning, bathing, loving, and laundering for yields screaming phone calls and vile texts. When a misunderstanding leads to attacks on character. When anger leads to using the very ones you say you love as pawns. I was not prepared. I was not prepared for how the series of events fleshed out sin in my life. Ironically enough, the revelation of my own sin lead me to anger...a not-so-godly response...
Then came the evidences of grace. A husband who patiently loved me. Sometimes his love has been painful-not in an abusive way, but in a way that was used to lead me back to the Lord. He consoled when I needed it, and pointed out areas I had let sin win, always cloaked in the tenderness of his faithful love. I've spoken of how much I love our church. I am not one to reach out for help often...but this time, I was desperate enough to set pride aside. When I called to talk to our pastor, he set aside whatever he was working on to listen to the situation. He encouraged, exhorted, and then prayed for our family-over the phone. Our pastor approached the Throne of Grace on our behalf-asking for grace, discernment, and wisdom. Seriously, if you need a church...
I think the truth is, April showers bring work. Sure, there are May flowers, but there is also a lot of grass that needs to be mowed. There are weeds among the flowers that must be taken out, or the flowers will die. There are rodents-even some cute ones-that will eat the buds of those flowers when they are not carefully guarded. Those flowers also start attracting insects. Bees that will sting, ants that get into the house, flies, and more of the creepy-crawly ones that make my skin crawl. Upon deeper evaluation, there is an abundance of things that just want to destroy the flowers. Springtime is not a time for complacency. I suppose a farmer or a green thumb knows that well. Yes, there is a time to sit and enjoy the beauty around us, but that beauty can only be enjoyed after actively maintaining and guarding the plants. And then, you have to get back to work...otherwise, April showers just bring May chaos.
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
If God...
Autism Awareness Month (April) has been especially trying this year. At the beginning of the month, we had Joy Baby's 18 month check up, during which it was determined she needed to be evaluated for autism. I decided not to say anything about this, because sometimes it seems talking about a "potential issue" causes a bit more chaos than intended. As I started the inquiries to find a doctor for her, we quickly learned our insurance company would not cover any evaluation for her, and the insurance company is protected from prosecution because they are based out of the State for us. Another issue we have is that since our older two boys are receiving in-home therapy, a lot of other companies will not evaluate another child, since they would not be able to provide the in-home therapy upon diagnosis. (Typically, two different ABA companies will not provide therapy in the same home at the same time...either due to liability or programming rules.)
About two weeks ago, I found a doctor who would be willing to evaluate Joy Baby. She was out-of-network, expensive, and a good distance away, but she had an opening, was willing to evaluate, and we have few options. I had a few concerns with her, but Richard was willing, so I set the appointment. A week later, I decided to try one more company. They were fairly sure they were also out-of-network, but were willing to work with us. Early Monday morning, I received a phone call that set a different series of events rolling. This company was still not in-network for our insurance, but they charged significantly less, were 45 minutes closer, and had just had a cancellation, so they had an opening Tuesday afternoon. They emailed me 27 pages of documentation I had to fill out, and told us they would see us the next day. The roller coaster ride of emotions I went through in a 24 hour period was intense. Every fear, worry, doubt, and painful memory surfaced. Along with those emotions is the torture of filling out paperwork that describes the many struggles your precious child has...in great detail. Since the evaluation is only around two hours, a lot rides on the testimony of the parents. For four hours, I had to focus on all the "bad." One question out of 27 pages asked about the positive traits of our child, and what makes them "likeable." For whatever reason, this was the question that caused my tears to flow. All I could answer was that I loved her. I wanted to know why she struggles...autism or not, I needed help to help her, because when her smile fades, she is hurting, and its painful for everyone around.
Tuesday morning, I was awakened at 4am, and the worry began. A still-small Voice whispered, "I've got this" a quiet hug to go back to sleep. The first song to play on my running playlist was, "Call it Grace" by Unspoken. If you've ever tried to run while crying...it's ugly...and really hard to breath! Within a few hours, two times God let me know how much He loves me and her. He wasn't absent, or surprised, and had divinely ordained for Chara to be ours, and for the series of events to take place. I'm not saying I was super calm and didn't worry for the rest of the day...I kinda did...but His rescue was there. At the end of our two hour appointment, we learned that we were a family who has three kiddos with autism. By God's grace, Richard was able to get off of work the entire day. We celebrated being a family with tacos and a movie. We didn't talk about the day, we just ate and watched a silly movie. It was a little more difficult for me to laugh, and a lot more difficult for me to not get frustrated with squabbles between the kids. There was sin, and there was a plethora of Grace.
