Imitation

Hi Lovelies! They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In my house, it's that and so much more. We use it as a way to deescalate a situation and we use it to help with speech therapy. Of course, we use it to be silly too.

My favorite use of imitation is to help with speech therapy. Seeing as how the Princess is non-verbal, and the Prince is learning to develop his speech, this is a crucial time that we really focus on getting the back and forth of conversation. Most would simply continue a conversation with their toddler, even if their toddler isn't actually saying any words. Eventually they will. It's a little different with autism.

With autism, things just seem to process differently. For example, with the Prince, we can show him how to do something, like stack rings on a toy. We might show him once or twice, he'll watch intently, then try. If he doesn't get it, he will within the next couple of hours-- to a day or two-- while he ponders how we were able to stack those rings, and he wasn't. He will come back to it, and just do. Epiphany, it works! The Princess on the other hand, is a different story.

We can sit her down with the same stacking rings toy. Attempt to show her the same way as a we had the Prince. She may gaze in our direction once or twice, or even stare. Her focus is the rings. She will then get up, grab two of the rings and run off. We've tried this with the same result many times. She'll get it eventually. Consider teaching the to and fro of conversation in the same light. With the Prince, we can continue to have a normal conversation with him as he's babbling back to us. Words will replace the babble. We have to wait for the Princess to initiate with us.

It usually starts with her saying "Bah!" and going from there. It tends to become a game to her, where she is constantly trying to throw us off our guard. "Gah!" or "Bah, gah!" come into play. This is where it starts for her. The smile on her face as she plays this game while simultaneously learning is enough for me to continue this mimicry until she grows bored with it.

I mentioned that we use this also to deescalate situations, but this really pertains more to the Prince than the Princess. You see, he craves back and forth interaction, whereas the Princess is perfectly content to sit and play seemingly oblivious to her little brother. He also hates diaper changes. Anytime that he is getting worked up into a fit, one of the ways that mostly-- not always-- works is to start mimicking his sounds. He cries "Ahhh!" I repeat it back to him in a slightly melodic voice. We then start this back and forth until he is smiling, memories of upsets long forgotten.

So you see, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In the right hands, it can be a most useful tool. It's a favorite of mine, and until the day it becomes ineffective, I will continue to wield it.

"Your Princess Falls on the Spectrum."

Hello, Lovelies! Today, I wanted to do a bit of a follow up piece to the "Not MY Child" post.-- If you haven't read already, you can read here.-- seeing as how that was simply when the word "autism" entered our world. It hasn't left since, but there were steps that lead us to this point. If you are a parent of a child with autism, you're probably going to be at least remotely familiar with the process, though each of ours is different.

As I was leaving the appointment that fateful day, the doctor told me that she'd be setting up a referral to Early Intervention. What they would  do is evaluate the Princess and we'd go from there. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I agreed, and then went home and proceeded to have my breakdown. A few weeks had passed before I heard anything at all about the appointment, and we were in the process of moving to a different town. When I told the lady on the other end of the line, she told me the best thing to do is wait until we know for sure when and where we are moving to, as we may be in a different county and therefore a different office would be taking over.

OK, time consuming, but at least I was able to ignore the greater problem for a bit. I'd been in a cocoon of denial anyways for the time being, so what was a couple more weeks? Finally, we found a place to move into, and were on our way. Which left me with the next step of contacting the Early Intervention people, and figuring out where to go from there. We had indeed moved to a new county, and had to go through the new office. They told me that they'd be passing the referral on to the new office, and I should get in contact with them in a few days. So far, all it had been was a whole lot of phone tag. Great fun!

Once I did get a hold of the new office, we set up the appointments. The previous office we had gone to had appointments within weeks. This new office had an appointment in three months. Longer wait, but feeding my now living, breathing butterfly of denial wasn't so bad. The three months passed by way to quickly regardless.

