Mostly Sunny---a Janey report

Sometimes I miss writing more entries in this blog!  But other times I know I'm writing less because life with Janey is less intense than it used to be.  Still, I plan to continue this blog as long as I'm around to write it.  It's interesting and cool to think of the girls that are growing up along with Janey, ones I met through this blog when she was just three and who now are teenagers or young adults, and it's also great knowing some families with younger girls (and boys) are able to at times get a glimpse of what growing up as a family with an autistic member is like.

So, how are things with Janey?  Mostly sunny!  High school is off to a very good start overall.  We went to an open house a while back, and got time to talk a lot to Janey's teachers.  She has four teachers, with one being her homeroom teacher.  The rooms are all connected, and the kids move from class to class within the connected rooms.  Her teachers all seem incredibly good.  It's just amazing to us always what great teachers Janey has had.  It's wonderful hearing them tell stories about Janey.  You can tell they get her, and that they like her!  That means everything to me.  Lately her homeroom teacher has been sending us pictures of Janey at school along with reports.  I love seeing the pictures!  It's so cool to get to see Janey's days that way.  With the rise of smart phones and having a camera always around, I hope more teachers are sending pictures to parents, especially to parents of minimally or non-verbal kids.  A picture really is worth a thousand words.

A few weeks ago, Janey had a tough week.  She cried all day for about a week, and did the same at school.  Even coming in the middle of a long great run, it was very upsetting.  I think a lot of you can relate to how we flash back to the worst times so easily.  It's not Tony and my default thought "Oh, she's been happy for a long time and she's be happy again soon!  This is just a little glitch!"  Instead we think "Here we go.  It's going to get worse and worse and worse.  She'll probably end up back in Rhode Island (where the psychiatric hospital was that Janey spent time in when she was 10)"  I think it's a kind of PSTD.  It's very hard to take a step back and just think "Let's ride this out and see what happens".  But in this case, after the awful week, Janey suddenly became happy again.  She got off the bus one Friday afternoon and was happy, and has been happy since.  I need to try to remember that!

The other night, Janey wanted to watch a certain Angelina Ballerina.  Hulu and Netflix constantly take Angelinas off and on, and it's frustrating.  To buy an hour long episode often costs about $15---to have it permanently to watch.  Janey wanted Shining Star Trophy, which has been one of her favorites for a long time, but it wasn't available and I didn't want to spend the money.  We are being very careful with money now that Tony has retired early.  So I said no.  Janey threw a fit---screaming and crying and flinging herself around.  This was after the tough time had passed, and she was so sincere in her sadness and anger I thought to myself "What the heck?  What does she ever ask for, anyway?" and I bit the bullet and bought the show for her after having said no.

Janey at school

Later that same evening, a very interesting thing happened.  I told Janey it was bedtime.  She wasn't pleased.  Usually she'll just get up over and over if she doesn't want to sleep, but this time, she looked at me for a minute as if she was thinking something over, and then started to scream.  Somehow, I knew right away this was a different scream than I've ever heard before.  It was fake.  It had a whole different tone to it. 

To be honest, I was thrilled.  It was the first time EVER I have seen Janey consciously throw a fit when she wanted something.  Other times, she's certainly thrown a fit, but it's the much more common fit, one of not having the words to explain, one of pure unhappiness.  This wasn't that.  It was a deliberate thing.  I have no doubt about that.  I said, calmly but firmly, "Janey, it's time for bed.  Turn off the TV, put down the remote and get in bed"  And she gave me another long look, as if deciding what to do, and then did just what I asked, quite cheerfully.  You could almost see her thinking "Well, it was worth a try"

It's so cool to see that Janey is still developing, still learning, still maturing.  It takes her longer than most kids, but she does make progress in so many ways.

High school doesn't require uniforms.  When I see Janey dressed in school clothes, regular teenage girl clothes (although of course ones I pick out, but I do try to dress her in clothes her peers might wear), it sometimes takes my breath away.  It's funny---I can remember 15 so well, and having a daughter that age---it makes me think of how much she is her own person.  Like everyone else, she is different than her parents, not just because of her autism, but just because she is who she is.  I am so proud of her.  I look forward to watching her become an adult.

How Janey would tell the bus story

The start of this school year was marked by bus issues.  The buses that Janey had assigned to her did not have aides on them, and several times, the morning bus simply drove by our house as Tony tried desperately to wave it down.  He wound up driving Janey to school those days.  The afternoon bus twice drove her home without an aide, breaking their own rule (the aide for Janey is not something we requested, but something the transportation department had said she needs) and twice relied on a school aide kindly riding with Janey so she could get home.  Knock on wood, these issues seem to be resolved, thanks to Janey's terrific principal advocating for her.  Janey is on new buses, ones with aides.

I've been struggling to explain to myself and in this blog why the whole bus issue upset me so much.  Every way I tried to write about it, I found myself reading what I wrote and thinking "Yeah, that doesn't sound like such a big deal"  Then, looking at some pictures I took today, I realized that it's a big deal to me because it was a big deal to Janey.  She loves the bus.  She loves routine.  She loves things happening the way they are supposed to happen.  And the fact that it seemed, on the surface anyway, that the bus department didn't consider it a priority to get her to school, bothered me a lot. 

Janey doesn't talk verbally that much, but she talks volumes with her behavior and her facial expressions.  Here's the story of the bus issues, translated by me.  Forgive me, Janey, if I have made mistakes!

"I am so excited to go on the school bus to school!  I love riding the bus"

"Daddy and I are waiting for the bus. It's coming!  Oh, it's not stopping.  Daddy is trying to get the bus to stop.  Why can't I go on the bus?"

"Daddy is driving me to school.  I love to ride in the car, but this isn't right.  I don't go to school in a car!  Daddy is saying goodbye and I am with my teacher, but it's all wrong.  It doesn't feel right.  I'm crying because it's not the way it's supposed to be"

Not the actual bus that didn't stop, but a photographic recreation!

It is the little things, the small inequalities, the minor, not big enough to make a big deal of issues that sometimes are the toughest.  So the transportation department originally assigned Janey to a bus that by their own rules, she couldn't take?  It's fixed now, so why does it still bother me?  Because it's a million small moments like this that add up to block Janey from being fully included.  It's not just the bus passing her by---it's all the times that the small adjustments that would allow her to ride life's bus with everyone else are not made.

Janey---"Now the bus is here!  I'm happy!  I'm going to school!"

