But she can DANCE!

Frequently Sweet K blesses me.
I watch her, life spinning around her, with her sweet smile and I ask her, ask myself....
"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Just this afternoon, she wandered into the living area after her rest time. Hearing Older Sister's music playing, she starts dancing away. Not wild or exuberant, but honest and sincere all the same. Spinning in a circle, arms held high, a glorious smile on her face. A ballerina on her own stage.

Milestones are a challenge. It isn't always easy. We find it hard, sometimes, to keep perspective.
We don't jump (yet!!).
Running is in the process of becoming more graceful.
Some day, we'll get on a bike and ride like the wind.

But, she can DANCE.
And it is beautiful!

on the iPod: Ordinary Miracle, Sarah McLachlan

Love this song.
First heard it at a wedding when we were in the midst of adjusting to different expectations and waiting for test results (not my favorite thing to do!).
Somehow, found room to breathe a bit when I listened to these words.
Thought I'd share it :).


Wrote these words when Sweet K was only wee little... thought I'd share them too!


Child development is a per.snick.ity issue. Nothing like the words "normal" or "delayed" or "slow" or "future unknown" to get this mother hen's feathers (completely, utterly, fantastically!) ruffled.

HOWEVER. I am learning learning learning about the beauty of this journey. Things with Sweet K are moving along quite well, actually, and maybe that makes this so much easier (it does). Yet I have the opportunity to see the miraculous unfolding of learning that most of us take for granted because a) it comes more naturally, b) it comes quicker and c) we're never taught to SEE those incremental - yet just as incredible - building blocks of wonder.

When Sweet K was about 3 months old, I heard Sarah McLachlan's Ordinary Miracle for the first time. It struck such a chord in me. The first time I'd smiled, or hoped, or laughed in months.

In church we will be celebrating Child Dedication (May 24), and I contemplate why I want to participate in this occasion. It is my view that children are a precious gift from God, shared with us for a variety of reasons. And it is my desire to nurture and delight and love and learn alongside, and hold that gift with open hands before the One who created her.

Hug-A-Munk!

This past winter we were able to spend some time in Florida.
While we were gone, I created a private blog to share some of our experiences with family and friends. This is a post that I wrote about one of our adventures....

---

Last Saturday, we were able to visit Epcot Centre.
It was our longest day yet. And the longest day we'll have.
Though it was long, the weather was nice and we had fun.

The biggest blessing, though, came through Sweet K and her sudden desire to hug a chipmunk!!

As I've mentioned, Sweet K just IS NOT into rides right now.
And she also is afraid of anything in a costume.
Pretty much sums up the "disney" experience :).

Anyway, Jon took Little M to some attractions while I went to go fetch my (forgotten) glasses from the van. I had the babies with me. When I got to the front gate, I realized that Jon still had my ticket, which meant walking ALLLLL the way across the park to fetch it before I could head out to the parking lot. We found Jon & Little M standing in line to say "hi" to Chip & Dale, those little disney chipmunks. Little M said "cheese," Jon took a picture, and voila. We were on our way.

Suddenly, I hear Sweet K talking.

Hug Munks. Peeease. Hug munk. Me. Hug Munk. HUUUUUGSS.

All this while she's squeezing her arms around herself as tight as possible.

She wanted to hug the chipmunks too!!

This was notable for a few reasons.

While her one-word vocabulary has been exploding since summer, we are waiting for her to start stringing two- and three-word combinations together (the next developmental step, typically seen around 18-24 months).

Here she was....

using her WORDS...

using them in PUBLIC....

using them in two and three word combos...

AND showing interest in doing something she DID NOT want to do before this.

My heart was full :).

To make a long story short, she repeated this over and over all the way to the van and back. When we returned to this spot, a staff person let us know that while C&D were still standing there, the line-up was closed. We could come back again tomorrow. Sweet K was disappointed and I was tempted to mow that lady over with my double stroller!! Don't mess with a Mama Bear!!

Well, this is as close as she got to hugging a "munk" that day. Thanks to Grandma & Grandpa, who were also moved by this story and in the park with us that day, Little M & Sweet K each got a little chipmunk to squeeze :).

A few days later we were able to visit Animal Kingdom.
Little M brought her travel journal and was able to collect a few autographs.

Sweet K wanted to hug Tigger.
But suddenly she wasn't sure it was such a good idea!



