More than words...

Thinking

 He can't say much, not with words, but he says a lot without words.  His face is constantly moving into different expressions, sometimes so quickly, it's easy to miss.  He has very strong opinions and he wants to be heard.  He wants to have a say in everything we do, because he likes feeling heard.  I know, because he tells me.  If he's trying to tell me something and I finally figure out what he wants, he claps for me...to let me know that I got it...to tell me he's happy that I took the time to understand.  He's happy to be heard.

Sometimes he asks me to repeat something...over and over.  He seems to hear, but has a hard time processing what he hears.  He gets a puzzled look on his face.  It's more apparent when he can't understand a word he already knows.

Where's T?

I started teaching him sign, but he has some motor apraxia (when there's a problem between wanting to move a certain way and actually being able to execute it, even though able to do it physically).  I tried moving his hands for him, but he refuses.  It embarrasses him that he can't follow my movements. He has a sensitive nature and is hard on himself. 

He finally learned how to sign "more".  It still tickles him that he can use this sign to ask for more swing, more swing, and more swing!  Sometimes, he signs for more funny faces, hugs, and kisses.

More swing!

But the happiness of communicating with sign didn't overcome, the frustration of learning it.  So...it's on the back burner until he's motor planning (ability to execute a desired motor action) improves.

Now I'm exploring the use of an iPad as an augmentative device.  I bought the app, "My first AAC".  I'll let you know how I like it.

Put down the camera, mom!

Some may wonder why I seem to be in a hurry to find a communication avenue, but I'm following my own advice about treating according to your child's temperament.  My son is very interested in communicating his wants and needs.  He is also very frustrated by not being able to use words.  Especially because he already knows so many of them. 

There is a large discrepancy between what he knows and what he's able to convey.  He knows all the upper case letters, some of the lower case letters, the basic shapes, numbers 0-22, he can independently maneuver to his apps on the iPad, the basic colors, how to open doors using auto keys and handicapped buttons, and...and...probably things I don't know about yet.

Creating a future, one block at a time.

I'm constantly surprised by his abilities and knowledge.  It makes me happy and indescribably sad.  Happy that he is so motivated to learn, but sad that this large dead area in his brain is making it hard for him.  That large dead area that will continue to get in the way...every time his brain requests for something that is now dead.  After many attempts to communicate with this dead area or try to get through this dead area, the brain finally realizes it must build new roads and create new ways of making up for what is lost. 

There is a constant fear...the brain will get super efficient and only build roads deemed absolutely necessary for survival.  Survival doesn't really include talking, jumping, coordinated sports, or many other desired things.  You see...the brain is a super efficient little machine...it knows how to survive. 

The face of joy.

My goal is to convince Baba's brain that talking, jumping, reading, drawing, socializing, and living a full life...is essential to survival.  I want him to be able to do more than physically survive.  I want him to be happy...whatever that means to his little heart. 

It's every parents dream to ensure happiness for their children, but brain injury certainly make this goal more complicated.  Did you know that there's a 50/50 chance that a child who suffers a stroke will grow up without any symptoms?  Well we're in the half that has to work harder.

Sometimes that's so hard.  Sometimes it seems too hard.  Sometimes I wonder if I can do it.  Therapy for years to come.  How does anyone survive it?

Then in a quiet moment of contentment, my son cradles my face with his tiny hands, looks deeply into my eyes, and gently kisses me.  It's more than words could ever say.

More than words

Leaving Babyhood Behind

Change is hard.  Before motherhood, change was easy for me.  In fact, I looked forward to change.  I got bored easily and change was a refreshing way to make things interesting.  Then...then, I became a mother.

A very serious baby

 Now, I can't wait to get back "on schedule" and keep things as similar as possible.  I feel scatterbrained and I can't remember where anything is!  Is that normal?  Is it the lack of sleep?  Well, I guess it's all a package.  At least, it's a very cute package!

I used to jeer...yes, jeer at the mother's who obviously cut their own child's hair.  Why don't they take them to a professional?  It looks awful!  Then...I cut my own son's hair.

momcut

Why?  I am deathly afraid of taking him to get his haircut.  He is very weary of strangers, he's sensitive to being touched, and I'm afraid of a full out tantrum...when everything is already hard.  So...I cut his bangs, while he was watching Youtube.  It was hard.  It was really hard.  How do the pros do it?  At least, the hair is not poking his eyes anymore...the only reason I was "persuaded" to cut the offending hair.  Otherwise, it's just going to be long.  It's going to stay long!  Even if everyone keeps thinking he's a girl.  A girl wearing very boy clothes. 

