just like riding a bike.

i remember learning how to ride a bike without training wheels. 
it's a pivotal time in a little person's life.  learning to balance all on your own.
when i first set off, i was so scared that i would fall.  but then i got going, and remember the thrill of knowing that i was doing it.  "I'M DOING IT I'M DOING IT I'M DOING IT BY MYSELF!"

that's pretty much how i feel every day as a parent of two.
i'm doing it i'm doing it! 

the first time you learn to ride a bike you fall. a lot.  normally the squeals of delight at your newfound independence end in squeals of pain as you eat asphalt. 

i eat a lot of the proverbial asphalt these days.

but i'm still doing it.

some days are great days, some days are bad days, but mostly every day is a little bit of both.
sometimes i am the best mom ever.  sometimes i'm the worst mom ever.  every day.

there are the lows.  oh the lows. 

the forty minute drive to and from finn's therapy school when cole decides he just doesn't want to be in the car.  and banshee screams the whole way there.  and the whole way back.  and i feel like i'm locked in a moving box of misery and it can't get any worse so i pull over and discover that holding a screaming baby in the starbucks parking lot with your boob hanging out is actually worse, and i have to pee so bad and i can't find a binky and now my whole shirt is soaked and we're still 25 minutes away from home.  so we head back down the road and i make everyone (no one) feel better by yelling back at the baby JUSTSTOPCRYINGGODWHY because babies always respond to yelling works every time.  and we finally make it home and in my frenzy to release finn and i from the unending pain that is the constant wail of my precious newborn child i jerk him out of his carseat too fast and he loses his balance and falls in the driveway and scrapes the skin off the top of his foot because of course it's winter and he doesn't have on shoes. 

the lows.

but then there are the highs. 

the moments, like right now, when they're both sleeping.  peacefully.  happily. 
in clean clothes and dry diapers in their own beds with full bellies. 
and i'm wearing clothes without baby spit up on them and i even have on mascara. 
and i realize i'm doing it and it's good. 
yesterday we made christmas crafts for the grandparents and everyone had fun and it actually worked!
today we went to finn's gym class and no one cried and finn tried new things and sat for part of circle time.
this week finn gives high fives and does all the motions to head shoulders knees and toes and uses his voice to get my attention.  he says up up up and bubbles and mama (twice!) and nods yes and no and says ssss for swing.  and cole belly laughs and holds my finger when he sleeps and smiles. 
oh, he smiles!
and we all forgive and forget the asphalt we ate and we dust ourselves off and give it another go.

i used to think, how can i give 100% of myself to two little boys who both need 100% of me?
i can't.  i can't be 200%.  no one can.
but you know, it's okay.
we all kind of work together.  sometimes one of them needs 80% and the other is ok with 20.  and sometimes we all play together and it's a nice 50/50 split.  and sometimes cole is crying in the car or finn is pulling all the glass balls off of the christmas tree because the other one just needs all of me for a minute. 
and it's all okay.
at the end of the day, daddy gets home, and we're a family, and we all love each other and work together and we learn and do better every day. 

i found this picture on billy's phone the other day.
it was probably 6 in the morning, and i had just gotten cole out of my arms and into his bassinet when finn woke up and got in bed with me. 
i'm sleeping in my clothes from the day before. 
it hadn't been a pretty night.
but i kind of love this picture.  and i love that billy had it.
one day they'll be big and i won't have to choose between eating and showering and i'll be able to go out with my friends (if i have any left) and i'll wish i could do it all over again.

the days are long but the years are short. 
time to get back on the bike.

autism one year later.

over the past year the word "autistic" has become a little bit more palatable to me.

a year ago when finn got his diagnosis at the ripe old age of 20 months, a lot of me was still in denial.  i thought if we threw a whole bunch of early intervention and aba therapy on top of him that this autism thing would go away.  in all fairness, he was still so little then that it wasn't unrealistic to think that.  some of his quirks and delays could really have been just that.  it's hard to tell in a 20 month old sometimes.

but a year later here we are, and finn is 2 1/2 years old.  a lot of kids don't get diagnosed until this age.  so i'm grateful that we have a whole year under our belt already.  but it's bittersweet, because now at 2 1/2 it is much clearer to me that finn is autistic, and in some areas he seems more severely autistic than he was a year ago.  he has made tons of progress this past year, but not enough to make him appear developmentally typical.  i am so proud of him and how far he's come, but he has to work so hard for every little victory, fight for every inch, and as i see him grow and fight and learn i'm so very proud of who he is. 
and it's so very obvious to me that he is finn, and he has autism. 
and he will always have autism. 

i couldn't really say that before.

i used to dream that i would wake up and finn would just be talking.  that one day he would just come into the kitchen and tell me what he wanted for breakfast.  like all of a sudden it would just be easy for him.  i wanted that so much for him.  and selfishly, for me.  because there is nothing worse than your little boy being upset and not being able to tell you what's wrong.  nothing.

but here we are today, and i sit with finn while he tries so hard to talk.  while he holds his hands to my mouth, while he pushes his lips against mine because he wants so badly to match their movement.  and i know that it's never going to come easy for him.  we're always going to have to work for it.  (and i will always, always, be working just as hard right there with him.)  this is a devastatingly heartbreaking reality for me, but at the same time, i can't tell you how proud it makes me. 
that finn is who he is and he is a fighter.  and he doesn't give up when it doesn't come easy.

there are lots of thinks that i love about finn's autism and lots of things i hate about it.  ultimately, it's part of who he is, and we take the good with the bad.
i love that it makes him see things differently than me.  one of our favorite things to do is try to see things from his perspective.  things that are glaringly obvious to him can easily go unnoticed by people like us.  like a shadow on the wall.  and things that are glaringly obvious to us can easily go unnoticed by him.  like a person talking right in front of you. 
we were at "my gym" yesterday and finn, as usual, did not want to sit at circle time.  the kids all had orange traffic cones to play with and the teachers were instructing them to do different things with their cones (pretend your cone is a hat, pretend your cone is a fire hose, bla bla).  finn lasted for about 20 seconds of this and then ran to the back of the gym.  there's a back hallway with a bathroom and a water tank and it turns a corner into somewhere i couldn't see.  finn ran to the end of the hallway (never out of my sight) and kept looking down the corner and then back at me.  we were doing a stare off (come back to the circle... no come to the hallway... come back to the circle...) and finn won and i went to meet him at the end of the hallway.  where he promptly took  my hand and threw it towards the part of the hall i couldn't see from the circle... (look mom)... and there lies a huge storage area with the entire stockpile of traffic cones and ten million other awesome things. 
it's moments like those where i think, my kid is a brilliant genius, and all your sweet little kids at circle time are just sheep.  (ha!)

