Why I didn’t Join the PTA

There are many reasons why people join the PTA.  This is my story.

I stood in the middle of a narrow hallway after the orientation meeting, as a crowd of parents swarmed and moved around me.  Nothing resonated in my ears at that moment, but my own fears and the fierce beating of my heart.  My son can’t do this, I thought over and over again.  He’s going to fail.  What am I going to do?

My feet, under their own mysterious propulsion, began to move me forward with the last stragglers from the orientation meeting.  I began to look around for help.  I was not going down without a fight.  The special education staff were surrounded with parents who needed an IEP or assessments.  I had both, but after the kindergarten orientation meeting I could see now that my IEP was woefully inadequate.  There was no way I was going to be able to talk to any of the special education staff.  How was I going to fix the problem?

The guidance counselor stood near the exit doors and noticed my panic stricken demeanor.  She asked if everything was okay.  I honestly answered, “No, I’m not okay.”  She tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.  In a shaky voice, I asked simply, “What if it isn’t?  I don’t think my son can do this.  I need help.”  I also told her that my son was on the autism spectrum and  I was deeply worried about him.  While she never physically touched me, I felt her answer as a patronizing pat on the back.  Again and again, I was told that everything was going to be okay.  She saw me as just another anxious mom.  I can still hear the words, “Everything will just work out fine.”  In my head, I wanted to scream, What if its not fine?  Instead, I slinked back home with a giant weight on my heart.

I was right.  Everything was not fine. Kindergarten was the hardest challenge yet for my son.  Before kindergarten, many people couldn’t even tell my son was on the autism spectrum.   Within the first week of kindergarten, my son began to have his first truly violent meltdowns.  He spit, he kicked, he hit himself and others.  That first week, I got a frightening call that a vice principal had held my son down to restrain him.

I was outraged.  I was shocked.  I was also ashamed.  I was a good student.  My husband was a good student.  We got good grades. I was teased for a being teacher’s pet.  This couldn’t be our son.  There were few people I felt I could tell about my issues.  My friends may not have all been honor students, but they certainly never visited the principal’s office for bad behavior reasons.  The shame of parenting failure consumed me that year.

I didn’t want to pick up the phone when I saw it was the school calling.  I didn’t want to join the PTA with all those parents with happy well adjusted kids.  I didn’t even want to step my foot into the school if I could help it.  To me, the PTA symbolized good parents with healthy well adjusted children.  My son was not typical, and I felt he was anything but well adjusted.  I didn’t want to run into parents who had heard stories about E’s latest meltdown.  I didn’t want to run into teachers or administrators.

Because my son had never had long violent meltdowns, there was so much I didn’t understand.  It was only after E began having meltdowns, and exhibiting those behaviors at home, did I began to understand the scope of the problem.  This was autism and there were things we could do to improve the situation.

I am thankful for a family therapist and a supportive husband.  I was thankful that despite the fact that E’s teacher was green and new to teaching her own classroom, she was willing to learn.  Not that I didn’t think about leaving the school and perusing other options.  Still, as a family, we persevered.

I slowly came to realize that the only parent that was truly judging me was me.  I had to get over my own self.  I had to accept E as he was.  I had to get over my own perceived notions of childhood.  I had to help E, and not hide in a corner behind a large potted plant.

I also finally joined the PTA.  At first, I paid my dues and did little else.  I volunteered, but my focus was on my own child.  I filled gaps when no one else could help.  I was on the outside and rarely bothered to look in.  They just raised money right?

My moment of truth came in the form of advocacy.  I found out that PTA moms advocate for children.  They rally, they petition, they go to the legislature and speak up on behalf of kids.  As I watched parents in my county organize, I knew I had to speak up for my public school, and for kids on the spectrum.  Fighting for our kids is what special needs moms do best.  To help make E’s experience at school better, I had to do something and speak out.

I still cringe when my kid throws a rock or rips up his work in defiance.  I still see a family therapist.  I still judge myself as a parent. However, most of all, I still advocate on behalf of the PTA,  for all those misunderstood kids on the autism spectrum, and all those parents who dread walking through the doors of their school.

 

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Operation ReBoot

I apologize. I let this blog become idle. It has sat, while my son grew and developed. He is now officially diagnosed on the Autism Spectrum.  I’m not going to go all the way back and try and make up for lost time. I am going to fill in some blanks as I go forward.

