Tag Archives: Parenting

Parenting = Love, Respect & Encouragement

Posted on June 21, 2013 by | 8 comments

One of Emma’s top five favorite IMAX movies is, Born to Be Wild about orphaned orangutans and elephants and the people who rescue and nurture them until they can go out on their own to live independently in the wild.  It’s a beautiful film and during the watching of it, Emma did a running narrative, which was both amazing and insightful because the things she noticed and talked about were not necessarily the things I noticed.  Her observations were all about identifying with the baby orphaned animals and not about the humans who have saved their lives.  This is as it should be, it seems to me.

She was identifying with the small animals, whose lives are dependent upon the human adults to care for them, respect them, nurture them while they are still so vulnerable and young.  I, however, identified with the adults who are feeding, caring for, giving bottles to, making comfortable sleeping areas for, while being careful to not “tame”, so they will one day be able to return to the wild.  I was so relieved to see the human caretakers encouraging the babies to build their innate skills by taking them to places where they could strengthen and build their climbing abilities and offering them materials to make nests or giving them the opportunity to interact with older orphans who would soon be venturing out on their own.

It was impossible for me, as a parent, to view this movie and not see the connections to parenting.  How we try hard to manage that balancing act of encouraging our children to do for themselves, only intervening when absolutely necessary, trying hard to not over identify, to honor and respect our children and not think of them as reflections of ourselves.  Watch for their innate talents and foster and encourage them, join them in their interests instead of trying to foist our interests upon them.  Respect them enough to allow them to make mistakes, encourage them to dare to dream big,  and give them the opportunity to flourish without criticism, but with love and guidance.  In the end, we all want that from each other.  We all want to feel loved and to love.  We all want to be seen and heard.  We all want to feel we are approved of.  We need that.  Children, adults, living beings, we all want to feel we matter.

Unknown

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Posted in love, Parenting, Respect

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From Cure to Celebration

Posted on June 17, 2013 by | 39 comments

Yesterday Richard wrote a wonderful post on his blog entitled ~ Happy Father’s Day.  In it he talks about being a father and how having children has changed him and his life.  He ends the post with, “To all our children, thanks for making our lives matter!”  I love that.  That’s it, right there.  That’s the feeling I’ve had, but couldn’t find the words to so beautifully or succinctly express.

Richard also wrote, “…We got a beautiful boy, Nic. Eighteen months later, we got a beautiful girl, Emma. One of each, as they say. We got “one of each” in another way, too. One autistic, one not.”  I read that and smiled, because it’s so true.  We have been fortunate enough to have a child of each sex AND of two different neurologies!  Three years ago I would not have been able to write any of this, I was still in the – Autism is tragic – mindset.  But happily all of that has changed. Some people object to those of us who have chosen to celebrate our child’s neurology.  They say we are sugar-coating what is real and difficult and makes it seem less serious than it is.  I disagree with that thinking.  I think we can still acknowledge the massive challenges our Autistic children face in this world, while still celebrating who they are and the beauty of their specific way of thinking and being.

I do not, for a second, believe that my daughter has an easy time or that she will not face all kinds of things a non Autistic peer would not have to deal with, but I do not need to increase her challenges by not accepting her, believing in her and celebrating her, exactly as she is, now, in this moment.  Adding my expectations, despair and ongoing critique and comparison of her, to the very real issues she must cope with on a daily basis does not make her life easier.  And I really want to make her life easier, not harder.  I’d like to be the person who champions her, makes the bumps she will inevitably face a bit less bumpy and help her navigate some of the twists and turns of life, by giving her acceptance and unconditional love for every aspect of her being.

I keep thinking about all our children who have trouble speaking, how when they are able to communicate in some way, either through typing or speaking, we non autistics are far more likely to listen and assume intelligence than not.  I keep wondering what would happen if all our time, money and energy were spent on finding ways to help our children communicate through typing and other AAC devises, instead of on cures; would we see a shift in society’s perception regarding autism?  Or would all those people dismiss their words because they are written and not spoken?  Amy Sequenzia writes about this ‘here‘.

You see, we were one of those families who pursued the bio-med route.  For years I tried all kinds of things, thinking we could cure.  As long as I believed in a cure, everything else took a backseat.  What I didn’t realize was that accepting and celebrating my child, fully and without amendment was the answer I had been looking for in all those doctors and specialists who claimed cure remedies.  The remedy wasn’t a cure, the remedy was celebrating the child I have, exactly as she is – that’s the remedy.

Nic & Em

 

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Posted in Autism, Autism Acceptance, Parenting

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To My Father

Posted on June 14, 2013 by | 16 comments

I had a complicated relationship with my father.  One of my earliest memories of him was when I was no more than four years old.  I knocked on the door to his “in home” office and waited for permission to enter, just as I’d been taught.  Upon being told I could come in, I went over to his desk where he was seated and asked, “Why don’t you ever call me into your office?”  He smiled at me and replied, “Because you never do anything wrong… yet…”

It was the early 60’s.  Having children was not viewed with the same kind of thoughtful consideration it is given, by many, today.  Mothers were expected to stay home, while fathers were expected to go to work.  In-home offices were considered unusual.  Personal computers did not exist.  My father made notes and calculations on hundreds of pieces of paper.  It wasn’t until I was in my twenties before I could reliably decipher his illegible scrawl.  During my teens I fought with him daily.  I was more in touch with my animosity toward him than love.  During my twenties, his glaring deficits outweighed his assets.  It wasn’t until my mid-thirties that I was able to begin to forgive him.  My last memory of my father, aside from his actual death, was when I went to visit my parents after a grueling and unexpectedly, emotionally, draining trek in Nepal.

I can still remember the sound of the gravel under the wheels of the car as it drove down the slight incline of their driveway.  I can still picture my father seated in his wheelchair waiting for me, under the fig tree to the left of the front door.  I can still remember the feelings of emotion – relief, love, exhaustion and gratitude – that I felt upon seeing him there waiting.  I ran to him, crouched down so I was eye-level and threw my arms around his neck.  I remember the words I whispered into his ear as tears streamed down my face,  “I am so happy to see you.  I love you so much,” I said.  And then I kissed his wrinkled, tanned cheek and didn’t let go.  “I am so grateful you are here,” I said between sobs.