Now begins a six-month period of paperwork with the government. We will have home visits, evaluations, and a lot of hurry up and wait. If everything goes as it should, at the end of the six months, Chara will have disability funding to pay for her in-home therapy. She will continue receiving speech through Birth to Three, since she doesn't talk, but that is a separate program.
A former pastor of ours often said, "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it." I'm so glad this is true, because facing this on my own would be incredibly overwhelming. One of my most favorite songs right now is "Trust in You," by Lauren Daigle. I'll close with the chorus, which is what my heart's cry has been:
When You don't move the mountains, I wanted You to move,
When You don't part the waters, I wish I could walk through,
When You don't give the answers, as I cry out to You,
I will trust,
I will trust,
I will trust in You.
About two weeks ago, I found a doctor who would be willing to evaluate Joy Baby. She was out-of-network, expensive, and a good distance away, but she had an opening, was willing to evaluate, and we have few options. I had a few concerns with her, but Richard was willing, so I set the appointment. A week later, I decided to try one more company. They were fairly sure they were also out-of-network, but were willing to work with us. Early Monday morning, I received a phone call that set a different series of events rolling. This company was still not in-network for our insurance, but they charged significantly less, were 45 minutes closer, and had just had a cancellation, so they had an opening Tuesday afternoon. They emailed me 27 pages of documentation I had to fill out, and told us they would see us the next day. The roller coaster ride of emotions I went through in a 24 hour period was intense. Every fear, worry, doubt, and painful memory surfaced. Along with those emotions is the torture of filling out paperwork that describes the many struggles your precious child has...in great detail. Since the evaluation is only around two hours, a lot rides on the testimony of the parents. For four hours, I had to focus on all the "bad." One question out of 27 pages asked about the positive traits of our child, and what makes them "likeable." For whatever reason, this was the question that caused my tears to flow. All I could answer was that I loved her. I wanted to know why she struggles...autism or not, I needed help to help her, because when her smile fades, she is hurting, and its painful for everyone around.
Tuesday morning, I was awakened at 4am, and the worry began. A still-small Voice whispered, "I've got this" a quiet hug to go back to sleep. The first song to play on my running playlist was, "Call it Grace" by Unspoken. If you've ever tried to run while crying...it's ugly...and really hard to breath! Within a few hours, two times God let me know how much He loves me and her. He wasn't absent, or surprised, and had divinely ordained for Chara to be ours, and for the series of events to take place. I'm not saying I was super calm and didn't worry for the rest of the day...I kinda did...but His rescue was there. At the end of our two hour appointment, we learned that we were a family who has three kiddos with autism. By God's grace, Richard was able to get off of work the entire day. We celebrated being a family with tacos and a movie. We didn't talk about the day, we just ate and watched a silly movie. It was a little more difficult for me to laugh, and a lot more difficult for me to not get frustrated with squabbles between the kids. There was sin, and there was a plethora of Grace.
Now begins a six-month period of paperwork with the government. We will have home visits, evaluations, and a lot of hurry up and wait. If everything goes as it should, at the end of the six months, Chara will have disability funding to pay for her in-home therapy. She will continue receiving speech through Birth to Three, since she doesn't talk, but that is a separate program.
A former pastor of ours often said, "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it." I'm so glad this is true, because facing this on my own would be incredibly overwhelming. One of my most favorite songs right now is "Trust in You," by Lauren Daigle. I'll close with the chorus, which is what my heart's cry has been:
When You don't move the mountains, I wanted You to move,
When You don't part the waters, I wish I could walk through,
When You don't give the answers, as I cry out to You,
I will trust,
I will trust,
I will trust in You.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
April
April is Autism Awareness month. In case you didn't notice, that's why there are a few extra blue lightbulbs at entryways. Facebook has a few extra photos of puzzle pieces. Several big name groups are putting out statistics of those on the Spectrum. If you're me, you've painted your toenails blue, and run a half-marathon for Autism Awareness. I don't need a month to remind me of Autism, though. I don't need anything, as it stares me in the face every.single.day. There are two crystal blue eyes, and two sets of brown eyes.