For now, our house has 4 pieces of furniture...a table, two chairs, and a highchair.  Unless, you count the boxes and a couple mattresses on the floor.

Ikea table and two chairs

Studying the Alphabet

Baba thinks this is his playroom...since his toys dominate the living area.  There's no place to put the toys.  So they have taken over.

Ikea train set

It's fun to see how he figures out the toys.  I like how he experiments with them.  Stepping on them, moving them, trying to build using different toys together.  He's really becoming a boy...slowly leaving babyhood behind.

Exploring

He seems to understand more and he seems to want to communicate, but his words are mostly vowel sounds.  He can't seem to imitate sound when he wants, though sometimes he's able to imitate when it's automatic. 

He recognizes the difference between letters and numbers.  He knows what they look like.  When he holds his "letters or numbers", he corrects their orientation correctly.  He can correctly point to "0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, and 10".  He knows some of his letters, especially "A, E, O, U, H, B, M, P, Z, S". 

But, he really doesn't seem to know words.  He asks me to repeat the same word...over and over.  It seems like he's having a hard time, processing all the sounds together. 

Yet, he seems to understand things...intuitively.  He is very sensitive to emotions.  My emotions seem to affect him the most.  He will start to whimper, if he thinks I'm hurt.  If I'm anxious, he gets anxious too.  So I do everything possible to control my emotions.  To regulate them and not spend too long on negative emotions.  It's actually been therapeutic for me.  For the first time, in a long time, I'm more positive than negative.  I owe it to him.

Learning to walk on a hill

He's slowly becoming less cautious and a little more willing to explore new places, new obstacles.  I hold back my fears of seeing him fall and I encourage him to try...to make a new pathway for himself.  I let him know that he can be independent...even if he should fall...because he can always get up.  Most of all, I'm always nearby...just in case he needs me to reassure him.

Conquered!

Sometimes, I'm so close to saying "no".  But I take a deep breath, shut my mouth and watch.  Most of the time, he's careful.  Most of the time, he will ask for help...if he really needs it.  So, I am just a guide.  I am here to help him find his way into this world.  So that he can have the confidence to overcome the obstacles that are looming in the way. 

If he can find his independence...even if he's never able to use his voice...he will succeed in finding his own way. 

My only goal...is to not get in his way.

15 months after a baby stroke and other updates

It's been a long time since I've blogged and I'm sorry for the absence.  I've been so crazy busy with moving.  Baba is a trooper taking in the changes without too much trouble.  He seems to grow more cognitively than physically now and I'm always amazed at how much he seems to know or understand.  Yeah.  I'm being THAT MOM...the one who thinks her kid is brilliant.  I'm just so happy to see the progress he's making and it does seem amazing to me.  Not that long ago, I wasn't sure he would be able to understand my words...so everything above that seems genius.  He loves his letters and numbers!  He studies them everyday...on his own volition.  Only this week, he started to be interested in words.  Isn't that backwards?  I don't know, but I'm letting him lead the way.  Who cares if it's backwards?

We are still breast feeding at 15 months.  In the beginning, I wasn't sure if I'd last 3 months, but now I am determined to let him wean at his own pace.  All these changes are hard on the little guy, so it helps to have a safe place to land.  If we had stopped breastfeeding, we would have had to turn to formula because he is still not eating much solid food.  I think it's a combination of difficulty managing the food in his mouth and sensitivity to touch.  He seems more sensitive to touch in his mouth.  Brushing his teeth is quite a production.  It gives me a little relief that I am still able to breastfeed.  I have a feeling that he would reject bottles and formula at this point...though he had supplemental feelings as a newborn.

It also gives me time to figure out how to present the food in a more tantalizing way.  In a way that would make it easier to eat.  It also gives me time to figure out what therapy techniques to add to the regimen.  I've always found dysphasia and feeding therapy daunting.  I also need to find a specialist, who can give me specifics about babies, since it's not my area of expertise. 

Trouble eating, translates to trouble forming sounds, which of course affects speech.  So Baba isn't talking yet.  He can say "mama", and I've heard him repeat a few sounds like "a".  But he doesn't consistently "speak".  He does, however, communicate using gestures and sounds.  He also seems to understand simple language, though it's hard to say how much. 

My main concern has to do with his hearing.  I know he can hear me, but he doesn't seem to be able to locate the direction of the sound.  When calls out for me and I answer him from behind, he doesn't turn towards me.  He keeps looking for me in front and if I don't touch him, he starts freaking out because he can't find me. 