I remember the look on his face, the emotion expressed in those blue, blue eyes of his.  He smiled at me with so much adoration and love and said to my mother, with a slight grin, “I think we should send her off to Nepal every year.”  And then he placed his hand on my head and stroked my hair as I wept.

That is my favorite memory of my father.  Not six months later he was dead.  I am as grateful for that memory today, as I was seeing him that day, now so long ago.

Emma - 2008These are your grandchildren… (Taken in 2008)

Nic -0 2008

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Posted in Gratitude, love, Parenting

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A(nother) Performer in the Family

Posted on June 10, 2013 by | 18 comments

I asked Em if it was okay to post the following photographs of her.  She said, “Yeah!  Post on blog!”

“But is it okay to first post on Facebook?” I asked.  And again without hesitation Em gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

I have to admit, whenever Em says yes to me, regarding posting an image of her or something she’s said or typed, I feel more than a little ambivalent.   I wonder if she fully understands what it means to post on Facebook or here on the blog, despite my lengthy (and more than one) explanations of what this means, how many people may see it, who those people are or might be.  People remind me of the importance of listening.  And part of listening is to also honor and respect what I hear.   I’m trying to do that, while also trusting my own instincts and hopefully I’m getting it “right” more often than not.

I compare Emma’s response to her older brother’s, who has made it known to us that under no circumstances is he okay having us post his photograph, except on very rare occasions when he’ll shrug and say, “Seriously, Mom?”  There’s usually a moment when he stares at me with a slight grin and then says, “Yeah, okay.”  But my daughter is not like her older brother.  My daughter has a completely different personality.  Emma, adores the spot light.  If there is a stage, she will head for it.  If there’s a microphone, she will grab it, if there’s a crowd she wants to be in front of it, preferably singing.  Emma does not have inhibitions, she does not worry about what others will think or may think.  Emma has that wonderful ability to be herself among strangers and doesn’t modify herself in accordance with what she thinks they may or may not like.  Emma is MY role model!

What follows are the photos I asked Emma if it was okay to post, to which she said cheerfully, “Yes!”

First there was this…

1Em

And then this...
2Em

And finally, this…
3Em

Okay, I don’t know about the rest of you, but for some reason Emma hugging the Vlasic Pickle Mascot makes me tear up… Every. Single. Time.

*A quick side note – the Vlasic Pickle mascot is a stork. Why, you might ask? Well, I googled it and found out that in the ’60’s their tag line was, “the pickle pregnant women crave…”

I have to run, because Emma’s mom is in a flash mob today outside the stock exchange…  yeah, you read that right.  YouTube video to follow…  😀

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Posted in Autism, mother/daughter, Parenting

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A Word Of Thanks

Posted on June 7, 2013 by | 29 comments

A friend of mine hasn’t been feeling well.  She had a cold or maybe it was the flu.  When she wrote me I could tell by the uncharacteristic abundance of typos that she wasn’t feeling great.  I thought about her, hoping she’d feel better soon.  And then yesterday there she was, so much better, her old self, witty, funny, silly, and I felt tremendous relief.  I hadn’t realized how concerned I was until she was better.

When I was nine my father went horse back riding.  It was a Wednesday.  He and my mother always went riding Wednesday afternoons.  I was home, sick with the flu that afternoon.  I remember staring out the window of my bedroom, the sunlight far too harsh forced me to turn my head from its glaring light.  My father told me he’d look in on me when he returned.  He never did.  At least not for a long time.  That afternoon he fell off his horse and, as luck would have it, he did not die as, those who administered to his broken body, predicted.  He did not die, but he was never the same.

Sometimes our lives change so suddenly it is impossible for our minds to keep up.  Sometimes it takes years to fully appreciate how one second can change so much.

When Emma was born, I could not have anticipated how completely my life would change as a result of her being.  It took years for me to process, to catch up, to fully appreciate the magnitude of one child’s existence and all that would occur as a direct result.  I could not have imagined how completely her life would change mine.   And now, today, in this moment I can say with complete and utter conviction, her life has made mine infinitely better, infinitely more enriched, infinitely more meaningful.  Her life.  Her existence.  Selfishly, and I do mean that literally, selfishly, I have benefited so completely from her being in this world, it takes my breath away.

In any given moment our lives can change.  Just like that.  And in that moment we have no way of knowing where we will be led.  Awhile ago I made a choice.  I didn’t think of it as a choice at the time, but I see now, that in fact it was.  I chose to view the things that have happened in my life as moments of possibility.  As long as I am allowed to live, each moment is a possibility to learn, to grow, to be open to new ideas.  I can say that easily now.  I understand this.  As lives go, mine has been a privileged one.  My perceived “hardship” is nothing compared to what so many have endured.  I do not say any of this flippantly.  This choice I made has been relatively easy to follow.

When my friend was sick I worried, when my father almost died I was devastated, when my child was diagnosed I despaired, but these things happened regardless of my response.  My response to them didn’t change their occurrence.

In this moment it’s raining outside.  Drops of water plop erratically on the air conditioning unit outside my studio, the clouds drift lazily along, skimming the tops of the multilevel buildings I see outside my window.  The red brake lights from the cars careening along the interlaced roadways create a moving collage as they speed off and on the exit ramps of the 59th Street bridge.  In this moment I am safe, my husband is safe, my family is safe, my friend is feeling better…  In this moment, in this brief moment, all is well and I am filled with gratitude for all I have.  I am filled with appreciation for the enormity of how one life has so profoundly changed my own in ways I could not have dared imagine.  I am humbled, knowing I will never be able to fully repay the gifts she has given me.

Beautiful Emma

Em

 

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Posted in Autism, Gratitude, Parenting

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We Are in This Together

Posted on June 5, 2013 by | 32 comments

“It is in our best interest to remember that we are all the same.” ~ Barb Rentenbach in her book, I Might Be You.

