Eating Raisins: My Daughter's Approach to Living Life

As I've mentioned in earlier posts about J's therapy approach, we take a lot of video at home, capturing little activties designed to foster emotional connection with him and build his compentence and confidence. I was playing back this clip of us making oatmeal raisin cookies together with Sarah.  I love how video captures something that went unnoticed in the moment.  Here's 45 seconds of my daughter enjoying life.  It's hilarious.

Here's a picture of Jeremiah's 5th birthday.  I threw out the dog and pony show this year, and did a simple dinner and ice cream for us.

The elusive "perfect family picture" continues to evade me. It's my unicorn.  But here we are, looking somewhat at the camera. As well as well attired.  Because that's what really matters, am I right, ladies?

Happy Friday.  Go eat your raisins.

Birth Day Memories, Transcribed

Jeremiah's 5th birthday is Wednesday, and I realized that while his sisters' birth days were recorded here, his was not.  Before blogging, my firstborn got the expected treatment: his story was written in ink, in cursive, on fine paper in a leather journal. This excerpt was written when J was 3 months old. It's exuberant and totally, charmingly naive.  5 years later, the sentiment's still the same. 
Happy Birthday, Baby Boy.

Your delivery...

My due date of May 26th came and went. I was not worried about the date passing, but all the waiting drove your Dad crazy. The house was clean and organized; your nursery was ready; we were ready for the main event.

We made the decision to go into the hospital on a Wednesday night, May 28th to be induced to labor. My doctor, Dr. Dodder, was on duty the next day and I wanted her to deliver you.

We brought lots of snacks, movies, and all our creature comforts to the hospital. (I packed according to "The Book".  We rolled into Northside Hospital prepared for a fun lock-in. Movies? Bless my idiotic heart.) Now that we were at the hospital, your dad was more relaxed.  While he slept that first night, I tossed and turned. The sleeping medicine I took gave me strange dreams, so I didn't feel rested! The pitocin medicine began at 6 a.m. I was 1 cm dilated, which was a start because nothing was happening before we came to the hospital. Sometime around lunch my water broke. Natalie, Nana, Papa and Grandma arrived near lunchtime, too. They were excited and very talkative! I was beginning to feel my contractions more strongly at this time, so I was glad your Dad took them to lunch. My peaceful moment was short lived, because the contractions kept increasing in strength.  Dad had only been gone 20 minutes, but I was ready for him to return! (I called him and subtly hinted he needed to get back.)

About this time, I was ready for a little pain relief.  I received some medicine and felt well enough to get out of bed and rock for about an hour.  Then... the contractions felt more intense and closer together.  A friend from work stopped by, Wagner, and I chatted with him in between contractions. (Totally insane, though it kept me distracted.) I had been worried that I would lose my cool during delivery and lash out in anger, but I didn't. It simply would have required too much energy. The room was quiet and dark. Finally, I was able to receive an epidural, probably around 3 p.m. The doctor was great-- Dr. Wheeler.  He did everything quickly and efficiently. I asked him if anyone named their baby "Wheeler". Seriously, I would understand why!

After I was given the medicine, my friend Lara from church visited us. I was feeling less anxious and up for a visit.  About 10 minutes in, the nurse came in and checked my progress. I was still feeling contractions and worried the medicine didn't take on both sides. (I was "still feeling contractions." Again.  Bless.  What I elegantly told the nurse: "I feel it in my butt." Sorry if a fella reads this. Um, that's baby bearing down.  When the doctor said, "You're complete," I had no idea what that meant.) Here's the best part of the labor: it went from 0 to 60! I was fully dilated (I had only been 2 cm about an hour before). We thought we would be delivering you late at night. My reaction to the news? "I feel like I've won the lottery!"  I couldn't believe I'd fast forwarded through the long, hard wait of labor. (I guess the 9 hours before the epidural didn't register as "hard labor" at the time.) It was showtime.

My doctor was called and we did a few "practice" pushes. Lara coached me through those, which was neat and unplanned. She knew your dad and I planned to welcome you alone, so she went out to the families and acted as a go-between with updates.

Your delivery was wonderful. I believe that getting off to such a good start went a long way in helping me adjust to motherhood. The pushing seemed natural, and you were delivered quickly.  The first thing I saw was all that dark hair!  Your labor and delivery went so well that I didn't cry as most do. I think I said "awesome" as you were delivered. I was able to hold you immediately and nurse you. Again, this was easy and natural. I ate dinner as you were washed and tended to. Your Nana came in and announced, "Bring me my grandson and take my picture!"

All babies are beautiful, but you are my baby. Long fingers, skinny legs, a sweet face, and lots of hair. Every day I see you, you become more precious and beautiful. Your face is my favorite thing to look at. You have filled out now: bright eyes, chubby cheeks, a bow mouth, a heart-shaped face finished off by your pointed chin. I know I don't understand how much you've changed and added to my life.

Someone asked me if I loved you instantly. I did-- but it didn't "hit" me. It just was. I was your mother and everything about you did, does, and will bring me joy. (More true now than I could have known then.) 

I love you, Jeremiah Christopher. Welcome to the world!