It's the little things that make Janey part of the bigger world.  Sometimes, we have to fight for the little things.

Unclouded day after

I was discouraged yesterday, as you might have read in the post I wrote.  Last weekend was long, with a lot of screaming and crying from Janey, more than any weekend this summer.  We had gotten used to the sunny Janey.  For so many years, a troubled day with Janey led to a troubled few weeks.  It's hard to believe, to accept, that Janey does recover much more quickly than she used to.  Even after school yesterday, she was happy.  And then there was a "toileting incident", the kind that takes a long time and many loads of laundry to take care of.   I wrote my discouraged post, and linked to it on my Facebook page.  And so many people responded.

I don't think I can ever really explain how much the support of others helps me---others living this life, or those who understand it.  I can't even imagine what it felt like to be a mother like me in the days before the internet.  I would feel, I am sure, like the only person on earth with a life like mine.  Instead, I know there are so many others who get it, who pick me up, who have helped me through some very tough times, who have rejoiced along with me at the good times.  When I woke up this morning, not sure what the day would be like, and read all your comments, read the kind words from Mary and Maura and Catherine and Fab and Kathleen and Maryann and Cynthia and Aileen and John and Rachel and Michelle and Nancy and Shanti and Antti and Grace and Julie and Sophie and Beth---wow.  For some reason I went back and read again about times during Janey's two long hospitalizations, and the overwhelming kindness shown to me by so many then, and I thought about our recent visit to meet Michelle and her wonderful family in person, and I thought about my husband and sons and extended family, and high school friends I have reconnected with on Facebook,  and people like Maryellen, who sat with me during so many days in the hospital---and I was overwhelmed.  I hope you all know how much you mean to me.

 So---today is better.  I had a wonderful morning with Janey before she got on the bus.  She was happy, calm and engaged.  We did our favorite walk, to the "ice cream store", and she picked out not chips or ice cream but a jar of salsa, and we waited for the bus listening to "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair" and we smiled and hugged each other and enjoyed the summer weather as we waited.  It felt like the unclouded day in the song Janey loves so much.

Home from our great trip!

I had big plans to blog a little every day while on the road, but I found out I hate writing on laptops---somehow I constantly move the cursor around and then do something which deletes huge chunks of what I've written, and fun stuff like that, so I decided to wait and write when I got home!

Janey and Michelle at the Toledo Zoo!

What a wonderful trip we had!  The best part, the very best part, was meeting Michelle and her family.  I met Michelle through this blog---she was the first person ever to get in touch with me after reading the blog, back when I wasn't sure anyone at all read it!  We've been long distance friends ever since, and phone friends, but I wanted more than anything to meet her and her family in person.  So we set out for Ohio to make that happen.

We drove out at a slow pace.  Although the total trip would have been about 12 hours if we drove straight, we knew we couldn't do that with Janey.  I split the trip into thirds, and we stopped at 2 different hotels on the way out and the way back.  We stayed 3 nights near Toledo in the middle.

Janey happy at a hotel breakfast

Overall, Janey did remarkably well on the trip---better than I had even hoped.  She loves car rides, so that was a plus. She also loves "hotel houses" and swimming, so I was hopeful, but warily so.  But we found that as long as we kept Janey happy, she kept us happy. We listened to only music she liked, and switched songs on CDs right away if she wanted us to.  I love hearing local radio stations, but that was not to be!  Once we were in a hotel for the night, we set up her iPad (wi-fi was a must) and she was able to snuggle her special pillow and watch her YouTube videos just like at home.  We swam at every hotel we could (one had a pool that wasn't open---NOT a good scene!) and we stopped whenever she asked us to.  That made for long days driving, as at points she asked to stop at almost every exit---she learned quickly that saying she needed to use the potty would get us to stop---but we like seeing what's off the exits, so we didn't mind that much!

The amazing Lindsey!

I loved meeting Michelle's daughter Lindsey!  I wish every one of you could meet her.  I have to admit she opened my eyes a good deal to how much a person who is non-verbal can communicate.  I'm not talking AAC or sign language---I'm talking just by being herself.  You knew exactly what Lindsey was thinking, and she has an amazing, unique personality---larger than life!  Tony said she would have been a huge star of silent movies, and he is right.  We got to spend the most time with her the last night, when Janey fell asleep at their house.  Without Janey being unpredictable and loud, Lindsey sat at the table with us for a long time and we had a wonderful time talking, her contributing to the conversation as much as anyone.

Getting to talk to Michelle and spend time with her was a dream come true for me.  Having girls with autism is what brought us together, but I know that if we had met any other way, we would have been drawn to each other just as much.  We have so much in common, and I felt like I was with a friend I've known all my life.  And having someone to talk to about our lives, lives affected by our girls in so many ways, while at the same time being able to laugh and talk books and about our other great kids and anything at all---that was incredible.  We both had a very hard time saying goodbye.  It makes me think about how wonderful it would be to live near so many of you, to be surrounded in "real" life by the great people I've met through this blog.  But I am so lucky to live in today's world, where I can be with you all virtually.

Happy we've stopped at yet another fast food place!

Janey starts summer school on Monday.  It's a little tough coming back to reality here, but knowing we can travel, and having met my long-lost second "sister"---that was a vacation of a lifetime.

Mostly just pictures!

I took a bunch of pictures of Janey tonight, and thought I'd share them in a mostly just pictures post!  We have a routine with taking pictures which she loves.  I pretend to tickle her (she doesn't like to be actually tickled, but she loves me to say "tickle-tickle!" with my hands in tickle position), and then I take a picture, to get a smile!  Not that I only want smiling pictures of her, but I love seeing her smile.

Here's Janey playing with kinetic sand, a wonderful present from a dear friend.  It's the first toy in years Janey has had an interest in, and she loves it.

Smiling in the sunlight

I love to see my Janey happy.

Another big smile!

My shadow taking her picture!  Janey has the blessing or curse to have the family hair, thick and very curly.  Her brothers both have it too, as do assorted members of my family (not me!)  It changed when she was about 7 from being straight and very blond to being ash blond and curly.

Janey pointing!  She doesn't point a lot, except at herself as a way of saying "I want that", so this was a lucky shot.  She was wanting Tony to hurry up and come down to the driveway to take her for a car ride.

Through the years we all will be together...