but i hate that as he gets bigger, i can't fix everything.  there are things that he feels and experiences that i can never make better or even fully understand.  sometimes he's like a fish out of water.  he's still trying to navigate his own mind and at the same time our very different world.   
i took him and cole for a run on sunday, and halfway through finn started bawling.  i thought he had bitten his tongue or something, but try as i might, i couldn't find any reason for his sudden explosion of tears.  nothing i could do would help.  i tried all my tricks.  i sang songs, i held him, i gave him my phone, i played his favorite youtube video, nothing made a difference.  he sobbed uncontrollably until i let him down and he wandered around a field next to the road sobbing, unable to get a handle on himself.  it was awful.  i have never felt more helpless.  i ended up putting him back into the stroller and running back to billy's parents house as fast as i could to put him in front of a windmill that lights up.  it helped for a few minutes, and then he started sobbing again.  it was so bad that i took him to the doctor.  i prayed that he had strep throat.  or an ear infection.  that it was something i could put my finger on and touch and treat and make go away.  that it wasn't a sensory thing or an autism thing or something in his world that i couldn't reach.  but he wasn't sick.  and that night, without explanation, he was himself again.
it's moments like those that terrify me.  that he's falling down this pit of autism and that one day he's going to be 17 years old and i'm going to be chasing him crying through a field unable to save him from what i can't understand.

i could never imagine finn as a teenager or an adult who was severely autistic.  i hope that he will talk one day.  i hope that he will be able to communicate with other people and get along in our world without too much trouble.  and i think there's a really good chance of that.  i think we're doing all the right things and he's working so hard, and i think there's a really good probability that he will be able have a somewhat independent life.  but for the first time now, i have let myself look down the road of him not.  of his speech never progressing beyond "ba ba ba" and of him making weird sounds and flapping his arm and all that looking much stranger coming out of a 17 year old than it does coming out of a 2 year old.  i don't like looking down that road.  but i think it's important that i can now, and that i'm okay with it.   
i saw a girl at target with her mom this week, and she was doing those things.  she was probably 20, and she was trying so hard to get ahold of herself, but she clapped her ears when the carts banged together, and she made loud embarrassing noises, and i knew that one day 17 or so years ago her mom must have looked at her baby girl and hoped that she would talk, and sing, and grow up and drive a car and go to prom and get married and do all of those things and it looked like maybe she would, but then she didn't.  and maybe that sucks.  but i bet they have a really happy life.  it's just a lot different than they thought it would be.

people ask me all the time how finn is doing, and honestly, he's doing so great.  he is great with baby cole.  he doesn't pay much attention to him, but he'll give him a kiss when i ask him to, and he always makes sure i hear him when he's crying.  he has never been anything but gentle with him, and he'll even snuggle him a little if we're all in bed together.  i know that one day they'll have a really special friendship.  no matter what kind of classrooms they're in. 

i don't think that finn is going to wake up one day and be "normal" and honestly, i don't want him to be.  i hope that all of the therapy we do and classes we try help him learn skills that will make him proud of himself and help him to communicate and feel understood.  and i am so glad that we have friends and family who love and accept him for who he is. 

because he's pretty great.

What's in a name? 2nd Edition.

We put a lot of thought into Finn's name, so this time around we wanted to make sure that our little guy number two had a name that was just as special.

We wanted the boys to have names that were similar but also unique unto themselves.  And since we didn't use a family name for Finn, we didn't want to use one for Cole. 

The middle name was actually easier for us to come up with than the first name.  Finn's middle name is Wilde, after Oscar Wilde.  It's special to us not only because we love Oscar Wilde the author, but because we visited his grave in Paris on our honeymoon.  The name really represents a place and time for us- our honeymoon, Paris, and the romance of Oscar Wilde's grave.

So for Cole's middle name, we wanted something just as special, and we always said we would use the middle names of authors, artists, or musicians for our kids.  Enter Andrew Wyeth.  One of my all time favorite painters, we have one of his most famous paintings- Christina's World- hanging in our kitchen.

I have always loved it because it reminds me so much of my Great Granny's farm in Western Virginia.  There's a really cool story behind the painting, too- Christina was actually Andrew's friend up in Maine where he had a summer house growing up.  She was crippled from polio and couldn't walk.  When Andrew died, his will asked that he be laid to rest in Maine next to Christina, and that's where they are today.

Andrew Wyeth has lots of other paintings, too,  a lot of them remind me of my Great Granny's farm, and ironically, those paintings are of the Pennsylvania countryside- because Andrew Wyeth was born and raised right here in Chester County where we live today.

But other paintings of his are from his summer home in Maine- again, ironic, because Billy's parents also have a summer home there as well- but those paintings remind me of Newfoundland where my mom was born and raised.

I like the feelings of nostalgia that these paintings invoke in me, but more importantly, Wyeth represents a new place and time for Billy and I.  Our home in Chester County, and the little family we have planted here.  Wyeth it was.

As for Cole's first name- Cole had always been on my list.  I love the appeal of a one syllable name, and Cole has always had a nice ring to it for me.  It's not super common, it's not super uncommon, it's easy to pronounce on the first day of school.  But what really sold us on Cole was when we found out that it's the anglicized version of the Irish last name MacCool.

For months we had been searching for a legend or historical character that stood up to the legend of Finn MacCool- the Irish giant who we so appropriately named Finn after.  But we couldn't find one that fit the bill.  I think at one point Billy said, "Can we just use Finn again?"  We love this legend and the Irish history and folklore behind it.  So when we found out Cole also payed homage to the same tale, we knew it was a perfect fit.  We love that the boys are named after the same character.  (We joke that if we ever have another boy we'll have to name him Mac).

If you look up the meaning of Finn, you'll find that it means "fair", and if you look up the meaning of the name Cole, you'll find that it means "dark".  We liked the balance of opposites in their names, and we hope that as they grow up together they will be a good complement to each other, just as their names are.

We are so happy with our little Cole Wyeth Murphy!  We think his name suits him just perfectly.

Cole's Birth Story pt. 2

My doctor came in and proceeded to set up shop.  
I had no idea how involved the preparations were for a regular delivery, but basically they set up an entire water park from your waist down to the other end of the room. 
I swear there was a slip 'n slide.
I think I actually said "Is that a slip 'n slide?"  and she laughed and said "Well, things can get pretty messy!"  as she proceeded to hide her face behind a huge plastic shield.  I was really scared I was going to spontaneously combust and everyone in the room was going to be covered in placenta or something the way they were preparing for this thing.

Once my doctor was officially covered from head to toe in waterproof materials, she gave me the go ahead to start pushing.  By this time I was in epidural heaven and I had no idea when I was having a contraction.  The nurse looked at the monitor and let me know when to push for about 5 pushes, and then I could really feel pressure and just took over and pushed whenever I felt like it.  The whole time baby Cole looked great on the monitor (yay!)  I couldn't believe he was actually coming.  After about 15 or 20 minutes of pushing, out he came, just like that!

is he not the cleanest newborn baby you've ever seen? 
maybe it was all that nesting, but things were so tidy during delivery 

and the splash pad didn't see any action.  ha!

