Knowledge is power

I remember struggling through the book ‘Orientalism’ by Edward Said when I was in grad school. I think it was one of the very few books I didn’t finish as it was too dense and, truthfully, boring. But what I did get from this tedious, yet paradigm-shifting and acclaimed read is the underlying thesis of his book – knowledge is power.

I agree. Knowledge IS power. But sometimes knowledge sucks.

For example, Rett Syndrome.

Here is some knowledge about Rett Syndrome:

Rett syndrome is a neurodevelopmenal disorder that affects girls almost exclusively. It is characterized by normal early growth and development followed by a slowing of development, loss of purposeful use of the hands, distinctive hand movements, slowed brain and head growth, problems with walking, seizures, and intellectual disability.

Devastating.

AND…. And yet, there is still hope. Plenty of hope.

Lily’s therapists are amazing and are teaching the both of us how to maximize her potential (which, from an intellectual capacity is limitless) and mitigate her regressions (which is, unfortunately, ongoing – swallowing and hand function continue to be an issue).

From a physical perspective, Lily is growing normally. No slowed head or height growth (her current height puts her 6 months ahead of her actual age). I equate her ‘typical’ physical growth to knowledge. The knowledge to research like hell and talk to cutting-edge nutritionists to learn how to support this kids body which is constantly working against her. Lily takes supplements and vitamins galore – I look like a mixologist when putting together her morning and evening bottles. She eats clean and healthy foods. I stay on top of her constipation (which is a constant battle) to keep her comfortable. She gets PT and OT to ensure that she gets physically stronger every day.

So not all knowledge sucks.

But for Rett Syndrome in general? So much of it is unknown. How it manifests in each girl is different. And how it unfolds over the course of a girl/woman’s lifetime is a complete shot in the dark. There is NO body of knowledge to point to how this will fully impact MY child.

A fellow Rett momma blogger aptly put it this way:

Rett Syndrome is a relentless bully. …It is the type of bully who, just when you think you have fought hard enough to keep it at bay for awhile, sneaks around a corner and kicks you in the face.

I constantly need to be on my toes. On watch. On guard. Researching and reading and watching my kid like a hawk and meeting other parents who are years in to this experience (regardless of the pain their knowledge causes me). It’s a nonstop process.

Lately Lily has been having some pretty major zoning out episodes. They’re not seizures (as per the Rett specialist). They’re just Rett zone-outs, for lack of a better term. And it’s scary to watch. And there’s nothing I can do but hold her hand and talk to her soothingly until she snaps out of it.

Regardless of all the scariness, there is this hope.

I believe that my kid is going to rewrite the Rett books; that she is going to help pave the way for a new way to look at Rett Syndrome. That she will be cured of this horrific disorder and will be able to live a fully independent and symptom-free life.

And in the meantime, I’m just going to keep loving my kid. And reveling in her strength and beauty and joy.

This holiday season, please take a moment to put your life, and the lives of your children, in perspective. Give thanks for ALL the gifts you’ve been given – especially those gifts that you take for granted on a daily basis.

We ALL have so much to be thankful for.

Love,

C and L

All dressed up for her preschool's holiday soiree!

All dressed up for her preschool’s holiday soiree!

Beaming with pride!

Lily has a new speech therapist at school.  Actually this woman is the head of the speech program and has been working closely with Lily’s therapy team from the start of school but she’s stepped in to teach her directly.  Here is a note from her that I just received earlier:

Hi,

Just wanted to let you know I had my first official therapy session with Lily today and she did very well. Following work on her oral motor skills, I worked on getting Lily to vocalize to express her wants and needs. While she was looking at her Ipad I worked on having her say “help me” following my models when she needed assistance. . At first we worked on just exhalation of the /h/ sound and then added an /mmm/ which she has produced before. By the end of the session after 3 or 4 approximations following my model, Lily sat next to me and independently called out “help me” in an audible voice while I had turned to say something to Ursula during the session. Ursula and I immediately turned toward her and offered her help. She was very pleased with herself to have gained our attention, smiling brightly and was happy when I pushed a button on the Ipad to reset it. I think we are off to an excellent start. I know that Lily has an understanding of many things and we have started the paperwork to get her the augmentative eval with the dept of ed as per our discussion.
Signed,
Lily’s SLP at WOC (translation: speech language pathologist at William O’Connor)
Lily pride

Not your typical parent/teacher conference

Today was my first parent/teacher conference!  I feel like I went through a rite of passage and am now REALLY, fully an adult.