First, we started with an office visit. They tested her hearing, which was a totally new experience for me, since I had never gone through this process. The Princess in my lap in a booth with various toys and noises going on around us. All the while they're noting if she looks or responds in the direction to. She didn't always, so they put little ear buds in her ears and told me her ears where working properly. Maybe she was just distracted. Then we moved to a room where for about an hour and a half or so, we watched the Princess play. They asked me questions, they tried to get her to respond. They left the room to tally the score.

"She qualifies for early intervention," they told me, "but we're not autism specialists, so we can't say to that. We do recommend an autism screening." We signed up for it. So far all this means is that my Princess is very delayed, but we don't know much more. Yet.

The autism screening was even more different than the early intervention. They come to your home. I was so not prepared for that. Now it means on top of everything else, I have to make sure to keep my house clean? To my standards of clean for company, you'd barely know there are children living here. Alas, we must move forward, there is no going back. Over the next couple of months, we had various people come into our home, from special education teachers, to autism specialists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, the works.

In each, we'd sit in my living room while the Princess ran from her room out to the living room. And back again. They would ask me the same questions that I'd already been asked a dozen times before. Making notes. Always making notes. While I hated this process, I was more than happy to be doing what was best for the Princess.

After what seemed like forever in this process, it was time for the fateful meeting. Everybody was there, each and every one that had come and gone through my front door to observe and evaluate my beautiful little Princess. Now they were all sitting in my living room. Each with their notes, each with their opinions. One by one, they told me where they saw her delays and her successes. With each one, I look and nod and smile. All the while wondering, 'Yes, I know this. But what does it MEAN?'

Finally it was the autism specialists turn to talk. I focus in on her, looking for either my damnation or salvation. Whichever it chose to be. And then I heard it:

"Your Princess falls on the spectrum." I think my world went a little blank at that moment. The end of that meeting really is a blur. I think we spoke about some assistance's. We spoke about what this would mean for the Princess, and for us. We were now her autism team. Her support, and we would all be fighting for and with her.

That was around a year or so ago. Since then, I wouldn't say she's a whole new child. An improved version, yes. We are making progress, very slow, but it's still progress. I know that we made the right choice for her. I also know most of all, that I am blessed to know this beautiful girl, and for her to allow me to be in her world.

Grateful

Welcome back, Lovelies! I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend! I have had a weekend of reflection, myself. I've been thinking about all of the ups and downs, the back and forth. Being the parent of a child with autism can be one of the most stressful things any mother has ever gone through. You know what? While I wouldn't wish a child with autism to any parent in the world, let alone that any child be diagnosed with it; I'm actually grateful for my Princess with autism.

I know it sounds strange, but there is a reason for this. Yes, autism has become the X-Factor in our household. We wont know how a day is going to go until we hear from Senor Autism. But the fact is, I'm growing weary about seeing some of the fear producing tactics used to justify something is unsafe. Vaccines for instance-- No, this is not a debate. It is only an example.-- have been a culprit for years about the dangers of vaccinating leading to autism. The way it sounds is as if it's the worst thing in the world to have your child diagnosed with autism. I'm here to tell you it isn't always pleasant, but it certainly isn't the worst thing in the world.

You see, with the Princess, you can take any and all affection at face value. If she hugs you, she means to hug you and give you all the love she can give. Her smiles are so genuine you can't help but smile back, because she's truly happy. Her laughter is equally as infectious. When she's upset, sure, the varying levels of what might be wrong can be up for interpretation. The point is that she isn't pretending. Something is very wrong to her.

The other great thing about having the diagnosis for autism is that suddenly, you are not alone. Teaching, training and guiding, all of it you have help with. Since her diagnosis, the Princess has been in specialized preschool. She has teachers who know and love her and will fight for her. She has occupational therapists and speech therapists to help. Yes, I am a stay at home mom which means the child rearing stuff, that's on me. For everything else, I have help. It's wonderful.

I know now, because of her diagnosis that her delays were not something that I was doing wrong. This knowledge and acceptance has benefited me the most. I spent my days leading up to her diagnosis wondering at each and everything what I was doing that wasn't allowing her to hit those basic milestones. Now, I understand that it wasn't me, it was her autism holding her back. Knowing this, I will help her move forward through the murk that is her autism, I will be by her side all the way.

