Nana and Grandpa at the hotel house

Janey at the cheese and cracker reception time

This past Saturday, I realized how very long it had been since Janey had seen my parents.  I last saw them in October, when I went up there for a few days, but for Janey, it had been almost a year.  They used to drive down here from Maine for the day, a drive that is almost 4 hours each way, but as they get a bit older, and after my father's accident falling from a ladder, they can't make the trip as easily.  On the spot Saturday, I decided that despite all that was keeping us from getting away, we'd go spend a couple nights in Portland, half way in-between us, and have them come down for the day to see us at our hotel (Janey always calls them "hotel houses").

Breakfast, which Janey did not care for

In general, Janey likes trips.  That is, she likes them under her own terms.  It must be her music in the car, music that she wants us to change constantly.  Once we get to the hotel, except for car rides, she doesn't want to go much of anyplace.  Going away with her is not really a get-away or a vacation as just more a change of scenery.  It's great she doesn't mind being away from home.  But it's also harder to keep her happy in a hotel.  At home, if we have to say no, she often screams.  In a hotel, you really can't have someone screaming the way Janey does.  We can't stand our ground unless we want complaints and the front desk calling us to see if everything is okay, something that has happened a few times.  So, we keep her happy.  On this trip, it meant letting her take about 10 showers, having her play her iPad at full blast on YouTube Kids with the same videos 20 times an hour, and working on keeping her calm when she woke up at 2 am the 2nd night.  It was relaxing to come home.

Janey checking out a water feature in the lobby

However, it was worth it to see my parents.  We did manage a lunch out at a buffet, sort of a more downmarket Old Country clone.  Everyone found plenty to eat.  We got pizza from the hotel restaurant at night.  We exchanged Christmas presents, which we had not been able to do any sooner, and we sang some Christmas songs---Janey's favorite part of Christmas.

My parents commented on how clearly Janey sings, in contrast to her speaking, and that made me face something I haven't faced much.  Janey used to speak very clearly, when she did speak.  She doesn't any longer.  Often, no-one can understand what she is saying but Tony and me.  I hate thinking it, but it's become pretty obvious her speech is getting worse over the years.  But the singing---still lovely.  I sang the beginning of lines from carols, and she finished them, perfectly.  Hearing her sing parts of "O Holy Night" brings tears to my eyes every time.

Janey sees Nana, as Tony looks on!

During the car ride back, Tony and I talked about some small changes we are going to make with Janey.  For about 4 years now, we have been pretty much doing whatever it takes to make her happy.  Overall, it's been a huge help in making all of us happy.  But lately, she has become more frantic in her demands, and she doesn't seem happy even when she gets what she wants.  The big thing that has become almost impossible is the music in the car.  Janey will not listening to about 95% of the songs we put on, songs she has previously liked.  She just constantly says "Music please, music!" which means change the song.  This makes it very hard for Tony to drive when he's driving alone with her, because if you DON'T immediately change the song, she screams, sometimes kicks the seat, and makes it very hard to concentrate.  We decided on a new rule.  We'll change music only after listening to the rest of whatever song we are hearing.  We explained this to her, and then put the rule in place, and after not much push-back, she seemed to get it.  She didn't like it, but she got it.

Janey listening to Grandpa!

We decided to put a similar rule in place about putting on TV shows and videos, once we got home.  Again, she wasn't pleased, but she seemed to understand.  We am always balancing her need for control with Tony's and my need for sanity.  We are all in this for the long haul, and we as parents were starting to quite frankly be at the ends of our ropes.

Being away, even for a few nights, can give some new perspectives. They aren't always easy things to face.  We need to try to figure out Janey's speech regression.  We need to take back some control of routines that have started to make our lives very tough.  We need to find a way to see my parents more, while still being around for Tony's brother, who has been in and out of the hospital for a very long time now and who has severe health issues.  We need to take a hard look at our finances, which with Tony's retirement have become much more of an issue, making even 2 nights in a hotel a luxury we can't often do.  We need to have a life that better balances Janey's needs with our own.  None of these are easy tasks.  But they are necessary.

"Kitty" or When Will I Ever Learn?

A lot of my time with Janey is spent doing what she calls "Snuggle on Mama's Bed".  It's in fact her bed, not mine, but we do snuggle.  Generally, we just lie there next to each other and talk.  Or I talk, and sing, and tell stories, and read books, and so on, and Janey smiles and laughs.  She talks very little, most of the time, but she's very happy to just be there together.