Easter Sunday was quiet at our house.  We don't visit family or friends, we don't go out to dinner.  Janey can't be around younger kids much, due to her aggression at times, travel to far flung loved ones is tough, and eating out...well, it's not worth spending a good deal of money to rush a meal, waiting for the meltdown.  So we stay home.  And truthfully, it's okay.  We are loners a bit.  But this year, both Tony and I were feeling a little emotional about our Easter.  It took us until about halfway through the day to realize it was the first year with neither boy home.  Our family felt small.

Janey was in a good mood all day, though.  We had fun early in the day taking a long ride into the city.  We love early Sunday rides, with little traffic.  Boston is a great city, when you take away the traffic nightmares, and we enjoyed driving through some neighbors, like the Little Italy of Boston, the North End, that we don't often see.  We all had some chocolate (Janey's early in the day, to prevent non-sleep!) from huge chocolate eggs that Uncle Pino gave us, and Tony got some of our favorite Gimbel's jelly beans.  It was a fine day, but I was still feeling low.

We aren't very religious, but I certainly wouldn't mind going to church on Easter.  We haven't found a church, though, that we can go to with Janey.  We want church to be a family thing, like it was with our beloved Hyde Park Congregational Church that shut down when Janey was two.  But there is no way on this earth Janey could be at a service, and there is also no way she could attend Sunday School without someone one on one with her.  So, we don't go to church, and that feels a little funny on Easter too.

Looking at Facebook during the day, I of course saw many pictures of kids at Easter gatherings.  I didn't make up an Easter basket for Janey, because she has never had any interest at all in that (or stockings) and because we would end up eating all the candy she didn't want, or she would end up eating chocolate bunnies and not sleeping for a week.  But I decided I wanted to take pictures of Janey for Easter.  I love taking pictures, especially of Janey.  I got out my iPad and used the Hipstamatic app, which has all kinds of virtual lenses and film that it picks at random each time you take a picture.  I adore it.  I took about a hundred pictures of Janey, to see what got picked and how they came out.

While I was in the middle of taking pictures, suddenly and unexpectedly, Janey began to sing.  She often sings a few lines of songs, but it's rare she sings the whole song, although she knows many by heart.  This time, however, she did.  She sang "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", the whole song, in her otherworldly high and perfect singing voice.

I try hard on this blog to portray autism honestly.  Autism isn't a series of miracles, a savant hidden in an unexpected place, a innocent showing us all the way.  But in every child's life, including Janey's, there are a few moments that take the breath of parents away.  Janey's singing yesterday was one of them.  As she sang "Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow...", I cried.  And held her close.  She had sung the song, that, if not seasonal, most perfectly captured the mood I had been feeling all day.  For that moment, our troubles were indeed far, far away.

Janey's post

What would Janey want to say in a blog post, if she could write one?  That has been on my mind lately.  I am a voice for Janey here, because she can't write, and she is what I've found is called low-verbal---she talks, but not much and not always with meaning.  I take being Janey's voice very seriously.  I would love her to be able to say what she thinks, to be able to share insights into her own life with her own voice with all of us.  But I can't make that happen just by wanting it.

The other day, using the idea of assuming competence, which is an idea I like very much but don't always find to be useful, I told Janey about this blog.  It's certainly been no secret, but I realized I hadn't sat down and explained it to her.  To be totally truthful, I don't think she understood what I was saying at all, but I don't know that for sure.  I told her I write on the computer about her, to tell people about what a cool kid she is and to help people understand autism.  When I say the word "autism" to Janey, I have realized I make it sound like I'm saying "Christmas morning" or "huge treat".  I want it to be a word she associates with all good things.  I then asked her if there was anything she wanted to tell people who read about her.  She didn't answer, as is usually the case.  I then did a starter phrase "I want to tell you that..." and she said "I love you!"  It's a very nice answer, but it's also echolalia.  I say all the time to her "I want to tell you that I love you!"  

After a lot more trying to get Janey to say something else, she did---she said "Are we done yet?"  That was actually a phrase that I haven't heard her use a lot, and I listened and stopped talking.

So---I have to guess.  What would Janey want to say?  I don't know.  Janey isn't self-reflective.  She hasn't ever said anything that indicates she understands past or future, or that she gets what autism is, or that she realizes she is not quite the same as a lot of other kids her age.  So I don't think that she'd make profound statements about why she does things she does.  

My best guess is based on what Janey asks for, what she seems to be driven by in life.  I think she'd want to talk about music.  She'd tell you what songs she likes, and what singers.  She'd want to talk about food, especially favorites like Chinese food or tuna or kale.  She'd tell you how she likes to cuddle on her bed, with her favorite special pillow.  She'd want you to know how much she loves car rides with Daddy.  She'd probably want to discuss her favorite TV shows, especially Angelina Ballerina.  I don't think she'd say much about school.  School and home are separate worlds for her, and she's never said one word to me about school.  She might say she's sad or angry, if she is.  She might tell you about Rebecca, my friend Maryellen's cat that for whatever reason seems to be often on her mind.  

I might be selling Janey short.  I've been amazed by videos I've seen of kids that learned to type and had many intense things to say.  But Janey doesn't seem to have a huge urge to communicate, and any attempts to get her to communicate in alternative ways are very quickly shut down by her.  She likes to use her voice, and the words she is comfortable with.  She understands probably 100 times more words than she says, and when she is using delayed echolalia, she shows she can physically talk easily with long words.  But she chooses not to, and I have to respect that.  It's like if someone said they needed to work hard with me to teach me to run marathons, when I've never shown the slightest interest in or inclination toward running.  I'd resist them at every turn.  I might be able to learn to run a bit better, but I'd hate learning and I wouldn't use what I learned.  Maybe it's not that extreme with Janey, but she does seem extremely resistant to my tries to widen her communication.

I'm putting some pictures of Janey on here, because in many ways, that is how she communicates best---by facial expression, by what she does.  I wish you all could meet her in person.  Until then, I'll keep letting you know her by writing about my very cool kid.

Pictures sometimes lie

I love to take pictures.  It's a bit of an obsession with me.  Yesterday we went to a friend's lakeside cabin.  We were delighted to be invited, because Janey adores the water, boats and the friend.  I took a lot of pictures, and in looking at them, I thought a lot about how I sort out which pictures I actually keep and look at.

I don't save a lot of pictures of Janey when she is upset, screaming, unhappy, lashing out or crying.  There's a couple reasons for this.  Of course, I want to remember her as happy, and not sad.  Also, I've read a lot of opinions that people feel it's just wrong to post pictures of their kids when they don't look their best.  The argument usually is that it's not fair to the children.  I also, like most people, just like happy or calm pictures best.