The absolute best part for me? Probably when we went on an outing to a park with many others with children of varying ages. In that park was a gentleman wearing a speedo. Not sure why at the park and not a beach, but to each their own. Every other child there the Princess' age and up-- To a certain point, of course.-- turned to their parents and asked why. Not mine. While all of the other parents there had to come up with answers and explanations for their little ones, my little royals were blissfully ignorant. I was grateful.

Don't get me wrong, if I could turn back time and somehow fix the Princess' autism, I would. In a second. I can't. I can't change what is, I can only accept and move forward. I need to teach my children how to do exactly that, and I will lead by example. These are life lessons I think we can all stand to learn. Even in the darkness of your worst fear coming to life-- In any form, for me it was my child being diagnosed for autism. For you it could be something entirely different.-- if you find something to be grateful for, you have all the light you need to get through it.

Actions Speak Louder

TGIF to all of my Lovelies out there! I hope those that are working aren't working too hard, and to those who get the day off, enjoy! If you're a stay at home mom like me, you're probably just hoping that this gateway day to the weekend goes so easily that it's like it's our weekend already. For me, the Royals are still sleeping-- Apparently, they wanted to sleep in today, I am not going to argue!-- So I'm doing what I can to entertain my time. I don't want to clean after all.

I know by now you all know that the Princess is non-verbal. This is part of who she is right now, and that's just all there is to it. It wont last forever, but for right now, it is a part of our existence. While there are definitely some things I wish she could say, like "Hey, Mommy! I pooped!" That would be a good one. Or maybe, "I love you, Mommy." That would be a GREAT one. It's funny, but you'd think that if she were non-verbal, we'd still be in that phase where Mom and Dad are trying to gauge the pitch of cry to what need. In reality, if you open your eyes too, you'd realize her actions speak far louder than words.

There are some actions that I still don't have answers for. For instance, why she takes off her diaper as frequently as she does, astounds me. If her diaper were always soiled when she did it, I'd say there's your answer. But we will sometimes take off diapers within mere minutes of putting a new one on. For the most part, though, we are starting to interpret most actions. If she stands just outside her bedroom door, she needs something. What that something is, well, your guess can be as good as mine. If she runs up to you, and looks you in the eye, throwing both hands in the air, this could mean one of two things. Either she wants a hug, or wants to be picked up. The only giveaway there is if you do one and she wanted the other. Watch your eardrums, Lovelies. She's gonna blow. Then, there are these beautiful actions that are so incredibly self explanatory, that you'd be crazy to miss.

Picture it: The Princess is standing in the hallway. She's got a toy in each hand. You pick her up and over the baby gate, set her back down and say "Go to your chair." And she's off! You watch as she runs through the kitchen, into the dining room, straight to her chair. Can you guess what this means? I'll give you a hint: She's hungry. As you round the corner with 2 jars of baby food in hand-- Because who could eat just one??-- She giggles and smiles telling you that you've gotten it right.

In those moments are my triumphs. At that moment, I've figured it out. I've taken the impossible and turned it into the possible! In my chaotic world, I often feel like I just fall short. I feel like I'm always two steps behind. That the moment I feel like I've got things figured out, it all comes crashing down around me, and I've got to pick up the pieces again. But then there's these triumphant moments that tell me if I keep plugging along, if I keep picking up the pieces, there will be fewer to pick up next time. And maybe, just maybe, at some point way way far in the future, there wont be any more pieces to pick up.

Free Hugs

Good day, Lovelies! You know those moments in life where everything just seems to be crumbling and the only thing that you know you need to make it all better is a hug? It's the simplest form of human contact and comfort. We crave that closeness, that comfort to the point where the second we get it, all troubles seem to melt away. The Princess has these moments too, they just seem fewer and further between.

We recently went to the King's company picnic. As you know, this requires a lot of planning and preparation. For myself, this also requires sleep. So when 4:30am came around and the Princess was crying and needed to be taken care of, I knew that all I wanted to do was get her settled and get back to bed. Things were going as planned. She had a very wet diaper, so I changed her and got her a new movie. When I went to change her outfit to a dry, warm outfit, I had the most unexpectedly beautiful moment.

