3 Ways to Practice Gratitude

He stomped his foot and looked at me with arms crossed in displeasure. This behavior is a recent development that I have mixed feelings about. Obviously defiance is not okay and needs loving correction. But on the other hand, I see his behavioral development as crossing a threshold, and it makes me jump with excitement on the inside.

Progress.

Noticing little changes like this even when the result isn’t so great is a step towards thriving. And he is, we just go at a slower pace than most. That’s okay.

Sometimes I get stuck on a merry-go-round of sadness noticing all the ways my son isn’t like his peers. It can quickly plummet into a downward spiral if I don’t get off that circus ride. Most days we operate in our own world without the comparison of typical children since my son is an only child.

The days we are around other kids can feel like a bucket of ice water dumped over me. A cold reminder. I hate being blindsided by my feelings like that. It’s not just because my son has special needs. He’s amazing and I know that. The isolation Jason and I experience as parents is what can make me bitter. We get pushed aside in those casual conversations parents have about their typical kids, concerned their child will fall behind in school, soccer practices take over all their free time, or fill in the blank. It’s hard to not inwardly roll my eyes – because I’m mature like that.

It can feel like we are speaking a completely different language. Hello Holland, hello Italy.

What I am learning on this journey of special needs parenting is that pain is universal, but not divided equally. It doesn’t matter the size of your problem, we all have feelings that matter and should be validated. I never want to minimize what a friend is going through just because I can’t understand it.

If I am going to practice grace toward others, I first need to learn the secret of contentment in my own circumstances. I have failed to do this in my own strength, but  have had victories in the Spirit’s power too. I want to learn how to honor someone else’s struggle so that I can come alongside them, not dismiss their trials.

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Here are 3 things I know to be true in cultivating grace and gratitude:

1. Comparison is the thief of joy.

It breeds discontentment. Comparing ourselves with people we know or people we’ve never actually met (Instagram influencers, celebrities, etc.) manifests quietly in our hearts, as our thoughts lash out toward that person, usually without them ever knowing. We end up in envy and self-pity that eats away at our spirits if we don’t change direction.

2. Competing over our trials leads to bitterness.

I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes we rank the severity of our trials with one another. We use our pain as a measuring stick of “how bad we have it” instead of seeking to comfort a hurting friend. I know I’ve done it. But the different kinds of suffering we experience isn’t an indication of how spiritually mature we are. How we respond in those trials, big or small, is the factor.

Do I run to the Lord for refuge? Do I lick my own wounds and try to patch them up? Do I just get angry?

3. A thankful heart guides us back to the Father.

The reason God commands us to be thankful people is that its good for us. Our outlook is brighter and our hearts lighter when we see how much we are blessed. Count the ways, big and small, that God has shown you grace upon grace. It doesn’t come natural for us, but living out this God-honoring principle will be a blessing in itself. Grateful people are happy people. So I start to notice how he is currently laughing, clasping both hands over his mouth as if to contain the giggles bubbling out. The way he is super polite, always making sure to say “Excuse me” in the right context or “thank you” and “please”. We celebrate the small accomplishments, not taking them for granted.

I see how God is using our present circumstances in a new school to help his speech sky rocket. His teachers and therapists are amazing. Not only that, we have been tremendously blessed with a church family that loves him and supports us. Our families live nearby and help any way they can and often.

These are things the Lord has reminded me of lately. He is faithful to turn my heart back to Him with gentle reminders of His love for me, for my son. More importantly, the temporary blessings point toward the greatest blessing I have forever: Christ. They’re like arrows that lead me back to Him, because of what Jesus did at the cross. For me, for you. It all circles back to Christ. Preaching the Gospel to ourselves each day realigns our  ungratefulness to His grace-filled heart.

Grace upon grace,

April

Failure To Communicate

My son loves to imitate. He also likes to hear my husband do imitations. When our son was younger, one in particular that he wanted to hear over and over again was a line from the movie Coolhand Luke (which for the record, he has never watched- he’s only seven). Jason was always willing to play along because it made our son belly laugh so hard. I’m still not sure why, maybe it was the creepy voice.