One of the most insidious and destructive messages parents are given about their Autistic child is “the list.”  I am referring to that list of deficits we are given.  The list that enumerates all the reasons why our child has earned the “autism” diagnosis.   It is a list that divides.  It sets us a part from our child.  It makes us question our maternal instincts.  It makes us wonder what we did wrong.  It is the list that becomes our to-do list.  A list of things we now set out to “fix”.  Or so this was my experience when my daughter, Emma was first diagnosed.

That list, filled with judgment, a critique of my not-yet-three-year-old child, the same child that just moments before, I knew was different from what I expected, different than my son, yet still was a part of, was now branded with “other”.  If we are going to make such lists, I think it only fair the “evaluator” and all members of the human race be given similar critiques.  I would be curious to see how each of us stands up under such scrutiny.  Let us be evaluated by someone who does not share our particular neurology.  Let us each be judged by another – another who deems themselves superior.  Let’s see how well that plays out.

“Loneliness is the most predominant side effect of our unique design. Many times, autistics revert to isolation by default rather than preference. It is infinitely easier to back away and not try to be included instead of oafishly stepping in and attempting to convey you intend to be a part.” ~ Barb Rentenbach in I Might Be You.

Have you ever felt like a fraud?  Have you ever said something to someone only to realize you said the wrong thing?  Have you ever been in a social situation and left, wondering why you feel uneasy, upset or just sad?  Have you ever spent time in the presence of a group, yet felt lonelier than had you been alone?  Have you ever had the thought that if people really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they found?  Have you ever felt separate from, less than, not good enough?  Have you ever felt critical of the way you look, the shape of your body, the size of a particular body part and wished it were different?  Have you ever thought if only that part was smaller, larger, different, if only the number on the scale was less, if only your hair was lighter, darker, straight, curly, your skin was a different shade, your height…  Have you ever thought if only X was different, I wouldn’t feel this way?

Remember a time, no matter how brief, when you felt that magical euphoria of connecting with another human being?  That moment when you felt the wonder and bliss that only comes with friendship and love, the beauty of connecting with another?  Remember what that felt like?  Wasn’t it beautiful?  Wasn’t it unlike anything you’ve ever felt?  A kind of anything-is-possible feeling?  A feeling of all being right with the world, that joy of knowing we belong.  Who among us has not experienced both?  Who among us has not felt the horror of feeling separate from, the worry that we are somehow damaged, not right?  Who among us has not felt the inextricable sadness that comes from feeling we are all alone?  Now add an entire society, a whole group of people, all of whom have decided we are “less than”.  Feel what that feels like.

Go back to the memory of bliss, of joy, of connection.  Feel the vibrancy, the exuberance that comes with that.  Which do you choose?  Would any choose differently?  We are all served by remembering we are more alike than not.

“Reach out and connect with those who may be struggling with separation. It takes just one person to care to change a life for the positive. Be that for someone.” ~ Barb Rentenbach in I Might Be You.

Emma, Barb & Lois the week we recorded the audiobook of I Might Be You

Em, Barb & Lois

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Posted in Autism, Barb Rentenbach, Parenting

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Autism And Stress

Posted on June 4, 2013 by | 37 comments

Lest you think this post is about stress felt by parents, let me quickly say, it’s not.  This post is about the stress I have observed my daughter experiences.  The stress she feels and that I (often unwittingly and unknowingly) exacerbate.  This is not about  beating myself up, but is an honest look at how my reactions can make matters worse.  As I’ve said before, it is my hope that as Emma’s mother I continue to make progress in my parenting, but also as a human being.  Just as I hope and expect my daughter to learn and progress, I hope the same for myself.

“We have to minimize her stress.”  This was something Soma Mukhopadhyay said during Emma’s most recent session with her.  It was in answer to my question about when to graduate from using a letter board to a computer keyboard during her RPM (rapid prompting method) sessions.  During the session Emma pointed to a letter, then Soma wrote the letter down, Emma pointed to another letter, and on it went until Emma had written an entire sentence.  This technique, of one letter pointed to, one letter written down, helps with Emma’s impulsivity, which is amplified when she’s feeling stress.  It was during this same session that Emma answered Soma’s question about whether she could feel colors, with, “Of course.  That answer, those two words spelled out so easily by my daughter, made me laugh and cry at the same time.

My daughter types and does things that astound me.  It doesn’t matter how much I believe in her competence, I am continually astonished, ecstatic and heartbroken all at the same time.  Astonished because of the ease and confidence with which she will say something like, “Of course” in answer to a highly complex question, heartbroken because for so long these were words I never imagined I’d hear, let alone learn what I am now learning about her.  I no longer believe these feelings are mutually exclusive to each other.  Now, instead of wondering whether it was all a dream, I celebrate the exquisite beauty of my child and all she does that constantly reminds me of just how vast and incredible the human mind is.  I am humbled, on a daily basis, in the best possible way.  I would not trade the awe I get to feel when in the presence of my child for anything.  Seeing my daughter defy every limited idea about her that has ever been uttered, including my own thinking, gives me tremendous hope for this world, for my own growth and for humanity.

I witness greatness when I watch her work and it is a beautiful thing.  So when she expresses upset, which I now am able to identify as stress, it breaks my heart in a way that it didn’t, before I understood.  What I used to think of as stubbornness or a temper tantrum or a form of manipulation, I now see as a product of the enormous stress she feels.  And I have to wonder, exactly how much stress must she cope with?  I have talked about what I perceived to be her “resistance” in typing, but am now beginning to think of it as less “resistance” and more stress.  Stress from how very difficult it is.  Stress from expectations, stress from making a mistake, stress from doing something different, and those are just the stresses I can easily come up with and relate to.  I’m guessing there are many more I am completely unaware of.

Stress is something that, when she is gripped by it, all systems seem to simultaneously crash.  To make matters worse, my stress level rises in direct proportion to hers and I am confronted with how unhelpful I am when I allow my stress to overwhelm me as was the case the other day.  My response to Emma’s panic was to panic too.  So much so that I could barely breathe.  “You have to calm down!” I instructed her, while my own sense of calm, shattered so completely, was a perfect example of what NOT to do.  It was the antithesis of modeling behavior sought and it reminded me of something my father used to say to my siblings and me – “Do as I say and not as I do!”  I think he thought it amusing, however I remember it as anything but.