Here are some statistics:
Did you know 1 in 68...blah blah blah.
Did you know shoes are a big deal? Yep. He wears shoes until there are holes in them, and when I insist on a new pair, he cries at the store...even when I find a pair with Star Wars on them.
Did you know he makes you look lazy? Oh, yeah. He works 10-12 hour days five days a week, and then works 6-8 hours per day over the weekend. Seven days per week, he is in school and/or therapy.
Did you know socks are a big deal? Yep. He used to fight them until he was in hysterics. Now, if they don't have a grey bottom, he will let you know they are wrong.
Did you know socks are a big deal? Yes, part 2. She hates them. She will scream during a diaper change until they are off.
Did you know shoes are a big deal? Yes, part 2. She screams until they are off. Not a casual scream, but "I'm-about-to-die-and-I'm-taking-you-with-me" scream.
Did you know food is a big deal? Specific brands are required, and they know if you try to change them. Textures, temperature, amount, food touching, color, and any other characteristic will arise to come in and ruin a meal.
Did you know bath time can be a battle? Water temperature, amount of toys, water near the eye, fear, that list goes on as well.
Did you know no two kids are alike? If you've met one kid with autism, you've met one kid with autism. That means you are not an expert, and Rainman does not describe my kids, or most any others. And please, don't even get me started on "eye contact."
Did you know there is isolation? School parties, church events, or open-to-the-public events, IF we can get out of therapy and still make our hours so we don't lose funding, the invitations get "lost", or the setting is not conducive to their success, or we're just too worried one thing could set off yet another meltdown.
Did you know there are guilt trips? If you don't, you've probably sent me or someone else down one. Everyone has an opinion on how we're raising all of our kids. It's not good enough for those on the Spectrum, or we're ignoring our neuro-typical kids, or we've caused our kiddos autism, or our other kids feel left out and will rebel and hate us as they age.
People say kids on the spectrum need to learn how to communicate properly. Honestly, a lot more people need to remember to close their own mouths and start using a filter before they pass judgment, or "give their opinion."
Did you know the divorce rate for parents of kids on the Spectrum is over 80%? Once again, try to just love the people who are dying to save their kids. Parenting isn't easy. Now parent kids on the spectrum, and you've got a recipe for disaster. You think we haven't thought of some scenario? Oh, we've thought about it, wrestled with it, fought over and about it, and just laid it aside to deal with the problem right in front of us...like making sure our baby doesn't smash her head on the floor during the current meltdown.
This may sound like an angry post, but it is not. Not in any way. Sometimes, though, it helps to remember that the sunshine and roses are only highlights of the stormy days and thorns. We fight with therapists and insurance, we wrestle with guilt, and we fail at least one of our kids on a constant basis. BUT, I love these kids. I couldn't be any prouder of how hard they work, how much they've grown, or just how cute they are. I am grateful every day that I have the privilege to be their mom. I wear my blue toenails with great pride, because my kids are awesome. I love how my two neuro-typical kids are learning to love those that others roll their eyes at. I love the special dates I take those two on, to make sure they know they are equally loved. I'm so very grateful for how much closer I've grown in my relationship with the Lord, because I have to lean on Him for everything. I'm so grateful for my husband who has supported, listened and fought alongside me for our kids, and for us. I'm also thankful for those who have loved us without flinching. I am so thankful that adults want to talk with us about our kids. I love it when we get asked questions because someone cares enough to ask. I do not ever want to be unapproachable, although if I'm wrestling with one of my kids, you might need better timing... ;) I love grace. It's in every moment, even if it seems to be hiding. I love this season, the newness, and the beautiful reminder that He is Risen, victorious, and one glorious day He will take away every tear.
Until then, I'll close this brief-ish post for the day. I don't get out much, so I'm out of adult words, anyway, and one of my kids is trying to remind me my lap is hers, not the computers...and I fear for the computer. Happy April!
Here are some statistics:
Did you know 1 in 68...blah blah blah.
Did you know shoes are a big deal? Yep. He wears shoes until there are holes in them, and when I insist on a new pair, he cries at the store...even when I find a pair with Star Wars on them.
Did you know he makes you look lazy? Oh, yeah. He works 10-12 hour days five days a week, and then works 6-8 hours per day over the weekend. Seven days per week, he is in school and/or therapy.