As I stood the Princess up to finish zipping up her outfit, suddenly she wrapped her arms and legs around me in the biggest, tightest hug. In that moment, my mind released any inkling of going back to sleep. Instead, I embraced this moment as I hugged her back. I so rarely get these moments to be 'Mom' that I couldn't let go. We sat there for what seemed like 30 minutes-- Really, it could have been an instant, and it would have felt like an eternity.-- until I felt her muscles relax and she slowly let go. From there, I got her a cup of milk and she fell back to sleep. It was too late for me, so I sat on the couch dozing.

Later that day, as we were about to leave, I was working towards getting the Princess into the car, when she did it again. I felt her latch on so tight that a crowbar wouldn't pry her off. She wasn't ready to get into the car yet, she needed her comfort. Again, I lost myself into the moment and hugged her back as tightly as I dared until I felt her release and we got into the car without further incident. The car ride to the picnic, I was in my own little bubble of a utopia from all the hugs I was giving and receiving from my Princess that it didn't fully matter that she was having a fit in the back seat.

When we got to the picnic, things went pretty smoothly. The Princess set to running back and forth at her usual pace. At one point, she really wanted to be held and if she wasn't being held by one of us, she had decided she would get someone to hold her. So she set out, running up to complete strangers to her throwing up her arms in a way that the King and I know means "Hey, they're not carrying me, pick me up!" Instead of picking her up, she received hugs. Many hugs, from just about everyone she encountered. Only once was she successful in getting a random person to pick her up.-- Don't worry, we were with her the entire way.

As we were leaving, and I was about to put her in the car again, she latched on. This time, it didn't last as long before she was ready. On our way home, I reflected on the events in the day thus far. I was wrapped in the warmth of my bubble of hugs and love that I got from the Princess that day. Watching her socialize and get hugs from others was just icing on the cake! Even as she was throwing a bit of a tantrum in the back seat-- She must not like car rides today.-- I was in my own little happy world.

I think she's realized that she can get me to stop pretty much whatever I'm doing by hugging me. She now gives me big hugs whenever I'm trying to lay her down, or put her in her room. While it doesn't change the end result of what I am doing, I am more than happy to stop for a time and welcome her into our own little bubble of free hugs.

Same World, Different Dimensions

Bonjur, Lovelies! In my limited free time, I tend to watch videos online. Mostly things that entertain me, make me think or just give me a laugh. I also watch different videos on autism, people with autism and signs of autism. A lot of them give me hope, they really empower me to empower the Princess. Sometimes they make me cry.

There's one girl whom I follow with autism, who is non verbal but has found a way to get her voice out into the world. She uses her computer to type out her thoughts, and you'd be amazed at what this girl has to say. This lets me know that regardless of if the Princess can yet verbalize to me her emotions, her wants or needs, that they're in there. I really do try to bring myself to the Princess' world as much as I possibly can. Until recently, I thought I was doing a pretty OK job. Turns out, I think I was wrong.

The video that I watched was entitled "Carly's Cafe" and in it, you are Carly-- The girl whom I was speaking about earlier-- sitting with your sister and father in a cafe. You want a coffee, but can't seem to express that very basic want. In turn, you get hot chocolate. The video gets chaotic as your senses go haywire. By the end of this video, I was sobbing. It was my proof that I was not doing a good job of trying to get myself into the Princess' world.-- If you'd like to watch the video, you can do so here.-- That no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn't getting it.

Let me give you an example of where I think I go wrong:

The Princess is hungry. She looks to me as she tries to convey this very message. This is how I imagine it goes if we were looking at it from her perspective.

Princess: "I'm Hungry, Mommy."

Me: "What's going on? Do you need a new diaper?"-- Proceed to change diaper.

P: "No, Mommy. I'm hungry."

M: "Hm, well that didn't work. A new movie then."-- Changes movie.