There are times I cannot predict, when something happens, things I don’t know or understand, and suddenly my seemingly placid, happy child is in a turmoil of upset.  There is often a sensory component I’m unaware of.  During these times sentences are repeated that are obviously meaningful to her, but that I find confusing.  As her stress escalates, her ability to verbalize what’s going on plummets and my frenzied request that she “type it out” does nothing to alleviate the situation.  The longer all of this goes on, the more I feel completely ill-equipped to keep my stress level from going into the red, let alone help her with hers.  That Emma seems convinced I am, not only capable of pulling it together, but will be able to help her, is an example of my daughter presuming in my competence, which makes me all the more determined to work through my own issues and do better.  I owe it to her.

September, 2009

September '09

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, Soma Mukhopadhyay

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Respect

Posted on May 31, 2013 by | 24 comments

I don’t know about you, but there are definitely days when I lose sight of long-term goals.  I become impatient.  I forget to respect the process… whether it’s my own, my husband’s, a friend’s or either of my children’s.  I just don’t.  I want things to happen on MY time frame.  I like when things happen in exactly the way I imagined they would, with the speed in which I hoped for.  I LOVE when things happen even faster or in a way I couldn’t have imagined and end up even better than I thought.  But when things meander along, taking their time, going at a pace far too slow for my liking I have trouble…  My father used to say to me, “You want what you want, when you want it.”  This was NOT meant as a compliment.   He was right.  I am impatient.  I prefer when things I want to happen, happened yesterday.

I used to think I would become more patient with age, but if anything, growing older makes me even less patient as I’m more aware of my mortality and that there really is an “end” to all of this, or I should say an end to me(gasp!) and therefore I have to hurry if I’m going to get everything I want done, finished.  You know, things like changing the way people perceive autism, changing the way society treats people with disabilities, changing how our education system works… little stuff like that…  *Big grin.

So when I’m hit with a wave of impatience, when I am most definitely NOT respecting the process, whatever and whomever that may apply to, I must remind myself of my tendency toward impatience and that I do not control much of what happens in this world.  Everyone can let out their breath now; I know that was something most of you were concerned about.  *Said with a big smile and a generous dollop of sarcasm.

Respect… this is something I think about a great deal.  My daughter’s life is no less worthy of respect than my own.  Respecting her means, listening to her, finding out how best to communicate with her, I have to respect the way she learns, the best ways for her to express herself in any given situation, the way she takes in information, the time she needs to move from one thing to the next, the clear instructions she needs so she can do what is being asked and honoring her as a human being who deserves to be treated with dignity.

Respect.

Musings of an Aspie wrote a post the other day entitled, (Not) a Little Slow.  It’s a terrific post, one I wish was part of a “Welcome To The Tribe – Things You Should Know Handout”.  I wish this handout existed for all of us when we receive an autism diagnosis, whether for ourselves or our children.  Actually this imaginary handout should be made available to every human being on this planet.  If we treated all humans with the kind of generosity, respect and civility practiced at Autism conferences where Autistic people are not only in attendance, but are largely responsible for the creation of the programming and planning, this world would be a better place.

Respect.

Em & Laura on the subway

Em & Laura

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, Respect

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Letting Go and Trust

Posted on May 29, 2013 by | 19 comments

Yesterday Emma did another “catch” at her trapeze school.  Yesterday’s catch was more complicated than the one she perfected a month ago and I cannot wait to see it.  I asked Em last night whether I could post it here and she said, “Yes!  Post on blog!” Since Em’s therapist, Joe, hasn’t had time to upload and send me the link from yesterday , I’m sorry, I can’t help myself, I am posting her first catch from a month ago AGAIN.  Watch all the way through to hear what Em says at the end, it makes me teary just thinking about it.

2Watching her flying through the air makes me happy.  Seeing her joy and sense of accomplishment, makes me happy.  The first time I watched her swooshing through the air I felt a mixture of joy and trepidation, the second time a soaring hopefulness of all that is possible, the third time pride, knowing how hard she has worked, trained and practiced to get to this point.  Years.  Years of practicing.  Just now, as I watched it again, I was reminded of how, it is the connections with other people who make our lives full and joyous.  Connections rooted in trust, compassion, love, and a sense of belonging.

3When Emma releases the bar and reaches out to grab the forearms of the other person, I cannot help but hold my breath.  Even though I know the ending to this particular story, I still hold my breath.  Will they catch her?  Will she fall?  Will she get hurt?  Can she trust them, rely on them to be there for her?   As I write this I know these are universal questions.  Questions I have asked with both my children in mind, questions I have asked about everyone I’ve ever loved.  But in this one instance Emma trusts the other person will be there to catch her and the tears fill my eyes because they are, yet I know this won’t always be the case.   As much as I want to convince myself that I have that power to always be there, to have every situation in my control, there will be times when I won’t be able to protect her from the disappointment and heartache that will come from trusting someone who cannot be relied upon.

But before I drift off into a melancholy laced reverie, I have to remind myself that this is my interpretation of how my daughter may or may not feel when faced with disappointment and the deep sadness that comes with trusting someone, only to feel let down by them or worse, betrayed.  My daughter has a very different outlook on life than me.  She has proven to me repeatedly that my life experiences are not accurate lenses with which to view or predict her life.  The beauty of being a mom is realizing my ideas about how my children will or won’t cope with the things thrown at them are not necessarily correct.  I believe this is what older parents of children who are now adults refer to as “letting go”!

In the twelve-step rooms there’s a great deal of talk about the g-o-d word.  It’s not a word that brings me any degree of solace, so I’ve learned to do what my friend Ibby calls a “work around”.  I don’t do the g-word, but I have faith.  Faith that if I am kind, generous and try my best to be of service, I will be better off than if I’m not.  This thinking doesn’t ensure those I love will always be safe, but it helps me stay centered and present one day at a time.  I can hear Richard’s voice in my head saying, “What?  That’s it?”  And my answer is to laugh and say, “Yup.  That’s pretty much the extent of my wisdom.”