Did you know socks are a big deal? Yep. He used to fight them until he was in hysterics. Now, if they don't have a grey bottom, he will let you know they are wrong.
Did you know socks are a big deal? Yes, part 2. She hates them. She will scream during a diaper change until they are off.
Did you know shoes are a big deal? Yes, part 2. She screams until they are off. Not a casual scream, but "I'm-about-to-die-and-I'm-taking-you-with-me" scream.
Did you know food is a big deal? Specific brands are required, and they know if you try to change them. Textures, temperature, amount, food touching, color, and any other characteristic will arise to come in and ruin a meal.
Did you know bath time can be a battle? Water temperature, amount of toys, water near the eye, fear, that list goes on as well.
Did you know no two kids are alike? If you've met one kid with autism, you've met one kid with autism. That means you are not an expert, and Rainman does not describe my kids, or most any others. And please, don't even get me started on "eye contact."
Did you know there is isolation? School parties, church events, or open-to-the-public events, IF we can get out of therapy and still make our hours so we don't lose funding, the invitations get "lost", or the setting is not conducive to their success, or we're just too worried one thing could set off yet another meltdown.
Did you know there are guilt trips? If you don't, you've probably sent me or someone else down one. Everyone has an opinion on how we're raising all of our kids. It's not good enough for those on the Spectrum, or we're ignoring our neuro-typical kids, or we've caused our kiddos autism, or our other kids feel left out and will rebel and hate us as they age.
People say kids on the spectrum need to learn how to communicate properly. Honestly, a lot more people need to remember to close their own mouths and start using a filter before they pass judgment, or "give their opinion."
Did you know the divorce rate for parents of kids on the Spectrum is over 80%? Once again, try to just love the people who are dying to save their kids. Parenting isn't easy. Now parent kids on the spectrum, and you've got a recipe for disaster. You think we haven't thought of some scenario? Oh, we've thought about it, wrestled with it, fought over and about it, and just laid it aside to deal with the problem right in front of us...like making sure our baby doesn't smash her head on the floor during the current meltdown.
This may sound like an angry post, but it is not. Not in any way. Sometimes, though, it helps to remember that the sunshine and roses are only highlights of the stormy days and thorns. We fight with therapists and insurance, we wrestle with guilt, and we fail at least one of our kids on a constant basis. BUT, I love these kids. I couldn't be any prouder of how hard they work, how much they've grown, or just how cute they are. I am grateful every day that I have the privilege to be their mom. I wear my blue toenails with great pride, because my kids are awesome. I love how my two neuro-typical kids are learning to love those that others roll their eyes at. I love the special dates I take those two on, to make sure they know they are equally loved. I'm so very grateful for how much closer I've grown in my relationship with the Lord, because I have to lean on Him for everything. I'm so grateful for my husband who has supported, listened and fought alongside me for our kids, and for us. I'm also thankful for those who have loved us without flinching. I am so thankful that adults want to talk with us about our kids. I love it when we get asked questions because someone cares enough to ask. I do not ever want to be unapproachable, although if I'm wrestling with one of my kids, you might need better timing... ;) I love grace. It's in every moment, even if it seems to be hiding. I love this season, the newness, and the beautiful reminder that He is Risen, victorious, and one glorious day He will take away every tear.
Until then, I'll close this brief-ish post for the day. I don't get out much, so I'm out of adult words, anyway, and one of my kids is trying to remind me my lap is hers, not the computers...and I fear for the computer. Happy April!
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Joy Baby
Up to this point, I've not written about our journey to Joy Baby. It is a long journey, with more depth of emotion than anything else in my life. As I've written in the past, we went through some really dark and difficult times before her conception and birth. The journey started with miscarriages-four in a row. Then, we walked through infertility. The concept of this is still close to mind boggling to me. Without any TMI, fertility was never even a thought for us. He looked at me...and that just about did it. My body was in a very weird state, and my hormones were trying to decide if I was still even a girl. So, for the craziest four months of my life (I serious started to doubt my sanity...), I was on fertility drugs. For the record, I fully understand that for most women, this doesn't even begin to cover what others have gone through to have a baby. For me, though, I couldn't take it anymore. I was done. The mood swings I had on those things were simply awful. In addition, the span of what I was on pretty much said if they didn't work in that time frame, it wasn't going to happen. For the first time in my life, I had all negative pregnancy tests. Nothing-not even a hint of a hint. So, I got down on my knees, cried out to the Lord, let Him know my heart was broken, but our #5 was His. We gave away over twenty boxes of baby/toddler clothes. And then, a month later...