I was so proud of Billy, who not only didn't pass out, but also pushed probably just as hard as I did (I told him it wasn't necessary but he couldn't stop) and managed to cut the cord!  Yay Daddy!

I was so proud of my body for cooperating and being strong and pushing out this amazing little person.  My doctor gave me a very small episiotomy that only needed a few stitches, but otherwise I had no trauma.  Which is really kind of unbelievable to me, I mean aren't our bodies just amazing?  What a miracle birth is.

And I was so proud of this new little boy.  He just behaved himself and cooperated so well during my labor.  When Dr. Coldren caught him, she picked him up and cradled him in her arms, and he looked around for a minute, and then closed his eyes and snuggled up to her.  It took a couple good smacks to get a cry out of him.  He was, and still is, the most content little guy. 

The doctor was right about his head being so low when she was trying to break my water, too.  He has two little scratches right on the crown of his head from both attempts.  Bless his little heart.

We didn't have a name for him until much later in the afternoon. 
Originally Jack, Cole, and Declan were top on our list.  But when we saw him we almost named him Tagg.  His face changed so much in the first few hours that we just couldn't decide.  Eventually we settled on Cole Wyeth Murphy.  And the blog post to follow will explain why :)

We had a wonderful time and experience at the hospital.  It was so much less emotional and traumatic and suspenseful than Finn's birth.  Everything was so easy it seemed unfair.  It still does.  And for that reason, I just have to say that c-section moms just don't get enough credit.  It is was so much more physically challenging for me to have a c-section than a regular delivery.  My biggest complaint this go round was puffy eyes the next day from pushing so hard.  Big props to all of my friends and family who wished me a fast, easy, safe delivery.  Because I had just that.  From my first real contraction until he got here at 5:14 a.m., my labor only lasted 4 hours. 

If you had a scary or challenging first delivery, take heart that things do get better with subsequent pregnancies.  I really felt like my body knew what it was doing this time around.  Except for the whole "going into labor" thing.  Still needed a hand with that one.

Cole's first bath.  He weighed in at 7lbs 12 oz and 20 3/4 inches long.  

Finn was born two weeks later than Cole at 8lbs 8 oz and 20 inches long.  

I'm pretty sure if we had let Cole cook as long, he would have been a nine pounder.  

He is a big healthy boy!

Headed to our room in the maternity suite shortly after delivery.

 Puffy eye happiness.

 Enjoying our stay at the hospital.

It's the most expensive hotel stay around, 

but they bring you percocets and watch your baby while you sleep.

worth it.

Cole baby.

Finn came to see us that afternoon with Grandma and Grandpa.  He did well, just as I expected.  

Anyone who knows Finn knows that he is not the most outwardly affectionate person around.  I know he feels big feelings, he just doesn't always show them.  I didn't expect him to show any interest in the new baby, and he didn't, but he was very happy to see Billy and I and we caught him watching the baby whenever he thought no one was looking.  I have no doubt that he knows exactly what's going on, and he's really been doing a good job rolling with everything.  I was worried he might not be so gentle "get that thing out of your arms, mom"- but he has been very gentle and sweet.  We've logged a few baby pats. 

Cole's really going to grow on him.

I cried when we left the hospital.  It's amazing how quickly it all happens and is over.  What a blessing my pregnancy and delivery with Cole was.   I feel so fortunate that I was able to have a totally different experience this go round.  Both Finn and Cole's birth were so special to me and taught me so much.  

I'm especially grateful for my doctor this time, who really helped me feel empowered and capable throughout my whole pregnancy, and who listened to me.  She trusted me when my gut said that breaking my water would send me into labor, and she made it happen.  After Cole was born she told me, "You were right!  This was exactly the right thing to do, you knew it, and you did it!"  I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.  

But right now, being home with our two boys feels just right. :)

Links to Finn's birth story Part One and Part Two. 

Cole's Birth Story pt. 1

What a whirlwind!  It's hard to believe that we are all tucked in at home, one big happy family of four!  I wanted to sit down and write out Cole's birth story before I forgot all of the details, but first I re-read Finn's Birth Story from 2 1/2 years ago!  It seems like yesterday.  I thought Cole's delivery was completely different from Finn's- and in a lot of ways it was- but there were a lot of similarities, too.  So it was cool to look back and see that.

After Finn's c-section delivery, and the discovery of my unbridled love for epidurals, I had to go with a different practice for this pregnancy.  I said goodbye to the midwives and hello to a small practice of all female obgyn's in our area.  At my very first prenatal appointment, I told the doctor to go ahead and sign me up for a repeat c-section.  I thought it would be the easiest and safest route, and to be honest, not many practices around here are even willing to let you try to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean section), and I didn't even know if my new practice did or not.  In my mind, I had already done the scary dramatic delivery, and I was totally content with a safe and predictable scheduled c-section for the second time around.

Surprisingly, the doctors in the practice- although supportive- questioned my decision.  Over the course of the next few months at my prenatal appointments they asked me questions like "Why would you choose to have a major surgery when you might not need one?" and reminded me how much better a recovery from a vaginal birth would be than a recovery from a c-section- especially with a two year old at home.  I did some thinking, and towards the end of my pregnancy, I decided I'd give a vaginal delivery a shot.  I have heard c-section horror stories and vaginal delivery horror stories- there's really no easy way out- but I thought, hey, let's just see how things go and hopefully we'll end up with the best possible outcome. 

Because Finn was so big and so late, my doctor had me go ahead and schedule a c-section for Cole on his actual due date, Thursday the 5th at noon.  She told me that second babies are generally bigger than first babies, and boys are bigger than girls.  So the decision to take Cole right on time was a good one, as I didn't have much luck with pushing out Finn's huge overdue head, and Cole was stacking up to be just as big or bigger.  The hope was that I would go into labor on my own before then.  Despite having regular contractions and tons of signs of impending labor for the whole last month of my pregnancy, I didn't go into labor.  But by the time Wednesday, September 4th rolled around, I was walking around at 3 1/2cm dilated and 90% effaced, with Cole's head at a -2 station.  That basically means he was halfway born but I wasn't in labor.  My doctor didn't know how I was walking.  We decided maybe he just needed a little kick in the pants to get things moving.  The plan was for my doctor to try to sneak me into the hospital the night before my c-section and break my water to see if that was enough of a kick start to throw me into real labor on my own.  I was supposed to call the hospital at 5:45p.m., right after my doctor's shift started, and then she was going to ask the charge nurse if I could come in.  She said if it wasn't busy, and the charge nurse was nice, then I should be able to head in Wednesday night.