Sweet K was okay with Eeyore...



... as long as he didn't get too close!

By the time we found Winnie the Pooh, Sweet K was pretty much finished with
getting close to characters.
Enough was enough for one day.

Jon passed her to me here at the last minute.
You have no idea how NOT IMPRESSED she was that Goofy came
to stand beside her.
She was done. So was I.
No more costume characters for Sweet K that day!!

She is such a good sport about these things though.
When she's had enough, she'll say DONE DONE DONE DONE.
Okey dokey Sweet K.

 Any time Sweet K moves into a new developmental phase, I get so excited! It's quite the journey with her, though I know it could be far more challenging. We are grateful things are going so well. However, it makes these moments even sweeter.

Way to Hug-A-Munk, Sweet K!!

A Particular Kind Of Joy

I have to admit - when we wrestled with the decision of whether or not to go on and have a third baby, there was one aspect I didn't really worry fret obsess think about too much -- that stage when the younger would surpass the older in terms of developmental milestones. We knew it would happen, we accepted it from a distance, and left it at that.

I just didn't think we've enter into that stage so soon.

It is a particular kind of joy, watching our youngest daughter, now 15 months, starting to explode in her learning. Her words are accumulating on a weekly basis. Her fine motor skills are already so refined and graceful. She is in constant motion, a force to be reckoned with. It takes some getting used too!!! It is beautiful, and we celebrate each and every thing she does.

And yet, there is a tug on the heart strings. 

I recall, vividly, trying to coax these same milestones along with Sweet K. Playing with the developmental toys (there are some toys, that, if I ever see them again, it'll be too soon!!!). Repeating repeating repeating repeating.  Hand-over-hand learning, guiding her body until what came so naturally to myself, to others, came naturally to her too. Some days were ... are ... hard.

In all honesty, I wouldn't change the journey. We are head-over-heels in love with each of our three daughters as they are. However, that doesn't change the fact that sometimes there is still an ache that runs deep when I observe how the natural process of learning is effortless for some, laborious for others. 

I have often thought of learning like filling a cup with water --- 

For some, it is like turning on a tap, almost instantaneous. 

For others, it is like drawing water from a well, and it can take a lot of effort before that sweet reward is enjoyed. 

Both, however, are miracles unfolding, to be savored and enjoyed.

It still surprises me that we are beginning to wrestle through this stage already, and yet it also just seems normal for us, and adds to our sense of family adventure! But, admittedly, it is a particular kind of joy that I grapple with from time to time.

Pearls of Wisdom: Helen Keller

Both blind and deaf, Helen Keller spent her childhood locked in a world all her own. It wasn't until teacher Anne Sullivan earnestly worked through these barriers and unlocked the incredible potential that existed within Helen. Their story is an inspiration to many.

Here are a few words that Helen has left with us...
"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit." - Helen Keller


"Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see." - Helen Keller

"The problems of deafness are deeper and more complex, if not more important, than those of blindness. Deafness is a much worse misfortune. For it means the loss of the most vital stimulus--the sound of the voice that brings language, sets thoughts astir and keeps us in the intellectual company of man." - Helen Keller

"I have often been asked, Do not people bore you? I do not understand quite what that means. I suppose the calls of the stupid and curious, especially of newspaper reporters, are always inopportune. I also dislike people who try to talk down to my understanding. They are like people who when walking with you try to shorten their steps to suit yours; the hypocrisy in both cases is equally exasperating." - Helen Keller


And one of my favorites...
"Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all -- the apathy of human beings." - Helen Keller

Apples of Gold

A word aptly spoken is like 

apples of gold 

in settings of silver.

Proverbs 25:11

Have you ever found yourself in a situation, sometimes quite by surprise, fumbling for the right words to say? I have. Many times.

This feels so crucial, because mostly, many of us just don't want to say the wrong thing. You know. That thing. That jumps out of our mouths before we've had the chance to think it through thoroughly. That sounds insensitive, or ignorant, or just plain.... dumb.

Because we want to be helpful.
Because we've been on the receiving end of thoughtless words.
Because we just don't want to make a tough situation ... worse.

When things started to unravel around here, Jon & I took the road of being open with friends and family around us. It felt very vulnerable to share our anxieties and concerns with many other people. We discovered a beautiful net of prayer; many friends passed on our requests to their friends and because of our electronic age, we had people all over the world praying for us. Still takes my breath away.