But it's striking me lately that pictures lie.  Or they don't tell all the truth.  If you look at all the pictures I have of Janey, it would be very hard to really know her story.  I don't take many pictures of her when she's biting her arm, or hitting someone, or crying hysterically, or screaming.  I take pictures where she looks, for the lack of a better word, close to "normal"

And so, when looking at yesterday's pictures, a lot got left out.  Janey had a wonderful time most of the time, yes.  She was happy in the car all the two hour ride up, she danced with happiness when we got out, she was thrilled to "ride" in the docked rowboat, she had a great time going in a little paddle boat with her father and brother, she ran around in the big yard joyfully for a long time.  But around five, the witching hour, she lost her cool.  She screamed for a long time, and then, when I tried to comfort her, bit me, very hard, on the hand.  On the ride home, she tried over and over to bite Freddy.  We came home a bit discouraged, although the majority of the day was great.

But looking back at the day, the hard parts won't be documented.  And sometimes, I think this does our kids a disservice.  I know when thinking about my life, I don't like it to be whitewashed.  I don't want to think every single moment was joy and contentment.  Is that what we want our kids to think?  Janey's anger and sadness are a big part of her life, but by blocking that out, either through choice or from societal pressure, we are left with a sanitized view.  People would be forgiven, if they didn't look further than pictures, to think autism was an interesting and quirky variation on the norm.

I don't think I'll start taking or post more pictures of Janey when she's upset, though.  I'm not quite there yet.  But I wish that I felt freer to do so, both freer from within and freer from without.

World Autism Acceptance/Awareness Day, through my own Janey lens

Well, here it is again, that day that I am sure is like Christmas for all of you out there---World Autism Acceptance/Awareness Day!  All sarcasm aside, sometimes I'm a little glad there's a day of the year set aside for autism---a day that is about what every single day is about for my family and me.

I thought I'd write about Janey's afternoon yesterday.  It illustrates the best and the worst of how autism affects Janey, and therefore affects our family.

Pictures I took this morning of Janey

Janey got off the bus in a fairly cheerful and mellow mood.  She was happy to find some chips to eat, and we had a quiet and companionable half hour as she ate them next to me.  Freddy got home then, and Janey was happy to see him.  Her hands were covered with chip dust, and he said if she washed them, he'd take her to the ice cream store, as she had asked (as she asks every single day after school).  After a few reminders, she washed them like a champ, and he kept his promise and took her to the store.  They both came back in great moods.  Freddy remarked on how very good she was, and how much fun they had.  The ice cream store (as most of you know, actually a corner convenience type store) is only a few houses and then a few businesses away from us, on the same side of the street, and now as we pass our neighbors' houses, we no longer have to hold Janey's hand.  She loves that---she skips along singing.  We take her hand again by the gas station, as Freddy did yesterday.  It was great seeing what a good time they both had, and Janey ate her ice cream happily.

A nice moment before they left---after Janey washed her hands and Freddy told her he'd take her to the store, she hugged him---her full-on, somewhat overwhelming hug.  Freddy was quite touched.  She is gradually showing more and more of an interest in her siblings, and it was really a nice moment.

Taken within three minutes, they show her changing moods.

So---great afternoon, right?  Well, then it took a turn.  Janey decided to graze the refrigerator for something more to eat.  She found raw turkey meat.  Freddy caught her in time and told her to put it back, and when she came over to sit by me, I said "Janey, you know we never eat meat that hasn't been cooked"  Evidently, that was something she found unacceptable to hear.  She hit me on the nose, very hard.  I grabbed her hands and said "No you don't!" and she lunged hard at me, trying to bite me with all her might.  I yelled to Freddy for help, and he carried her away to a chair and held her back as she tried as hard as she could to bite him too.  Being unable to do that, she kicked over a coffee table by the chair, with Freddy's afternoon coffee on it.  It spilled all over the floor.

Freddy told her, very calmly, that she needed to clean up the coffee.  And so started the 20 minute siege.  She was not inclined to clean up the coffee.  She wanted instead to bite Freddy.  He stayed calm and insistent, telling her to go get the paper towels, which she finally did, after about three biting attempts.  Then, again interrupted with many, many lunges at him, she very, very slowly did clean up all the coffee and threw away the wet paper towels.  By the time that was over, we were all exhausted.  Janey got her iPad and sat quietly and cruised YouTube.

It's not all smiles, so we take them when we can!

And that is Janey---albeit, a rather extreme example of Janey at her best and worst.  That is what we are aware of every day.  That is what we have leaned to accept.  Sometimes it's very easy to accept Janey.  Sometimes, it's very, very hard.  And as I talked about yesterday, accepting doesn't mean liking always, or not liking, always.  Sometimes it means adoring.  Sometimes it means despairing of.  But if I could tell the whole world about autism, I would like them to understand both sides of it.  I don't want a gauzy unicorn and rainbow filled fantasy autism image.  I don't want a horrifying, Autism-Speaks-Style tragic view of autism.  I want people to know Janey, and to know all of your girls and boys, all the many, many faces of autism.  I want them to know the stories, and to know the children we love so much.  Janey, this day is for you.  I love you so, so much.

Joy and Lessons

Janey is home, and the overwhelming feeling we have, so far, is joy.  It is wonderful to have her home.  We realized, this past month, what a crucial part of our family she is.  She is our focus, our center, our mission.  Without her, I think all of us felt a little lost.  She is a huge challenge, a huge job, but most of all, a huge joy.

We have, however, learned a few lessons which are tougher to take than the lesson of how we need her.

Janey's release from Bradley was sudden.  Late last week, when both the school and I talked to the hospital, it seemed that her release was not going to be soon.  Then, on Monday, I got a call from the social worker at first asking how our visits were going and then telling me they were planning on releasing her the next day, Tuesday.  I had a huge mix of emotions.  First, happiness, but then, a little confusion and a lot of "what next?"  Yes, she had calmed down.  Yes, her medication had been adjusted.  Yes, the immediate crisis was over.  But most things had not changed.  Janey was still screaming often, biting her arm quite a bit, often upset.  We still had no respite.  We had no new ideas for dealing with Janey, no new plan.  There was not going to be any release meeting.  We didn't speak to the psychiatrist in charge---we had met him only once, at the intake meeting.  Basically, Janey was coming home because her mood had changed.  That is something that has happened at home, without a hospital, many, many times.  We could have done that here.