I would ask the pediatrician, but we don't have one yet.  We are in the process of finding one, a not so easy task.  Sigh...

My mother is fighting cancer like a warrior, but it isn't easy.  My brother has really stepped up to the plate and is caring for her with supreme kindness and love.  It makes being far away seem less awful.  My mom understands why I chose to move.  She knows I did it for my son, to give him a better life.  Still, it's hard for her.  It's hard for us.

I've been struggling with the "art of blogging".  I started this blog to share our story.  I wanted to help other parents going through similar circumstances and hopefully be a source of helpful information.  I still do.  Yet they're is so much going on and so little time to spend writing.  I also struggle with how much to share about my personal life.  I tend to be a private person in the public venue, though I tend to be quite open with my circle of friends. 

As far as reading other blogs, I personally gravitate toward the ones who write positive messages.  It's comforting and fun to read.  Yet I wonder, are their lives really this magical or are they simply writing to encourage, not to share sordid details of their lives.  Where do I fit in this "blog world"?

I guess I don't know where this blog is going.  I feel like my mission is unclear and that makes writing more difficult.  I feel lost and I'm not sure when I'll find myself again.  I'm going to be 40 in a month.  Is this just a midlife crisis?  I hope that I will figure things out soon.  I have so much to share.  Things will calm down after we move to our permanent home in 3 weeks and we finally settle down.  We moved 3000 miles to the New England coast.  It's really beautiful and really hot! 

I hope you are having fun and staying cool! 

p.s.  a photo story

The future sometimes seems ominous.

Sometimes we have to be willing to take a step in a new direction.

Sometimes we have to learn something new.

Sometimes it feels like the obstacles are insurmountable.

New starts can be a little scary.

But if we keep smiling, we may just be able to succeed.

Recovering from NICU trauma

 It's early morning and he starts to shift from side to side looking for me, but some how he's ended up on the other edge of the bed.  I scoot towards him and slide him towards me.  He rubs his nose and I know that means he's hungry.  I place him close to me and let him nurse.  He's still asleep, but he nurses diligently.  He always nurses every hour in the morning, when he dreams and tosses about from side to side. 

This morning I'm awake, reading amazing blogs and wishing I could write half as well.  I watch his face as he bursts into laughter.  He's having a fun dream.  I'm so glad!  I remember the early months when he used to cry in his sleep.  It used to break my heart.  It still breaks my heart.  I wondered if he was dreaming about his NICU stay...about the times when I wasn't there...when they were holding him down to poke his spine 12 times...unsuccessfully.

I remember when the APRN told me how odd it was that no one was able to extract spinal fluid from him.  She was so distracted by her failure, but I was distracted by how many times these people hurt my baby to satisfy their type A need to succeed...only to fail anyway!  I was also mad that they decided to poke my baby twelve times, without telling me.  They risked paralyzingly my baby twelve times without informing his mother.  Why does the mother have to know anyway? 

But I'm afraid to say anything.  I'm afraid my anger and fear will be labeled as difficult mother and it will negatively affect the way his nurses treat him...especially when I'm not around.  So I smile, brokenly, but she doesn't notice, she is still amazed by her first failure in eleven years.  I try not to imagine how many people held him down...because I believe you have to lay on your side or hunched over in a sitting position.  I try not to visualize it in my head.  I must stay strong.  I must stay strong.  My baby needs me. 

When I finally bring him home, he starts having crying dreams.  He doesn't always wake up.  Huge tears roll down his face as he struggles to move.  I had a hard time moving after the c-section.  It was so hard to get him out of the bassinet.  It felt like an eternity passed while I struggled to bring him next to me.  I guess this is the hard part of being a single mother.  There's no one else to bring him to me.  After a couple weeks, I leave him on my bed.  It's so much easier.  I barely wake up to nurse him.  Then when he cries, I pull him closer and nestle him in my arms.  He seems happier, more settled. 

He's 13 months old now.  He's such a toddler already, threatening to be independent tomorrow.  He rarely cries in his sleep now.  He mostly cries from frustration when he falls.  He lets me comfort him, but he avoids eye contact.  He doesn't want to be embarrassed.  He's such a happy boy!  He loves playing hide an seek...he can really squeal when he finds me around the corner.  Sometimes he waits after I've gone around the corner as he revels in the anticipation!  Then he practically runs, squealing with flailing limbs, almost hitting whatever is in his way, while staring at my face.  I just love to see the pure joy in his face!