However, it also opened us up to well-intentioned, trying-so-hard-to-be-helpful remarks. We took those as they were usually given, in love. And the rest we've slowly let go of. Recalling the many instances when I haven't said the right thing at the right time, this wasn't usually too hard!

Here were some of the gifts of words that people shared with us. Still a blessing...

Gracious Words
... I was standing in a line at our church potluck. A gracious woman from our church, who has quite a health story of her own to tell, gently spoke to me: Leah, just remember to be gracious with yourself. She had no idea how those simple words spoke so deeply to me at a time when I truly needed them. Grace ... I was sure going to need it to make it through the coming months. And permission, in some ways, to wrestle and struggle with the difference between what I knew in my head and what I felt in my heart. Much later I went to her and shared how much her words meant to me. She had no recollection of saying them. She is very humble :). I wanted her to know what a gift her kind comment had been for me.


Gracious Surprises
... It was the night before our 4-week-old daughter's MRI appointment. Neither Jon nor I had been near an MRI machine before (for which we are grateful for in more ways than one!!) and we had no idea what to expect. I was pretty much rattlin' in my bones from the anxiety of it all. And the doorbell rang. I groaned. I had no energy left for anything, let alone unexpected guests. I am so thankful I answered the door. There stood a friend, a recent acquaintance, who'd already walked the road of "different kind of blessing" for six years. She sat with us. Listened to us. Shared with us. EnCOURAGEd us. Because of her visit, I was able to sleep at night (unusual at the best of times!!) and face the coming day with a sense of we-can-do-this. I am very reserved and don't typically show up at someone's house unannounced. I am so glad she did. What a gift it was.

Not all love uses words

A very sweet couple, well into their senior years, stopped by our house one day. Only, we were eating supper and since they never rang the door bell, never said a word, we didn't know it until much later. But they left us a little gift.  A single red rose, picked from their garden, gently left in a cup of water and a little card that shared their heart with us. I left that little rose out for as long as I could. It's vibrancy, delicacy and the spirit in which it was given meant much to me.

As far as I know, we've saved every email that was sent to us during that time. My intention, at some time, when I "have time" :), is to go through them and create a single document of encouragement out of them. How sweet to look back, what a gift to also share with our children when the time is appropriate. Honestly, I probably still couldn't get through them without shedding a tear a two.

As I mentioned, there are times when I find myself in a situation where there are no easy words. And these days, I'm not the fastest thinker, either :). However, I do try to practice some of the lessons I've learned through this....
Sometimes a simple statement can open up a whole world of conversation. A wow, that sounds tough or it sounds like you've had a hard week can be all it takes to stop and listen as someone shares their story.

Or
How a simple act of kindness can mean so much. Recently I was encouraged to hear of a friend who surprised her friend by visiting her in the hospital. The situation was difficult and the extra helpful presence was meaningful.

Often I find it helpful to come home and ask Jon just what he would say or do in those moments. He usually has something very insightful and helpful to impart :).

What acts of kindness, be it words, actions, prayers and so on, have made the difficult journey a little lighter?

Book Notes: Delicate Threads, Debbie Staub, PhD

Delicate Threads, Debbie Staub, PhD

I have very sweet memories of friendships that I formed as I was growing up. Not all moments were easy, mind you, and there was a lot of life's lessons learned along the way. However, I have fond recollections of laughing, bonding, secret-swapping, exploring and the sense of security that comes with knowing you are not alone.

And there are moments that still haunt me. I was around 7 or 8 years of age, attending a church potluck. A young fellow came up to me and complimented me on the blouse I was wearing. When I looked confused, he repeated himself calmly and clearly. Uncertain of how to respond, I giggled nervously. I think I did manage to eek out a "thank you" before turning to my friends and giggling again. The thing was this - this young man had Down's Syndrome. I felt embarrassed, uncomfortable, all together unsure of what to say or do.

I still cringe at my insensitivity and ignorance. If I could turn back the clock, this is honestly one moment I would go back and do all over again.
I would take the time to smile.
I would embrace the opportunity to meet someone new.
I would say "thank you" and truly mean it.
I would not let my own insecurities get in the way of appreciating someone else.