4

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, trust

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Why Wretches And Jabberers Is Essential Viewing

Posted on May 23, 2013 by | 27 comments

Wretches and Jabberers.  I have written before about this documentary, but I’ve never fully explained why this movie had such a profound impact on me, on my thinking and subsequently on my family.  I will attempt to do that now.

I watched Wretches and Jabberers at the urging of my friend, Ibby last summer.  If a person’s life can be seen as a series of lights, indicating special influencers, Wretches and Jabberers was a beacon.   I knew nothing about supported typing, in fact, I’d never heard of it, so I watched in fascination as both Larry Bissonnette and Tracy Thresher (who are mostly non-speakers and Autistic) typed with their support persons, Pascal Cheng and Harvey Lavoy.  And I wondered whether my daughter might find communicating easier if she typed, instead of being expected to speak.

Larry is a painter, lives with his sister and was institutionalized as a teenager.  He shouts out things like “Bad boy!”  Tracy hits himself in the head when frustrated and has nowhere he can call “home”.  The documentary follows Larry and Tracy as they travel the world meeting other non speaking Autistics.  Again and again the viewer is shown a mostly non speaking Autistic person who has been deemed intellectually incapable by society, only to witness their intelligence and humor break through the silence by typing on a voice activated keyboard or iPad.  And again I thought about my daughter.

It is impossible to watch the film and believe these two men are isolated cases.  One cannot view this documentary and not question one’s preconceived beliefs about intelligence. The film defies the accepted and common non Autistic assumptions about Autism and what it means to be Autistic.  And for me, anyway, it made me question everything I thought I “knew” about my daughter.  All the things I had begun to question, whispering doubts about my thinking that I was no longer able to ignore because of the blogs I was reading written by Autistic people, were now amplified.

I have been interviewing Tracy Thresher for a piece I’m working on that I intend to submit to Huffingtion Post.  In answer to my question about what it meant to him making the film he wrote, “Our film catapulted me to realize my dream of traveling the world to educate, learn and change old attitudes of discrimination toward people of varying abilities. The Larry and Tracy duo illustrates how intelligence is often worked out in a much different way.”

Later in my interview he wrote, “…my mission to show kids and their supports that putting communication to the top of their list of priorities is vitally cleansing to the mind. Releasing deep thoughts is the key to alleviating anxiety. Frustration leads the body to unproductive anger. Being able to show intelligent thought is the path to happier futures and true quality of life, leading to purpose. That is what I sought and found with typing.”

Once again I thought about my daughter and her difficulty with oral language and the frustration that causes her.

Wretches and Jabberers was like an enormous, day glo green, neon sign saying “follow me” on it.  Powerful, funny, poignant, Wretches and Jabberers is essential viewing for all human beings, not just those interested in Autism and parents of Autistic children.  It rattles our unexamined biases, our beliefs, our perceptions and everything we are being “told” about autism, our children and what is and isn’t possible.  And if you are like me, you will think about your child and the world differently as a result of watching it.

One of my all time favorite photographs of Larry Bissonnette taking Emma’s photograph in Tampa, Florida ~ April 2013  (Amy Sequenzia is in the background)

Larry takes Em's photograph

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, supported typing, Wretches and Jabberers

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Taking Action ~ Presuming Competence

Posted on May 22, 2013 by | 16 comments

A full transcript of Richard’s Blog Talk Radio Show is now available for any who want it by clicking ‘Blog Talk Radio Transcript‘.  I am trying to add it to Facebook, but have run into problems as the file is too large to add to “notes” and I can’t add it even when changing it to either a txt file or an .htm file.  So unless someone knows how to attach a large file, (12,540 word count) I am not sure how to get this on Facebook.  I may need to break it into several smaller segments, which would be too bad.  Please advise!

Lots of people have been asking questions about “presuming competence” and how that applies to either their child or someone they are working with.  So I am adding links to a couple terrific articles that I’ve found helpful.

Kathie Snow, entitled: PRESUME COMPETENCE:  Challenging Conventional Wisdom About People with Disabilities.

An interview with Douglas Biklen, winner of the UNESCO/Emir Jaber al-Ahmad al-Jaber al-Sabah Prize to promote Quality Education for Persons with Intellectual Disabilities and Dean of the School of Education at Syracuse University.

Presume Competence – a PDF from the Peal Center

Presuming Competence ~ By Douglas Biklen and Jamie Burke (Jamie, who we met this past March, just graduated from college and types independently! Yay Jamie and congratulations!!)

I am just beginning on this road of “presuming competence”.  There are others who are far ahead of me, many of whom have been kind enough to email me privately with their experience, strength, wisdom and encouragement.  There are many of you who are directly affected by society’s inability to “presume competence” and all that means to you and your life.  Many of you I know, others I am just getting to know, some I don’t know, but hope to know, but all of you are living with the consequences of a society that does not believe in a basic right we should all have granted to us – a presumption of competence.

What follows is a list of things I try not to forget that have helped me presume competence, please add your own thoughts, as I am well aware many of you are further along than I am.  I am still learning!

*I hesitated publishing this post because I do not want anyone to take this as a lecture or that I think I have all the answers.  I don’t and it isn’t.  I made the decision to publish this because many people have contacted me privately asking for help in presuming competence.  These are the things I do and continue to do, tools really, that I’ve personally found helpful.

In order to presume competence I have to:

1)  Presuming Competence is a “practice”.  Much like anything I want to get really good at, I must practice this.  It is very much an action.

2)  Examine my preconceived notions about autism and what that means to my child.  For me I made a list.  Everything that comes to mind, no matter how awful I may feel about myself for thinking such things, I must “out” myself so that I can come face to face with ingrained beliefs, prejudices, things I assumed, but couldn’t know, fears… a full inventory of all that I once believed and may still believe about autism and Autistic people.  It is helpful to share this list privately with another trustworthy human being who will not judge or condemn.  By the way, this is not something I will ever share publicly.  None need see it as it would be hurtful to many and judged by others.  But for my progress it is important that I be able to admit these things so that I may change.