To play the devil's advocate with myself---we did get some respite.  We had the 18 days with Janey at Bradley, where we were able to sleep all night.  We were able to spend 18 days, when we weren't driving to Providence, doing the kind of things we haven't done for a while---mindless games, mostly.  We probably didn't relax as much as we should have during that time.  We were still in a bit of shock, and we still were thinking about her constantly, and driving to see her often.  But we did have that time.

However, I would have to say overall, I am still quite troubled by the state of our country's mental health treatment for children.  The Children's Hospital time, when Janey was a "boarder", was hell.  I don't have another term for it.  It was hell, hellish.  The Bradley hospital is a lovely place, full of kind people.  I know Janey was treated well there.  But it is an extremely short term solution, and in the end, it changed almost nothing.

There was a moment as Janey was being released when I was signing forms at the nurse's station.  The nurse and the social worker asked me if I had any questions.  I think they could see the look on my face, a look that was that was a mix of concern and something like internal laughter.  Yes, I had questions.  Just where do we go from here?  What I said was "We just wonder if you have some suggestions on dealing with Janey's difficult behaviors at home?" or something along those lines.  The answer was that they had sent a list of their strategies to Janey's school.  The social worker said "You know, we could send a copy to your house if you want!"  Um, yeah.  That might be good.  Although excuse me for saying I don't hold out huge hopes that the list will solve everything.

But I'll end here on a more cheerful note, one more appropriate for this Christmas season.  We HAVE learned something.  We have learned that we are the ones who are the experts on Janey.  It isn't like there are people out there who can tell us how best to help her.  We are the people who know that.  There are places she can go in times of extreme crisis, if we are able to first endure the horrors of boarding.  We have learned that besides that, one of our best allies is the Boston school system---who stood by us during all this, stayed in close touch and showed a huge level of caring for Janey.

And we learned how many wonderful people out there care for Janey---the readers of this blog and the friends we have made through the blog and throughout our lives.  We were blown away, stunned, overwhelmed, by all the thoughts, prayers, support through monetary help and kindness and love and offers to help and notes and emails and just plain love from all of you.  We might feel alone sometimes in dealing with Janey, but we are not alone.  Far from it.  Thank you, from the deepest parts of our hearts.

Third post of the day!

I've never written three posts in a day before now, and I don't think I ever will again, but I wanted to write about visiting Janey at Bradley Hospital while it was fresh in my mind.  I'm blogging lately for myself as much as anyone, to remember these eventful and challenging days accurately.

The couple pictures here are ones I found on the internet of Bradley.  You can't take pictures there yourself.  The room looks very similar to the common room of the ward Janey is on.  I'm not sure it's the exact same ward, but you can get an idea how nice it is.

We called this morning to make a time to meet with the staff at the hospital, and agreed on 11 am.  We left about 10, thinking the drive was an hour, but it was actually more like an hour and 15 minutes, which was fine, but good to know for the future.  It's a pretty drive at the end, through Providence, a city I've never spent much time in, although both my parents and my sister have lived there at points in their life.  It's great the hospital is south of Boston instead of north of it, as that avoids the horrible traffic that driving through the city always involves.

When we got to the hospital, we had to show ID at the main desk and wait for someone to come get us.  Everything is very, very secure there, which we don't mind at all.  It was striking at Boston Children's Hospital how very UN-secure everything was.  It was only on the weekend you had to show any kind of visitor's badge at all.  Anyone could walk into any room there pretty much unchallenged.  But at Bradley, that would not happen.

The social worker assigned to us came to get us, and we went into a meeting room.  There we talked for a long time to quite a few people---the psychiatrist that has been assigned to Janey, a speech therapist, an occupational therapist, someone I think was a behavior therapist and a few more people whose roles I am not sure about right now!  They asked us many, many good questions about Janey, things like what upsets her, what calms her, what her speech is like, how her behavior has recently changed, what medications she takes, how she is at school, how her sleep and eating area---all that.  Everyone was very understanding and respectful.  The process felt unrushed, unlike anything at all at the regular hospital.

After the long talk, we went to the ward to see Janey.  We had to put our things into a locker---my pocketbook, Tony's jacket, a clipboard---you can't take much of anything in with you.  I did bring in a big bag of clothes for Janey.  Once in the ward, we had to sign in again.  And then we saw Janey!  She looked very cheerful.  There was a relaxed smile on her face we hadn't seen for several weeks.  It was wonderful to see.

The rules of visiting are that we have to visit with Janey in her room, not in the common area.  Therefore, we stayed just a minute, because I couldn't bear to have Janey shut in a room again.  She was happy being active, and it was the middle of their day there.  She was about to have arts and crafts with other kids.  So we put away her clothes, gave her a few big hugs and said goodbye.

The hospital is very strict about talking to other children.  We saw a few boys who are on the ward with Janey, but the rules are that you can greet them if they greet you, but can't talk to them otherwise.  I can see the reasons for this, although I would love to get to know other children like Janey a bit more.

We got the feeling that Janey is already winning over the staff.  They had a few cute stories to tell about her already, including how they did the "Turkey Pokey", like the "Hokey Pokey", and that Janey loved that and did an impromptu solo dance and song after it was over.  I can see Janey being very happy there.  They will keep her busy and give her attention.  I think the question will be more---will this carry over?  Will we get help and ideas and medication changes and so on that will help us once she is home?  I am going to try hard for right now not to think about that, to just be glad she is in such a great place and to try to relax at home.  This is the respite we had wanted.   Not in the way we ever wanted to get it, but I still need to use this time to regroup mentally---between drives to Rhode Island.  I am certainly going to sleep well tonight, and I hope Janey does too, a whole state away from me.

The long day's journey into hope

As I write this, I am at home.  Janey is in Rhode Island, at Bradley Hospital, a children's psychiatric hospital.  I am going to try to write about the last few days---days that seem like a long, long dream---not always a bad dream---more like the confused, meandering type dream with many elements that seem to not make sense, but a general feeling at the end of hopefulness.

Wednesday morning---Janey woke groggily after a fairly solid night of sleep.  She woke a few times, still obviously under the influence of the anesthesia and the extra medication she had been getting.  She kept falling back asleep after just being up a few minutes.  Her blood pressure was often low when it was checked, and she wasn't very steady on her feet.  Tony came by before work, and I snuck out for my daily cup of Au Bon Pain coffee---a lifesaver.  After he went to work, my amazing friend Maryellen came to help.  It was fantastic having her there on both Monday and Wednesday.  If you ever have the misfortune to be a "boarder" in a hospital, waiting for a psych placement, I hope you have a friend like Maryellen.