I am so grateful to be here!  I am so ecstatic that we are doing so well!  I know there is more therapy and more struggles to come, but I feel more confident today than a year ago.  Maybe I can do this motherhood thing after all!  Maybe I'm strong enough, smart enough, and good enough to be his mother.  I do know one thing for sure.  I love this kid more than I have ever loved anyone before.  I feel so connected to him...whole body, heart, and soul!

Kindly Strangers give hope

It's been crazy around here as we get ready to move.  We are getting rid of everything but the essentials, so we can start fresh.  It's been a little difficult because our routines are off and we missed doing the Masgutova Method 3 days in a row.  By yesterday, Baba was falling more often than he fell when he first started walking!  He was frustrated and crying all day.  So we definitely made time for the treatment last night.  I can see the difference immediately.  He slept well and he's walking fast, almost running this morning!

I have several different articles in the works, including "What does sensory issues feel like?", "How does temperament affect therapy?", and "What is the Masgutova Method?".  It takes extra time to write those articles, since I want to make sure they are accurate and clear. 

I've been wondering lately if I started this blog too early.  I really don't have much time to devote to writing and I feel guilty for not churning out post after post.  I guess I'm putting the pressure on myself, but I started this blog to help other families going through similar circumstances.  How can I help them without disseminating information faster?  Oh well, I guess it's too late to regret it.

It's so true!  You don't really know what it's like, until you're in the same situation.  I always knew it was hard being a special needs parent, but I really didn't understand the emotions.  The worry, the guilt, the fear, and the sadness that a parent feels can be so overwhelming.  It's so hard to focus on the present and feel joy for the accomplishments. 

As a therapist, I always wondered why parents were blaming themselves.  Don't they know it's not their fault?  As a parent, I can't stop questioning every decision I make.  I wonder if I'm doing enough or if I'm doing too much.  Even with my knowledge and experience in the healthcare, I find myself feeling uncertain and anxious.  There are days when things are amazingly ordinary.  Then there are days filled anxiety and sadness.  I know it's a part of my own recovery, but it makes me feel guilty too.  I question my right to be sad, even though I know I have a right to my feelings, a right to heal from my own trauma.

I am also aware that my son's issues are relatively minimal.  I know that some children face more challenges.  I also know that there are many children like my son, who no longer qualify for therapy, but who nonetheless need it.  Yet they can't afford private therapy, so they fall between the cracks.  These children suffer silently as they face continuous frustration, trying to keep up with their peers.

It's also true that we all suffer from some sort of difficulty.  Everyone has their own challenges and we need to find the strength within ourselves to overcome them with brevity and gratitude.  We are all in this together.  We can be there to support each other and cheer each other towards happiness.

Maybe this is what blogging is really all about.  It's a place where kindly strangers can help each other pull through their difficult moments.  I am so inspired by what I read online.  It has been so inspiring! 

I read on the iPad while my baby sleeps right next to me.  He sleeps so much better when I'm next to him.  I also try to sleep when I can, so I can keep my strength up.  Sometimes, I try to write on the iPad, but it's really hard.  I write better when I have a keyboard.  The slow iPad kills my train of thought, but I guess I will just have to get used to it.  I wrote this on the iPad!

I hope everyone has a great day!

One year after a baby stroke

I don't know how many times I've started to write our birth story, but I just can't seem to make it coherent.  It's been a year and the memories of that time are dampening the good of today.  I know I'm suffering from the trauma.  It was such a difficult time.  I will eventually be able to write about it and heal, but for today I will focus on how far we've come.  There are definite challenges up ahead, but we are stronger together. 

Baba has changed my life for the better and I'm so grateful to him!  He is the light in my life and he brings out the best in me.  He is a unique little guy, who is already acting like he is a leader.  People think he is hilarious! 

He loves learning his numbers and letters, though ever since he started walking, his verbal output has decreased.  He has even stopped saying mom.  However, he is clearly able to communicate his wishes and desires with gestures and sounds.  I love to hear his little sounds because they so clearly indicate his opinions.  He has very clear opinions about his little world and I love learning about who he is as a person.

 The neurologist says that Baba may have delayed speech development and there is a slight inward turn of his right foot.  We have to keep up with the therapy to prevent bigger problems.  Baba and I do therapy everyday.  Some of it is very boring and some of it is just fun.  It's become a part of of life, so it's easier now.  At first it felt like my head was filled with therapy, but now we have more fun.  Sometimes I even forget we're doing therapy! 

