Archives for posts with tag: grace

MK_PFTHPURPLEB1CHAR_20170227_7962999163.jpegWhen I was growing up my parents got us a Christmas ornament every year. It was a tradition. I love unpacking those ornaments each year- seeing my mom’s handwriting listing my name and the year I received the ornament on the boxes. When Kevin and I were married those were the only Christmas ornaments we had for our tree.

It’s a tradition I wanted to continue with my kids. For Grace’s first Christmas we’d been through a lot and I remember struggling to find an ornament that represented that time- something we’d want to celebrate and remember every year about baby Grace as we unpacked that ornament. Ultimately I settled on an ornament of Dumbo taking a bath in a tub. The note I wrote on the box was one sentence in length that says “Because Grace loves taking a tubby!” One year it was a Cinderella ornament that marked her invitation to a princess birthday party. The first year she rode a horse-it was a horse. The year we flew to see her Aunt Heather and Uncle Drue married in Virginia it was a plane. This Christmas it was a Rapunzel ornament that we bought her at Disney World when we visited.   Each year I write a note on the box about why we chose that ornament for the year.

My mom never wrote messages on the box about why she chose the ornament. She never had to because I know and I can tell the story. I started writing out the reasons on the ornaments we buy for our kids because I knew Grace wouldn’t be able to tell the story.

Special needs grief is a funny thing because this year as I was packing those ornaments carefully away I got to wondering if it mattered.   If anything happened to us would those ornaments really follow Grace? When she grows up and if she were to live apart from us would anyone read the notes to her? Put up the ornaments? Was I just creating more for Graham to have to go through someday?   Was it an unnecessary tradition? And in a larger sense if we are the sole keeper of Grace’s story and why she matters a few ornaments won’t begin to tell the story.

I feel different about Graham’s box. His ornaments are for him to have so that one day he can remember his growing up by going through a few ornaments that represent snapshots of what he liked and how he grew. I can picture him sharing them with his kids telling them about what Dad was like when he was little.

Ultimately Grace’s ornaments got packed in her box. I came to no conclusions other than it’s not a waste. If those ornaments are only ultimately for me then they are only ultimately for me. I chalked it up to grief sneaking up on me. Grief on a normal Sunday when we’d been to church, I was doing laundry, Grace was playing happily on the floor pulling every toy out of the basket in front of her, Graham and Kevin were out playing in the snow, and we were planning on Casey’s pizza for supper. It was grief that comes from the helplessness of not knowing. Grief because I’m not sure what to dream for Grace in the future. A grief that her experience will never be all that I dreamed for her.  And the thing is I have a level of acceptance about all of this. I do. I swear. But even with acceptance, there are moments that catch you off guard and then all you can do is take the time to acknowledge the grief, share it if you need to, process it until it’s processed and then keep going.   The ornaments are packed away but the work continues.

Joy

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FullSizeRenderI was having trouble starting this Christmas letter until I got on my phone and scrolled back through the pictures I’ve taken over the last year. I’ve taken so many pictures – a full year of little moments, big things, memories that make me laugh, and memories that make me tear up.

Graham’s love of sunglasses and selfies is in there. There are pictures of donuts and legos. There are pictures of his last days at Childserve’s Daycare where he was loved well for over five years. There are pictures of his first day of kindergarten.   There are pictures of him at taekwondo. I even have a screenshot of directions for tying a taekwondo belt.

Grace is also a fan of the selfie – but most times I’m in the picture with her to help her take the shot. There are so many pictures of Grace dancing. There are pictures of her swinging. Pictures in waiting rooms and doctor’s offices abound. There’s her first day of 5th-grade picture. I had her in a shirt that in pink shiny lettering said “This girl can” for that day. There are also a few shots of her in her “Nevertheless She Persisted” shirt. Finally, there are lots of shots of baseball. Her last game she played with either Kevin or I holding an umbrella over her head because it was raining – but she played anyway.

Kevin appears in pictures of baking with Graham, snuggling with either kid, flying kites at Johnston’s Kite Festival, sitting behind the steering wheel of the van, and across the table from me when we have had a chance to go to dinner just the two of us.

I’m usually paired with Grace or Graham in the pictures of me. There are a few from work. There are a few early morning shots that Graham took – that even though I don’t like I just can’t bring myself to delete.