“What we have here is, failure to commun-i-cate,” he would say, turning the words in his best southern drawl. The character in the movie, Captain, is a sleazy prison warden with a superiority complex. I’m both amused and cringe at my husband’s talent.

The irony behind the movie line is that Jesse has delayed speech. He was born with hypotonia (low muscle tone) which affects his speech, along with other developmental delays. He began speech therapy when he was 23 months old. There were only a handful of words he could say, and even then we had a difficult time understanding him. I taught him basic sign language words to get by, such as: water, help, sorry, eat, bathroom, please, and thank you. At least he would learn to be polite.

Part of the struggle besides helping his language was figuring out how much he knew. I had no idea what was sticking and what wasn’t. Teaching him about the Bible and Jesus was just as important to me as learning self-help skills. But I didn’t know how to do this. How do I reach him? We can’t even communicate beyond basic survival words.

At some point I realized that God saw the work I was doing to train my son’s heart. He knows exactly what Jesse retains. All I’m called to do is to stay faithful and trust Him. The Lord takes care of the outcome.

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I started singing children’s Bible songs complete with hand motions, playing worship music, and read to him very simple Bible stories. I’m not worried about whether he can memorize a catechism or multiple Scripture verses. It would be wonderful if he could learn these things one day, but for now we sing, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

His speech has skyrocketed into sentences and even opinions! I believe he is learning more than I fully realize. But more than his current progress, I rest in confidence that the Lord has charge over my son’s heart. As a parent I’m learning my role as a shepherd. We can pray for our kids, disciple them, teach them our faith with words and by our example. But thankfully their salvation is not dependent on us. We have the privilege to join God’s work in communicating His eternal truths to our children. However simple or imperfect it may be, our Father can use our labors for their ultimate good and His Glory.

Grace upon grace,

April

Fit to serve

I am sitting on the couch, fingers wrapped around a cup of warmth and deliciousness, also known as coffee. It’s raining outside and thankfully there aren’t any urgent errands to run. After dropping Jesse off at school this morning, the house is still, and I take a moment to savor the quiet. As a stay-at-home mom, this is the career I’ve always wanted, but it requires me to be my own boss.

I’m responsible for how much gets done each day at home. If the laundry isn’t clean or the dishes stay piled high in the sink before dinner it’s on me.

Discipline is key. This principle applies to all of life really. Structure, routine, rhythm, whatever you call it, time management helps things run smoothly. Even structuring time for margin is important. One way I do this is intentionally taking time throughout the week to take care of myself.

“Self-care” is a word that in the past, I gave a suspicious sideways glance. It gives an impression of selfishness, curated by our culture’s post-modern vocabulary which I don’t trust as a general rule of thumb. But over the years I’ve learned it is actually very important. As a mom to a boy with autism, my days are demanding physically, mentally and emotionally. I need healthy ways to relieve the stress that internally builds up.

Imagine you’re flying in an airplane that is in distress. The emergency oxygen masks pop down and they tell you to put yours on first before helping the person beside you. That goes against every mama instinct, but the logic behind it is that if you aren’t getting any oxygen, you can’t help someone else put on their oxygen mask.

One way I’ve practiced self-care is by exercising a few days a week. I don’t make it a huge deal, just around 30 minutes is fine. But I feel better afterwards, for doing something good for my body and mental health.

After collapsing a few years ago with just my son at home it was a wake-up call to take better care of myself. I want to bless my family and friends and community by being around for as long as I can. The best way to do that is to make sure I’m able to function first.

Listening to my body and its warning signs: Am I breathing too quick and shallow? Brain fog? Short temper? Fatigued? You get the idea…It’s just about making simple changes to improve my overall health. Even if it’s just sitting for 15 minutes alone or not turning on music in the car to declutter my thoughts. Maybe you have to hide out in the bathroom to get away from the chaos of little ones for a few moments. That’s okay.

When we know that a short break will help us be a little more patient and kind to those we take care of, it’s actually a service to them too.

Our bodies are made to honor God, and He only gave us one. Moderate exercise, better food choices, even how I spend my time, are all ways to worship the Lord by demonstrating His authority over me. I don’t think it means we’re rigid with our lives, but I don’t want to abuse this gift either. I can please God by taking care of my body, which enables me to serve others well.