The topic of friendship, especially in regards to our children, is one that is near and dear to my heart. It is something we pray about often - not only that our girls would find true friends, but that they would grow to become loyal and trustworthy friends. Underlying all those emotions at the beginning of this journey, it was a fear that I struggled with intensely without really even knowing it at first. Those who are "different" in any way are at a greater risk for abuse, neglect, isolation and loneliness. Friendships are harder to forge, even harder to maintain.

Consequently, it took me a while to get through this one. (And, admittedly, I went through a few Kleenex too.) The author blends observations with her thesis research, and there are many questions (with no straightforward answers), a few good insights and a few suggestions that are helpful for those who find themselves nurturing those who take a little longer to learn life's skills.

Particularly helpful for me was the distinction between "rejected" and "neglected." Children with disabilities are not necessarily rejected, when communicates "you are not wanted" but they are often "neglected." Overlooked. Ignored. They can't run as fast, speak as well, communicate as clearly. Their behaviors can sometimes seem bizarre and disconcerting. Communication requires extra intentionality and, I think, a special sensitivity.

According to Staub, reciprocal friendships between typical and non-typical learners are definitely possible, especially in the earlier years. In fact, it was often because of adult intervention that these unique relationships met an earlier end than they otherwise might have. Concerns such as expecting the typical-learning friend to constantly be the "helper" in the relationship or by an unhealthy focus on a particular "disability" add unnecessary pressure and frustration. There is also the tendency to unintentionally pass along negative attitudes, such as "helping the handicapped" mentality, not allowing the non-typical learner the space and time required to do their work and consequently doing too much for them, or perpetuate the assumption that people with disabilities are objects of pity (which they are not!).

Staub reminds parents, educational staff, therapists and other involved adults to create opportunities for typical and non-typical learners to come together and base relationship on shared story, a sense of "I know what you mean." Many children, regardless of their abilities, can relate to being in a situation that felt overwhelming, thrilling, scary, challenging, etc. As we learn to communicate with all children involved, our friendships become centered on how we're similar, not just on how we're different.

There were many good points in this book, not just for children with disabilities, but principles that apply to all levels of friendships. I'd say it's a good read; more technical than some, but with good insights. Not necessarily a MUST READ, but a good one.

From here to there

After finding this quote, I knew I had to have it in my home.
So, I bought a cheap canvas and spent a few delightful hours with my paint and brushes :).

Sometimes I still get too focused on the skills we need to practice.
And still, sometimes I get frustrated by the process.
And sometimes it feels like we'll never get "there" from "here."

And truthfully, some skills we'll master, others will take a bit more time, and still others -- maybe not. We'll see. However, life is not about the achievements, it's about how the time is spent along the way.

Emotions

Feelings.... nothing more than ... feelings.... crooned Morris Albert back in the seventies.

This past month marked our fourth year on this journey that started off much differently than we had anticipated. And as we celebrated, I reflected on all those emotions that overwhelmed me during that first season....

Fear
From the moment there was the suspicion that something might be different, fear lodged itself deep deep within and surfaced repeatedly on a daily basis. What if.... how am I going to handle the extra responsibility.... what type of impact will medical issues have on our family.... what if I'm caught in a situation and I don't know what to do.... Questions circled around and around and around, often spinning wildly out of control. I overanalyzed every doctor visit. I dreaded appointments, but lived for each one, hoping for positive information. I found it hard to leave the kids (we had two girls at the time) even for a little while. If I did leave, and found myself running late, I had to remind myself not to panic, that 10, or even 15 minutes wouldn't make a big difference. In short, I had to learn how to be a parent all over again. Those first two years, really, were about recovering confidence that had been shattered, about facing stuff you never thought you'd have to, and finding that not only is it doable, but can be very rewarding too. Fear still comes knocking, every so often. And sometimes I even entertain it for a while. But then I remember how far we've come. And how far we'll go. And I take a deep breath and do it one day at a time.

Frustration
We have some wonderful therapists as part of our life. Primarily we have occupational, physical and speech therapy. Consequently, though, there has been tremendous focus on development, emphasizing learning and growth, and often with a nagging sense that someone was watching over my shoulder. I remember, way back at the beginning, when I was trying to figure out how all of this was going to fit into our days. It seemed so overwhelming at the time. Trying to encourage developmental play was so frustrating for both of us!!! It took me a while to realize that there is a BIG DIFFERENCE between forcing and facilitating learning. In my anxiety, I tended to the former, trying to keep things as "close to normal" as possible. Now, four years into this experience, I still get frustrated when I realize that my expectations are out of line with what is reasonable at this point. It is a learning process, for both of us.