Sometimes, this snuggle time can start to feel like a one man show.  It's a very well received one man show, but still, at times I feel like I'm running of material, and I wonder if it really makes a difference what I say or do at all.

Last night, after a good long time snuggling, I said to Janey "You know, I know in your mind you are thinking a lot of things, and listening to what I'm saying, and maybe wanting to ask me things, but you aren't saying them out loud.  I can't hear inside your head.  I can only hear things you say. I love to hear you talk.  If you said 'Kitty' right now, I'd be very, very surprised and happy!"

Some background---Janey loves me to act surprised.  I'll often go through pretend emotions while we're cuddling, saying that I'm going to show happy or sad or angry, but her favorite is always surprised.  I'll ham it up, opening my mouth wide and waving my arms around.

For a few minutes after I talked, Janey just looked at me with a huge smile.  And then she quietly and sweetly said "Kitty!"

Of course, I played it up---a huge show of surprise.  She smiled her huge, wonderful smile.

And then, as I so often do, I had to push her.  I said "You know, if you said the name of one of your brothers, I'd be VERY VERY surprised!"

I hate it when I do that.  And I'm always doing it---looking for just a little more, trying to force Janey to prove again what she just proved, what I already know, that she's almost always listening and understanding what I say, whether she shows it or not.

After I said the brothers line, I saw the look that breaks my heart, the look that shows she's shutting down.  Her eyes lose their glow, and look away.  She looks not happy but instead tense, worried.  She sees that now we aren't playing a fun game, but instead are in the midst of quiz time, testing time.

We stayed there cuddling for maybe ten minutes more, and she never did say "William" or "Freddy".  I made myself stay quiet.  Finally, I said "William and Freddy!  That's the names of your brothers!"  But still, she had the tense look.

Why do I do that?  I KNOW she knows her brothers' names.  I KNOW she listens to me.  Why do I have to get it proven to me, at the cost of her happiness?

And of course this relates to the problems with ABA type programs.  They are all dependent on the child having to prove over and over and over and over that they do know what they know.  In a way, they seem especially designed to torment kids like Janey.  I don't think all kids with autism are like Janey is, in her strong negative reactions to being quizzed, tested on what she's already shown to know, but I think a lot of them are.  Once Janey knows something, she knows it.  She's shown over and over that she doesn't forget anything.  But she's not always going to perform on demand.

I'd like to say I'll never make the mistake I made last night again.  I'd like to think I've learned, and I'll stop pushing her to re-prove she is listening.  But I will probably do it again.  I'm a slow learner, and I don't always remember what I've learned, unlike my sweet girl.

Reflecting on progress at the Whole Foods

At times, progress with Janey can feel glacially slow.  It can stop for long periods, or even go backwards.  However, yesterday morning during a trip to Whole Foods, I realized that Janey has made a lot of progress in the past years, and even just over this summer.

It started with the car ride, and the music in the car.  Earlier this summer, we were going crazy with Janey's constant need to have us switch songs.  We would hear about 10 seconds of a song, and she'd say "Music, please!  Music!" which meant she wanted us to go to the next song.  We decided to gradually stand our ground on a few songs here and there, just calmly saying "I really like this one!  I'm going to listen to it!"  Then after that song was done, we'd switch as much as she wanted to for a while more.  It was surprising how quickly she got used to listening to songs that weren't her total choice, and actually liking some of them.  On this ride, I played a song list of songs from the early 80s, my high school era, and Janey seems to like that era too.  She rocked out a lot and I was very happy!

Janey at the Whole Foods

At the Whole Foods, I realized as we went in that I really don't hold Janey's hand in stores any more.  She's never been much of an eloping threat.  She doesn't run away from us much.  I still always hold her hands on the sidewalk or in parking lots, as she isn't as aware of car danger as I wish she was, but in stores, she does extremely well just walking on her own.  It makes it easier for me, and more fun for her, I think.

I told Janey before we went in that she could pick out some salami.  That's her biggest treat, the extremely expensive salami rack at the Whole Paycheck.  She picked out some very thinly sliced kind that I think if you stuffed it all in, you could eat in one bite, at a cost much closer to ten dollars than five, but a promise is a promise.  And I realized she totally understands now that you have to pay and get out of the store before you eat.  We used to wait until the very end of the trip to get her treat, and then if Tony and I were both shopping, we'd buy hers separately and go right out for her to eat it, but she happily this time dropped it in the cart and didn't mention it while we shopped.