What is one way you take care of yourself? Or what simple change can you make to help your overall health? I’d love to know. Feel free to share in the comments below 🙂

 

Grace upon grace,

April

The joys and challenges in parenting a special needs child

January has been unexpectedly hard- and cold, but well, that one is to be expected.

We’re still settling into the “new house” as my son calls it. This doesn’t seem like home yet,  so we’re all a little displaced, since we don’t belong at our old house either. But I figure this will soon wear off and be a safe haven rather than feel like a guest in our own home.

Along with that there have been particularly stressful moments recently trying to mother/referee his rollercoaster emotions. Sobbing one minute and laughing the next, mixed in with a good dose of hyperactivity and whining tantrums.

It’s taken me off guard because it isn’t his typical behavior.

Is he tired? Should I change his diet? Special vitamins? Is this a normal part of growing up?

I can guess all day and go mad trying to figure out the solution- or better yet, the problem. He isn’t able to articulate all of his big feelings, so outwardly I try to calm him down. But inwardly I internalize.

Worry.

Stress.

Until the other day when Jason and I were attending to “new house” stuff I had chest pains. Normally I would shake it off (perhaps foolishly) but since I’ve had a run in with AFib there was concern. Each breath hurt my chest.

I’m fine now, but this pain lasted a day and a half-  soreness like maybe I pulled a muscle. Ironically Jason has had the exact same chest pain for 2 years. I did rest that day, just in case, but my fears of another heart problem were put at ease realizing he experiences the same thing.

In fact, it makes sense now.

I’ve heard it said before that parenting a special needs child is on the same stress level as a combat solider. Well, I don’t know about that, but it serves up a great deal of learning challenges, misunderstandings, isolation, acceptance, self-help skills, and sleep deprivation.

This isn’t a sob story because goodness knows we have been tremendously blessed. I know that.

God has given us our son with a purpose. Some of the reasons I see so clearly and other times I do question why there are disabilities at all. It doesn’t seem fair. Looking at other cases just breaks my heart.

But here are two things I know:

One, I don’t want to ever pity another family with special needs children, but love them by being their friend. Enter their mess. Show compassion. Listen. I can’t understand the exact situation, but I can pray for them and even with them. This is what these families need.

To be heard. Seen. Validated. Loved.

Two, God gave me an amazing son who blesses others in a way I can’t fully understand. Sure he’s not perfect by any means but he loves cheerfully. My prayer has always been that the Lord will allow others to see His kindness and goodness through my son.

I believe God has honored this. 

My Father teaches me more and more and more patience when it comes to working with him. My son is the only extrovert in our family so he keeps me and Jason constantly climbing out of our comfort zones. God is inwardly refining my character, as well as showing me how to practice seeing others like my son does.

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This job is for life and I know there will be more joys and challenges with it. The joy is found by recognizing those moments as gifts and giving thanks. The challenges prompt me to pray more specifically and consistently.

Is it stressful? For sure. Is my son worth it? Always.

Knowing that God sees all even when no one else does helps me persevere. Jesus shepherds those that have young (Isaiah 40:11) and He will never leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5).

I can rest in this, then take a deep breath.

Grace upon grace,

April

The Life I Didn’t Expect

I found Meredith through Instagram, drawn to her heart in encouraging parents with special needs children. As a parent herself with a child on the Autism Spectrum, she offers her personal experience, compassion, and desire to champion for those who need an advocate. Welcoming another mama’s heart to Redeemed In Grace today.

Guest Post by: Meredith Dangel

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I never wanted to write about autism.

My little family blog, which I started when seemingly anyone with an internet connection had a blog, was meant to document our days and stay connected to our far-flung family and friends.

I never wanted to be an advocate.

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You know the one, right? The attitude-bearing, button-wearing, walking bumper sticker that people avoid. I felt allergic to that. Honestly, I’m still allergic to that.

Yet, I am, without question, an advocate. I’d like to take you to the beginning, to share with you how God prepared me for this role, this passion, and this new career. The beginning, though, is my childhood and we don’t have time for that. I’ll take you instead to a feeling that was born inside me on the day a neighbor asked me a question about then 2.5-year-old Henry.