Wednesday night came with the utmost anticipation.  My parents were here to watch Finn, our bags were packed, my floors were mopped, and I had written something like 13 pages of instructions on how to pack Finn's bag for school.  Let's just say I was prepared.  But when I called, my doctor told me that the charge nurse said "no."  Major womp womp.  But there was still hope!  The shift change was at 7 p.m., and maybe the new charge nurse would be in better spirits.  My doctor promised to plead my case to the new nurse at 7 and call me back.  At around 7:30 I got the call.  "Can you be here by 9?" she said.  YES!  We were thrilled.  And we had gotten to tuck Finn into bed one last night before we left, so it all worked out great.

We got to the hospital and got settled in.  I got hooked up to the monitors and Billy tested out the daddy cot he thought he was going to be sleeping on that night.  As much as I have always wanted that suspenseful hollywood rush to the hospital labor, it really is fun to pack your bags and go to the hospital like you're going on vacation.

My doctor came in at 9:30 to break my water and get things moving.  I was super excited and ready.  I was totally expecting to feel a huge fluid rush while she poked around down there and to immediately know that my water had broken, but it didn't work out that way at all.  My water didn't break.  "I'm sure I got it" my doctor said, "But the baby's head is right there, and I don't want to scratch it much harder."  I was instructed to walk around for a while and see if I was going to spring a leak.  Billy and I walked the halls for an hour.  He stole a milk out of the nurse's break room fridge.  I chewed some ice.  Nothing else exciting happened.  We were bored.

We went back to our room and turned on the tv when my nurse came in and discovered us.  "I don't think she got it."  I said.  We waited around a couple more hours, and then around 12:30 my doctor came back to give it another shot.  Again, I expected a huge rush of fluid, but nothing.  Either the baby's head was so low that it was blocking the fluid, or I didn't have any fluid.  We didn't know what to think.  My doctor left us once more, saying we could start me on a really low pitocin drip to encourage to labor if this second water breakage attempt didn't work.  But this time, a few minutes later I felt a leak.  We were in business!  I got up to go to the bathroom and finally my water broke.  Hooray!  My contractions started up like clockwork.  "How would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?"  my nurse asked.  "Oh, like a 1."  I said.  "I'm totally fine."  We figured it would take a while for things to really get going.  This was around 1:30 a.m.

My nurse left, and all of a sudden my contractions really stepped it up.  I think in the span of 15 minutes I probably had about 6 or 7 contractions, and I wanted no part of it.  No part.  Billy was laughing at me for being so dramatic, but I was not kidding.  "Call the nurse", I said.  "I want my anesthesiologist!"  When the nurse came back in, she thought I wanted a drink or something.  I had gone from a completely comfortable and excited "1 on the pain scale"  to a monster climbing the hospital bed in agony in the span of 15 minutes.  "I don't know if you can have an epidural yet," my nurse said, "you're only at 1cm."  I replied with
"I CAME IN AT 3 1/2 CM AND MY DOCTOR SAID I CAN HAVE AN EPIDURAL WHENEVER I WANT!"  then i wiped the foam from my mouth.
"Oh, that's right,  I forgot."  She said.  She called the doctor who, as predicted, said I could have my epidural.
By some blessed miracle the anesthesiologist came in within 5 minutes and got to work.  He was trying to make small talk but I could barely see, let alone speak.  "I don't know what happened to her," my nurse said, "she was totally fine 15 minutes ago."  Little did she know!

After about 30 minutes my epidural was in and starting to work.  It took a while for it to fully take effect, and I was still really struggling through my contractions.  Once I finally started to feel comfortable, the nurse left.  I asked her when she would come back to check me again and she said "not for a while, it doesn't really matter if you're 3cm or 6cm, it only matters when you're 10cm."
She came back five minutes later.
"I'm going to check you." she said.  "The baby looks like he's really dropped down."  (I guess they can tell these things by the monitor).
Sure enough, I was at 8 1/2cm.  I basically dilated 5cm in 20 minutes.  Billy got a big punch in the shoulder for calling me a wimp during those bone crushing contractions.

The nurse told us to try to get some rest and she would come back in an hour to check me and see if it was time to push.  Billy settled in comfortably on his man cot, but my anesthesiologist had given me a shot of ephedrine with my epidural to keep my blood pressure up, and I felt like I could run a 5k.  I also had one weird little window in my lower left abdomen where the epidural didn't take, and I felt like I had a hole in the side of my stomach that was on fire every time I had a contraction.  It was super weird.  After an hour passed, the nurse came in and checked me.  "You're definitely at 10!"  she said.  "I'm going to go get a drink and pee and then you can try pushing!"  (I swear the MOST casual nurse ever.)

At this point it was about 4:40 a.m.  We couldn't believe how fast everything was happening and how well!  I kept asking how the baby was doing, and he looked great the whole time.  In our minds, we still didn't have a guarantee for a regular delivery.  I was still expecting to be rushed into the OR for an emergency c-section after I pushed some more, just like I was with Finn.  I was fully prepared for that outcome.  

When my nurse came back she told me to push and she'd see how good of a pusher I was and then call Dr. Coldren when we got close.  After push one, she told me to stop pushing and she called the doctor right away.  It was baby time!

ode to the shop vac.

yesterday we had a crazy storm here in dtown, and finn's playroom flooded.

it wasn't too horrible- we caught it right in the nic of time- but it was bad enough to send billy to home depot at 6 in the morning to buy a shop vac to suck up the water.

a brand.
spanking.
new.
shop vac.

unbeknownst to him, in doing so, he has opened up a whole new world of nesting (which is now just the nice word for crazy) opportunities to me.

a whole. new. world.

do you know what you can clean up with a 6.0 peak HP motor 14 gallon high performance shop vac?

ANYTHING.

ANYTHING.

any mess. ever. 
if you wind up in jail for a crime you're completely guilty of, just call me, because i'm pretty sure i can shop vac you out.

the range of things i've shop-vacced during finn's nap today is vast, and includes, but is by no means limited to (oh hahahahaha nooooo means limited to) shop vaccing the driveway, because i don't know how to start up the gas operated leaf blower.

(as a side note, i should mention that i broke my electric leaf blower when i was pregnant with finn because i HAD to go blow leaves before changing into appropriate attire (THEREWASNOTIME) and sucked my scarf into the motor, rendering it useless forever.)

back to now, you may have noticed in the paragraph before the last one that i told you
I VACUUMED MY DRIVEWAY.

i can't wait to have my baby so that i can once again be motivated to do absolutely nothing.

i'm pretty sure billy is golfing this weekend, and i have BIG PLANS for what i'm going to vacuum when he's not around. BIG PLANS. 

the only thing i don't feel like cleaning is the inside of my shop vac.  (umm, ew.)
honey?

Nesting.

I've been meaning to write a blog post for a long time, but lately any free time I have has been sabotaged by intense bouts of rampant nesting.  It's uncontrolled, it's even against my will, but it comes over me like a tidal wave.  Or like a small evil little elf takes over my body and starts operating my arms and legs from the inside, pushing me forward despite the bags under my eyes and the weight in my step.