You would think that after all this, I would have trusted that this Baby was meant to be. You would think I would have been confident that this little one would survive. Nope. It was a moment by moment battle at times for me to not completely freak out that Baby would die. I knew being worried was sinful, so I battled, but the battle was horrendous. I was so afraid of the "Cinderella Story." I didn't expect to finally have our much-desired baby, when so so many I knew could not even have one. I was afraid to rejoice, because I was so afraid of the pain of loss. I had been down the "loss road" before, and felt I had barely survived. I knew so many others definitely "deserved" a baby way more than I did.
Her pregnancy was my worst. I've never been sicker, and I had not had "easy" pregnancies before. I threw up throughout the entire nine months, to the point of throwing up blood due to intense heartburn. I could go on, but I won't, because for most people, pregnancy is no picnic. Then, her labor. Now, remember, I had done the labor thing four times previously. I had a 12lb. 3oz. baby boy without any pain meds, and did it without ever screaming. (Not that it felt great...) Not this time. Pitocin was not my friend, and when it finally kicked in, they gave me some drug to help ease the pain. The drug sent me to outer space. I was floating above my body, could feel every single stab of pain, had a Minnie Mouse head bouncing all over the room, and screamed like I've never screamed before. I couldn't stop, and honestly, I have no idea how she was born, because I could not do anything but scream. Then, she was here. They showed her to me, and she was purple. My first question about my long awaited daughter was, "Is she alive?" I honestly thought she was dead. I remember the shock on the nurses faces when I asked this, and will never forget the responses of understanding compassion they had. They wrapped her up, and placed her on me for just a few moments, as they were taking her to the NICU. I had never cried the first time I held one of my littles, but I sobbed over her. My mom took a picture, and it is one of my most treasured. Then, there was the NICU. Baby jail. (The nurses actually call it that...not those on that floor, though!) I got yelled at for picking her up. She kept popping out her IV's, so they ended up finally going through her belly button. Even that one almost popped out, even though there was a stitch to keep it in place. For five days, I stayed with her. I never left the hospital, but my husband and the other four had to be at home. Richard brought the kids for lunch one afternoon. When they left, my special guy did not understand why I wasn't with them. I hope I never again see the face, the tears, or hear the screams that he had that day.
Finally, we were home. Once again, you would think that I would be completely trusting that all would be well. Once again, it was a moment by moment battle for me to not worry about her. Between post-partum hormones, my own natural sinful fears, along with sleep deprivation, I was a wreck. When she was three months old, I was reading my Bible, and stopped to check on her. And that was it. I knew it had to stop. I named her out of Philippians-Joy and Grace. Yet, I had no joy, because I was constantly in fear, and never allowed God's grace to cover her...and me. She was His, whether I liked it or not, and I could not do one thing to adjust her life span-however long it was designed to be.
The irony is, my Joy Baby is in a virtual tie for my most difficult baby. She is a crazy picky eater, a horrible sleeper, is already in physical therapy, and is about to transition to Speech and Occupational therapy. She finally started walking at 17 months old, and has no words at 18 months. The only reason she is not my most difficult, is that I have a few more tools to handle her behavior.
Why did I write this? Because you don't post "this kinda stuff" on Facebook. You post a photo of a smile, or write something cute one of the kids did that day. You have 500 friends who see whatever façade you put out there. And that's not necessarily wrong, but there are so many who struggle. I'm not proud of my struggle, but it is real. I don't have it "all together." I'm so grateful for Christ, Who has patiently and lovingly walked me through each day. No, He is not my crutch, He is my stretcher. I am a desperate sinner who needs His extravagant grace. Why did He bestow this amazing gift on me? Because He is gracious and loving. Why doesn't He bestow the same gifts on so many of those who desperately desire the same thing? I don't know. What I do know: He has a plan. I also know the pain of getting through that plan is worth it. No, I am not thankful for the "yuck" I've had to go through. (Side note: I am not grateful for disease, miscarriage, infertility, autism, ....the yuck.) I am thankful, though, for what He taught me along the way, and is continuing to teach me as I walk the path He set out for me. I could not be more grateful for our Joy Baby. I love her with a fierce love, and will protect her with every ounce of my strength. And the Joy she has brought to our entire family is abundant.