We didn’t know her well, but she was kind, bringing us a homemade cake just before Christmas and waving from her front porch whenever we pulled into the driveway. Standing in the front yard one afternoon, I shared how we were in the process of evaluating Henry for autism, but I was pretty sure the evaluation would be conclusive that he was, in fact, autistic. As she asked me questions about what autism means, I described it as best I could with just a few months of acquired knowledge. I’ll never forget what she asked then, not unkindly but uncomfortably: “So, they can learn the proper response to others’ emotions, but they don’t actually … feel it?” She gestured toward her heart as she said this.

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I don’t know my exact response, but I remember fumbling. I tried to explain that, yes, they do feel, but my vocabulary was not yet nuanced enough to delve into the complexity of autism and the lack of empathy myth. On that day my effort to understand Henry, to support him with every resource Keith and I had to offer, blossomed into something more. I now wanted to help others understand too. I never again wanted to be stuck without words, to feel as if I had betrayed my son and those like him.

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The path I’ve taken isn’t for everyone and I would never assume it should be. God has nudged me into sharing my own story, educating others about autism, and even changing my career. To ignore Him and to hold tightly to the gifts I’ve been given would be a great shame. I often say if I don’t share my knowledge, I don’t deserve to have it.

Day by day, year by year, God has formed me into a person I didn’t know I could be. In parenting, I do seek advice and never stop learning, but I also trust my instincts. I am confident that I know my son and that a good and loving Father provides each day all that Keith and I need to parent him.

In both my private and public life, I take more risks (calculated and prayerful, of course) and worry less. Maybe that’s the exact opposite of what you’d expect from a mom of a child with a disability, but this part of my identity has made me braver than I ever imagined. For Henry and, most importantly, for God, I would do anything.

I would even wear a fundraising t-shirt. Maybe even a button.

Meredith Dangel is a writer and speaker and soon-to-be mental health therapist who longs to encourage autism parents and empower all to see inclusivity doesn’t have to be difficult – it can be beautiful.

http://www.meredithmdangel.com/

https://www.instagram.com/MeredithMDangel/

https://www.instagram.com/mamaneedsamoment/

A Window View

I’ve asked another mom to write a guest post on what it’s like to parent a child with special needs. My friend Alicia has a son in the same school as Jesse, and we met at the beginning of the year. She has shown me the ropes, as it were, for support groups, community meetings on special needs, events, and overall made me feel welcome in a new school environment.

We’re both parents of children with special needs but it looks different for each of us because no two diagnosis are the same. My hope is to facilitate more stories like hers from other parents since this is a community that largely goes unnoticed. Maybe because someone doesn’t know what to say or how to help, or afraid they’ll say the wrong thing. Reading part of someone else’s story can help us relate to one another a little better. Maybe you or someone you know cares for a special needs child or adult. It’s helpful to know you aren’t alone and that others share similar stories.

It can be a sensitive topic- but more than that I think the special needs community appreciates compassion. Compassion to not feel like we or our children are less than, compassion to see us when it’s easier to avoid the uncomfortable. Here is a window view of what Alicia’s daily life is like with her son William.

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Guest post by Alicia Lynch

My name is Alicia and I’m a mom to three wonderful kids.  My oldest William has Autism, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and Intellectual Disability.  He is 10.  This is one of my stories about him.  I have two other children Wyatt who is 7, and Annaliese who is 3.

Grooming is difficult for lots of children with Autism and other sensory disorders.  But let me tell you, it’s a crazy task in our house.  Back when William was a baby he hated his nails trimmed.  Once I accidentally cut the tip of his finger and it bled.  My mom guilt sat in!  Is this why he hates his nails trimmed or is it his Autism? Or something else? Then you discover a ripped toenail and wonder when did that happen?  Is that why he was upset?

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When William was about 5, we would have to put on his favorite television show, while my husband held him and I trimmed his nails, or vice versa.  We had to be quick.  He hated it!  But here we are today, at 10.  And he is finally tolerating having his nails trimmed.  Does he like it? No. Tolerate it? Yes.  And that’s a WIN!