I was thinking about the term "nesting" today, and how sweet it sounds.  It makes you think of a little mama bird, delicately preparing her nest to lay her sweet little delicate bird eggs.  But have you ever actually watched a bird build a nest?  Have you actually witnessed a bird nesting?  I have.  (I like birds, okay, it's fine.)  It's no whistle while you work Snow White fairy tale.  That poor little mama bird is possessed.  Frantic.  Obsessed.  Find perfect twig.  No, wrong, no, no, yes.  That one will do.  Back to the nest.  Poke. Poke. Fix. Fine.  There.  Must get more twigs.  No, wrong, no, no... back and forth.  Back and forth.  You just want to throw something at her and tell her to chill out.  Take a rest little mama bird.  But there's no reasoning with birds, you see.

There's also no reasoning with nesters of the human variety.  The more troublesome thing is, at least the birds are actually doing something that makes sense.  They are actually building a nest.  This is pretty much vital to the survival of their babies.  Nesting for humans, or at least for me, makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.  It's not like I'm suddenly overtaken by the urge to build a house for my baby to live in.  That's already taken care of.  I'm not even building a crib, I found one on craig's list.  I'm doing completely irrational shit that really doesn't even need to be done at all, nevermind need to be done before the arrival of my baby.  But I can't help it.

For example, yesterday, I was dead on my feet.  All morning while Finn was at therapy I was running my errands.  The whole way through the grocery store the only thing keeping me upright was the light at the end of the tunnel that said you will nap today when Finn naps.   You will sleep.  You will rest.  Nap.  Sleep.  Almost there.  We got home, I put Finn down for his nap.  Yes, finally I said.  It is time.  I can rest.  I'll just get a glass of water and go lie down.  So I head to the kitchen and open the refrigerator and BAM! that's it.  it's over.  There is absolutely no way on God's green earth that I can even consider putting my feet up with the interior of my refrigerator in such disarray.  I'll just reorganize the condiments I say.  I'll just check expiration dates.  An hour and a half later, as I hear Finn beginning to stir, I am covered in sweat and clorox, laughing maniacally as I survey my handiwork.  Not only did I have to empty out the entire refrigerator and freezer and clean the whole thing, but I then had to arrange everything categorically and by color. 

God forbid Billy come home and put the sour cream on the fruit shelf GOD FORBID.

I've lost all control.

Days before it was the inside of my dish washer.  I couldn't put my lunch plate in there and just shut the door.  Just turn my back on the soap residue that was clearly festering in the cracks of the interior.  How could I go about the rest of my day with the knowledge that it was just THERE?  I had no choice.

The list goes on and on.  Frankly, I could actually be doing more worthwhile tasks like taking all of the gift wrapping supplies out of the baby's closet so that it can actually be used for baby things, but that makes too much rational sense.  I'd rather mop all of the hardwood floors with Murphy's Oil Soap for the 3rd time this week because I JUST HAVE TO OKAY!

oof.

The other thing that Bird's really got going for her, other than having an actual viable purpose, is not having a husband around.  You never see Daddy Bird staring at her miserably and thinking "my wife has lost it."  No, she is free to psychotically build her nest without judgement or pity.  That daddy bird really has it made.  Where'd he get off to, anyway?  Someplace safer, I'm sure.  My husband, on the other hand, isn't so lucky.  He's left to pick up the pieces of my slowly decomposing brain, like for example, by chasing down a wet, naked two year old after bath time because I got distracted going from tub to towel and suddenly became stricken with the need to scrub the base of the bathroom sink.  I'm sorry i know this isn't the right time! I say while he slips on wet footprints and gives me "the eye".   The eye used to be a look of annoyance.  It kind of morphed into a look of tired exasperation.  And has now settled, finally, into a look of resigned sadness.  This is my life.  The eye says.  That is my crazy wife.  He loves me.

In summary, nesting isn't cute. 
But my house is really clean. 
Also we're having a baby in five weeks and that's weird. 

ABA update!

I can't believe Finn just finished his 4th week at ABA2DAY!  It has gone by so fast, and it's been such a wonderful experience so far.

Finn goes to the center three mornings a week for three hours a time, and he has a therapist come to our house two days a week for 2.5 hours a time.  This is in addition to his regular 3.5 hours a week of early intervention services at our home.  He is a busy busy boy.  I had to color code our calendar.  It's getting hard to keep up with everything!

The first three weeks at ABA were spent doing what they call "pairing", which basically means that they don't ask Finn to do anything, they just try to hang out with him and do what he's doing.  This really worked out well because Finn learned to trust his teachers and actually like them.  He is just beginning to learn how to learn, and it's so great that through pairing he discovered that learning can actually be fun!

This week Finn's "program" started.  His teachers and therapists develop a specific program for him and chart his progress.  Right now they are just asking him to do simple things- and a lot of them are things he can already do- but he doesn't necessarily like to do them when he's asked to, or do them on cue.  The goals they have for him go from simply looking at them when they say his name, to doing a puzzle, imitating sounds, and matching objects appropriately.

Our Finn is a very smart cookie, and he noticed this shift from pairing to programs right away, and he did not like it!  I'm fairly certain he gave his therapists a run for their money all week.  But let me tell you, these girls are awesome.  They have the patience of Job, the energy of freshly graduated 22 year olds (what I wouldn't give!), and best of all- they don't.back.down.  It's exactly what he needs.

Because some of his ABA teachers come to the house, I get to bear witness to the troubles he puts them through.  Mostly he just hollers and runs around trying to avoid whatever task he's presented with.  But after he yells his protests through whatever they're asking him to do and succeeds, he ends up giggling with delight in himself about 90% of the time.  It's so worth it.

All of his Early Intervention teachers (his occupational therapist, specialized instruction teacher, physical therapist, and speech therapist) have been to the house this week and been overjoyed at the change they have seen in him already since just this week of starting his ABA program.  His speech therapist said today that it was the most connected and purposeful she has ever seen him- their best session yet- and that it made her whole day.  He loves showing off his new skills to his long suffering EI teachers.  And socially ABA seems to be paying off big time as well, as he seems to be more connected and comfortable around different people and in different settings than ever before.  We are so so proud of him.

Transitioning those 14 hours a week of Finn and me time to Finn and ABA time of course proved to be much more difficult for me than for Finn, and there are many different mom emotions that I have experienced thus far in our ABA journey, but the main one is guilt.  Isn't that the most typical?  Hi, you're a mom now, here's a heavy dose of guilt.  I found myself wondering- why can't I have that kind of patience and relentlessness?  Shouldn't I be able to get these kind of results out of him?  Do I need to be applying myself more?  Are we spending too much time apart?  Should I be making him work harder when we're together?  Luckily, it's been such a positive experience that I was able to lay these feelings of guilt to rest rather quickly.  Honestly, it's been so nice to take those feelings of educational responsibility and put them on a shelf for a little bit.  I have been able to resign myself to just being Finn's mom, without feeling pressure to make every single activity educational or sensory integrated or purposeful.  I know he is in excellent hands.  And when I pick him up from school or snuggle him between therapists, I feel 100% okay watching a cartoon on the couch and eating popcorn together.  I get to just be his mom.  What a load off.  It feels great.