That day, Wednesday, is a bit of a haze in my mind, as it was I think in Janey's mind.  I know I was visited by several people.  One was the psychiatrist on Janey's case, who I will not talk about a great deal here.  I will just summerize by saying she saw Janey for about 10 minutes on Monday night, when I was home and Tony was with her, and from those 10 minutes was able to feel that she was "delightful" and "prone to moodiness".  Okay.  Both are very, very true, but not exactly the impression that others had gotten of her, especially those who were bitten or attacked by her.  Enough said.  Regardless of that opinion, she was continuing the search for a inpatient hospital for Janey.  At that point, the most likely candidate was Hempstead Hospital in New Hampshire.  They had her on their waiting list, and were just waiting to see if a patient was discharged on Thursday.

A few other people came by.  One visit was the speech therapist and the child life therapist (I think).  They wanted to make a schedule for Janey, using picture cards.  Janey was out cold when they visited----I tried to rouse her, as she had been sleeping too much, but couldn't.  They said they would come back later in the day.  The most striking visit was from the hospital chaplain.  She said she knew I had been there a while and wanted to know if I wanted to talk.  Yes, indeed, I did.  I am not a very religious person, but there are no atheists in foxholes.  Maryellen stayed with Janey and we went to a private room to talk.  It was wonderful.  She was a rabbi, but our talk was not really about religion---more about helping me think about how to go forward.  I have rarely had a better talk with anyone.

Later in the day, Janey woke a bit more.  The speech therapist came back, with a PECS type board (little cards with velcro on the back and pictures of various activities on the front, to make up a schedule)  She was very well meaning, and such a schedule might be great in another situation, but the fact was that we were confined to one room, and there simply weren't a lot of choices of activity.  Janey has also never been a huge fan of PECS, which her schools have figured out.  It struck me that the time spent making up the fairly elaborate board could have been used one on one with Janey, giving her some help and us a bit of a break.

Wednesday night, Janey again slept fairly well.  I was feeling that she was a bit overmedicated.  She had been getting extra Risperadol several times when she lashed out, to help calm her, and she was starting to seem very hard to really wake up.  I decided if possible, I would avoid further extra doses.

As Janey woke Thursday morning, she was not in a happy mood.  She started what she had been doing often during the stay---moaning out "Mama!  Daddy!" and crying.  She at one point jumped out of bed and ran toward the current "sitter", a very nice woman, and scratched her.  I managed to calm her down, and soon Tony arrived.  He had worked on Wednesday, but we decided he would stay home on Thursday and Friday.  We settled in to wait for news on the hospital transfer, which we were told we'd get around 10:30.

At about 11, the social worker came in to fill us in.  She walked in ready to tell us there was no new news, but as she arrived, she got a text telling her that there was a place for Janey.  The place was not at Hemstead Hospital, as we had been anticipating, but at Bradley Hospital, in Rhode Island.  We were thrilled there was a place anywhere, thrilled in a way you can probably only be after spending 6 days in the hospital with a very agitated autistic 10 year old who can't leave their room.

I am going to write the rest of the story up to this morning in just a little bit---I thought I would divide this part up as this is getting long.  I am going to interspace a few pictures of Janey at the hospital.

I again thank everyone who is following this journey.  Your comments, thoughts, prayers and ideas mean more to me than I can ever, every express.

Inexplicable Screaming

Here's a picture of Janey outside.  She is completely happy, having a wonderful time.  We are all playing with a remote control toy in the glorious fall afternoon.

Here is Janey literally seconds later.  She is screaming, as loudly as it's possible to scream, the scream that anyone hearing would be forgiven in thinking is the scream of someone badly hurt.

What happened in between?  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  I challenge even the most devoted believer in behaviorism to figure that scream out.  It had no trigger.  No external trigger, anyway.

What happens?  Does Janey remember something that upsets her?  Does she picture some way things might go very wrong?  Does she just feel like screaming?

This scream, this scream I don't even think you can picture unless you've heard it, keeps us from doing so much.  We had to come inside when she started screaming.  We have no choice.  We have to leave a store if she screams there, leave a restaurant, leave anyplace.  And lest that seem like the reason for her screaming, often, as soon as we leave, she screams again.  There is no pattern we can figure out.

Now, a short time later, Janey is perfectly happy.  She moves on fast.  We don't.  I want to understand the screaming.  I want to help my sweet girl with whatever makes her so very sad, or angry, or scared.  I would do anything to help her, if only I knew what to do.

What does Janey think about?

Of course, we never really know what anyone else thinks about.  But with Janey, I have no inkling at all.  She never refers to past events.  She never tells me what she does when she's not with me.  She has never told me a dream.  She's never told me about a disappointment she felt.  She's never said what she hopes the future holds.  She's never even told me the little things, like what her favorite color is.  Her mind is a mystery to me.

I get glimpses of Janey's mind only by her telling me her immediate wants, and even those are limited to a very few categories---ones relating to food, videos, going outside or in the car or wanting someone to lie down with her or go away from lying down with her.  I know what foods she likes and what movies she likes.  But I don't know if she likes school.  I don't know if she likes certain kids her in class better than others.  I don't know if she wishes she could talk more, if she wishes she could read.  I have no idea.

I often look at Janey's face, trying to figure out what is inside, in her mind.  So often, her face doesn't let those secrets out.  She so often has what I think of as her reserved look.  Some people call it an autistic look, and indeed, it's a look that I think is common with a lot of autistic kids.    It's a guarded look, a look that seems to be designed to keep her safe from being asked to do things she doesn't want to do, safe from well-meant but invasive demands--- "Look at me!  Tell me with words what you want!  Tell me about school!  Answer me!"  It seems to be a way she retreats into herself, closes herself up.  Maybe autism is the ultimate way of wanting privacy---she keeps her counsel.  But oh, how I wish she would, or she could, let me know what she is thinking, even just a little.

Starting the New School

Today was the day.  After months of decisions, meetings, plans, emotions...today was the day Janey started at her new school, the Lee Elementary School, in an all-autism classroom.  Those of you who have been reading my blog a while know what a very, very tough decision this was for us.  But after talking to and thinking with many people who care about Janey, we decided it was the right decision for now.  Janey deserves the chance to see how she can do when in an atmosphere specifically for kids like her.  Leaving the Henderson school, for now, is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life.  But we are hopeful it's not for good, and today, I am feeling hopeful about the Lee School.