I write this to give others hope. Your child with sensory issues might deal with a simple grooming task at 10, 12, or hey, your child might handle it at 5.  But there’s light at the end of this tunnel for us.  When he was 3, I never imagined that we would be where we are now.  Mamas, take a deep breath and keep on going.  Because I swear to you, that was just yesterday.  Now, haircuts, that’s a completely different story!

To those reading this who do not have children with special needs, I ask that you be kind and patient with us parents of special needs children.  It’s simple things like trimming a child’s nails that will put you over the edge some days.  It’s these little things that are not difficult but they add up.  And special needs parenting is stressful enough.

Upside Down Blessings

Every Wednesday afternoon I sit in a waiting room for close to an hour while my son has occupational therapy. There’s a bulletin board in the front office with their business public Wi-fi password, upcoming events, and articles related to children with special needs. One article in particular caught my eye since it was an interview from two parents with a special needs child. In it, they shared, “We grieve the dreams lost, but not our child”. I remember wanting to shout “Yes!” after reading that small but powerful sentence. Their words echoed something I had hidden in my heart for years but couldn’t even articulate without it coming off like self-pity.

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The truth is, no one wishes for a baby with special needs. We aren’t wired to think that way. So when the diagnosis does come, whether in utero or well into toddler years, there IS a grieving process over future hopes that will never materialize.

But we’ve joined a club we didn’t sign up for and we’re here- so now what? Does it change the way I love my son? Of course not. It just means there will be a plan B that isn’t laid out yet, in which there is little control or foreknowledge. I know that sounds very much like parenting a typical child, but I’m convinced there is more of a blueprint for raising children without a disability than with one. It’s not to say that parenting in general isn’t soul-draining- it is.

Yet the future for most children is that they will one day tie their own shoes, converse in complete sentences so that others understand them, and become independent fully functioning adults in society. There is a broad but knowable path laid out here. Autism, Down syndrome, OCD, ADHD, or physical handicap is even bigger. No two special needs persons are alike in their diagnosis which makes parenting feel more like a desert wilderness. It’s harder to swap “what did you do when she was 3 and this happened…” stories to learn from.

I’d like to say that 7 years into this I never get sad. But just as the parents in the article said, you do grieve over broken dreams… and the daily struggles too. And yet, my son is a gift I can’t imagine living without. He teaches me how to see people, to not be so self-conscious and to love unconditionally.

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My son is what I like to call, an upside-down blessing. God often teaches us through suffering and disappointment. This is part of the upside-down kingdom effect. I lean more into Him, cry out when I don’t understand, in the times I’m flailing because my faith is shaken.

It stretches my trust in God, the Sovereign Creator. I’ve even lately begun to see secondary infertility in a new light, because maybe my ministry is to take care of the one. Even as he gets older his dependence on me hasn’t changed- so maybe, just maybe he needs all of me right now and God knows that.

In the end, this piece of life and how we respond can be for God’s glory and our good. The growing pains are real, and will probably never go away this side of heaven. For me and my husband our Christian faith keeps us going. We believe that one day our son’s mind and body won’t be disabled anymore. One day he will be fully restored as will we. For the Christ-follower, there is always hope. Because hope becomes sight when we see Jesus face to face; and all the dreams I thought I wanted will pale in comparison to the very thing my heart always hungered for.

Grace upon grace,

April

For Holland

When my son was not even a year old I was trying to wrap my brain around words like “developmental delay”, “autism”, and “hypotonia”. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I remember thinking. But you know what? In a lot of ways I’m the privileged one with an incredible gift. I read a sweet poem then that summed up a lot of the emotions swirling inside my heart. God has used my special needs son to teach me a thing or two. He is my Holland. Although hard, I’m enjoying this journey, learning about this space I never thought I’d be in. There is beauty here, and grace upon grace when you take time to see and understand someone else’s world. Here is the poem, ‘Welcome to Holland’ that I read a few years ago. Whenever I read it, my perspective shifts a little, allowing gratitude to grow as I take a deep breath, and persevere.

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Welcome to Holland

by Emily Perl Kingsley (1987)

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.