Finn and one of his favorite ABA teachers
playing together at home.

Passed out after a lot of hard work! (Every time!)

I will continue to update the blog with Finn's progress and struggles!  And hopefully write some non-Finn related blogs soon on stuff going on around the house and getting ready for this other bun in the oven.  In the meantime, thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers for our Finn baby.  He surprises us every day! :)

fathers day 2013

there are times throughout your life when you are faced with really big decisions. 

in my life, i have always really consciously felt the weight of my choices.  i've felt a shift in my path.  i've known that my next step would heavily impact the course of my life. 

a couple of months after billy and i started dating, i felt it.  i knew he was going to change my life forever.  and i felt it when i decided to marry him.  and i felt it when he looked into my eyes after he held our finn for the very first time.

marriage is a choice you make together every day, and every day i am reminded that i am making the right one.  my husband is truly the greatest man i've ever known.

i always knew it.  but seeing him as a dad proves it.  he was born for it.  he is an amazing father.

there are at least three mornings a week where he shrugs his shoulders, says "i'll just catch the late train", throws his briefcase off of his shoulder, and allows finn to drag him into the music room.  there he picks up his guitar and pops out a few tunes- to the sheer delight of our dancing and giggling toddler.  he knows there will be a pile of emails waiting for him when he makes it into the city, but he'd rather play catch up all morning than leave finn without a song.

when he comes home from work, they literally run to each other.  i look at finn's face, at the unbridled glee, and think i've never seen anyone so happy. until i look at billy's face and see the exact expression, mirrored.  they laugh and hug and hold eachothers necks like they've been separated for months.  and i get to see it every day.

he rarely stays late at work.  he misses lots of fancy dinners and events.  instead, he hurries home on the crowded rush hour train so that he can make it in time for family dinner and bedtime.  it's not unlikely for the light to still be on in his home office at 2 a.m.  but it's worth it for him, because he got to see finn before he went to sleep.

he went to the u.s. open practice rounds this week, and when he came home the thing he was most excited to tell me about was how one of the players had his young son with down syndrome out on the course with him.  seriously, it's the only thing he talked about.  how happy that little boy was to be there, and how great it was that the players got to bring their kids out during the practice rounds. he made it home in time for dinner.  and i thought about the other husbands that were still at the merion golf course, half drunk in the merchandise tents, and i felt like the luckiest girl in the world.  i made a good choice.

i think about our boys, and i know how truly fortunate they are to have billy for their dad.  because of him, they will grow up to be good men.  maybe because of  me they will be well fed and have clean sheets and know how to love really hard. but because of billy, they will be good. 

if you asked him, he would probably say that he is the lucky one.  but the boys and i know that we're the real winners here.  we landed ourselves one great guy. 

happy fathers day, honey.  we love you.

A-B-YAY!

ABA therapy stands for Applied Behavioral Analysis.  It's a type of therapy that comes highly recommended for children with Autism, and has been highly recommended specifically for Finn.  You can read more about ABA therapy here.

ABA therapy can be pretty strict and regimented, so Billy and I kind of dragged our feet at finding out more about it for Finn.  It can also be extremely costly.  But recently we found out about a great local place called ABA2DAY that does highly individualized ABA therapy, using a lot of floor time and play-based approaches.  I contacted them about a month ago.

After spending a couple weeks gathering all of the necessary paperwork and submitting it, I got an email from ABA2DAY saying that Finn was approved for an evaluation.  Yay!  But looming in the back of my head was the burden of cost.  None of the prices for therapies were listed on the website, but they did list the cost of summer camp... a whopping $7,900 for nine weeks.  I had no idea how we were going to begin even thinking about paying for hours and hours of therapy a week for the next three years.

Armed with the knowledge that I may have to drop Billy off in downtown Coatesville in a pair of fishnets and red lipstick (he's got great legs), I moved full steam ahead with trying to find funding options.  I finally got all of our Medical Assistance paperwork gathered and submitted, and set up team meetings with Finn's Early Intervention teachers and case coordinator to try and see if I could fund some of the therapy through the county.

I had gotten the ball rolling, but had no idea what to expect when we went in for the evaluation last week at ABA2DAY.  I was extremely apprehensive.  I was first worried that Finn was going to hate it there, after our very unsuccessful three month trial at a pre-preschool for kids with autism, and I was even more worried that if he didn't hate it I wouldn't be able to pay for it.

When we arrived, I was first surprised that the "classroom" we were in had a ball pit, a climbing wall, a trampoline, a big hammock swing, and all the bouncy exercise balls of Finn's dreams.  He was immediately enthralled.  The teachers we met with were incredibly fantastic.  Like, so sweet you couldn't really hang out with them in real life because they were too sweet.  I think I may have gotten a cavity just watching them with Finn.  He ate it all up, and was on top of his game, pulling out all his best dance moves and giving out kisses.  My favorite part of the evaluation, though, was when he walked to the closed door and tried to get out.  At his previous little preschool attempt he cried at the closed door through the entire class, and everyone had ignored him because they didn't want to "reward negative behavior".  But one of the teacher's at ABA noticed right away that Finn wanted to open the door, and she jumped right up and helped him do it, exclaiming "Do you want to see what's out there, Finn?  Let me show you around!"  She took him for a quick tour up and down the hallway, after which he promptly returned to our little classroom with an exultant smile on his face.  He wasn't a caged animal.  They "got" that he just wanted to look around.  It made me feel like we had found the right place.

The teacher conducting the interview went on to recommend that they use a lot of play based therapy and floor time with Finn in addition to the ABA, because she thought he would respond better that way.  I couldn't have agreed more.  I felt like they really had a good feel for him and his needs, but they also saw so many of his strengths and abilities.  The great thing about this center, too, is that Finn will always have a one on one teacher with him.  Even when they are working in groups or having circle time or social skills with other toddlers, he will still have his very own teacher to support him.

When it came time to discuss the payment options I was shocked literally to tears to discover that our insurance covered 100% of the cost of therapy for Finn, for unlimited hours a week.  Apparently we have really good insurance.  I half expected the sky to open up and angels to start singing.  Then I expected the teacher to say "whoops, that was someone elses file... your insurance actually sucks."  but that didn't happen.  So, in the most awesome turn of events ever, Finn starts at ABA2DAY on Monday!  I couldn't be happier.  And Billy can tuck those fishnets away for the time being.

He will go to the center three days a week, and a teacher from the center will come to us two days a week.  Starting out he will just go for three hours at a time, and we'll gradually increase those hours as he does better and gets more comfortable.