The above picture shows Janey getting on a school bus for the first time ever (except field trips).  She got on like she'd done it all her life!  We were terrified, but not her!  The bus comes VERY early (6:51am) and so we had to wake her up and get her ready MUCH earlier than she is used to (her old school is what they call here in Boston a late school---it starts at 9:15, but the Lee School is an early school, starting at 7:20)  She work up a bit reluctantly, but went out to wait for the bus willingly, and when it showed up, she hopped right on!  The bus was fairly full (not always the case here in Boston) and there was an aide to help her get settled.

Tony and I then followed the bus to her school.  We parked and walked over to where the buses were, and were there when she got off the bus.  She looked a little stunned just then, but immediately many teachers and other adults were around to help her and us.  Her teacher was out waiting for the bus, so we got to meet her right away.  She seemed great!  She offered to have us come up to the classroom with Janey and her, which we did.

Janey's only moment of upset while we were there was when we went up stairs to get to her room.  The Henderson is one floor, and I think stairs to school seemed odd to her.  But after a moment, she readily went up, and into her room.  The room was lovely---nicer than the other rooms I'd seen at that school---tidy and open and inviting.  There are 9 kids in the class, 3 of which (including Janey) are girls---unusual in an autism classroom!  A few of the boys were already there, and one cute guy said "Hey!  I know her!  I know her from the bus!" as if they were long time friends and not kids who had shared a bus a few minutes before for the first time!  We loved that.  Janey looked very happy in the room.  She noticed immediately that the teacher was pregnant (which I hadn't noticed) and went over to have a look at her belly, something she loves to do!  After just a minute or two in the room, the ABA specialist that works with Janey, Michelle, came in to be with Janey also, something that meant a great deal to me---a familiar face for Janey and for us.  Tony and I left after only 5 minutes or so, feeling confident Janey was in good hands.

So, so far so good.  I think things went as well as they did in large part because Janey's old school worked so hard to prepare her (and us).  Nobody made us feel in the slightest like we were being forced out, or not given a choice, and everyone, especially Janey's fantastic teacher Amy and the amazing principal Ms. Lampron, made sure we realized that Janey is welcome back at any time at all.  In fact, because the Lee School has a half day on Fridays, and Friday is a huge day for Freddy at school (he is participating in a major speech contest and wants us there), Janey will go back to the Henderson for the whole day Friday!  That means a lot to everyone, I think.  It made yesterday not a goodbye day but just a "see you in a few days" day.  I am as always so grateful and amazed by the love and caring that nearly every person we've ever had dealings with in the Boston public schools has shown us.

And so we start a new chapter with Janey.  I am feeling more hopeful than I had thought I'd feel.  I think the next few years might be full of a lot of surprises from her.  It's going to be a huge change, and I am well aware of Janey's tendency to have a honeymoon period at the start of new things.  I am sure there will be tough days ahead, but today was far better than I had thought it would be, and I thank everyone that has helped us get to this point.

Little Triumphs of Christmas

Christmas has come and gone, and overall, it was a good one.  I was very tense about Christmas this year, as I guess in some ways I always am, but it seemed like more this year.  However, I used a "fake it until you make it" method (a phrase a friend told me that I very much like) and kept plugging away at Christmas stuff, and when the day came, it all seemed to work.

As you can see from the pictures, Janey actually opened two presents, and looked at what was in them.  That was huge for me.  She wasn't that excited, but she did seem to get the process, and was pleased with her nail polish and her plush Sesame Street count---the presents shown here.

You can see she wasn't too into her stocking, but she did take a few things out of it and looked at them briefly!

I think the best part of Christmas with Janey this year was Christmas Eve.  As we almost always do, we went to the house of a family friend.  The picture above is our traditional picture of our kids and the friends' daughter, in front of the tree.  This year, it was going to be a little bit bigger crowd than usual, and we weren't sure how Janey would do.  She did quite well!  She did something she sometimes does when there's a lot of people---she surveyed the crowd and found someone she liked the looks of, and sat on their lap.  In this case, it was the girlfriend of our friends' son, and the girlfriend's mother, people she had never met before.  They were wonderful with her and pleased she picked them, I think!  She did well with the two year old boy that was there, the grandson of the friends, which I had been nervous about---Janey can sometimes be aggressive with younger and smaller children, but she mostly ignored him, although at one point, while we all held our breath, she briefly put her arm around him.  There was one screaming incident there, when Tony had taken her out of the room to calm her down.  Tony and I both realized that how he and I handled that screaming made a different.  We stayed calm and acted like it wasn't a big deal.  I said something like "This screaming isn't uncommon.  It's fairly normal for Janey" and I carried on as if it wasn't happening, and that seemed to relax everyone about it.  We've realized, over time, that how we as parents react to things Janey does sets the tone.

The Christmas Eve night and Christmas day made me realize that Janey is making progress.  It's slow, but it's there.  In little, small ways, she is becoming more mature, and we are becoming better at being her parents.  Some days it doesn't feel that way at all, and if you were watching us from outside, you might not see it.  But we are learning all the time, and so is she.  As we look to the New Year, we feel hope---hope mixed of course with fear, with some sadness, with challenges and with acceptance of the life we have been given, but with hope nonetheless.

Routines...Once again, I was clueless

If Janey ever does learn to talk well, I imagine one of the first things she'll have to say to me is "Why did it take you so darn long to figure out basic things about me?"  I don't know if Janey's personality is showing itself more strongly lately, or if I'm just paying more attention, or what, but this week, I am realizing that Janey really does like routines.

You are probably saying to yourself "Is this woman clueless or what?  Her daughter is autistic!  Don't all autistic kids like routines?"  Well, probably most of them do.  But with Janey, it's not always easy to tell.  Her problems with communication often leave us completely not aware what she is upset about.  The problem is complicated by the fact that Janey has a fantastic memory for small details.  That results in routines that are in her head, but that we would have no earthly way of knowing about or following, because she can't tell us about them, and we haven't even noticed they WERE routines.  Another barrier to me figuring this out---Janey is not at all bothered by new situations.  I guess, thinking about it, that makes sense.  Brand new situations don't HAVE a routine.  This explains something that always confused me---why the early weeks of school have always been among Janey's best weeks of the year.  I always thought it was that she was very happy to get back to school, and that's some of it, but it's also that she hasn't yet got the school year routines carved in stone, being in a new classroom and all, so it's not as disturbing if someone doesn't follow them.