Thank you for your patience

More coming very soon

 

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The Soccer Tots Disaster

After E’s second birthday, we settled into a bit of routine.  I tried my best to have play-dates despite E’s resistance.  I also looked into group activities.  From the time E was 9 months old, we were actively involved in KinderMusik.  I wanted to see if there was an equivalent for sports.  I thought I found it, Soccer Tots.

Soccer Tots is an introduction to soccer held at a local indoor arena.  I thought it sounded very cool.  I loved soccer as a kid.  That might be putting it lightly.  I lived for every minute I got to play.  I wanted to share this joy with E.  In the back of my head, I did wonder if age 2 was too young for this, but I trusted that the program was equipped for kids’ E’s age.

I first only agreed to a trial class.   E was a mess.  It was way too much fun to just run around the indoor field as fast as his little legs could carry.  He tuned out the world, and joyfully ran as if he was the only one there.  Of course he wasn’t alone, and I was frustrated.

I so wanted this to work.  I ignored the fact that my child wasn’t participating.  I totally bought the lines of the coach that my child would get it.  All the signs to get out before I got in too deep were there.  However, my own pride and love and soccer overruled my common sense.

I signed E up for a session.  It was soon after that I noticed he was limping.  It was noticeable for the speech therapist, and our babysitter noticed, too.  I was a little worried, but suspected that he had ran too hard at “practice”.   I took him to the doctor.

E likes to go to the doctor.  We take our little play doctor kit, and he generally thinks its fun. This is the advantage of being old enough not to need a shot every time we go.  At this point in his life, he hadn’t even needed a prescription for anything.  Doctor’s gave tickles, hugs, and stickers at the end.

The doctor had him walk around and agreed with me that it was probably just over-use. The doctor also noticed E’s propping himself while sitting on one hand.  E also used his hands to help him stand.  This worried the doctor and I got a referral to a Neurologist.

I should have asked more questions, but I sometimes become idle brained in a doctor’s office.  Why a neurologist?  Is propping that bad?  Is it only the propping that concerns you?  All valid questions, but all unasked.

The limp went away.  It was sore muscles as suspected.

Soccer Tots was not for my child!  It wasn’t run very well.  There were too many kids and not enough coaches.  The coach seemed bad at talking to such young kids.  He used complicated 4 step directions where 2 is a challenge for some.   In spite of my own observations, I was still worried that my child was lagging way behind.

Sheila too the rescue!  Our developmental therapist came to a session.  She observed and gave me some tips to help.  However, the best thing she did was reassure me that this class was advanced for someone who just turned 2.    She did all this on her own time. I was so lucky to have her.

I was going to tough it out with the program until the day Soccer Tots were moved to another field. The other field was to be shared.  On the other side of a curtain was a group of 7-8 year old kids.  A curtain is a sorry excuse for a barrier.  In fact, to my 2 year old, it was fascinating.  E immediately ran to the other field where the older kids were running drills.  The coach didn’t see.  He was busy with the class.  I quickly ran and got E right before a ball got too close.   I was livid.  My son could have been injured.  This was reckless. These were TOTS! They can’t trap a ball that is about to hit them.  They might not even be aware enough to move out of the way.

I complained and got my money back.  I hated to do it.  There were so many of my neighbors enrolled with their kids, and I longed to spend time with them at practice.  My social progress would just have to take the hit.

Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, the neurologist remained as a specter.

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2 Years Old?!

We were at E’s second birthday.  It seemed unreal.  In so many ways we were doing so much better.  Our party was in our basement.  It was just neighbors and friends, but it was nice.  I found a ball pit (complete with balls) on CraigsList and as predicted, Emerson tried to hide out in the ball pit for as long as possible.  He actually sat quite a while with his development therapist and our babysitter.  Looking back, these were people he trusted the most in life.

For whatever reason, E still hated “Happy Birthday” being sung.  I’m not sure its the song or the cheering afterwards.  Despite my attempts at warning the crowd, there was my child crying at his own party.  It never lasts long, since the next step is eating cake.

He’d come a long way since our first session with Ms.Sheila.  However, we were still desperately trying to get E to make sounds.  I mooed, baaed, and meowed and even barked with E just to get him to repeat.  We played the kazoo and the recorder.