 It certainly hasn't been an easy year, but I guess motherhood is harder than I ever could have imagined.  It's also more rewarding than I ever imagined.  I just love to make him smile!  It really lights up my heart and makes every exhausted part of my body happy.  I couldn't have asked for a better match in temperament.  He keeps me on my toes! 

My life hasn't been easy, but I know that I am blessed with an amazing little person who makes my life better.  I don't know how I lived before he came along! 

I'm learning so much about taking photos of children from this little guy.  He's so adorable and I can't stop snapping pictures, but I have so much to learn.  More than half of my pictures are awful.  I'm used to taking photos of flowers and things that just stand still at dusk.  It's so much harder to take photos of a fast moving object in all kinds of different lighting, but it's so much fun!

Right now, I'm so inspired by the other amazing photographer bloggers!  These are some of my favorite mommy bloggers who also happen to be great photographers!

The Paper Mama--who also happens to have lots of photo challenges, which I hope to enter soon!

Moosh in Indy--she's a popular mommy blogger, who also gives great photo tips!

Enjoying the Small Things--a super popular mommy blogger, who also happens to take amazing photos of people!

Have an amazing day everyone!

11 month old toddler

toddling at 11 months

 Baba is toddling around the house and anywhere he finds open ground.  He's trying to run.  Yes.  I said RUN!  Crazy kid has fallen and cut open his mouth, but it has not deterred him from trying to run again.  He can't even walk well yet.

I can't even skip one day of doing the Masgutova Method because his balance and the right leg function really show a significant difference the next day.  Yes.  That means more falling.  I had no idea what a constantly falling child meant when I was treating kids...yes, before I had my own kid. 

In my nice little OT gym, where everything was covered with carpets and mats...falling was good.  I could work with that.  I could help the kid learn to improve his balance.  There was no hard wooden surfaces to cut open lips or even bash heads.  Bashing heads into hard wooden surfaces that could cause another brain injury NEED TO BE BANNED in a house where the kid has already suffered a head injury.  Right?

But how does one get rid of kitchen cabinets and dressers and wall corners...and beds.  Do we need furniture? 

Where's the light?

When I was out around town, parents would warn me..."Wait till he walks!"  Then they would solemnly shake their heads and let out a sigh.  I didn't know.  I didn't know what they were talking about.  I was so ignorant!  So a newbie mom. 

NOW I KNOW!  Now I know how your heart can stop when your baby's head gets banged by the bed.  The first time you see blood and have no idea where it's coming from.  Let it not be a hole in his head!  Augh!

I have a newfound respect for parents who have survived toddlerhood.  Will I make it?

I can do this myself!

I won't fall in.

This is my long excuse for not being able to post anything for a while.  If you haven't seen it, I'm done with the "Wearing baby and Sensory Integration" Series...all five posts are complete for those of you who are interested. Click the treatment tab above or here for part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5.

For those of you who have older children, I'm working on a new series called "Therapy Secrets".  It will have ideas for kids of all ages. 

I have also found some cool Pinterest sites that offer ideas for activities with children.  I will be featuring those soon.

Meanwhile, here are a few toddling pictures!  Oh!  I almost forgot.  He's acting like a toddler too.  He has very strong opinions about everything!

Professional walker on the loose!

Already a little scientist.

Metamorphosing into a mother

Metamorphosing from child to adult has been excruciating.  The stench from the rotting cocoon fills my nose and reminds me of my journey to this place.  The place where healing finally begins and the past can finally be burned into ashes.  Even the ashes must be set free into the wild ocean, for the tame ground of my soul is too tender for its teeth.  The scars are still healing and sometimes they burst open revealing the puss that must be extricated and thrown into the acid of no return.

This is just the beginning.  This is just the beginning of washing the stain of my pain.  The stain that tried to tattoo itself to my heart and body.  It won't be a short journey.  It's already lasted 39 years.  Many things have changed during that time, but the pain is always the same.  It started with my reluctant birth into a world where I was not wanted.  Into a world, where my presence burdened two broken beings together.

The healing began when I birthed another being.  One I had not expected.  One I didn't know I could mother into human form.  Then a lightening stroke broke open a wound in his brain and my mothering instincts pressed the pedal to the metal and a mother was born.  She is fierce.  She is capable.  She is trying to transform my broken form into the woman I need to be.  The kind of woman that becomes the mother of a strong man, without a man.