What strikes me most in reviewing the pictures is that we really did life this year as a family. We went to Disneyworld-which was Amazing! (I have a crazy number of pictures from those days.) We also accomplished many of our summer bucket list items. We saw fireworks at the Golden Castle (that’s what Graham calls the state capitol building) for the Fourth of July. We had lemonade at Farmer’s Day. We went miniature golfing. We went to the Pappajohn Sculpture Park. We went to the zoo. We were at the State Fair. We went to family camp. We went on a vacation to Duluth Minnesota. We went to Reiman Gardens. We swung in the backyard and had one officially documented picnic. We stayed in a hotel or two. This fall we were at Living History Farms, we had family pictures taken, and we went to see Disney on Ice.

What all that tells me is that we are finding some balance between feeling limited and just going for it. We are keeping Grace both in the world and in activities that allow her to excel that are more specialized. I can see that Graham had 1:1 time with me – and I know that he did with Kevin. The two of them take Saturday morning trips to the Farmer’s Market that are well documented on Kevin’s phone.

I can also see our kids grow, which is ultimately their job.

We plan to spend the holiday season celebrating together – with a few movies, some cousins, some legos, and Disney princess dolls thrown in. I’m sure I’ll take lots of pictures.

Thanks to those of you who check in on us. Those of you who laugh and cry with us. We appreciate you.

From all of us to you – Merry Christmas!

Joy

IMG-5708Grace was discharged from speech therapy today for reasons that I don’t think are fair. It was disheartening, to say the least. We handled our disappointment I think pretty well and left on positive terms – but I cried. I wanted to just sit down and cry when we left and told Kevin – “I wish there were special needs crying days”. What I meant was a day where no one needed anything from me and I was just able to be sad, process what I was feeling, etc. But I know – and have known for a long time now – that there’s just no such luxury. Reality is I cried myself to work, dried my tears, and went to work. I led some meetings, sat on a conference call, and responded to emails. My coworkers were incredibly kind, or else I hid the crying really well, in the end, no one said anything.

Now I’m home and there are expectations to meet here. Laundry. Supper. Snuggling. Sight words. Cathing. Meds. Laundry. Baths. Bedtime stories. Dishes. Picking woodchips out of Graham’s coat (long story). But I’m taking a break from that to write this. I need to somehow express that I’m sad. That I feel inadequate to advocate for Grace in a world where the rules are veiled in shades of gray. That in my heart of hearts I don’t actually know what to expect from Grace in the area of communication and that I recognize that makes it harder to advocate for her. That having a nonverbal child is challenging on so many levels.   To describe those levels in words doesn’t seem possible.   I can only tell you that Grace’s silence often makes my heart ache – however a smile from Grace, and a long look straight in my eye can make me feel wonderful.

There is value in being able to communicate. There is value in taking the time to figure out how those around you communicate. There is value in listening with not only your ears, but with your mind, heart, and eyes.  Grace’s inability to communicate the “regular” way takes nothing away from the value of what she has to say.   We regularly communicate about Grace with those who speak for her and even have tried to describe in words what we think her communication style is. We do this because it’s important that her voice be consistent. Here’s what we say in Grace’s resume: “If you are serving as my voice my parents think my voice is largely optimistic, shows a sense of humor, is a little stubborn, is reassuring, and gets to the point. They don’t want my voice to be negative, put anyone down, or be disrespectful.”

Grace being nonverbal has been a constant struggle and will continue to be. I wish there were answers. But true to form Grace is Grace. She’s ours and we love her. We love her on crying days and good days. Her presence in our family is no less because of her inability to talk. We will continue in our own way to figure out how to make sure she’s heard.

Joy

“I didn’t know Grace had a brother” I heard a teacher say as the four of us walked past inDSC00327 the hallway at school. Today was Meet the Teacher day. In my opinion, it’s madness – in an hour and a half, every kid in the building is technically supposed to find their room, meet their teacher, put away their supplies, and then be ready. You have exactly 2 minutes with each teacher to ask questions while they are trying to take care of everyone else there and for me, the whole thing just lacks personality. Graham was anxious, not sure of what was going on. Grace kept yawning. Kevin and I ran around trying to unload the four bags of supplies necessary in the places where we thought they should be.

Anyhow – that’s a blog for another day!

