Next..

This particular blog has been mapping its escape route the whole day long.  Today was awful. There is no way to sugar-coat it, and I don’t think I would be very honest with myself or others if I said any differently.  Since Samuel’s diagnosis, I have often had extreme guilt over the sadness I have felt. I tell myself over and over again that “it” could be so much worse. But, I have also come to realize that the definition of awful in my heart and home and the definition of awful in others’ lives can be very different. My “awful” is real to me, and I am slowly beginning to grasp that it is OK!  It is ok that it hurts. It is ok that I am upset and feel out of control at times when I don’t know what to do when the tantrums are many and the head banging is frightening. It is ok to classify my day as awful- no guilt attached. God made us in His image and created us with senses and feelings so that we can cry out to Him to comfort us through all of our “awfuls.”

I have prayed that when I blog that I do it as honestly and authentically as I can, so that if even one person struggling with similar life circumstances reads, they can see a true picture of my thoughts, emotions, feelings in relation to many things- autism, family updates, random happenings, just whatever my heart tells my hands to write. 
A few blogs ago, I couldn’t bring myself to explain what would be next for Sam, but a sweet friend of my mom’s reminded me that educating others through our story is something I should do. So, what’s next for Sam:
After the diagnosis, I knew I had to educate myself on the vernacular and information within the autism diagnosis. If I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t be able help  Samuel. I’ve been reading everything. I have organized Samuel’s medical history into a binder, with doctors’ orders, diagnoses, tests to be run, therapy centers to call, insurances to look into.   I have learned about every type of therapy available. His doctors discussed which would be the most suitable for Samuel. 
I have learned that when you receive a diagnosis like this, that you must wear many hats- insurance expertise, psychology student, file clerk, and the list goes on. The old saying, ” knowledge is power,” is very true. But, for me, knowledge is soothing. It comforts me. It encourages my worries and anxiety to settle, because I know more today than I did yesterday and the day before that. And, that allows me to have a sort of certainty that I am, indeed, helping my son. 
Samuel will have a 24 hour EEG done to make sure he isn’t having any type of subclinical seizures. He is seeing a geneticist to check for metabolic, chromosomal, and muscular disorders. He will add occupational therapy to his PT and early intervention. And, then in January, he will start an all day ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) intensive program. The link below explains the ABA process and research behind it. In fact, most other autism therapies are derivatives of ABA.
As tests come back and more therapy is added, we will know more and I will be sure to update. 
Books that I’ve read/continue to use: 

Mosaic

have seen God in many places and instances. I have seen Him through other’s actions and kindness. I have heard Him speak to me on the delivery table when I birthed my first child. I have listened to Him as He gently whispers a conviction into my heart that I must see to. I have known His mercy in times of trouble and sorrow. I have been forgiven by Him when I have so utterly failed Him that redemption seemed impossible. 
But, what amazes me most is when I can see His plan and provisions unfold before me, knowing all along that I would need Him so much during this season of my life. 
Since Samuel’s diagnosis, He has astonished me at the blessings He has put in others’ hearts to lend to us in our time of need. He has woven a beautiful mosaic that has come together so undeniably, just to bring Scott, Maggie, Samuel, and me comfort. 
It started with Christian. Christian, who was sent to me by God, I am certain, is a precious boy with autism. He entered my 6th grade classroom in 2010, and at the same time he made his way into my heart. Single-handedly this precious gift of a child changed my classroom dynamic, in all ways good. I had 2 little boys who were 6th grade teasers, and Christian even touched their lives. They became his walkers to class, his lunch room buddies, his lender of supplies, and his friends. They redirected his behavior and helped him calm when his stimming was unbearable. These children are what books are written about. They are my heroes. 
I ended up keeping in touch with Christian and his mother throughout the years. He is now nearly 16 years old, and I love his family. 
See, God knew HIS plan for my life. He was slowly preparing my heart from caring about my special needs children to loving them unconditionally. They became the teacher, and I, the student. I cannot fully express what that year as his teacher meant to me. The first person, outside of family, I called when we received Samuel’s diagnosis was Christian’s mother. She has been such a wonderful comfort and listener. 
Then, I began to pour over a tool kit called “The First 100 Days After Diagnosis: A Parent’s Guide.”  
As I did this, I was grieving. I was mourning the plans that I had made for Samuel, making all the same memories with him as a toddler that I had made with Maggie. Each section of the kit revealed more and more of Samuel to me, and the tears could not be held back. I tried. They just poured like rain into a river of sorrow. 
It was amazing, though, that throughout that day I would receive a phone call, text, or email from a family member or friend offering words of encouragement, scripture, a shoulder. 
I have had sweet friends offer to send a maid to my house, just to give me some sanity. I have had high school classmates, whom I have not seen in nearly 20 years, message and call me with offers of help in their areas of expertise. My Granny and my mother are both reading the tool kit to learn more about Samuel, too.  
I took Samuel to the park, hoping, praying that this would be the time that he would want to walk and climb and slide. Instead, we sat for 30 minutes, and once he was acclimated to his surroundings, he got off my lap only to lay his head and gently bang it on the rubber mat that lay under the play set. He wanted to deeply feel with his head what he can’t feel as well with his fingers. He didn’t play with or notice the other children. He just sat on the mat touching and enjoying the texture. I was disheartened. I sat and watched him, trying to find the joy in knowing that he got down. He got down from my lap!  That is a step! But, Satan eased himself into a little spot in me that allows fear and disappointment to take over. I sighed, and my phone rang. It was Joy. Joy has been a part of my family’s life for as long as I can remember. She has a wonderful teenager who is autistic. And, she just felt lead to call me in that exact moment. She listened. She related. She blessed me with her call. God blessed me with His calm, and Satan exited. He disappeared as quickly as he entered. 
God knew that I would need her advice and words of wisdom. He knew! 
There is so much more that I could write this evening, and part 2 will come.  So many more parents have reached out to us, though they struggle themsleves with autistic children. They are Godly, wonderful parents. They show me that I can do this because God told them that they could, too. 

