A frustrated mom....

I got to work today and in my morning read through my favorite SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) discussion page I came across an article. This article stated that the Diagnostic and Statistic Manual (DSM) has decided to officially exclude Sensory Processing Disorder from their 5th edition. I realize that to most this seems like it would not really matter, but in my world, it so does. This manual has also gone as far as to not include Aspergers and instead a child will just be labeled as on the Autistic spectrum. I'm so saddened, these children do not deserve to be pushed into a single category when so often the things they experience are so vastly different. We are supposed to be making strides to help our children succeed and decisions like this take us ten steps back. We have already had to push (far to hard) to get our son the care he needs. I feel so blessed that we started this process when we did, a year from now I might not have been able to do what we've done to this point.

Through a diagnosis of Sensory Processing Disorder we were able to get him occupational therapy and in with a fabulous counselor. Six months ago my son would not ride a tricycle, was terrified of being off the ground (unless he was in panic mode), wouldn't try new foods, woke up from night terrors constantly, fought writing or any fine motor skills activities. Last week he painted his face and chose to wear a short sleeve shirt. He is sleeping through the night most nights now. His meltdowns are getting fewer and when they do happen they don't last as long. He is beginning to feel when he is getting out of sorts and will often separate himself before it gets to a bad place. He is learning to trust people and build relationships with his peers. It is beautiful.

And all I can think of is how many children will go without the kind of services that he has received because a medical manual has chosen to not recognize that this exists? And what about my son? What category will he be put into now? I'm not giving up. We have come too far as a family to do that. We are learning to be more aware of things and I will continue to educate myself in every way possible. Our sons SPD is not as extreme as many face, but it did change the way we have to parent and who he is. But the more I learn the better I am able to understand him and our other son. I view things in a different light and am a better mom because of him.

Here is the link to the article. http://app.e2ma.net/app2/campaigns/archived/1403154/49078b0d39a2460fe7363967ffa10d81/

35 weeks...what?!

We're having a daughter. Just in case you didn't know :) It's a pretty big deal, one that has taken me the last 35 weeks to really comprehend. I'm not sure why it has been so difficult, probably because I had really come to terms with the idea of having a house full of boys, and to be honest when I think about having a daughter I get a little nervous. I mean for the last four and a half years all I have known is boys. There is no pink in our home, or ruffles, or barbies. I "get" my boys (well most days anyway). But despite my fears I'm incredibly excited to be welcoming a bundle of pink joy to our family; to watch my boys become protective big brothers, to see my husband melt every time she looks at him, to have someone to have girls dates with, to watch her get ready for dances, and to one day give her away to one heck of a lucky man. It always amazes me how much love you can have for someone you've never met, but this little girl is already more loved then I thought possible.

When I was pregnant with both of the boys I didn't enjoy pregnancy to say the least. I was sick the whole time, in and out of the hospital, and C gave me more anxiety with his heart then I thought was humanly possible. I remember constantly reminding myself that it was the end result I was interested in and that 40 weeks really wasn't that long. I didn't take maternity pictures, or pictures of the process. It wasn't that I wasn't eternally grateful for the opportunity to have these beautiful boys growing inside me, but it was just hard. Hubby and I were really worried this time around, first because we knew that this child had an increased risk of a heart defect because both of her brothers did and second because as we joke about all the time, I just suck at being pregnant. So I prayed, a lot. I prayed that everything would be OK this time around, and that because we knew this would be our last child that also meant this would be my last pregnancy. I told God that I was going to find everything possible to enjoy this time around. I can't tell you how or why this child has been an answer to so many prayers but she has been. I have been healthy, she has a beautiful heart, we're having a girl, and I have been able to enjoy the small moments. I have a girlfriend who gave birth to her beautiful daughter on 10-11-12 and she has forced me to take pictures along the way. She would pester me until I would send her one. At first I strictly did it to appease her, she is very stubborn and doesn't take no for an answer ;) But now that I actually have a record of the amazing gift that has grown over the last 35 weeks I am forever thankful to her.

A few weeks ago two of my dear girl friends threw me a baby shower. Which reminds me that I have still not sent out the thank you cards I wrote.....oh old habits die hard. I had not intended on having a shower because this is our third baby but they insisted and I am so grateful that they are more hard headed then I am :) I got to be surrounded by some fabulous women who seem just as thrilled as we are to be having a little girl. I need to get pictures from the girls so I can post on here. But it was lovely, yummy treats, a fabulous cake, and more pink then I could have imagined.

And finally, this last Sunday my mom and I decided to tackle the nursery! I had painted it over a week ago (a fabulous aqua) but I just couldn't get my ideas to come to fruition. So I called in the big guns! Mom and I spent the day visiting every store imaginable in search of the perfect pieces to go in baby girls vintage-ish inspired nursery. We're not quite done yet, but I'll do a whole post on it when it's done!