Love,
Mama

The End of The Beginning

Today is April 30th, the last day of Autism Awareness Month.  It's the end of my beginning.

It's allowed my to talk openly about my life-- all of it.  Because when I can't talk about one thing in my life, I can't talk about anything.  My boy is very much my life.

Fittingly, we had our placement meeting today and it went very well.  I went in with the attitude that the teachers and administrators were there to help me, not to keep the best from me or my child.  That was the best advice I got early on.  Be informed, be an advocate, but be part of the team.  I have more to share about the meeting, but I've got to let in all sink in first.  We will be at the school I'd anticipated, but I got a good feel for the teacher and the classroom.  I've excited, energized, and hopeful for the future.  I felt heard and understood in the meeting, and yup, I cried a bit, but that's just me.  As I told the team, the onus of Jeremiah's potential is on me (well, on God through me, but you know, we only had an hour).  I never thought I'd be sitting in a special education meeting for my child. Ever.  But here I am, and that's okay.  Whatever it takes.  Wherever the path leads me.

I know.  Jeremiah's future is going to be amazing.

I've been thinking about awareness and acceptance and what that means.  And how it allows us to love our neighbor.  Some in the autism community feel like a blue bracelet or light isn't going to help their child.  And on face value, it won't.  But prayers will.  And understanding will.  And friendship will. And monies raised in scholarships will.  And research will.  And humility and gratefulness will.

Sure, I'm aware of autism.  As one blogger said, if I were any more aware of it, I'd be dead.

This month and this series of blogs has been about me accepting it.  And in turn, I have accepted so much more.

I've accepted love. New direction. New dreams. Hope. Laughter.

I know what autism means to me, and the outlook is not what my doctor said, or the textbooks outline, or what the educational prognosis might say.  It's a hands-on, first hand account of God's power molding my son day by day.

Thank you for loving me as yourself.  Thanks for being my neighbor.

James 2:7-8 (NIV)  If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, "Love your neighbor as yourself," you are doing right.

Working in the Waiting

I chose an easy, practical verse to learn this month: Wait on the Lord; be strong, and take heart, and wait on the Lord. (Psalm 27:14) So, what should today's sermon topic address? Waiting on God! To wait means to hope in Hebrew. The word picture is of a rope being twisted, becoming stronger. I've definitely felt twisted and pulled a lot over these recent years! And God's Word has come through. When I was deep in anxiety (another post for another time), it took me step by step back to peace. I emerged much stronger, and knew without a doubt that God works on my behalf. Another point the pastor made was that in our waiting, we should be poised, ready to spring into action when we sense God moving us to a new course. So, here I am, waiting, working, and expecting God to work. He is working in my waiting. That's the blessing of trials. To be included in His work. Y'all, I plain love Jesus and I don't care if that makes me a corny cliche to those who are to cool to need. I need. I need Jesus.

Standing in the Need

Some really cool stuff is happening in my life!  I feel like some tangible blessings have fallen in my lap, not because I asked for them, but because the Lord just delighting in me.  I hope that doesn't sound 'braggy', but I'm feeling very loved by God!  He's opening my eyes more to how he is working, probably because I just need Him.  I need divine power, insight, direction, strength, everything.

With all this in mind, I'm gonna go ahead and ask for a few things of Him, and a couple I'd like to share with you.  I've had the privilege of asking others to pray with me about Jeremiah and our family, and in turn, felt the need to pray for those encouragers in kind.

So, would you pray for me?

April 30th is J's placement meeting for schooling next year.  It should be a relatively low-key meeting.  His teacher already told me the school she is recommending and the best fit in terms of a teacher.  Our local school does not have Special Ed. Kindergarten, so J will be going to another school.  Though it's a bit of a bummer to not be at the local school, the options are excellent and our county has high marks for their elementary schools.  Would you pray that:

• We select the best school for Jeremiah.
•  His teacher will have a true understanding of autism, and a passion for teaching.
• For our summer, that I will use the time to "bank" many enriching engagements with Jeremiah.
• Perhaps, down the road, as we gain confidence with our RDI program and the progress we are seeing, that I could even step in and take over J's schooling for a time to accelerate him. This is a new dream that scares and excites me, but I know NO ONE will be as committed as me to see my son grow. I would never have thought it possible or even wanted to do this but for J's needs.  I still have lots to think about, and surely don't want to do something to satisfy my own need for praise or approval.  And I don't want to not do it because I'm worried what others might think. I want to do what the Lord wants, what's best for J, what's best for the family and I pray all those things line up!
• I will make and cherish special times with Sarah and Rachel separately and together.
• I will just lap up every sweet moment with Rachel and not worry a bit about her development. She's in that "life rocks!" phase of excitement and I'm like "she's waving her arms in the bouncer... is that a stim or just happiness?"  I don't want to miss anything or filter a moment through worry.

Could I pray for you?  I will, too.  Email me or if we're buds, text me.  Let's go all in.  I've been studing the book of James on and off for a while now, and it's just hitting everything in my life-- words, trials, what loving others means, prayer, healing.  It's hits 'em all.  So let's pray, "for the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much" (James 5:16 NKJV).  Or even better: "The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with" (The Message)

To be reckoned by God--astounding!