As we walked the aisles, Janey started singing "Oh Susanna"  I love to hear her sing, and she wasn't at all loud, just tuneful.  And we got looks, but not really stares.  Or maybe I'm made progress too, and I don't see things as stares.  We got a lot of smiles, and I felt proud of Janey.  I'm almost always proud of Janey inside, but this was a different kind of proud, a feeling like "Sure, she's different, but she's also so cool, so pretty, so interesting, just a neat kid"  I was on a bit of a high, just thinking how wonderful it was to be walking the store with so few worries about Janey.

We checked out, Janey still being patient, went out to the car, and I asked her if she wanted the salami in the car.  She said no, so I put it with the rest in the trunk.  On the way home, she asked for salami about three times, but each time, when I reminded her we'd have it at home and that it was in the trunk, she accepted the answer calmly.  We got home, and she ate her salami in about two seconds flat.

Janey's reserved look, like at the Five Guys

Today, Freddy and I took Janey to Five Guys for lunch.  Janey looked nervous as we got there, and said as we got out "Whole Foods?"  I said today we were going to a different place, and she didn't fight it.  She said "no" at first as we were at the door, but we coaxed her in, saying "You can have peanuts and french fries!"  She wasn't exactly thrilled to be there, no big smiles or anything, but she sat and eat and behaved.  Thinking about that, it's almost a bigger deal than the Whole Foods, that she would do that well at something she didn't prefer.  She did a whooping kind of scream a few times at the end, not her angry scream but more like a "I just feel like making noise" scream, and we reminded her to be quieter, and she listened and did.  I again noticed looks, but didn't feel they were stares.

It's been a long summer.  And a hugely hot and humid summer, a lot of the time.  But for the first summer in a while without summer school, seeing Janey the last few days, I do think there's been progress, behavioral progress especially.  It's a wonderful feeling, seeing that.

School starts two weeks from today.  I'm still keeping close tabs on that special day.  But I don't feel desperate or close to breaking, as I've felt some summers.  My Janey is growing up, and our journey together, to mutual understanding and compromise and acceptance, is marching on along with the years.

Luck and Joy

Janey's annual IEP was last week.  For some reason, I was feeling edgy about it.  I don't know why.  It's about the 30th IEP I've been to as a parent, and there wasn't any big issue I needed to address. 

When the meeting was over, I realized what I think had been getting me worked up.  It was the feeling that somehow I SHOULD have something big to insist on or ask for.  And I didn't.  We left the meeting extremely pleased with all we had heard.  We are so lucky.  Everyone there is truly on Janey's team, not just in name but in reality.  They love Janey.  They get a kick out of her.  They see her as an interesting and valued person.  And that is what I've always wanted in those who worked with my children, and it's what I've almost always gotten.

A joyful reunion

One great piece of news from the meeting is that Janey's teacher will have her again next year.  7th and 8th grade at her school works that way, I found out.  I adore Janey's teacher.  She is absolutely wonderful.  I loved hearing her stories about Janey---stories that showed she knows how to encourage Janey to do her best while still respecting her for who she is.  The OT at the meeting was terrific too.  One thing she said that really stuck with me was that she laughs 10 times during a session with Janey.  I love that attitude.  Janey can truly be a lot of fun to be with, if you get her, and the people at her school get her.

It was a very nice weekend last weekend.  Freddy was home all last week from college.  Then, Friday night, as Tony was making dinner, I heard him say "You aren't going to believe this!  I can't believe this!"  I could tell by the sound of his voice that something very unusual had happened.  He sounded shocked---almost scared.  I jumped up and saw, coming through our door, my older son William!  He had flown in from Chicago, where he's a grad student at the University of Chicago, as a total surprise!  He wanted to give us a shock, and he did!  He was here from Friday to Monday, and having all three kids in the house for the weekend---well, that was wonderful.

That night, we ordered takeout, and were all eating it together in the living room.  It struck me something seemed different, a little off.  And then I realized what it was---Janey was just sitting and eating and being part of the crowd.  She wasn't crying, she wasn't making demands, she wasn't needing extra attention.  We were just chowing down as a family like we love to do.  It was one of the first times I remember us all being together in a regular type family activity where she didn't stand out at all.