This week we have been doing a lot of movie watching, hammock swinging, popcorn eating, and playground visiting, all because of the immense guilt I feel for throwing him into the lion's den of therapy next week.  Haha!  It's actually worked out quite well because I feel like he's getting pretty bored.

Hopefully he will be ready to learn on Monday!  If you are one of the amazing friends or family that has been praying for Finn, you can be praying that he responds well to his teachers and this new therapy, and that he doesn't experience terrible separation anxiety like he did the last time we tried preschool.  And in the event that he does, that his teachers will know how to best help him through it.  We are so thrilled and thankful at the way all of this fell into place for him, and we are hoping that he will thrive at ABA2DAY.

Thanks for checking in on us!  I will certainly post an update on how he is doing there in the coming weeks!  In the meantime, you can keep an eye on the news... there may or may not be a report next week of a weepy pregnant overprotective mother who had to be forcibly removed from an ABA therapy center...

xoxo

wake up right.

it's easy to wake up on the right side of the bed when you sleep on every side of the bed.
 

 

 

 

autism part two.

with the full realization of finn's diagnosis of autism comes the demand for action on my part.
and that's helpful as much as it is hard.
you know, because when you feel like you can't do anything, it always helps to do something.

i am reminded of sleep training with finn, when he was ten months old.
he still slept in bed with us and was nursing every couple of hours.  i was tired, and thin, and he was big and healthy, and we knew he should be sleeping in his bed.  but we couldn't stand the agony of hearing him cry even for a minute.  we always rushed to him, and held him, and snuggled him in our arms until we all fell asleep together.
when we finally decided it was time, it only took a few days for finn to sleep through the night in his bed by himself.  i started by going in and holding his hand or patting his back, but not picking him up.  after a couple of minutes he always fell asleep and was fine.  but those couple of minutes of crying felt like years to billy and me.  we had to watch a clock to remind ourselves how briefly he would fuss.
through the process of sleep training, i learned that finn was ready to sleep in his bed by himself.  he didn't need me there with him all night long.
i was the one who hadn't been ready.

we put finn in a private pre-preschool for two year olds with developmental delays in december.  it was just three hours a morning, two mornings a week.  he struggled there.  they put demands on him that i simply don't put on him at home.  we tried it for three months, and then i pulled him out.  he wasn't ready, we said.  but i don't think i was ready.

i love having finn home with me and i know just how to make him happy.  i know all the right songs to sing and things to do and places to go and foods to eat.  i know just how to make him smile and laugh.  but i don't know how to really challenge him.  or i don't like to.  and he knows all the right mom buttons to push so that i don't make him do any nonpreferred activity for too long.  having four teachers come over every week for an hour each helps a lot.  when they're here we do some challenging activities.  but when they're not, i just like to make finn happy.  and for a while i thought that that was okay.  because i thought that's what mattered, and he was going to catch up with his developmental delays, and he didn't need me hammering puzzles and shape sorters into his head all day.  but now i think that might not be true.

finn doesn't really acquire skills the same way as other children.  he is not interested in toys or activities the same way that other kids are.
puzzles are for tasting.  balls are for watching.  blocks are for pushing.
he doesn't know what to do with things unless you show him.
oh, and he doesn't want you to show him.

a good example of this is a little treasure chest toy we have with plastic coins.  there is a slot in the top, and when you put the plastic coin in, it lights up and sings a song.  three months ago, to finn, this toy held his interest about as much as minor league bowling holds mine.  it doesn't.  let's move on.
but for months, we forced finn to practice putting the coin in the treasure chest.  i did this by holding finn's hand in my hand and making him do the action with my guidance. this was normally only achieved through brute force and many tears.

then, one morning last week, finn woke up, came in the kitchen, found a plastic coin, and walked across the room and put it in his treasure chest.  like he had been doing it every day- it ain't no thang.  when i erupted in cheers he swelled with pride.  now he plays with it often, and is so proud of his new skill.   i don't think he remembers all the tears and fighting it took to get there.  but i do.

and they were worth it.

this is just one example that makes me realize that hard work pays off with finn, even if it's not fun work.  he really needs those tough and consistent demands placed on him just as much as he needs all the cheerleading he gets from me.  without them, he just simply doesn't grow and develop as well as he can and should.

finn's developmental pediatrician suggested we send finn back to his special preschool class, but with a "mary poppins" type aide (where are you? are you out there mary poppins!?) who can support him and his emotional needs and snuggly bugglyness while he's getting challenged in a classroom setting.  she also suggested we look into some more rigorous therapies for him.  i think she recognized in him the ability to achieve much more... and she probably recognized the ability in me to become a human mom cushion that makes finn's life easy peasy.

it's easy to talk about more challenging therapies for finn, it's a lot of paperwork to get them, and it's emotionally and physically exhausting to do them.  i hated leaving finn crying at preschool.  i hate making him do something that i know makes him upset and stressed out.  i hate not being there to make it better, and i hate not being able to cheer for him when he gets it right.  basically, i don't ever want him to be away from me... especially not anywhere scary like preschool.  but i know that i need to challenge myself in order to challenge him, and that we need to up the ante in the therapy department. 

pray for us on this journey, that we will find and choose the right therapies for finn, that i will have the strength to stick with them, and that finn will thrive.
billy and i see how bright and wonderful finn is every day.  we are so blessed to have a special connection with him.  so blessed that he lets us into his world.  but we want him to be able to open himself up to other people and learn skills to succeed in the world outside our window as well.  sometimes i would like to keep all of us holed up in here forever with nothing but laughs and songs and goldfish crackers.  but i am accepting that that isn't reality, and i have to get serious if i want finn to survive out there in big bad preschool land.


it's not going to be easy for any of us.

but it's going to be worth it.

autism part one.

finn had his six month follow up today with the developmental pediatrician who originally diagnosed him with an autism spectrum disorder when he was 19 months old.

the purpose of this appointment is to evaluate.  to sit back and see what we've done over the past six months.  what information we've gathered, what tools we've utilized, what has and hasn't worked, and what the best path is to take moving forward.

the past six months have been a blur of doctors appointments, and visits with specialists, and afternoons with therapists, and all varieties of music, gym, library, and preschool classes.  it was good for me today to stop and reflect about what the past six months have brought us.  but it was hard for me.

with an autism diagnosis comes the responsibility to rule out a million other possible diagnoses that could mean that it isn't autism.  or it isn't just autism.  you look for any underlying treatable problem or medical issue. 
but i hesitate to use the words rule out, because when you are in this process, you desperately want it to be that other possible diagnosis. 
you don't want to rule it out. 
you want to keep it. 
and rule autism out.

first was the ear doctor.  new ear tubes, and an ABR hearing test under anesthesia. 
maybe my baby can't hear... he isn't developing properly because he can't hear me!  of course!
because a hearing loss is treatable, you see.  there are hearing aides, and implants, and sign language.  but his hearing tests came back normal.