The meeting was only supposed to be 20 minutes long.  But when there are 14 people in the room, all of whom have something to  report, that timeframe becomes a joke.

And I’m not exaggerating.  14 people were in the room – therapists, psychologists, social workers, paras, parents.  Each and every one of these people discussed how much potential L has, how very smart she is, how sweet and loving she is.

Turns out she creates a bit of crowd everywhere she goes at school – and not just because she is rarely without at least two adults by her side throughout the day.  Kids flock to her – they want to hug her, help her, play with her.  Young children are drawn to her.  I’m not surprised to hear this as I see it happen everywhere – at the laundromat the other week, two girls started following Lily around as she wandered aimlessly from washer to dryer and back again.  They wanted to touch her hair, sing to her, interact with her.  Lily loves this kind of attention.  And she usually reciprocates the hugs and kisses.

This kid is walking love.  Pure and simple.

Back to the parent/teacher conference where we discussed all things Lily.  The therapists informed me of her progress, of her ups and downs (which are constant, unfortunately, and part of what is expected of her diagnosis), of her struggle to communicate, her struggle to sometimes swallow or walk a straight line or climb a stair.  But she’s a trooper and even though she may be frustrated and/or tired, she tries and tries.  I updated everyone in the room on the numerous doctors appointments we’ve recently had – what the swallow specialist, neurologist, Rett specialist, dentist, and gastroenterologist had to say about sweet L.

And we were only supposed to meet for 20 minutes?!  Ha.  We were in there for an hour and a half and could have kept going.

I walked away from that meeting confident that my sweet kid has a loving, supportive, hard-working and extremely knowledgable group of people teaching her.  And felt so grateful.

 

Differently-abled people are still abled-people doing things differently

I read the above line while perusing blogs written by people with dis-abilities (primarily autism).  I’m always on a quest to better understand my sweetie and what motivates her, what makes her feel comfortable in her own skin, what makes her feel confident.

I remember getting one of the best pieces of advice from Lily’s very first ABA therapist, Ann, shortly after Lily got the autism diagnosis.  She told me something along these lines… “Lily needs time to be Lily.  If she wants to flap her arms or stim in any other way, give her the freedom to do that.  It is a part of her and you want her to feel completely accepted.”

I completely accept my child, stims and all.  I see her as an asset – not just to me, but to everyone she touches.  She has made my life so much more meaningful.  And I’m so very proud of her.

I’m also lucky that she’s surrounded by amazing therapists who see past the Rett and the stims.  They all see a smart, sassy little girl with a great sense of humor who loves to be tickled, sung to and danced with.  They see a child who is quick to learn, and they realize that there are some days when L just doesn’t have the capacity to do certain things, even though she really, really wants to.  I know that one day, she will be able to do anything she wants. She is THAT determined.  (So am I.)

 

Supergirl!

Supergirl!

 

 

Wrapped Up

Wrapped Up

What is that saying? Everyone is the center of their own universe? Well, maybe in my case Lily is the center of my universe.  But generally speaking, so many people are so focused on themselves and their issues that they can’t see past the end of their nose.

I have always lived my life in service of others.  From a very early age, I was interested in, and genuinely concerned about the well-being of others.  I was the kid who would make Christmas and Hanukkah cards for the toll collectors when we drove into the city on Christmas Day (though I was always too shy to hand them out).  I am still this kid.  I walk around and see where help is needed, and I help.  Whether it’s offering my seat to a pregnant woman on the subway or helping an elderly person with their grocery bags, helping others – and sometimes (especially when they’re strangers!) not asking for anything in return – has always been deeply engrained in my being.

It is because of this that I often have a difficult time trying to reconcile the selfish and sometimes hurtful actions and words of people who are near and dear to me.  Let me be clear.  I realize that I am not the center of their universe.  But if someone sees me struggling, offering me a ‘how can I help?’ instead of giving me a look of pity would go a really long way.  I don’t need pity.  I need help.

The pity, the ‘I don’t know how you do it’ comments, the watching me struggle and not offering a helping hand or just the plain old silence of an unanswered email or an unfulfilled promise – these things sting me so deeply.   And I can promise you that these kinds of actions, or inactions, sting others as well.

Have compassion.  Take your blinders off.  Realize that there is a whole lot of things going on around you – some of it miraculous, some of it sad – and see if there’s a way you can help grow that miracle, or ease the sadness of another person.

‘Serve. Love. Give. Purify. Meditate. Realize.’  This is the motto of Swami Vishnu that I strive to live by – though I have an especially hard time these days with the ‘meditate’ part.  I, too, am a work in progress after all.

Om tat sat.