So five weeks left until our lives are forever changed...and I just can't believe how incredibly blessed we are :) Have a great week!

I do!!

Yesterday my hubby and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. I always love date nights, I still tend to spend too much time getting ready and trying on a million different outfits, all for that one look from my husband. I would be lying if I said I was one of those girls who always is put together. You know the one that even in sweats looks like she may have walked off the page of a magazine? Ya that is NOT me! I work in an office with one other person, and sometimes no one at all. I always wonder if my boys childcare provider thinks I even have a job because I drop them off with no makeup and a sweatshirt on. But anyway, I digress....

I started thinking about the last 6 years hubs and I have spent together. Well almost six but it's close enough to count. I remember spotting him through a window and telling a girlfriend I was going to marry him. Little did I know I actually would. :) I think of the things we've gone through, the good times, the rough times, the rich and the poor. And do you know what my favorite thing I realized yesterday?

I would do it all over again.

Hubs and I met when we were 20. I remember being told that people change a lot in their 20's, and I can say that I think we have. Together. I can say that the man I am married to today is not the same man he was the day I met him. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Of course he drives me crazy some days, and he still leaves his dirty clothes on the floor. But he is more kind, and patient, and wise, and funny, and handsome today then he was then. He knows my idiosyncrasies, my passions, and fears, my annoying habits, and he loves me regardless. He usually remembers to clothes the shower curtain, and to straighten the sheets before bed, and he folds towels the right my way.

This is the day he asked me to marry him :) That blur in the background is my hero Reba. Yes, my fabulous hubby got down on one knee in front of a sold out concert and asked me to marry him (thanks to some help from some fabulous friends of mine!), and I said yes (obviously).

Since that moment we have welcomed to beautiful boys into this world, and we are patiently awaiting the arrival of our sweet daughter, we have bought, gutted, and completely remodeled a home, I have completed my bachelors degree, and hubby has worked his rear off to make it all possible. I.am.blessed.

The story of us has been quite a journey, a beautiful mess really, but I am ready for what the next years have in store for us because I know he is by my side every step of the way.

What kind of parent am I?

If I had a nickle for the number of times I have been asked what kind of parent I am, well I'd have a lot of nickles....

My answer as of late has simply been this, "um the best I know how to be." I'm not really sure why it is that we (especially as mom's) feel the need to be defined by a "parenting type". When P was born I was 21 years old and everyone, I mean EVERYONE felt the need to tell me exactly how to parent him so I wouldn't screw him up. What I am sad to report is that I was so completely concerned with what others thought that I followed their instructions blindly. I went into labor without knowing any of my rights, or understanding what it meant to give birth to a child. I smiled and nodded when my asshole doctor told me that apparently being in active labor for 8 hours was detrimental to my child and there was no choice but to push lots of drugs and have a c-section. I sat outside the door of my 3 month old sons room while he screamed to be held and comforted and I bawled. Not one of those little oh a tear has fallen but a full on ugly cry, with heaving sobs. All because I was told that I would be spoiling him if I went in and that would surely turn him into a needy brat. I let others tell me when he should have solids, when I should quit breastfeeding him, when he should be spanked, actually I can't think of any decisions I really made for myself. After all, I wanted to be a "good mom".

When we decided to start trying for baby #2 I prayed long and hard. I decided to start reading, I mean my whole life I had been known for being "book smart" and yet when it came to my child I didn't think twice about looking into the choices I was making for him. One day I had this fabulous moment of clarity. One that in the movies everything around you freezes and turns into shades of black and gray so that only the important things stand out. It happened while P was fast asleep, the moment I realized that I wasn't being the parent I wanted to be regardless of if it looked right to everyone else. I walked into his room, scooped him up in my arms and promised him that I would be the mom to him that I knew how to be. I told him that it would be far from perfect but I would love him with every ounce of me and we would figure it out together. And then I cried which woke him up and nap time was shot for the day, talk about a great first step right!

Now, that I look back over the last four years I can say that my parenting "style" is drastically different then it once was. I am now a cloth diapering, baby wearing, co-sleeping, hugging, holding, parent. When my boys act out we talk about why they feel the way they do and how it affects those around them. We take twice as long to go through a grocery store so we can see and smell and talk about things. I still get frustrated but I don't spank them simply because that is what I am "supposed" to do. Don't get me wrong I believe without a doubt that my children should grow up to be respectful and polite and anyone who knows me can say that I have refused to give my boys something if they cannot ask the right way. But we talk about things, we hug, and sometimes we yell at the top of our lungs (in a "I'm overwhelmed and just need to yell"). I'm sure when my children are grown they will indeed be messed up because of something I did along the way. But at least now I can say that I'm truly giving them the best I have. Some days that means they see me break down, but I want them to know I'm human.