You would think that after all this, I would have trusted that this Baby was meant to be. You would think I would have been confident that this little one would survive. Nope. It was a moment by moment battle at times for me to not completely freak out that Baby would die. I knew being worried was sinful, so I battled, but the battle was horrendous. I was so afraid of the "Cinderella Story." I didn't expect to finally have our much-desired baby, when so so many I knew could not even have one. I was afraid to rejoice, because I was so afraid of the pain of loss. I had been down the "loss road" before, and felt I had barely survived. I knew so many others definitely "deserved" a baby way more than I did.
Her pregnancy was my worst. I've never been sicker, and I had not had "easy" pregnancies before. I threw up throughout the entire nine months, to the point of throwing up blood due to intense heartburn. I could go on, but I won't, because for most people, pregnancy is no picnic. Then, her labor. Now, remember, I had done the labor thing four times previously. I had a 12lb. 3oz. baby boy without any pain meds, and did it without ever screaming. (Not that it felt great...) Not this time. Pitocin was not my friend, and when it finally kicked in, they gave me some drug to help ease the pain. The drug sent me to outer space. I was floating above my body, could feel every single stab of pain, had a Minnie Mouse head bouncing all over the room, and screamed like I've never screamed before. I couldn't stop, and honestly, I have no idea how she was born, because I could not do anything but scream. Then, she was here. They showed her to me, and she was purple. My first question about my long awaited daughter was, "Is she alive?" I honestly thought she was dead. I remember the shock on the nurses faces when I asked this, and will never forget the responses of understanding compassion they had. They wrapped her up, and placed her on me for just a few moments, as they were taking her to the NICU. I had never cried the first time I held one of my littles, but I sobbed over her. My mom took a picture, and it is one of my most treasured. Then, there was the NICU. Baby jail. (The nurses actually call it that...not those on that floor, though!) I got yelled at for picking her up. She kept popping out her IV's, so they ended up finally going through her belly button. Even that one almost popped out, even though there was a stitch to keep it in place. For five days, I stayed with her. I never left the hospital, but my husband and the other four had to be at home. Richard brought the kids for lunch one afternoon. When they left, my special guy did not understand why I wasn't with them. I hope I never again see the face, the tears, or hear the screams that he had that day.
Finally, we were home. Once again, you would think that I would be completely trusting that all would be well. Once again, it was a moment by moment battle for me to not worry about her. Between post-partum hormones, my own natural sinful fears, along with sleep deprivation, I was a wreck. When she was three months old, I was reading my Bible, and stopped to check on her. And that was it. I knew it had to stop. I named her out of Philippians-Joy and Grace. Yet, I had no joy, because I was constantly in fear, and never allowed God's grace to cover her...and me. She was His, whether I liked it or not, and I could not do one thing to adjust her life span-however long it was designed to be.
The irony is, my Joy Baby is in a virtual tie for my most difficult baby. She is a crazy picky eater, a horrible sleeper, is already in physical therapy, and is about to transition to Speech and Occupational therapy. She finally started walking at 17 months old, and has no words at 18 months. The only reason she is not my most difficult, is that I have a few more tools to handle her behavior.
Why did I write this? Because you don't post "this kinda stuff" on Facebook. You post a photo of a smile, or write something cute one of the kids did that day. You have 500 friends who see whatever façade you put out there. And that's not necessarily wrong, but there are so many who struggle. I'm not proud of my struggle, but it is real. I don't have it "all together." I'm so grateful for Christ, Who has patiently and lovingly walked me through each day. No, He is not my crutch, He is my stretcher. I am a desperate sinner who needs His extravagant grace. Why did He bestow this amazing gift on me? Because He is gracious and loving. Why doesn't He bestow the same gifts on so many of those who desperately desire the same thing? I don't know. What I do know: He has a plan. I also know the pain of getting through that plan is worth it. No, I am not thankful for the "yuck" I've had to go through. (Side note: I am not grateful for disease, miscarriage, infertility, autism, ....the yuck.) I am thankful, though, for what He taught me along the way, and is continuing to teach me as I walk the path He set out for me. I could not be more grateful for our Joy Baby. I love her with a fierce love, and will protect her with every ounce of my strength. And the Joy she has brought to our entire family is abundant.