P: "Well thank you, but really Mommy, I'm hungry. Can we eat now?"

M: "Would you like a cup of milk? OK, I'll get you one."

P: "Great thanks, Mommy. At least you're trying."-- Drinks milk, but moments later is finished.

P: "OK, I'm really hungry."

M: "Are you hungry? Let's get you something to eat."

P: "Finally."

How it really came out-- don't worry, I wont go as long this time:

P: *Smile, giggle*

M: "Do you need a new diaper?"

P: *Smile, giggle* a few seconds later, *Scream, kick*

M: "New movie?"

P: *Scream, kick* *Smile, giggle* *Scream, kick*

You get the point. The point is, I try. I do my very best, but still it isn't enough. I wish I could figure out instantaneously what the Princess needs. I'm no mind reader. I can only do my best to interpret each sound, cry or smile. I'm not perfect. I have plenty of room for improvement. I will continue to do my best, to learn more, to improve.

Really, we're not in two different worlds, as I had originally imagined it to be. We're both living in the same world, just different dimensions. We just need to figure out a way to bridge the gap. Together we can. I know I'm trying and I'm sure the Princess is too. We'll just find our middle ground eventually.

Blinders

Lovelies, welcome! I hope that all is well in your prospective worlds. Things are the usual chaotic, stressful bliss around here. When I do get moments to myself, I usually find myself meandering around on the Internet. Reading one article or another. Indulging in my mindless sense of humor, figuring out the latest crafting fad I'd like to try and ever since we received the diagnosis of autism, I devour anything I can learn on the topic. I've found things that I've considered intriguing, and things that I've determined are heart wrenching. I've discovered more about myself, and more about the Princess' world. I've also discovered that there was a period of time that I had blinders on.

Let me explain. The other day, I found a video on the early signs of autism. In it, there were what I can only describe as early intervention meetings, and there were several children in the 14-18 month range. It showed both the children who showed signs of autism, and children who didn't.-- You can find the video here.-- I was floored. I knew when I had started this whole process that the Princess was delayed in many ways, but it never occurred to me that some other behaviors and movements where key signs to the bigger issue.

For instance, hand flapping was absolutely something she'd do. Did I admit, or even seem to notice it? No. If I did, I have to admit that I probably passed it off as she's being silly, or "Kids do the darnedest things." Makes sense if you think about it, but looking back at it, I wonder if I just missed it.  I wonder if some part of me just didn't WANT to see it. I didn't want to see that my daughter could have something-- for lack of a better word for it-- wrong with her. As she got older and less social and imaginative with her play, I figured it was because she simply didn't have many peers around her.

With each new sign, I had an new reason, a new excuse. She's not walking because she's so tall and grew so fast, that it must be awkward. She's not feeding herself because we do it for her, so why bother? She's not talking because we don't give her the opportunity to use her own words. She doesn't pretend play a lot because maybe we're not getting down to her level enough and playing with her. You see where all of this goes, right? We blame ourselves, we blame lack of opportunities, lack of siblings/friends. We stress ourselves out, pull our hair out to figure out what are we doing wrong?

The thing is, we're not doing anything wrong. We have blinders on. Not because we don't love our children. Not because we don't want whats best for them. Quite the contrary, actually. It's because we love them SO MUCH. We are willing to place blame on anything, anything at all if it means that she doesn't have to deal with and overcome so much for the rest of her life. I have honestly thought to myself that if I could just switch places with her, if it could be ME instead of the Princess; just so she could have as much of a normal, easy-going life as possible, I'd do it in a heart beat. I mean it, too. This is how much I love my little girl. I'd trade places with her in a second so that she didn't have to live with a body that  betrays her on a daily basis.

My blinders are off. I see the Princess for who she is. The beautiful little girl who graced me with her presence 3.5 years ago, the brightest little girl I have ever known. With a smile so infectious that I cannot fathom going a single day without seeing it. Since I can't trade places with her, I will do my absolute best to help her in any way I can, to show her that she is and always will be loved. That I will fight for and with her. Always.