Once I have my list and I’ve confided in someone I trust, I must be willing to examine and dismantle any remaining destructive beliefs.

To do this I must ask myself:
How is this belief continuing to serve me?
What am I afraid of?
What do I think will happen if I let go of this thought?

I have to be willing to face my fears.  I have to be willing to honestly and without judgment acknowledge my own thinking.

3) Question everything.  Literally, question everything.  Do not take my word for any of this, try it yourself.

4)  Be curious, ask questions, seek advise from those who are ahead of you.  This has been key as there are many people who have been doing this much longer than I have.  Talk to them.  Many people are living with the results of being presumed incompetent.  Read what they are writing.  Listen to them, learn from them.

5)  When in doubt ask.  When in doubt don’t act.  Doing nothing is often far better than doing something or saying something that I’ll later regret.  If I am not sure how to proceed, it may be the least dangerous option to not continue until I can figure out how best to approach the situation.

6) We all make mistakes.  It’s okay.  It’s part of the human condition, no matter what our neurology.  I make mistakes all the time, so do my children.  It’s okay.  Keep moving forward.

7) If my daughter isn’t communicating in a way that I’m able to understand, I need to try a different method of communication.  All human beings seek connection.

8) I cannot and do not speak for either of my children, nor do I own them.  They are not extensions of me.  They are their own people, with their own unique personalities.  It is my job as their parent to encourage them and find the best ways to support them so they can flourish.  Any embarrassment, shame, fear or assumptions about who they should or shouldn’t be are mine.  They have little to do with my children as much as I may believe otherwise.  These are things I am responsible for working through privately.

9) Realize I don’t know.  There is just a great deal I don’t understand.  The only way I can hope to understand is by admitting that I don’t.  I don’t have all the answers.  I am learning.  My daughter is my best teacher.

10) Listen.  I have to be willing to listen to her.  I don’t mean just verbal language, I mean “listen” in a more holistic way.  Listen to every aspect of her.  What is she trying to tell me?  Often I will not immediately be able to understand.  Sometimes it may take years before I will, but it is more important that I continue to try even when I don’t understand than deciding she isn’t trying to tell me anything.

11) Patience.  This is one of the single most difficult things for me to practice.  I am, by my very nature, incredibly impatient.  Impatience serves me in some ways, but in approaching my children, impatience almost always hurts them and me more than it helps.  I have to “check my impatience at the door” as a friend of mine once said.  If I am unable to do that, it’s probably best if I take a break and come back when I’m able to.

This list is not complete… there are many more things to add… but they will have to wait for another day…

Soma Mukhopadhyay's First RPM session with Emma ~ 2013

Soma Mukhopadhyay’s First RPM session with Emma ~ 2013

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, presume competence

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“Proof” of Competence

Posted on May 15, 2013 by | 45 comments

Last night I asked Emma, “Do you want me to read Anne of Green Gables or something else?”  I was seated at the computer responding to a comment left on yesterday’s post.  Em was leaning over my shoulder looking at the computer screen.  She pointed and said, “Look!  There’s Harvey and Tracy and Pascal!”

“Yeah!  I’m just finishing up here, Em.  Did you brush your teeth?”

“Uh-huh,” she answered.  Her one hand gently rested on my shoulder, her head about an inch from mine, she twirled her string and continued to peer at the screen.

“So Em.  Should I read Anne of Green Gables?”

“Nah.”

“Oh!” I said, surprised.  Turning toward her, I looked at her, “What do you want me to read then?”

“This,” she said pointing to the screen.

“You want me to read the blog to you?”

“Yes,” she said.

I mentally scanned yesterday’s post, suddenly wondering if I’d written anything I would feel badly to have her read or hear.  And as I did so, I marveled that this was something I was having to be concerned about.  Several years ago, had someone cautioned me to be careful about what I wrote on this blog and gave the reason for their concern as one day my daughter would express an interest in reading it, I would have laughed and assumed the person did not understand my child.  The idea that my daughter would be interested in anything I wrote, let alone anything I wrote on a blog about autism was the LAST thing I was worried about.  And yet, last night, there I was, and not for the first time, rereading a post I’d written with a critical eye.  This says far more about me and my limitations in imagination, as Anne of Green Gables would say, than about my daughter who continues to surprise, astound and prove us wrong.

That my daughter continually “proves us wrong” is something I am working hard to change, because again, this says far more about me and my limited thinking than it does about her.  Why should she need to “prove” anything?  So many of the various therapies used for Autistic children spend an inordinate amount of time requiring our children to “prove themselves” to us.  Often, having done so, we then change the question or the format, suggesting that this is for their own good as they need to “generalize” the information.  We ask again, insist that the answer be given within a certain time frame, insist that it be given with specific wording or in a different format, as though their first answer wasn’t enough to convince us.  Who exactly is benefitting from these exercises?  We say we are doing this with their best interests in mind.  We tell ourselves we are “teaching” and this must be done in order for them to learn, but it seems to me, it is often the other way around.  It seems to me these exercises are done to convince the skeptics among us.

We do not treat our Autistic population as equals.  We do not presume Autistic people are competent, often we believe they are incompetent and ask that they prove to us their competence again and again.  We pity them and often their families too.  Organizations set on “helping” those who are Autistic discuss their work initiative programs, their mentoring programs, (almost always it is non Autistic people mentoring those who are Autistic) yet fail to see how their well-meaning programs are biased, do not presume the competence of those they suggest they want to help, do not include Autistic people in the planning and implementation of such programs and express shock when their various programs are met with resistance within the very population they say they are helping.

This is really at the crux of the most astonishing thing I’m learning.  It is not that my child is limited.  It is that I and others like me have been limited in our thinking about her and those like her.  It is this, that I hope I will see change in my lifetime.

“Read the blog,” Emma stated as she crawled into bed last night.

And so I did.