So, back to the teacher’s comment about Graham… it was really the tone of which it was said that caught me. I heard it as “Wow, Grace has a brother.” It’s not the first time I’ve heard the tone. It happens more than you might think. My impression is that a lot of people think maybe we are a bit crazy to have had a second child when Grace is so Grace.

I choose to think of it this way. Graham wasn’t an accident we had him on purpose. We waited to have him until we felt like Grace was stable so that we’d be able to be there for him like we wanted to.   We had him because our family didn’t feel complete – we’d always talked about having two kids.   Some days I think of Graham as a visible sign of our faith and optimism.

That’s not to say we weren’t scared when we had him.  But we wanted him. We took a risk on him.

He’s stretched our parenting in different ways. He teaches us things that are quite frankly amazing and humbling.

I’m looking forward to finding out what school is like on the normal side of parenting. Even though Grace has been there I just have to imagine it will be different.

So this year, this one year Grace and Graham will be in the same school building. I’m anxious to see what this will be like for both of them. What will it mean for Grace to have a little brother in the building? And what will it mean for Graham to be Grace’s little brother?

We shall see!

Joy

 

GraceChangesEverythingI was up at 2:30 this morning worrying about what Kevin and I will do if insurance coverage for those with pre-existing conditions would again be denied. Or what we would do if it were to cost a zillion dollars to have bad insurance? I kid you not my anxiety around this does not go away. It just sits below the surface.

I thought about Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue about his infant son’s cardiac condition and treatment. I watched it last night holding Grace on my lap. I cried throughout. I feel for him – the grief, the horror, the vulnerability, the gratitude. The standing in a room full of people worried about your child and the utter helplessness of knowing you are the least informed person in the room. I find myself jealous of his ability to thank the nurses and doctors and therapists who were there so publicly. I would love to sing the praises of members of Grace’s team to a national audience. They are just as deserving. I started planning my speech in my head- because that’s what you do at 3am.

I thought about how Grace hasn’t complained about the first bras I’ve ever bought her. I researched so much to find something soft, comfortable, nothing to poke her, etc. etc.   They sent the bras beautifully wrapped, bright yellow ribbon tied on the outside. We opened them together. Grace chewed on the ribbon- not exactly what they had in mind I’m sure.   But I guess we had our mother/daughter moment! I wondered if her not complaining means I found the right ones?

I thought about confirmation Sunday at church just a few days ago and wondered what that will look like for Grace in 4 short years.

I wondered if I’m doing enough anywhere.

I thought about how on Saturday it had dawned on me that if Grace was a typical 11-year old I could have left her alone for a few minutes to run to the grocery store. I honestly don’t know if I’d ever thought about it before.

I wondered if we’d be able to keep Grace healthy so she can have surgery in 2 weeks. (Kevin was coughing beside me at that point). I wondered if this would be the last surgery she’d need for her mitrofanoff. I worried that my insurance through the state is only guaranteed to cover her through December, then who knows what will happen.

I went over the points of the dance recital meeting I went to last night for Graham in my head. I thought that maybe having a boy dancer is easier? I thought about how much I enjoy that he dances. I thought about how much I hate that we won’t be around for the class dance pictures.

I worried about work. I thought about grabbing my computer and sending emails right then and there. But, I didn’t want people to know I was up in the middle of the night worrying so I kept trying to go back to sleep.

I thought about how epilepsy touches everything that we do.

I thought about how we could plant a few vegetables in the back yard this summer and how that would be good for Graham.

I laughed at myself because I’ve been wishing for some time and space just to process things. Life. Grace. Graham. Work. Home. The pressure has been relentless. It shows no sign of letting up.   The 2:30 am wake up…perhaps that was the time and space I’d been hoping for.   But I’d come to no conclusions, and I didn’t really feel better, so maybe that wasn’t it.

What actually made me feel better was a sign in our kitchen I glanced early this morning. We’d picked it up at Hobby Lobby about a month or so ago. It states “Grace changes everything”. Our Grace wasn’t the original intent of the maker, and I’ll never find a “Graham changes everything” sign although it’s also true. The thing that made me smile was the unspoken words that Kevin and I exchanged when we saw the sign. We were getting it- no question. Frankly, I think it could have been horrid looking but that simple statement reflects our reality, reminds us that we are not in charge, and is just a truth we have to embrace. Fighting against it does us no good. We are left to do what we can, where we are, with love, fierceness, perseverance, and hope.

Joy