I wonder often---if someone was viewing us from outside, how would they see things?  I know, in reality, there are still many, many times in an average weekend that Janey gets very upset.  There are almost always times when she screams, or bites her arm, or demands a car ride RIGHT NOW, or so on.  When I look back on a weekend, though, those times sort of get edited out now.  I think we can do that because unlike in the past, they don't last for long.  She gets upset, we deal with it one way or another, she settles down and it's fine.  It's a combination of things.  We learn more all the time about how to best help her, and she learns more all the time about us---that we WILL take her for a ride if she say we will, that if we don't have her preferred food right that moment, we WILL get it in time, that if she isn't getting all our attention right that second, she will get it when it's her turn.

Many people with a child like Janey seem to find the kind of settled peace that we have as she gets older.  I think a lot of it is acceptance.  If I put things in a negative way, I could say it's also giving up on certain things.  We don't feel much sadness or despair over what Janey can't do, most of the time.  She is who she is.  We don't expect her to never get upset, never scream or cry or bite her arm.  We know those times are part of her, just like the times she dances and sings and laughs.

As William was getting ready to go home yesterday, he remarked on Janey.  He said "You know, overall lately she's a joy"  You should have seen her when she saw William at first.  She was overcome with happiness to see her big brother.  At one point, he took her with him to Dunkin Donuts, and he couldn't believe how she waited patiently, how she just enjoyed the experience, being with her brother and getting a treat.  William has been here for all of it.  Hearing him say that---it meant a lot.  Freddy said similar things too.  She is lucky to have the brothers she has, and they are lucky to have her.  And we are lucky to have all three of them.

Jealousy, Anger, Boredom, Fear....

In my own mind, there is a list of acceptable emotions to have as a parent, especially the parent of a child with autism. Happiness, pride, love, determination, hope, curiosity, amusement, empathy---you'll notice the list is full of positive or encouraging feelings. But there's also a list of feelings I classify as, if not forbidden, at least not to be spoken of much. I'm going to try hard here to be honest about some of those.


Jealousy


In my ideal version of myself, I'm never jealous of other parents or kids. I delight in what Janey can do, and never think about what other kids are doing. In reality, sometimes I am so jealous it's hard to describe. I see other girls her age on Facebook, doing all the regular 13 year old girl things, and I can barely stand it. I look at other mother/daughter relationships, with all their ups and down, and I long for that kind of relationship in my own life. Every child with autism that functions at a higher level than Janey can make the green-eyed monster come out in me. The jealousy isn't all the time, but when it shows up, it's powerful.


Anger


We got a new couch recently. For the few of you that have seen our furniture, you know it was highly, highly overdue. It's nothing fancy, but I had this dream of it looking fairly good for maybe, say, a month. This Sunday, as Tony drove Freddy back to school and I stayed with Janey, against my better judgement, I went to the bathroom while Janey was watching TV. In the few minutes that took, Janey got a bottle of salad dressing out of the refrigarator and, for reasons known only to herself, poured the whole bottle on the new couch. I don't get angry that easily, but I made an exception there. I was furious. Life with Janey presents a lot of moments like the Couch Incident. In some ways, it makes no sense to be angry at Janey. It does no good, I don't think she usually gets why I'm angry, it doesn't do anything but get us both worked up. But having a child who does inexplicable and destructive things on a fairly regular basis---yes, I get angry sometimes.


Boredom


For some reason, this feels like one of the most taboo emotions to have when dealing with your autistic child. I feel like I'm supposed to consider every moment an exciting learning opportunity, a chance to teach and help. However, the truth is, sometimes life with Janey can get boring. Her favorite thing to do with me is what she calls “Snuggle on Mama's bed”. In reality, it's her bed, and it's not usually really snuggling, it's lying there next to each other. My role in this game is to sing little songs and recite nursery rhymes and otherwise carry on a monologue. Sometimes this time feels wonderful, a time of connection between us. Other times, though, I am just plain bored of it. Janey doesn't want me to sing or recite or talk about anything new. She is open to new music in the car, but not when we are snuggling and I'm singing. She doesn't want to talk herself, or be asked questions, or listen to any books except a few nursery rhyme ones and occasionally “Go Dog Go”. I'd say we spend a couple hours a day in this mode. And it gets boring. Very, very boring, at times.


Fear


Recently, there's been attention in the news to the hideously high rate of abuse of those with special needs. I can't read through these articles, but I've read enough. When I think about that kind of thing...well, often I just can't. The fear would overwhelm me. And in the background, there is a fear that never ever goes away, the fear of what will happen to Janey when Tony and I are gone. When I think about her in any kind of situation where she is scared or confused or being hurt or not cared for---the fear is horrible. Add to that the fear that was planted, planted deep, when she lived with a burst appendix for three days without us knowing, the fear of the harm that can come from her lack of ability to communicate well...the fear is always, always there.