Search my heart, O God…

My heart hurts- physically hurts. I keep thinking this must be what the onset of a heart attack feels like. It must be. I keep telling myself that it’s not cancer; it’s not death; it’s not some unimaginable disease that only scientists can comprehend. It could be so much worse.

But, then the day comes rushing back, and my heart hurts. It’s as if a flashing neon sign is fervently blinking: LOW-FUNCTIONING, LOW- FUNCTIONING, LOW-FUNCTIONING!!!!

Yes. After 4 hours with the neuro autism specialist, this was the answer I was terrified of hearing. Because Samuel cannot understand words, names, commands, and is excessively delayed and cannot speak, he was diagnosed on the spectrum as low-functioning autistic. 

I will have to write more later on what is next for him, but right now my heart hurts. 

It is overwhelmed with grief for Maggie. My brain tells me that she must be so special to be the sister of a child who needs so much help. God must have amazing plans for her, as her compassion for Samuel is already beautiful; it will only grow even stronger in the years to come. But, I feel for her more intensely than I can say because I fear that therapy and appointments will take away precious time from her needs and wants. I know that Scott and I will try our hardest for it not to be this way, but in reality, we know it will be some days. 

I hurt for Scott- my husband who works long hours and gives every ounce of himself to us. His son needs help.

I hurt selfishly for me, too. I want to lie on the floor and have a 3 year old’s fit, but there is no time for that; there is too much to be done, and it would not help anyone to allow myself a nervous breakdown. 

And then, of course, there is Samuel. I have come back again and again to this blog tonight, hoping that the words about Samuel, and how I feel for him, would flow from my fingertips. But, I just can’t right now. Maybe I haven’t absorbed it well enough or broken it down fully in my own head for me to form the sentences needed to share my emotions about him. Hopefully, in time, I will. The Bible says that joy cometh in the morning, but for tonight, my heart hurts. 

You are my hiding place..

Scott is home from Denver. I am thankful for God’s protection as he traveled. I am relieved that he will be with me tomorrow, as we got a last minute call from the nurse at the autism center telling us that they have moved Samuel’s appointment up from December to tomorrow. I have been anxious since the call came. Part of me is relieved that we may find out where Sam falls on the autism spectrum. Part of me is terrified of where he falls on the autism spectrum. And all of me, in this very quiet, dark moment wishes that the appointment wasn’t tomorrow- that the appointment would never come.  It reminds me of the anticipation Dorothy faced when waiting for the “great wizard of Oz” to appear from behind the curtain. He kept himself hidden- blissfully unexposed, never wanting others to see his true character. My mind is racing, searching for a place to hide itself from what may be. My heart is pounding, teetering on the edge of brokenness, needing to be guarded. Wanting, yet not wanting to know is difficult. 

Yet, I know that Jesus is my refuge and strength. He will protect my heart and give me His armor to be Samuel’s advocate. So, I am hiding in His arms tonight. I am resting in his safe haven of holiness and goodness- in his unwavering grace. 

