Tag Archives: Awareness raising

Double Digits

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This kid is going to be 10 in a few days.


In these 10 years, she’s beaten so many odds. She’s doing well. But there are still so many things that she can’t do.


I often think about the conversations we would be having if she could talk. I have them with her regardless, searching her face for answers. But what about the conversations she wants to have? The Tobii is great but it is so very limiting. This child has complex thoughts and feelings. I can see it in her eyes. And those thoughts mostly stay trapped in that amazing brain of hers.


And when I say that Lily is doing well, it’s not like when typical kids are doing well. Doing well for her means that she’s not having significant breathing problems, she’s sleeping (albeit with medication), that she’s still able to walk independently, hasn’t been to the ER in a while and is capable of swallowing food. She still needs 24/7 support as she’s unsteady on her feet, her hands don’t function and she’s nonverbal.


And nothing is linear. Not her growth chart. Not her capabilities. Some days her ability to swallow food gets so compromised that we have to purée her meals.


But there’s good news too. She’s getting taller, she’s gained some weight (over 5 pounds this year alone) and she’s progressing academically (even in a fully remote environment). She also continues to be super cool, super funny and silly and super optimistic.


I say to her every day ‘how did I get so lucky to be your mom? To have such a sweet, smart, tenacious kid!’ I am so proud to call her my daughter. Everyone who knows her will tell you that she exudes love and sunshine and acceptance.
And she’s busting to see all of you in person — to give giggly hugs and have dance parties and make you read her books.


Hopefully we will get the opportunity to see you at some point this year. I’ll try to send more updates through www.blueberriesandgiggles.com as I’ve been off social media for a few months.


But for now, we celebrate a decade of Lily. Ten years have flown by and I want to make damn sure that the next ten are superior to the last.
I wish I could give you a list of things Lily would like for her birthday, but she’s gotten most of the tangible things for Christmas (which was less than two months ago). If you feel compelled to give something, please donate to Rett Syndrome Research Trust as the best gift this kid could get would be a cure. The second best would be something palliative to mitigate her symptoms. Both are being researched right now.


Sending love and health (both physical and mental) to you all.


C

Winter wonderland

Advocate like a mother

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When so many things are going wrong for my kid, it’s not easy staying positive. Every institution that has been (supposedly) set up to help my kid is failing miserably.  Everything is a battle. Every day there is someone to call or email or visit. Some days I write dozens of emails and scan just as many documents to move things forward for Lily.  Inching forward is more like it.

Thankfully I am not alone. I have an army of people helping me along this battle – from Stephen to Lily’s therapists and doctors, and the other special needs moms – who are in the trenches with me, fighting similar battles, sharing their knowledge, their love and support. But we are outnumbered.

Yet we move forward. With determination and hope. Because we are fighting the good fight, trying to get the most basic of needs for our children met.

The absurdity of the situation (like so many other things going on in this world) baffles me. Here is one such example: We recently saw Lily’s neurologist as she is starting to have episodes that look like seizures. The doctor prescribed a 48-72 hour EEG. While trying to schedule it, I learn that my insurance company will not pay for a prolonged EEG without putting her first through an in-office 30 minute EEG. It is a foregone conclusion that we will not get any answers from this short study; Lily has these episodes maybe once a day. What I do know is that this 30 minute EEG will cause a significant amount of stress for my kid and we’ll have to do it all again a few days later.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what an EEG entails, here is a quick overview:

  1. Walk into a small, claustrophobic room filled with medical machines and a hospital bed.
  2. Get the kid to lay still while the technician glues 20+ leads on her scalp and then wraps head, which takes about an hour. (Many of you know Lily so you could imagine the herculean effort it takes to keep her still.)
  3. Sit there for 30 minutes to 3 days hooked up to a machine.
  4. The technician (who is often slurping on a smoothie or munching on chips throughout the process and sometimes smells bad) removes the 20+ leads and we go home.
  5. The parent then spends 2-5 hours getting the glue out of the kids scalp.

Could you imagine putting your kid (and yourself) through this twice? The first time for no reason other than to tick a box for the insurance company.  So I’m fighting back, knowing it is unlikely that I will win this battle.

So, I am angry.  And scared.  Because Lily may now be having seizures which is why we are doing an EEG in the first place.

But I am also hopeful.  And proud.  Because through it all, my child shines.  She is not easily deterred. And neither am I.  And I know that – given all these crappy circumstances – we have a lot of great in our life.   And some days, I’m actually able to focus on this and suspend my worries about her future.

One of those days to be grateful for… picking flowers, veggies and picnicking with friends at our country house.

 

Lily’s luau birthday bash

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This kid turned 8 today. Can’t begin to explain how proud I am to be her mom. In anticipation of her upcoming Make-A-Wish trip to Hawaii, we celebrated with a luau!

The party was a success. It started with a ballet class taught by New York City Ballet (check out Lily independently getting her feet into 5th position in the second set of photos) and then the luau at school with pizza, cupcakes, giggles and dancing. Lots of dancing!!! After school we had a play date with her friend Xan, followed by dinner at her favorite restaurant. And then we went home, exhausted, full and happy.

Today

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It’s 5:30pm on the 24th of January. And it just hit me. Today marks 5 years since d-day–Lily’s Rett diagnosis day.

What a 5 years it’s been. What a roller-coaster. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I’ve got the sweetest, coolest almost 8 year old I know. She is my joy, my inspiration.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy. Every day I say to her when she’s having a tough moment–like trying to walk in the morning or crying uncontrollably in the middle of the night–that I can’t fix things. But that I can make them better. With love and comfort and compassion. But I can’t fix it. I can’t fix it.

That sucks. No one should ever have to see their child suffer so much. Every day. Every day. I’ll say it again: every day.

And we are so fortunate right now as Lily is going through a relatively stable period. And the ‘relatively’ is truly that. I am not trying to sugarcoat any of it: our ‘normal’ is anything but that.

So it’s been 5 years. And we’re getting closer to the ‘cure’ but it’s still not here. And every day as Lily grows and Rett continues to ravage her body, that ‘cure’ looks less and less like a cure for her. At this point I’ll take whatever it is we can get. Just to let her have the ability to breathe with ease, to wake up and not be in pain… I’ll take it.

I can’t believe she’s going to be 8 in a few weeks. I can’t believe how much she’s grown and changed. I can’t believe how much I’ve transformed because of her. And for that, I am grateful.

In so many ways, she’s such a ‘normal’ kid. She’s been putting together weekly hair menus letting me know how she wants her hair done every day. How freaking cute is that? Currently she’s all about pigtails. As you can see from the menu and hairstyle:

Her birthday is on the 8th of February. And I wish I could give you a list of things she wants as presents. But I don’t have one because she cannot tell me outright. So if you want to do something for her, consider making a donation to Rett Syndrome research. Not only will it go to her future, but the future of all her other Rett sisters and brothers.

With love,

C & L

Resolutions

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I’m not generally a resolutions type gal, I prefer to use the word ‘guidelines’ when plotting out the year ahead.  For example, some of my guidelines for this year are to practice gratitude more often, learn how to do a handstand and get more sleep.

My child, on the other hand, has created a robust list of resolutions that are truly inspiring.  She’s such a funny, smart, silly kid.  And I hope that 2019 continues to be a great year for her.  And for you all.

Happy New Year!