One thing about having a development therapist is that they catch and see things, I would never notice.  E slouched.  E slouched a lot.  I kept wondering why he would sometimes do simple tasks with one hand.  Well his other hand was usually being used as a prop.  If Sheila hadn’t noticed the propping I don’t think I would have caught it.

Poor guy.  Most kids get to have little issues and no one ever comments.  All of E’s actions were under surveillance.  I’m not sure its fair to the kid.  On the other hand, I couldn’t imagine having the information in hand, and not acting on it.  There were many times in my journey that I just wanted to hide under a rock.  I wanted to run from conflict and act as if everything would just work itself out.  Time would heal.  God would heal him.  Hes so sweet and and innocent.  Yet, to know, was my blessing from God.  It was not divine intervention, but the intervention of those God sent me.  Science and reason were the tools I was given, and despite my fears, it was my job to use them.

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Needing a challenge

 

Our family was about 6 months into therapy.  I still wasn’t sure how or if to talk about it to others.  In many ways it was a relief to be honest and open.  In other ways, it set my son apart from others.   Of course, there is the well reasoned mid-western argument, “its nobody’s business but your own”.    I hedged.  I told quite a lot of people about speech therapy, but hesitated on telling people about developmental therapy.  Somehow development therapy carried a stronger stigma.  There was sometimes this awkward silence when I scheduled play dates, and I used the phrase, “we can’t make it Wednesday, E has therapy”.

In a bit of irony, it was the developmental therapy that was going so well.  Our therapist was amazing.  If E wasn’t grasping a skill, she would try a new angle, a new song, or a new book.   She was even gifted at teaching new signs for E to master. Meanwhile, we seemed stuck in a rut with speech therapy.  Its not that our therapist was bad, she just didn’t challenge E.  She once even said that she was afraid to upset him.  He was unchallenged and not making progress.  My husband was home for a day and observed a session.  He described it perfectly, “She’s not doing anything different than us, and we don’t charge a fee.”

This is where I must give the credit to the CDSA.  Our coordinator did several observations and brought up my problem with no prompting.  Paperwork started, but the real blessing was that the CDSA handled all the communication mess in terminating our former speech therapist.  It was a relief to not have to make that phone call.  Of course, there was the irritation in finding a new therapist.  A new list was generated, but shorter this time.  I didn’t have an recommendations so I choose the therapist with the most education and the most experience.

No one likes to change a  toddler’s routine, but sometimes things need to change.  E needed to be challenged.  I had to be brave and step out of the status quo.  I wasn’t doing my son any favors in providing him with a therapy that wasn’t working.  I am so lucky to have had the support system of the CDSA, my husband, and an experienced developmental therapist to make the transition and the decision easier.

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With just a whisper…

With the introduction of signing, I was feeling encouraged by E’s progress.  He mastered signs fairly easily.  He even seemed to enjoy it.  He learned the sign for “go”, “play”, “help”, and “frog” His vocabulary grew each week. During therapy E would sit at the top of his little indoor slide and we would say, “Ready, Set,” and then he would sign “go”as he slid down.  There was so much joy on his face.  It was all great fun.

help

 

His most used sign quickly became the sign for “help”.  As you can see its a bit harder than some.  However, since E’s goal was to communicate with us, and not speak to the deaf, well we didn’t really care if it was officially correct.  E’s version was that basically praying hands with an upward motion.  Many kids when learning to talk use baby talk for items or modified words, so we just applied the concept to sign.

Along with the sign our goal as parents was to get E to voice some sounds.  The speech therapist at the time, worked on animal noises and common children’s songs.   The therapist sings a part of the song and then leaves a part blank.  Most children feel compelled to fill in the blanks.  Most, but well, not mine.   I think E heard “Wheels on the Bus” so many times he still hates it to this day.  E is also not a big fan of “Old McDonald’.

We did get something out of E.  We got a whisper.  Rarely was it an entire word.  We’d get the whisper of a beginning sound of a word.  I’d get a whispered b for bubbles.   Then every once in a while a whispered word.  Then as quickly as I heard the whispered word, it would go away.  In fact, I would look at others just to make sure I didn’t hear what I wanted to hear.  It was a strange whispered world and nothing was consistent.

My house was still too quiet

 

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A gesture is worth a thousand words

A good question was raised recently.  How do you teach a child “baby sign”?