asleep before the anesthesia at dupont

next was the lab work.  maybe finn's lead levels were high.
maybe my old house is poisoning my baby!  maybe that's it, and if we move my baby will get better!
but his lead levels were normal.

next was the neurologist, and an EEG of finn's brain to see if he was having any abnormal or seizure activity.
maybe my baby is having seizures and we don't know it!  my god, it would be horrible. but we could treat it!  we could give him medicine and then he would be okay!
but his eeg was normal.

exhausted with sticky hair after the eeg

with every normal test result, the doctors say "good news! everything is normal!" 
and my heart falls. 
because in my one hand i was holding that test.  that other diagnosis. 
and in the other hand i am holding this big monster question mark, this scary unknown beast that is autism. 
and i am left holding it every time.

there are two little boys with down syndrome in finn's music class.  he is very much like those little boys.  i am so lucky to have a little boy with autism that is snuggly, and sweet, and gives me kisses and smiles and is joyful.  this affection isn't so common in the autism world, but it is very common in the down syndrome world.  and like those little boys with down syndrome, finn is also developmentally delayed.

sometimes i think about their mothers, and how they must have felt after a long and painful delivery when their doctor handed them their baby.  their baby with the visible and clear signs of a lifetime of challenges.  their baby that was born different.  and they knew it from the moment they first held him.  how scary that moment must have been for them.  how definitive. 

my moment was so different.  i was given the gift of being handed a perfect baby after a long and painful delivery.  there were no clouds in the sky the day finn was born.  the world was his oyster.

learning that my baby was in for a lifetime of challenges has been a series of many tedious moments.  of many long waits in hospitals and doctors offices.  of many test results and evaluations.  we held on to this little hope for so long that it could be something else.  that his delays could mean something different.  that he could be fixed. 

but slowly over time, all the little moments add up, and you realize that maybe your baby can't be fixed.  maybe when i held finn for the first time, i was holding that little down syndrome baby, and i just didn't know it. 

his life is going to be different forever. 
he will have challenges forever. 
the invisible challenge that is hidden under his perfect face. 
the one that they call autism.

sometimes i feel like autism is just the word they made up to give you when all of your other test results come back normal.  it doesn't really mean anything except that it doesn't mean anything else.
i hate it.

there are so many people out there that celebrate autism.  that own it, that love it, that embrace it for what it is.  and then there are others that fight it, that look for cures for it, that demand medical breakthroughs and better treatment options. 
i am neither of those people. 
i ignore it. 
i run from it. 
i want it to go away. 
i want my baby to wake up one morning and say "good morning, mama", and for us to all let out a big sigh of relief. 
"what a scare he gave us when he was little!"  we'd laugh years later as he grinned and walked across the stage to grab his diploma.

how i envy those mothers with their precious boys with down syndrome.  how i envy what they knew from the beginning.  how i envy that they were spared the agony of the slow realization of what they were in for, of the torture that is your heart breaking in tiny pieces little by little every day.  until today, when i sit here and i hold all the pieces in my hands and see it for what it is. 

the first time she said it, i didn't really hear her.  six months ago, we thought the autism diagnosis was just an aggressive diagnosis to get finn loads of early intervention to snap him out of it.  maybe he was just a little bit behind. 
but today, when she said it, i heard her.  it sunk in. 

my little boy has autism.

i didn't cry six months ago. 
i cried a lot today.

happy in the springtime.

finn, along with the rest of us, went through a bit of cabin fever at the end of the winter.

for a month or two, he really didn't like it when people came over. he always wanted to get away, get outside, get some air, have some space.

for a while we thought he was developing some anxiety, but it it turns out he does a lot better with just a little extra breathing room.  open windows, open doors, a driveway to run in and a backyard to explore. 

the truth is, since the weather's turned he hasn't seemed anxious at all. 
i think we can all relate.

we have a lot of different teachers and therapists that come over every week to help finn.  i hear lots of stories and recommendations about what has helped other kids with autism who have anxiety.  a lot of these kids have trouble being flexible.  they like set schedules, are anxious in new places, etc. etc.  there are lots of ways to help them prepare for the day... like picture schedules, home videos of taking trips to the doctor or the store, etc.  finn likes pictures, and he likes to talk about what we're going to do for the day, but he really doesn't seem to need to.  he is pretty easy going when it comes down to it.
he's just different.

today, for example, we had to go to a new doctor to get blood drawn.
the waiting room was packed.  tons of kids, tons of parents, delivery guys, busy staff in and out of numerous doors, and lots and lots of different (and actually cool) toys to play with.  big winding gear toys and video games among many other things.  try as i might, i couldn't get him to pay an ounce of attention to the toys.  not the spinny ones, not the colorful ones, not any of them. 

but he was extremely content.  i mean, he was actually thrilled to be in the waiting room.  gleeful, even.  it was a big waiting room, for one.  there was lots of room to run around in.  and that's exactly what he did.  he ran.  from the front door, to the receptionists desk across the room, and back again.  but every time he got to the receptionists desk, he would stop... consider the border of different colored shapes that ran across it, take special notice of the blue square, then lick it, and then run back across the room. 

he was completely thrilled with this experience.  he smiled and looked up at everyone that walked in the door.  he noticed the other children.  he wasn't nervous or upset.  he was just... you know, running back and forth and licking shapes. 

of course this got a number of quizzical stares.  i tried my best to distract him and engage him in other activities, but i couldn't.  he wasn't in anyone's way, and he was having a really good time, so eventually i just gave up and let him be... well, let him be finn.

after the horrific blood draw i almost ripped the shapes border off of the front desk and screamed "WE'RE TAKING THIS WITH US YOU BABY PUNCTURERS!"  but instead we both just cried and watched peter pan- you can fly on you tube... each clutching opposite ends of finn's woobie... until we composed ourselves enough to head back to the car.

aside from the horrible blood draw experience, the actual waiting room time was quite comical for me.  i've learned to just kind of sit back and laugh at these situations that, at one point in my life, would have embarrassed me to no end.  i always thought i would have children that wore ironed dresses that coordinated with my curtains and sat quietly and colored all day or, you know, worked on their needlepoint.  but i have one that only talks like a baby owl and licks wallpaper.  it's certainly not boring.  it's actually really funny.

and the reason it's funny, is because he's happy.  if he were anxious or crying or tearing at blue shapes and scared of the waiting room, it wouldn't be funny.  it would be scary.  and finn could easily be that kid.  for a while we thought he was going to be that kid.  and who knows, one day he might be.  but right now he's not.  so it's not scary, it's just funny, and happy, and weird.  and we just do the best we can with it.

and then we go home and play outside and throw footballs, and lick them, and pass out in a hammock.

it could be a whole lot worse.

but it's springtime.  and we're happy.