Nic and Em ~April, 2013

Nic & Em

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, presume competence

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Parenting & Presuming Competence

Posted on May 14, 2013 by | 82 comments

I am reading Anne of Green Gables to Emma.  Three years ago it would not have occurred to me to read her a book that I might have enjoyed at her age.  Three years ago I was “reading” picture books to her before bed.  Three years ago I did not assume she understood the stories in those picture books.  Three years ago I not only did not assume my then eight year old child understood what I read, but I also did not assume she understood 90% of what was being said to her.   Because I did not assume she understood I treated her as though she couldn’t understand.  I treated her as though what I thought was a fact.  Then I learned I was wrong.   Not only did I learn my assumptions were incorrect, I began to see how those assumptions caused me to act and treat her as less capable than she actually was.  I treated her as though she couldn’t and I didn’t see how this attitude was hurting her.  Instead of teaching her to do things for herself, I did them for her.  It was quicker, easier…

I wrote a post not long ago ~ Presume Competence, What does that mean exactly?   People have a tough time with the idea of presuming competence,  let alone putting that idea into action.  I get that.  I did too.  Here was a child, my child, a child we had been told was capable of this, but not of that, a child who was treated by society as much younger than she actually was, a child who, because of her unreliable language did not have conversations with us, did not answer most of our questions, never asked us questions, and so we assumed had little if any interest in such things.  We made the mistake of assuming language retrieval issues were indicative of lack of intent and desire.  We made the mistake of limiting our thinking and therefore limited our child.  We thought we knew, until we didn’t.  We behaved as though what we thought was true and our behavior and actions or inactions fed into that erroneous thinking.

I’ve spoken a great deal about the brilliant documentary by Gerardine Wurzburg, Wretches and Jabberers.  I continue to urge everyone I know to watch it because it is the best illustration I know of, that explains the concept of presuming competence and what can happen as a direct result of doing so.  It is a highly entertaining, moving documentary following two (mostly) non-speaking Autistic men as they travel the world meeting other non-speaking Autistic people who are all far more capable than society believes.  Many are in “life skills” programs or work initiatives doing menial tasks like paper shredding and folding towels.  They type about their mind numbing boredom and brutal frustration they feel as a result of being treated as far less intelligent than they are.

Presuming competence is an act, it isn’t just an idea.  Presuming competence is the single most powerful action we have taken that has directly helped our daughter flourish and grow.  Nothing, absolutely nothing else we’ve done has helped Emma as much as presuming competence.  When we stopped limiting her with our limited beliefs of what she is or isn’t capable of and began giving her the information and materials she needed, she has taken off.  In school she is being taught grade level science, at home she is being taught grade level geography, I am reading age level fiction and nonfiction, she clears her own dishes, cleans them and puts them away.  She sorts her own laundry, helps fold it and knows how to make pancakes without assistance.  She takes a shower on her own, has learned to shampoo her hair and brush it afterwards.  She brushes and flosses her own teeth with minimal support, she dresses herself.  When it is clear she needs help learning to do something, we help her, without admonishment, without distress, but instead with the knowledge that she will eventually learn to do it on her own.

Presuming competence does not mean we expect her to know how to do something without support and instruction, it means we assume she can and will learn with appropriate accommodation.  This is is a very different way of thinking than either assuming she can’t do something and never teaching her, or teaching her, but requiring her to prove her knowledge over and over before moving on.  With reading comprehension we realized we were asking the wrong questions.  Often we were asking her to answer questions that were not obvious to the story.  When she couldn’t answer, we’d dumb down the reading material and then wonder why she wouldn’t pay attention.

In the beginning, presuming competence felt like a leap of faith.  It scared me.  I didn’t want to get my hopes up.  I didn’t want to feel the disappointment that I knew I’d feel if I was wrong.  It felt like a massive disconnect.  But presuming competence is not about my ego, my expectations or anything else involving me.  Presuming competence is about respecting my daughter and respecting her process.  It is about honoring her.  It is about giving her what she needs to flourish.  It is about dispensing with what I think, believe and have been told.  Presuming competence has nothing to do with my fears of success or failure.  Presuming competence is not about me at all.  It is all about my daughter.

Harvey, Tracy, Pascal & Em @ USFEmma takes the stages with Pascal, Tracy Thresher and Harvey

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, presume competence

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The Magic of Connection

Posted on May 10, 2013 by | 43 comments

At a certain point during Richard’s radio show  the other night, where he was featuring Moms, he asked me about those years when we were determined to find a cure for our daughter.  I didn’t want to take up time on the show to talk about all of that because there was so much to cover, but also because it makes me really sad to talk about it and I also know it is hard for many of my Autistic friends to hear, two of whom were guests on the show and many more who I knew were listening!  I try hard not to live in regret, but I’ve done things that I really DO regret.  Things I really do wish I could go back and erase and do again differently.  More than anything, all those therapies and bio medical treatments we did, fall into that folder labeled “Things I wish I could do over.”

My reluctance to talk about all of this the other night on the radio wasn’t because I don’t think it’s important as much as it’s really painful to talk about and I know, for many of my friends, people I love dearly who happen to also be Autistic, it is very painful for them to hear me talk about those years, all those years when I was so intent on curing my daughter.  It may remind them of their own upbringing.  It may bring up all those devastating feelings of being unworthy or that they were somehow damaged or diseased, or any of the other hurtful words people use when discussing autism, that hurt them.   So to my Autistic friends, please skip down to the final paragraph.  The last thing I want to do is cause more pain and suffering to those I love.

At the time, after Emma’s diagnosis was given, I believed autism was something that could be “treated” the way one treats a disease.  Only it isn’t a disease.  But at the time I thought things like vitamin supplements , homeopathic remedies, therapies like ABA and diets could actually remove the “autism”, that these things would somehow transform her brain from an Autistic brain to a non Autistic brain.  I know it may sound over the top, even ridiculous to many, but at the time, I wanted to believe and so I bought into the idea that autism could be ‘removed’.  The concept of someone being pressured into learning to “pass” as non Autistic and the massive emotional and physical toll that inevitably takes, was not something I knew about at the time.  It never occurred to me to wonder what the fallout might be or how my own child’s self-esteem might suffer as a direct result of what I was doing and saying.