And in the midst of it all I have opened myself up to criticism. Which is a hard pill to swallow some days. But as we prepare to welcome baby #3 into the world I feel like I'm stronger in who I am; as a woman, a wife, and as a parent. Even in my colossal failures I know that I'm giving it all I've got, and that I don't have to have a parenting type to be a good mom.

Happy Tuesday :)

Our journey with SPD

 I feel the need to share my son with the world. I guess mostly because in sharing our struggles I feel like maybe there is one other mom out there who might say, "wow I'm not alone!" This is largely the way I have felt for the last four years. But before I get in to that let me introduce you to my son.

This is my son, I call him my bear. We will refer to him as P for all intensive purposes. He is four going on 18 most days. He was speaking in full, clear sentences by the time he was 17 months old and was explaining life things to me long before I thought he could even comprehend words like ridiculous and absurd. This little boy can take toys apart and put them back together and explain to you why it works and how it could be improved to do more things. He blows my mind at how his little brain works and the things he remembers. Someone told me to write down the things he does because one day I would forget. Now I look back at those things to remind me how blessed I am to be given the child I was, and how I desire to be his advocate in life and the best mom I can be.



When we brought P home from the hospital we were amazed by his determination. He knew right away what he liked and what he didn't. And he wasn't shy about telling us. To be honest I thought that everyone's baby's were the same. We couldn't go to stores in a different order then what I had told him, I couldn't run up to him and swoop him up in my arms without him having a melt down. He would fight me over the clothes he was wearing, the way his socks fit, changing his diaper. My mom said he was "strong willed"  and everyone told me that I should feel blessed to have such a smart kid! Let me tell you, every time I heard this I wanted to poke them in the eye. Not because their intentions weren't kind, but because how do you come back with that and say, "well ya I wish he was just middle of the street, plain, ol' normal." That makes you sound like mom of the year...



It actually wasn't until P's little brother came along that I truly noticed that maybe what P was going through wasn't "normal". I mean his intelligence wasn't "normal" this was clear very early on, but it was our day to day dealings that just didn't add up. Someone told me it was because I wasn't strict enough, so I started spanking him more (this made things 10X worse). Someone else said it was because he wasn't around other kids, so I decided to go back to work so he could be in a child care environment. This worked while he was in a home center, largely because his caregiver was AMAZING and had experience working with special needs. She could handle him in ways that I didn't think were possible. She could redirect him, ask him to do things, even send him to timeout without fail. It was inspiring, and some days made me feel like a total failure. Then the summer drew to an end and we moved him in to a center that I thought was everything a childcare center should be. It was clean, and they said they used all of the same things we did at home! This center was a disaster and that's a whole other post.....It was while he was at this center though that I decided that this wasn't just him "being defiant", so I called STRIDE. This is the center here in town for development for kids from birth to five. Mind you we had gone and done his 1 before 2 evaluation at 20 months and when the woman asked him to sit in the chair and point to where his ears were he said, "I can't, I left them out there." Yes, this was my 20 month old....

While we were at his eval we met with four women in a nice and quiet room. They asked him lots of questions and played with him. We had to end the eval early because he felt too sick (this happens a lot when he is overwhelmed). They met with Nick and I both together and separately.  We both took surveys and were not allowed to look or answer together. They came to his childcare center and to our home to see how he did in different environments. I think even they had to be shocked at what a different kid he was there compared to at home. After a several week period they called and said they had his "results" ready. We met with C the counselor/social worker and one of the occupational therapists, and that is when they said it....

P has a disability.

I bawled. Partially out of relief that there really was something going on and mostly because I saw a flash of a hard life for him. A life full of people not understanding or wanting to understand what he was going through. And a hard life for me, as his mom. To be the advocate he needs and the mom he deserves. This day will be forever engrained in my memory, from the clothes I was wearing down to the smell of C's office. C handed me a tissue and began to go over the evaluation. The words were there in front of me, the way his teachers described him, "unable to play with children his own age, cannot switch activities, often acts out in defiant ways, can't do circle time, is a disruption". There is was, everything I never wanted to hear said about MY child. Wasn't parenting supposed to be butterflies and roses? Weren't my children never going to be the "bad" kids?

The explained to me what Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) was, pretty much the wires in his brain linking his sensory abilities together were in a traffic jam, and apparently lots of extremely intelligent kids deal with it. This was why he was scared of swings, had to wear tall socks, couldn't eat food at "normal" temperatures, why standing in a line made him panic. The list went on and on, he made sense to me for the first time in four years. You can imagine the amount of crying I did through this discussion. But I felt like I was given real hope. Not the band-aid kind of "oh he's just a boy" but genuine words of encouragement for him and for me.

So tonight is the open house for STRIDE. We are going to meet his teacher and begin what I'm sure will be one heck of a journey. But we've taken that first single step and my heart is so full of hope. Hope for the little boy that he is and the amazing man I know he will become, and hope for myself.