The Bible says in Phillipians 4:6-
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Dear Lord, please comfort our hearts and minds as we embark on this unfamiliar and uncertain journey. Please help the specialist see just how special your child, Samuel, is and for her to know how to assist him.  Please help me to hold onto your love and mercy, sending your words flowing through my thoughts. I give it to you, completely. Thanking for your unconditional love.  Amen

Samuel, my son

I decided to run errands today by myself. We had actually all planned to go, but Maggie still isn’t feeling well, so I went it alone. Samuel needed clothes. He is going to mother’s day out one day a week, but that is increasing to 2 days very soon, and with a little crispness in the air of this gorgeous day, I knew he needed pants that didn’t look like clam diggers (as my mama calls them). 
I was driving to Katy Mills, when the thought occured to me: I am going to buy clothes for my autistic son. 
I know that sounds odd, but the mind jolts thoughts on its own at times, and sometimes they are not pleasant ones. 
I parked my car and sobbed. 
I called my mama, asking her if I would always think things like this. She reassured me that Samuel being autistic will be our new normal and that it would not slap me in the face each time I thought of him. Afterall, as my granny said, “Nothing has changed about Samuel. Today is the same as it was yesterday. Now, you just know what you are dealing with.”  
They are such wise women. 
I love Samuel even more today than I did yesterday and the day before that. He is still curly headed and beautiful. His laugh still melts my soul. His head banging still breaks my heart. His silence is still deafening, and I still desperately want to hear “MAMA” flow off his lips into the vastness of this world. That word- meant just for me, by him. 
So, after I gathered my thoughts, and my mama wiped my tears from 4 hours away, I shopped. Not for autistic Samuel…  Just for Samuel, my son. 



What we know.. What we don’t

Yesterday was Sam’s neurology appointment at Texas Children’s. Dr. Holick is really wonderful with him and with his anxious, worried parents. She has been his neuro since he was born, and she performed the EEG when he was just a few months old. I am thankful for her thoroughness and the time she takes for him. His formal diagnoses are: Global Developmental Delay, Autism Spectrum,  and Hypotonia.

There are links at the bottom of this blog for each disorder that can better explain them than I can, but I will give a brief run through of each. 
Global Developmental Delay is a kind of all-encompassing late development in children. He is delayed in most every area, hence the global title. 
Austism Spectrum is exactly what it sounds like. He has autism, but until his appointment with the autism center and further testing, we just don’t know where he falls on the spectrum. 
Hypotonia is low muscle tone. Samuel is “loosey goosey,” as we all call it. He has core muscle problems, slouches deeply when he sits, poor coordination when walking, has a wide stance, and cannot use his hands at the level that a 20 month old should be able to. 
So, with all that said, the neuro is concerned that he may have some type of muscle connectivity issues, and she is doing some genetic testing for metabolic, and muscle disorders. She is fairly certain, by the MRI results, that whatever it is that it is not degenerative, which means that he should not progressively get worse. That is pure and simply put, a blessing. 
She is having him add OT to his regimen at the hospital to work on sensory skills, as the head banging is just awful now. She is also having him fitted for a helmet to protect his little noggin. 
So, that is what we know now. More answers, and more questions. 
 
On somewhat of a side note, I would like to mention some things that can encourage and discourage parents of autistic children:
We love prayers. We covet each of them, as we know God listens to every one of them. He is the great physician, and I believe he will help Samuel through all of this. Please pray. 

Please do not tell us that our child “Doesn’t look autistic.” Autism does not have a “look.” It is not a dysmorphic syndrome, with signs of a different outer appearance than “normal” people. 
We do love support and kind words. Words can make or break a person’s day when they are struggling. 
 
It is unsettling when people who have only briefly interacted with our child say, “He can’t be autistic. He seems normal. “
Remember, you are only getting a glimpse of such a large panoramic. For example:  Samuel smiles in pictures. That’s the glimpse. But, the reality is that he does not smile in response to others, and that the picture you see on facebook took many, many tries with various toys and noises that interest him. 
I truly would pay a million dollars to see that smile every second of the day, so I try to get as many as I can.  
People don’t know that Samuel uses his head to “feel deeply” what he cannot sense enough with his hands, or
that he refuses to walk on grass and concrete. 
There are many facets of day-to-day life 
that only those closest to him see. 
We appreciate suggestions of resources and advice so much.  We are reading everything we can get our hands and minds around to help our child. We love book suggestions, sensory resources, and we find peace in others’ stories, as well. Knowing we are not alone helps immensely. 
I realize that this particular post is
very matter of fact. But, sometimes that is easier to deal with than the worry and grief that comes when our life plans don’t work out. That is when I remember that our plan was never meant to be, but that God’s plan was. And, when we follow
His plan, things will be just fine. He knew Samuel before he put him in my womb. He has a purpose. 

Thank you so much for all your messages, prayers, love, support, and kind words. We love you.