Grace upon grace,

April

6 Things Every Special Needs Parent Wishes You Knew

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“but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” -Romans 5:3-5

 

I hesitate to even write something like this because I can see how it would easily be interpreted as complaining. However, I think that sometimes when one can serve as the voice for many to be heard, it is beneficial for all. I have met other parents with special needs children and while our stories don’t look exactly alike, this list I think addresses issues most parents feel. Even parents with typically developing kids will identify on some points.

Children are a blessing from the Lord, and as we learn what struggles each of us face, “to walk in one’s shoes” so to speak, maybe there can be room in our hearts for patience, compassion, encouragement, and even prayer toward one another.

 

  1. We often feel overwhelmed mentally.

Feeling physically exhausted goes with the territory of any parent with small children. And you do sometimes feel like you will lose your ever lovin’ mind. But raising a special needs child is especially mentally taxing. There is a steep learning curve for parents to learn medical language for example. There are encounters with neonatologists, neurologists, audiologists, optometrists, GI specialists, geneticists, podiatrists, sleep specialists, along with his general pediatrician.

Then we learn the ropes (and jargon) for therapy with Early Intervention, the “experts” in Autism (or whatever the disability), speech, occupational, physical, and playgroups. We find out what our insurance will and will not cover, and then play phone tag with the insurance companies.

Parents with special needs children are later immersed into the world of education (and there’s a whole set of special terms to learn here as well). Obviously we want the best for our child, and I am personally grateful for the educational opportunities we have been given. But this also involves 2-3 hour long IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meetings with your child’s “team” to write out goals and services for him that are legally binding.

Sometimes when we don’t agree with the educational team about his placement or switching schools (again) there is push back. We are their advocates and sometimes that requires fighting “the system” to do what we feel is best for our child.

Most children with Autism have sleeping problems (as high as 80%). This affects not just the child, but also everyone else in the house. Parents are sleep deprived long past the newborn stage and are expected to function as if nothing is wrong.

 

  1. We worry about our child’s lack of development

We wonder if they will ever become independently functional. What will happen if one or both parents die? What will happen to her once she becomes an adult? Will I still be able to care for her?

Worrying about the future is fruitless because no one knows the future except God. But the fears still haunt us and for me it calls for daily trust in the One who designed my child.

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  1. It can feel very isolating

We can’t carry on the same conversations with other parents about our kids. While yours is playing tee-ball and learning about rockets, mine just learned to drink from an open cup without spilling. We celebrate in a big way those little milestones because it’s a small step toward progress for him.

I have to work at not feeling angry or cursed in isolation just because others “don’t get it”. Honestly, it isn’t their job to understand my situation although it would be nice. I have to remember that Jesus sees me and He has carried us through so far. When Christ lived on earth He was misunderstood and even rejected. The Lord sympathizes with my heart.

 

  1. We love our kids!

It pains us to see them struggle or not quite fit in but its just part of the deal. Other special needs parents I know Google like crazy, research like grad students, take their child to a renowned doctor states away, sit in a waiting room while their son has a 6 hour operation, inquire over the best therapy places in town, or special sports teams/activities and attend parent support groups.

These parents are warriors for their kids, utilizing all the resources available to them. All so they can give their kids their best chance to thrive.

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  1. We may not be great at relationships

This goes back to the isolation thing. It is very hard to connect with someone who looks at you as if you’re from a foreign land when you tell them about your day-to-day activities. And sometimes when we sense a lack of grace in how we raise our kids, we draw back. If you thought there wasn’t a manual for parenting a typical child, there definitely isn’t one for raising a special needs kid. It is a vast frontier of uncharted territory for us and we are doing the best we can just like you are.

I also just do not have the mental energy at this time right now. Even scheduling lunch with a friend outside the regular routine makes me want to hyperventilate.

Friends and family who stick by us understand if we don’t call enough or visit enough. There is already a load of guilt for not doing “all the things we should”.

We long for community and a support system, and some of us have it, but some are in a season of life where survival mode is the only option.

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  1. We connect differently with our kids

Like I said before, we love our children, but for me personally, communication is an obstacle. I understand (and interpret) what he says some of the time. My little guy is persistent though and will repeat the same word a few times hoping I’ll make sense of it. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, and we just move on both a little disheartened.

We tell our children we love them over and over, even if we never hear it back. We play their games, the habitual ones (spinning, anyone?), because we long to meet them where they are, so we step into their world.