Fatigue
An issue that we have dealt with, and it continues to be a struggle, is fatigue. It is well known that children with development issues often have problems sleeping well at night. Our little sweetie is no exception to that rule!! While the details of that are another post for a different day, it is suffice to say that learning how to absorb all of this, with very little sleep, is a challenge.

Grief
How does a parent come to terms that their child may never say their name? May never utter "I love you"? May never run like the other kids do or play one step behind because these precious little ones just don't understand the social rules? The severity of our situation is not nearly as challenging as was first predicted, for which we are thankful, but every so often we get glimpses into this ache of the heart. When our little one lags behind, or the words just won't come or there is simply something we just cannot understand. Instead of trying to absorb the whole picture (which we never know anyway!), I move through one day at a time, giving space and dignity to each sadness that comes along, and ensuring we celebrate the victories.


Love and a deep sense of joy
Our little one was only weeks old. I sat on our bed, holding her, thanking God for each special, intricate part of her being. It was not easy, this moment of acceptance. But it was beautiful and freeing. Whatever life held in store for us, we were going to do it together. I had the honor of being her mother, of participating in her life story, of witnessing a million miracles unfold that I would otherwise take for granted.

Oh, the emotions ran deep and strong, and in many ways still do.

What did you experience as awareness dawned and the unforeseen became a reality?

Better, Together

Our little girl was only about 10 days old on that first trip to the pediatricians office.

As we sat in the waiting room, having no clue of the coming storm, a couple of fellas sat in the waiting room with their guitars. They sang and strummed; we listened. As a mother, I soaked it all in - every feeling of anxiety, every move my little daughter made, every interaction with our 18-month old, conversation with my husband; everything around us seemed to stand out and make an impression on my memory.

It took a long long while for me to discover what song these guys sang, but eventually the connection was made: Jack Johnson, Better Together

There is no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard
No song that I could sing, but I can try for your heart
Our dreams, and they are made out of real things
Like a, shoebox of photographs
With sepiatone loving
Love is the answer,
At least for most of the questions in my heart
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy and
Sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together

Mmm, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, we'll look at the stars when we're together
Well, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, it's always better when we're together

And all of these moments
Just might find their way into my dreams tonight
But I know that they'll be gone
When the morning light sings
And brings new things
For tomorrow night you see
That they'll be gone too
Too many things I have to do
But if all of these dreams might find their way
Into my day to day scene
I'd be under the impression
I was somewhere in between
With only two
Just me and you
Not so many things we got to do
Or places we got to be
We'll sit beneath the mango tree now

It's always better when we're together
Mmm, we're somewhere in between together
Well, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, it's always better when we're together

Mmm, mmm, mmm

I believe in memories
They look so, so pretty when I sleep
Hey now, and when I wake up,
You look so pretty sleeping next to me
But there is not enough time,
And there is no, no song I could sing
And there is no, combination of words I could say
But I will still tell you one thing
We're better together

----

The days have grown into weeks which have now become years; and this past week it has been four years.
And it has not always been easy.
But it has always always always been worth it.
We're definitely Better Together.

"Jack"

We'll call him, "Jack." The little fellow that has captured my daughter's attention.

With a mild-moderate speech delay, our little one is not a gal of many words. Short and sweet is best, in her books :). However, even after a morning at preschool, I never fail to ask her how her day was, what things she took interest in, what the kids were doing.

You'll never know what'll come out, some day!

One particular lunch time, after a morning at preschool, I was trying to encourage her to say, "I love you." Three simple words. For those who are familiar with language delays and challenges, three words in a row is a lot! However, these particular three are delightful and encouraging, and when we hear them it'll be music to my ears!

Anyway, I was encouraging her to repeat after me.
"I. Love. You."
Smile. "Jack."
Jack!? JACK!!? Yes, I've heard this name before. He's a sweet-hearted little fellow who likes to play cars (the one-on-one worker has informed me). He's gentle and inclusive and was delighted one morning when he heard our sweet little girl say his name.
"Do you love Jack?" I ask, in a sing-song kinda voice!
"Mine." More smiles.
"Is Jack your friend?" The grin she gave was enormous. Friendship, in all it's shapes and sorts, is a beautiful thing. My heart soared.