Lets start with the basics:  baby sign is a simplified version of American Sign Language in order to teach communication to infants and toddlers.  Some parents are on the ball and begin teaching signing to their children as early as six months.  There is limited research on the topic, but some believe (especially those endorsing flash cards and other products) that it will enhance a child’s ability to speak early and increase their vocabulary.

I had heard of baby sign, but it really wasn’t on my radar screen.  However, it was the immediate suggestion of both our development therapist and our speech therapist.  Signing would be the first step in getting E to communicate and eventually talk.  I soon found that I was not really getting therapy for just E.  It was my turn to learn.

First step was replicating the action or the thing we wanted signed.  As posted earlier, E’s first sign was more.  mcdc7_baby_sign_language1

We began by blowing a few bubbles.  Then we asked the question, “More?” while demonstrating the sign.   Then, of course, we blew some more bubbles.  We paused asked the question again while signing.  Again we blew more bubbles.  It took a few tries, but eventually, after a pause, E wanted more and signed!

My homework was repeating it in many situations, and get E to mimic the action.   In fact, one thing we worked on in conjunction with the signing was mimicking.  E saw very little interest in copying our actions or sounds. Thus while we taught sign, we also worked on E to mimic gestures and silly faces.  E responded better with this with Dad.  Thus Dad became the champion of making silly faces with E in the mirror.  A good job for Dad anyway.

E’s second sign was dog.   You will find that nouns are a bit easier.  You can point to an object or picture and then sign.  It helps to pick tangible every day things.  We have a dog named Zelda so dog was a logical step.

Another key concept to grasp was frustration. As parents we read our kids fairly well.  Its by no means full proof, but we become good at knowing when our kids will need help with a task, when they might be hungry, or help getting to a toy.  My job was to not act.  My job was to frustrate E just enough that he would use his new tools to get my attention.  Thus with the more, sign, I had to wait until I saw the sign.  Even if I knew E wanted more goldfish at snack time, I had to wait until he showed me he wanted more.

So E started out with just a few signs.  He started with more and dog.  We made sure E was consistent and then began to add to his vocabulary.  With every new sign, my heart leapt with joy.  I could care less that his voice was mute.  I was learning to communicate with my son.

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Please Sir Can I Have Some More?

Development Therapy began in earnest for E in September of 2011.  Development therapy started  off with meeting a few simple goals.  Number One: Child will tell his parents when he is finished eating during mealtimes.  Number Two: Child will tell parents when he is hungry or thirsty.  Number Three: E will use words to communicate what he needs or wants, such as read a book or play with a toy.  Number Four: E will imitate activities during playtime with family.

These goals don’t sound unusual for a child E’s age, but they seemed like a tall order for a child who barely made a sound.  My house got so quiet I could barely wait for my husband to return home from work.  Poor husband, if he was late, I laid it on too heavy.  It wasn’t his fault I was going crazy from all the quiet.  I survived on music playing on any device in the room.   I was trying very very hard not to turn on the TV for comfort while E was in the room.  I can say that as soon as E went down for a nap I quickly turned on the TV just for the sound.

The first stage in development therapy was getting E to communicate.  We started with Baby Signs.   Now this might sound counter intuitive to getting E to speak, but remember communication is the ultimate goal.  So the first sign E learned was “more”.  I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it was to finally know that my child wanted more to eat.   “All Done” took a bit longer, but E loved the sign for dog.

Meanwhile I was still in a holding pattern for the one thing that motivated me to seek out help in the first place, speech!  It started with my pediatrician in March and it wasn’t until August that a hearing test was completed and the speech evaluation took place finally on August 30th.

Yes, my son had to go through another and separate evaluation for speech.  For a kid who didn’t make any noise at all it was torture for everyone.  The questions did not really differ from the developmental evaluation.  The evaluation of course recommended speech therapy.  I’m certain his initial developmental evaluation would have sufficed.  We jumped through the hoops, got the names for the speech therapist available through the CDSA and finally started speech therapy in October.  It was a long summer.

For more information on baby sign see:

http://www.babysignlanguage.com/dictionary/

(or make up your own signs!)

 

 

 

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Whats the harm?

I think I had to keep telling myself over and over, “There’s no harm in trying therapy”.  It was my way of convincing myself to move forward.   I had in my hand the opinions of experts that my son had delays.  It was now my job to decide what to do.   Thus my new mantra, “Whats the harm?”