Friday, January 15, 2016
Mommy, I'm Sorry
It was not a normal Monday in our home. Our therapist for the night was ill, and for the first time since Christmas, it was just us, the five kidlets and me. Our +2 were with their mom, so it was supposed to be quieter. I made a special (not healthy, but fun!) dinner, and they were all sitting around the table. Joy Baby, though, was not feeling the "love." She had been in a mood for most of the day. She was on a nap and hunger strike-not the greatest of combinations.
She screamed in her high chair as I served dinner to the older four. It was a bit tense, as new foods can be met with a lack of enthusiasm with the younger boys. But, they were ready to try, and the older two were so excited, it seemed their mood rubbed off on the younger boys. No matter what foods I tried with Joy Baby, she just screamed in her chair. As I set the final sandwich in front of the kiddos, she picked up her favorite (normally!) granola bar, and flung it as hard as her frustrated hands could throw.
My Timmy looked at me and said, "Mommy, I'm sorry." Since he has the opportunity to say this quite a bit, I asked him what he was sorry for...I could not remember any errors in the recent past. He looked at me and explained he was sorry Chara was crying and frustrated, and not eating. His sentence stopped me in my tracks. Although he can be very sensitive, he also has a streak of "unawareness" that usually typifies his behavior. I had not said much of anything to that point, except to try to calm Chara, and to hand the kids their food. I looked at Timmy and Naomi, and decided to pause. I let them know that when they were little, I probably would have disciplined that type of behavior, thinking they were being naughty. But, because of the boys in our house, I had learned that sometimes screaming and crying is so much more than "naughtiness." As I picked up Chara and rubbed her back, her kicking and screaming started to settle. I told the kids that when Titus was little, I had no idea how to help a frustrated, over-stimulated baby, but now I had things to do to help her. I took Joy Baby to the rocker, wrapped her in her blanket, and just rocked and massaged her until she was calm. Timmy then stated that Chara was probably going to "get autism." I told him it was a bit early to even be able to know, and that it was ok. They've seen the worst. He and Naomi have lived through some really, really rough times in our home. His matter-of-fact statement brought me such joy. As he said his baby sister would have autism, there wasn't even a hint of animosity toward her or autism in general. It was acknowledgement that it was tough, and loud, and messy, and not what one might "choose", but it was love. A love for his baby sister, and a love toward us. This is his family, and he loves them just exactly how they are.
Somehow, I get to be the one blessed. What a gift.
She screamed in her high chair as I served dinner to the older four. It was a bit tense, as new foods can be met with a lack of enthusiasm with the younger boys. But, they were ready to try, and the older two were so excited, it seemed their mood rubbed off on the younger boys. No matter what foods I tried with Joy Baby, she just screamed in her chair. As I set the final sandwich in front of the kiddos, she picked up her favorite (normally!) granola bar, and flung it as hard as her frustrated hands could throw.
My Timmy looked at me and said, "Mommy, I'm sorry." Since he has the opportunity to say this quite a bit, I asked him what he was sorry for...I could not remember any errors in the recent past. He looked at me and explained he was sorry Chara was crying and frustrated, and not eating. His sentence stopped me in my tracks. Although he can be very sensitive, he also has a streak of "unawareness" that usually typifies his behavior. I had not said much of anything to that point, except to try to calm Chara, and to hand the kids their food. I looked at Timmy and Naomi, and decided to pause. I let them know that when they were little, I probably would have disciplined that type of behavior, thinking they were being naughty. But, because of the boys in our house, I had learned that sometimes screaming and crying is so much more than "naughtiness." As I picked up Chara and rubbed her back, her kicking and screaming started to settle. I told the kids that when Titus was little, I had no idea how to help a frustrated, over-stimulated baby, but now I had things to do to help her. I took Joy Baby to the rocker, wrapped her in her blanket, and just rocked and massaged her until she was calm. Timmy then stated that Chara was probably going to "get autism." I told him it was a bit early to even be able to know, and that it was ok. They've seen the worst. He and Naomi have lived through some really, really rough times in our home. His matter-of-fact statement brought me such joy. As he said his baby sister would have autism, there wasn't even a hint of animosity toward her or autism in general. It was acknowledgement that it was tough, and loud, and messy, and not what one might "choose", but it was love. A love for his baby sister, and a love toward us. This is his family, and he loves them just exactly how they are.
Somehow, I get to be the one blessed. What a gift.
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