Over time, as I kept trying different things, which culminated in going to Central America for stem cell treatments, I continued to believe, being the very best mother I could be, meant doing everything I could to “remove” her autism.  I believed all those words that are used to describe autism: disease, affliction, epidemic and crisis.  Autism was BAD.  Autism meant all kinds of things and none of them were positive or beneficial.  So that’s what I pursued – a cure.  And I pursued a cure with the same dogged persistence I now apply to changing how autism is viewed by others.  Where I once was determined to change my daughter, I am now determined to change society’s views of autism and, it must be added, society’s views of Autistic people.

You cannot talk about autism without talking about Autistic people.  Yet people do all the time.  They talk about autism as though their words will have no affect on those who are Autistic.  But you can’t do that. When we talk about autism we ARE talking about our Autistic children.  We ARE talking about our Autistic friends.  We ARE talking about Autistic people.  What we say, how autism is depicted, DOES impact those who are Autistic .  It does directly affect how others then treat them.  To pretend that all the derogatory language used has no direct effect on Autistic people is ignoring that fact.  And this is where all of this no longer is just about my daughter and the risks I took and the impact my actions have had on her.  This is about something far bigger than any one person.  This is about a segment of the population who are Autistic and the fallout they must cope with from all of us talking about them as though it wasn’t about THEM, but instead was about a word – that word being – Autism.

Toward the end of the radio show, Lauri Swann spoke of how her son, Henry developed a relationship with his mentor Tracy Thresher and how transformative that was for him.  I reflected on how magical it was for Richard, Emma and me to visit Lauri and her family during the screening of Wretches and Jabberers this past April.  We reminisced about the evening before the screening, when we all went back to Lauri and Russ’s home and everyone sat around their dining room table typing to one another.  The only word I could come up with to describe that visit was “magical“.  And it was, because like the Autcom conference last fall and the Syracuse conference this past winter, being in an atmosphere of inclusion, where every single person is treated with the same respect as anyone else, where all are treated equal, is magical.  How did we move so far from those words in the Declaration of Independence ~ “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal”?  How did we get to this other place, where an evening like the one I’ve just described is considered out of the ordinary?

Now, sitting here writing this post, I am thinking about two more magical days and evenings when Ib came to New York City and stayed with us.  Ib is like family.  My children adore her.  My husband adores her.  I feel honored to know her, let alone call her my friend.  I don’t know how to talk about all of this when lines are drawn, when words are used that separate and divide.  I can’t do that and I don’t want to live in a society that does.  What people do not understand fully, or cannot completely appreciate, is this – when we stop dividing people into categories of us and them – we open ourselves up to the experience of being united, of really feeling that indescribable magic of connection.   The beauty of belonging.  The joy of interacting with our fellow human beings and rejoicing in our diversity.  There IS magic in that.  This is what I wish all human beings have the opportunity to experience.  This is what I hope I will live long enough to see occur on a grand scale.

Henry & Tracy during our magical visit with Lauri’s family

Henri & Tracy

Adrianna, Amy Sequenzia, Em & Me
Adrianna, Amy, Em and Me

Nic & Ib on the High Line

Nic & Ib

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Posted in Autism, Parenting, Stem Cells

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Having it All Often Means Doing it All

Posted on May 9, 2013 by | 25 comments

*The title of this post is said in a joking, not exactly sarcastic way, but certainly not in a serious way.  Throw in an eye roll as you read and a knowing grin, and you’ll get it!

So much to tell you, but where to begin?

For Mother’s Day my wonderful husband decided he would interview me on his radio show and asked if I wanted to invite a couple other moms to come on  the show too.   “Yes, please!” I said and promptly invited my friends, Ibby Grace of the blog Tiny Grace Notes (AKA Ask an Autistic), Paula Durbin-Westby, who has two blogs, one with her name as its title and the other – Autism Acceptance Day (which is a terrific resource filled with interviews among other things) and Lauri Swann Hunt of the fabulous website and blog Ollibean, where both her son Henry and Amy Sequenzia often post among many other wonderful writers.  The show aired last night at 8:30PM – 10:00PM Eastern Daylight Savings Time and has been archived ‘here‘ for those who would like to listen.  We do not have a transcript of it yet, but my fabulous friend Alyssa of the blog, Yes, That Too, suggested we break it into ten minute chunks, which means we need eight more people to volunteer.   Anyone who is so inclined can contact me here or at emmashopeblog@gmail.com and we will get a transcript written!

I meant to write a post about all of this yesterday so anyone who wanted to listen live, could, but Richard came down with some sort of stomach bug that kept him up for the better part of the night and Em woke up in the middle of the night complaining of a sore throat.  When I went to her she was burning up, so I stayed with her for the rest of the night.   By yesterday morning, which was also the first day of my “play date with jewelry” trunk show, I realized, I was not going to be able to keep all the necessary balls in the air.  It was that moment when you realize the reality and what you had envisioned, were not meshing even remotely and so priorities needed to be set.  Nic, who was off early to go on a three-day field trip, made it out the door without mishap.  A doctor’s appointment for Em was secured. Joe, Em’s devoted, dedicated and all around amazing therapist, was called in for reinforcements. Richard was checked in on and given liquids between preparations for my trunk show.

By the way, the show continues today, for those who might be interested in playing with jewelry and seeing my Transitions Collection, which I’ve finally gotten up on my Ariane Zurcher Jewelry website, and joining me to play with the real thing and so I can give a live demonstration of all the various possibilities, many of which the website does not yet have or do.

AZ jpg evite

So given that the day was not proceeding as optimally as planned, it was kind of fitting and perfect that Richard, albeit, groggily, insisted that the radio show (dedicated to motherhood and all that entails) must go on as planned!  So it did. And other than a couple of minutes when Richard and I were inexplicably tossed out of the show, it was great fun, everyone was wonderful and I think Paula Durbin-Westby may need to seriously consider hosting her own radio show in the foreseeable future!  As I said at the end of the show, it is these Moms and women like them, who have helped me be a better mother to both my children.  I am so lucky and very, very grateful.

Merlin Assists in Preparing for the Trunk Show

Merlin:Jewelry 

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Posted in Autism, Autism Acceptance, Parenting

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