One of the services of the CDSA is to assist in finding a therapist.  E was being referred for development therapy and speech.  While I saw speech as an immediate need, I would have to wait.  In order to rule out a physical problem with speech, E would need his hearing checked.  The CDSA offered this screening, but we had to get scheduled, and that had a bit of a wait.  Meanwhile, I did have to choose a developmental therapist.

The CDSA only assists with finding a therapist.  They take your time availability and then send it out to area providers.  Then your CDSA coordinator sends you an email with the those who are interested in taking you on as a client.  Sometimes you get detailed biographies and credentials, but some provide very little information.  I had a very hefty list of developmental therapist available.

I felt lost in a sea of credentials I didn’t understand.  Some lauded their ability to work with autism, but there wasn’t evidence E even had autism.  I did look for those who had gone further in their education and for those with experience in language delays.  That narrowed the list to about five.

Next, we took to the community.  Well the electronic kind at least.  My husband and I scoured the web and posted on work community boards seeking a recommendation.  Lucky for us, we got one.  We decided to try a woman name Sheila.  She was a former teacher of foreign language turned developmental therapist.  I was not sure how a therapist works with a mute child, but I was willing to try.  What harm could it do?

I must interject to this story the financial aspect of all of this.  The CDSA offers their assistance for free.  Screenings are also free if done through the CDSA.  (If your child is 3 and above this is done by the county school system)  However therapy is not free.  The CDSA does assist families in low income, and has a sliding pay scale.  So you might qualify for 90% assistance, 10% assistance, or if you make enough, the bill is your responsibility.  The other good thing is that some therapies are picked up by your insurance company.  One therapy not covered by most major insurance companies, developmental therapy.

Another thing to keep in mind, is at any time during this process, I could step away.  There was no one pressuring me or making me send my son to developmental therapy.  The ball was always in my court.  Thus, it was decided that Ms.Sheila would begin to give E therapy once a week in my house.  The poor dog would be jealous.

 

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Testing..Testing..1.2.3

There is nothing that developmental specialist love more than testing!

If your child is ever suspected of having a developmental delay, be prepared for lots of evaluations.   Once our family was referred to the CDSA (see prior post), it was time to be evaluated by their office.  It seems the pediatrician’s office evaluation was just a small test to see if we needed further testing.

Emotionally I was simply worried.  Since no one wanted to say  anything of substance, other than further tests are needed, I had no reason to be sad.  I was simply confused and overwhelmed by the process of it all.   I still had that voice of skepticism in the back of my head that said my kid would grow out of this.  My voice of reason, and my husband, reminded me that there was no harm in therapy and no harm in testing.

In fact the testing is generally worse for the parents than the child.  The evaluation took place in our home.  Which for us means an earnest attempt to get some dog hair out of the carpet, and to put poor Zelda out back.  Our coordinator with the CDSA came along with an evaluator.

At first there was a just a lot of paperwork.  I don’t remember every detail.  However, I can say that there was an endless barrage of questions.  Does E feed himself with a spoon, does he babble, does he stack blocks, how many?  E was completely freaked out at the experience.  I had no idea there was a set number of blocks he was suppose to stack.  Who forces their child to stack blocks?  At one point E was given a baby doll and told to feed the doll.  E was completely uninterested.

Well of course he wasn’t interested.  He’d never played with a baby doll.  I of course told the evaluator, but I was dismissed.  I was on edge the entire time and I’m afraid so was E.  E just withdrew from the evaluator’s requests.  The more they tried, the more he withdrew.  My heart was broken, but I knew it would be over soon.  E was only 16 months at the time.

It took a very short time for our initial evaluation report.  It was difficult to read.  While I anticipated his speech to be delayed.  I did not anticipate any other delays.  It didn’t dawn on me that my child had any other problems.  However, unlike most mothers, my child’s delays and difficulties was in black in white on the page.

My first inclination was to of course argue with the report.  That’s not my child!  My son doesn’t have problems with eye contact.  He always answers when I call him.  Why is important that he point with one finger rather than use his whole hand?  Who are they to judge my child after spending 2 hours with him.  Of course, arguing with type written reports will only eventually only put me into therapy.

Again well meaning people assured me that E was fine.  Time would heal all.  In my heart, I knew that E was not fine.  I could see that E needed help.  I just had to be strong enough to get him the help he needed.  Part of the process and the strength, came from my loving husband.  He reminded me over and over that therapy can only help.

On to the next phase: finding a therapist

 

 

 

 

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