A great example of how I'm slowly figuring this out----this weekend, I was getting Janey dressed to go shopping with Tony.  We did the pullup, the clothes, washing off her feet (as she somehow attracts dirt to her feet like a magnet) and washing hands and face.  I decided to skip brushing hair.  Her hair looked okay, and she hates it being brushed.  Her long hair is one thing I'm probably very selfish about.  I don't want her to have short hair.  I love her long hair, and I think she likes it too.  But brushing is a battle.  However, Janey balked at the door, went back in and grabbed the hairbrush and handed it to me.  I had skipped part of the routine.  I thought maybe because she was ASKING for her hair brushed, she'd be happier about it, but she wasn't---she screamed for it just the same.  But screaming or not, she felt it needed to be done.

Another example---one of the first times we took Janey to a neighborhood where my favorite thrift store is, Tony took William and her to a restaurant near it.  It was a rare attempt at restaurant eating, and by reports, not that successful.  She has some fries, but quickly got restless and they had to take most of the food home.  However, now every single time to go to the neighborhood and walk past the restaurant, she tries to pull us in there, open or not.  Somehow, that got processed as a routine, but I am quite sure if we did take her, she wouldn't like it any better than the first time.

I am sure there are hundreds of other routines I'm not aware I'm supposed to be following.  I think a lot of Janey's random screams and fits are because someone is not doing what they are supposed to be doing.  Once in a while, she can silently correct things, like how she often moves my arms or legs when we are reading or snuggling, so they are in the right positions, or how she finds a bag we once got of small red cocktail type straws that have become the only acceptable straw for chocolate milk.  But so many things are out of her control.  It's not that I would do them all, if I knew them, but if she could talk more and understand more, I could explain to her why we couldn't.  I could avoid the situations that would set up the need for a routine to be followed.  I would not be as surprised by her screams if I knew I wasn't doing what she thought I should.  For now, I will have to just do the best I can, with my memory that is not nearly as sharp as hers.

And now, for a bonus, a picture from Janey at school today!  It doesn't really have to do with the routines, but I love it anyway, and it shows how she is included and happy at school, working on a science experiment.  Thanks, Amy!

Birthday ups and downs

Janey is nine today.  Most other years, on her birthday I wrote sort of a summing up of how she was doing.  Today, though, I thought I'd write more about her birthday itself, as a way to share the ups and downs of special days with a child with autism.

The last few days, I've been talking a lot to Janey about her birthday, trying to get her prepared.  I knew they were having a party for her at summer school, as it was her last day there and her birthday, and I wanted her to get used to the idea.  I sang her the birthday song quite a bit, which she sometimes has a hard time with, as do very many kids on the spectrum.  I think with Janey, part of it is that the song is often sung off-key, and that upsets her a lot.  But it's also a time when all attention is focused on her, and that can be too hard, too.

I decided I wanted Janey's birthday to be as low-key as possible, and wanted to do things she would enjoy all day.  The time while she was at school, I planned to focus on her brother, who shares her birthday.  He turned 16 today, and I always want to make sure his birthday is special as well as Janey's.  As their needs are obviously very different, it can make for some tough decisions.

Janey started the day in a mood.  She didn't like the clothes I tried to put on her, and threw a tantrum and screamed.  I decided what clothes she wore was less important than her having a calm day, so I let her choose her clothes herself, and she made a pretty nice choice, and was happy by the time we left for school...  While she was at school, the rest of us went to the mall, and got Freddy his present, a couple pairs of sneakers.  I managed also to get a few presents for Janey, at a nice store at the mall called Marbles, the Brain Store.  I went there because I'd read they have a lot of toys that work well for autistic kids, and they did---most for higher functioning kids, but I got Janey a very cool circle of wooden balls of various colors, which is sort of a big fidget toy, and also a wooden robot that can be folded up into a square.  No pieces to lose with either, they look nice and they are something she can play around with.  I felt very happy to find them.

Then we went to pick up Janey, and it seemed she had a great day.  They really did it up for her!  Here's a picture...

 of Janey with her teacher and one of her paraprofessionals.  They gave her cake, pizza, a balloon, a bag of presents---she is a lucky girl!   She left the school happily, walking along with Freddy, her birthday twin.

Then we went to a friend's house.  She wanted to give a present to Janey and Freddy.  That was probably the high point of Janey's day, as she loved the present, a giant pillow (thanks, Christine!!).  She was happy there, but we just stayed a short time as we were headed to the store for cake.

Janey was good at the store and picked out her own cake, and we headed home for a little family party with just us and Janey's uncle.  That is when things started to go downhill.  I guess Janey had had enough birthday.  I think she was tired, and just wanted cake without all the ceremony.  We did the candles and sang, and I tried to get a picture of Janey as we sang.  I have always vowed not to take pictures of Janey as she cries, but this time, it just happened.  I have been trying to decide whether to put this picture on here, and decided I would.  I've always tried to be honest when writing, and Janey's screaming and sadness are a huge part of her life.  It would seem kind of untrue to her to only post happy or neutral pictures.  So here's Janey, very sad about the birthday song and candles...

Janey actually cheered up a good deal in just a minute after that, when it was finally time to have the cake.  She likes blowing out candles, and she did her best, with Freddy helping too, as they shared a cake for the first time ever!  (I got a second cake for Freddy to have at a party with his friends later this weekend)

After the cake, Janey had had it.  We were upstairs at my brother-in-laws for the cake, so I took her downstairs.  She screamed and cried for quite a while.  Finally I thought to say to her "Your birthday is all over now!" which is not what you'd think the birthday girl would want to hear, but she looked hugely relieved!

It's so hard to know how to handle occasions like birthdays with Janey.  I wonder sometimes if it were just Janey's birthday, and not Freddy's too, if I would choose to almost not celebrate it, or keep it so low key as to almost not be detectable.  But somehow that doesn't seem like the right thing to do.  I want Janey to have memories of a cake, of presents (I gave her the presents just a little bit ago, unwrapped as she prefers, and she looked them over, but wasn't quite ready to be interested in them)  She certainly loved the pillow, and the cards she got, and she seemed to like the party at school.  Maybe overall she didn't cry much more than a lot of days lately, but it felt like more because I had been wanting so much to make it just a happy day for her.  But that is often impossible.  I guess I just can do what I always try to do---do the best I can and hope for the best.  

Happy Birthday, my sweet nine year old girl!