Often often often, we pray for the friendships our children will have. Special people to enjoy life with, to swap secrets and stories, to have fun (but stay outta trouble!!!). However, for our Sweet K, I also ask that there is always someone in her corner who is willing to take life at her pace. A little slower, a little sweeter. It has blessed me time and again to see God honor that request. I know that there will likely be struggles ahead, but so far, she has always had someone who was willing to play at a level that she is comfortable with.

Evidently, Jack is one of those fine folks!! So he has a special place in our hearts, indeed!!

First steps

I'll never forget the moment where the reality of diagnosis began to sink in. Through the fog of disbelief a thousand questions began clamoring for attention. Among the few that rose to the surface:

What does all this mean?
What does the future look like?
Will we be able to handle all this?
Where do we go from here?


Through the weeks and months that followed, I wrestled with these questions and fear of what the future would be like. My highly creative and active imagination provided much fuel for the fire and it was not an easy time. Through this, however, a phrase began to take hold and grounded me in the moment:

While a diagnosis provides a framework for dealing with a particular set of circumstances, it does not define who we are or what we are capable of.


It is helpful to have a framework in order to understand, and effectively manage, the things that life brings our way.
It is not helpful to be limited by a definition or a label.

This brought a tremendous sense of freedom as we began to seek out a balance in our circumstances. Each of us has potential, and it is a joy to share in each other's journey. Milestones became celebrations rather than looming goals to attain. Laughter returned, a healthier perspective set in. The diagnosis became a tool rather than the rule. It was a big step toward acceptance and an abundant life.

What is normal, anyway?

Anyone who has ever had the opportunity to become acquainted with the ups and downs of life with additional considerations will inevitably be asked... "What is "normal" anyway?" Usually this comment comes with a sincere, underlying desire to ease the anxiety that "anything outside the typical mold" is cause for alarm.

It is true that each individual grows and develops according to their own unique biological clock. It is equally true that on occasion, a deviance from what one can typically expect at any given stage is an indication of something concerning, something requiring further exploration. The challenge is to find the balance in considering the two realities.

We tend to equate "normal" for "no need to worry." For those who face a life that is "not normal," who overcome additional challenges and considerations as they develop into the person they have been created to be, the difference between "normal" and "not" can feel quite overwhelming. Perhaps it creates a loneliness, or a maturity that is not matched by one's peers. Or, it can mean the difference between a "predictable life" and one filled with doctor appointments, good and bad news, waiting and test results.


The illusion of "normal" - or rather, the absence of worry - may seem very appealing indeed!!

Perhaps it is best to embrace this tension by suggesting that what is come to be expected for one child or one family can be (and usually is) different than what is typical for another. What is "normal" for one is different, yet perhaps no "better" or "worse," than what is "normal" for another.

How do you define normal?

Welcome to the journey!

Parenthood. It's among the most amazing, the most stretching, the most beautiful of life's experiences. It's exhilarating, and exhausting, consuming and rewarding; it takes all you've got, and then some :).

Welcome to the journey!
Nothing quite prepares you for it.
Nothing quite compares to it, either.

Now, perhaps things didn't go exactly as planned.
Maybe, during pregnancy, you discovered that additional challenges lay ahead.
Or, during birth, it became apparent that this was going to require even more than you ever thought you had it in you to give.
Or, as the weeks and months and years rolled by, the challenges became intense, worry set it and before you knew it you were wondering just how different "different" going to be.

Welcome to the journey of parenthood.... with a few extra considerations.

Some are now grappling with terminology that, prior to this, only applied to other families.
Specialists and therapists.
Cognitive challenges like development delay and learning disabilities.
Physical considerations and special equipment and exercises.
Therapy and milestones.
Social concerns and inclusive learning opportunities.
Regressive. Progressive.
Medical needs and appointments and procedures and tests.
The list goes on.

And underlying all of the tension and waiting and wrestling is a heart-aching question:
Will life ever feel safe and "normal" again?


You are welcome to join in the incredible journey of life with different abilities. Let's explore, celebrate, discuss, share ideas and swap stories together!