It’s mind numbing for sure, but for that time he looks in my eyes, holds my hand, falls asleep on my chest, or squeals with delight? Well, that makes all of this totally worth it.

To the parent of a special needs child, you are doing a great job just for getting out of bed each day ready to take on the daily challenges and demands. Don’t give up on your baby.

To others who know of someone with a child who has special needs, show them grace. Understand that their lives function differently than the rest. Give them a hug or shoot them an email of prayer/encouragement. Parents need it!

Hopefully we can all take a step closer toward loving others right where they are, however messy or hard. It is in those moments the light of Jesus Christ is reflected back to the ones you reach out and serve. And isn’t that what we all want in the end? For the world to see Jesus in us, because He is the very best thing for every parent and every child and every person.

 

Grace upon grace,

April

 

 

 

 

The Autism Label

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I guess I already knew. Jason and I had been using this term to describe our son for quite sometime: autistic. Something about seeing it the other day in black and white confirmed by the education specialists just felt like a punch in the gut. My son’s autism was now “official” for all educational purposes.

The diagnosis we were given when he was a baby was “developmental delay” and “hypotonia” (which just means he has low muscle tone). I already accepted this. My little guy has always had to work a little harder and longer to accomplish a milestone task. He didn’t start walking until he was 23 months for goodness sake.

The last week or so has been compiled of meetings/interviews/observations with what I like to call his “team”, to go over his Individualized Education Plan (IEP). I am so thankful for these women who have made it their professional calling to help kids like him. His team includes his speech therapist, occupational therapist, physical therapist, specialized Pre-K teacher, and Special Education coordinator from the public school system. The supplemental helpers are his teacher aides (who are fantastic), the Autism teacher, his peers, and basically any other teacher or staff member at the school that he has befriended. He knows more people in the school than I do which I find hilarious and comforting. They all know him and love him and can see what I see in him.

At the same time, recognizing that the label of Autism is now forever attached to my son is hard to process. It explains why he acts the way he does, but Jesse is a lot more than a stereotype too. As I went over the confirmed results with his team I wanted to cry because I could no longer put a veil over the obvious, admitting my son has a disability. There is grief for the parent of a special needs child because I want so much in life for my son just like every other parent. I want him to speak in sentences, to hear ‘I love you, mom’, to understand why we celebrate Christmas and get crazy excited about it like other kids, to pretend to be a fireman or superhero running around the house saving the day!

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And yet there was relief in finally coming to terms with his autism. For so long I have wrestled with feeling like a failure as a mom because he hasn’t been able to keep up with his peers in skill level. I thought part of it was something I wasn’t doing right. It isn’t my fault and it isn’t his either. My son has autism. The consolation of having an explanation for his delays, quirks, and irrational fears and the sadness of the reality is an odd emotion to work through.

When the Special Education coordinator looked at me and actually told me I wasn’t a failure I wanted to throw my arms around this almost stranger and give her a huge bear hug. Did she know I needed to hear that? She must have, it’s her job. I’m sure she has seen that look in parents’ eyes before when something really hard to accept becomes concrete. This is my life and I mostly try to focus on the good rather than dwell in self-pity over the hard. Yes, Jesse has autism, but it looks different in each child. He is the happiest person I know and loves to laugh. For the most part he is unaware of himself, which is so refreshing. He doesn’t know he is “different”.

What I want other parents of special needs children to know is that it is not your fault and you a not a colossal failure in parenting. The way we teach and raise our kids just looks a little different. Show yourself some grace and I when I forget this, tell it to me too. Our lives are filled with a bit more misunderstanding from outsiders, worry, and stress. But I know you love your child ‘to the moon and back’ as the saying goes. You wouldn’t go to the insanely long IEP meetings if you didn’t. I know that you take her to all of the doctors’ appointments, the neurologist, audiologist, therapy, and playgroups to help your baby. Breathe a little because you are doing the best you can so give yourself some credit now and then. You wouldn’t do all of this if you weren’t an amazing parent! Today, count the blessings you see in him. Look for it because I know that through the hardship there are silver linings you can be grateful for. I see you today and I’m rooting for you.

Grace upon grace,

April