At the climax of all that could go wrong, a gift was given.  A gift I could not refuse, even when I thought it would be best.  I found my passion in loving a little form that clarifies my understanding of unconditional love.  I found that after all, I was meant to be a mother.  After all, I was meant to be his mother.

2 months old

  Linking up to Just Write.

My bad, mommy bad...

This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but life happened. Thought I'd post it before I had to trash it. Have a great weekend!

Baba has the flu.  He was cranky for a couple days and I was starting to get irritable too.  I was having visions of putting him in a naughty chair, when I finally realized he was sick...drippy nose.  The mild fever didn't clue me in.  Mom's a dunce!  Every time he's gotten cranky, he ended up being sick or teething or both.  When will I finally figure that out?  Poor kid, he got the inexperienced mom.

snot wipe emergency!

He probably caught it when this 3 year old kid decided to pet him...on the face!  I was so shocked that I just stood there completely taken aback.  He didn't mean to be rude, he was just touching my son all over his face in an annoying way!  Actually, I was torn between thinking it was sorta cute and really rude!

cute or annoying?

Baba was shocked too and just froze.  Mom's not coming to the rescue.  He finally looked up at me and I gave him a big smile.  After all the kid wasn't trying to hurt him.  Baba chuckled!  Yup.  My 10 month old thought the 3 year old kid was a crack up!  Then he simply crawled away.  You might not believe me.  You might think I'm just seeing what I want, but he has "won" these battles with other kids.

Once, while looking at the Koi fish in the pond, Baba spotted a 7-8 year old girl, not surprisingly she was beautiful.  He definitely prefers pretty girls!  He stared at her for a few minutes, while she was looking at the fish.  They were on a mini platform, so she was kneeling on it and he was crawling.

staring

At some point, she realized that he was staring at her, he was only 10 feet away.  She looked a little confused because he was staring at her intensely.  Suddenly, he started crawling towards her, the little guy had intent.  She froze and looked scared.  My sister had to scoop him up before he rammed into her!

not watching where he's going

"hmm..."

In retrospect, I think she was blocking the path and he decided to crawl around her.  He was probably checking to see if he could take her.  I think he smelled fear.  He was right.  That poor girl looked frightened.  When do you start teaching manners?

Update:
Auntie says that he was actually going straight for her, that's why she was scared.  She was closer...so she would know.  I guess I can't be annoyed by the boy who petted his face!

"what's this?"

Anyway, I'm so tired!  I feel like a walking zombie (as opposed to the one that's still in it's tomb)!  My sister has to repeat everything twice and I still don't get it.  He's attached to my hip and won't let his auntie carry or play with him.  Ugh!

"mom hasn't figured out that I'm sick"

To say I hurt would be an understatement.  Colossal understatement!  I used to be able to take Vicodin to take the edge off the pain, but breast feeding and narcotics?  Let's get him addicted early!  Aahh!

So I must pretend it doesn't hurt and play like I'm having the best day of my life.  I just need to convince my brain to release more feel good drugs...along with the ones released with breast feeding!  Yeah!

An abundance of love

NICU

Although I have experience working with kids, I never worked with babies.  This was my first time working with someone so young and it was really hard, though very rewarding.  

PICU with auntie

I started my career working with the elderly in skilled nursing facilities.  I worked with many who had suffered from a stroke.  It was always challenging because no two strokes are the same.  The brain is so complicated and you never can be sure of the outcome of therapy.

 1 month old-holding mommy's hand

However, I learned that the people with the family support made the most progress.  The elderly didn't always have family nearby or friends who were still living.  Sometimes, they were completely on their own.  But those who had family support felt more motivated to make progress.

2 months old-looking up at mom

I know that my son and I are fortunate to have each other.  How perfect that I could use my skills to help him.  Yet I know that it isn't my skills as a therapist that matter most.

 2.5 months old-looking dapper

The most important gift to a child with special needs is LOVE.  It's love that motivates them to practice a skill till they finally achieve it.  It's love that gives them wings, so that they can fly.  Of course therapy is important, but without love it would not be as effective.  

4 months old-listening to mommy

Love gives us the insight to see our children's personality, not their illness.  It gives us the courage to fight for their right to good therapy services, good education, and social acceptance.  Love helps us to persevere when it feels so much easier to give up.

almost 6 months old-looking at fountain with auntie

So take a moment to reflect how your love has empowered and brightened your children.  You may not have all the answers, but you have the most important thing...an abundance of love.

 almost 10 months old-trying not to touch auntie's computer