There you have it---the emotions that often get left out of what is openly discussed when talking about this special needs parenting gig. It's not an easy job. It's the job I'm committed to for life, and my love of Janey is my pay. But like any job, no matter how well paid, there are days you just want to gripe, to speak openly about the sometimes tough work conditions with others on the work site. Thanks for listening.

Pre-Christmas thoughts

"Does Janey look forward to Christmas?"  A friend asked me that a little while back, and the question has been occupying my mind quite a bit.  At the time, I said something like "I'm really not sure", but as I think about it more, I am pretty sure the answer is no.  Janey doesn't look forward to Christmas, because I don't think she really knows what Christmas is.  

Our tiny tree

I'm sure here a lot of people would disagree with me, and maybe I'm wrong.  Janey knows what Christmas MUSIC is, at least a little, and she would probably be able to say who Santa Claus is, and she could identify a Christmas tree, or a wrapped present, when given the choice of 4 pictures.  But in terms of it being a special day, one with rituals and expectations---no.

I've dealt with this various ways over the years.  Some years, I just went ahead and sort of pretended that she did get Christmas.  I got her presents, I had her hang a stocking, I talked up Santa Claus.  Other years, I didn't do as much, and concentrated more on the boys, or on just enjoying the season in general.  I don't think it made a lot of difference what I did, except in that Janey picks up a lot of her emotional cues from us, and probably she was happier in general when I was more relaxed and cheerful, whatever worked for that in a particular year.

This year, I'm not feeling Christmas a lot.  We got a tiny, tiny tree---a tabletop baby one.  No stocking are going to be hung with care---the boys are old enough for Santa to skip our house, and Janey---well, she's never once actually taken anything out of her stocking on her own, or shown any interest in what was in it, so I don't think she'll mind a bit. The same is true of presents---she's never opened one on her own or cared what was in one once opened.  She's have a couple under the tree, from other people, but I'm not buying anything for her myself.  Instead, we'll do as we have done for a while---her present will be to buy videos to stream on Amazon TV throughout the year, when one of the streaming services decides to drop something she's gotten addicted to.

I don't think giving Janey a typical Christmas, when I tried to, was ever for her.  It was for me.  It didn't hurt anything, but it wasn't something she cared a bit about.  I wonder how many other times I've done things "for" Janey that weren't for her.  As long as those things are benign, as long as she's neutral about them, it's not really an issue, but sometimes, it's harder to tell than it is with this Christmas issue.

Christmas is something different for all of us.  A week ago, Janey sang most of "O Holy Night" to me.  I cried---of course I cried.  That was Christmas for me, and from her happiness while singing it, maybe for her too.  I hope all of you and all your girls and indeed all of your family finds your own Merry Christmas this year.

When Janey got studied and blew our minds

Janey is part of a study of autism at Boston University.  They are interested in kids who are low verbal---who talk but don't talk a lot, and she fits right into that category.  We first started with them just right before all hell started breaking loose, when Janey went to Bradley Hospital and then in fairly short order had her appendix burst, so quite a while went by without us going to the study.  I called them a few months ago and got us started again, and we've been twice since then.

Dedicated parking!

BU has a great setup for the study.  They have a dedicated area, which has been designed to be very autism-friendly.  It's calm feeling, there are toys and books in the waiting area Janey actually has an interest in, they have a dedicated parking space for participants (a BIG deal in the city!) and most of all, everyone we have met working on testing or on interviewing parents seems to be absolutely wonderful at what they do.

Janey seems to love going to the study.  She's never one to have much trouble separating from us, and she goes off happily with the tester while Tony and I get interviewed about her by the head of the study.  The few times we went a few years ago, and the first time we went this go-round, the interviewing lasted as long as Janey's testing, but this last time, we finished the interview and so got an offer to go watch Janey being tested, through a one way mirror.

Well---that is where we got our minds blown.  We saw a Janey we've never, ever seen.  She seemed totally at ease, and very, very on.  She's been in a great mood lately, so that was part of her, but a lot of the credit has to go to the tester, a young woman who had the perfect mix of calm voice, persistence, encouragement and firmness.  

The testing was a mix.  Part of it was identifying pictures, and Janey whizzed through that---words I knew she knew like "cow" and "apple", but lots of action verbs, which I had no idea she really knew.  For example, a picture of a boy swimming got the response "The boy is swimming"---perfect grammar and a full sentence.  With a picture of some birds, Janey first said "bird" and then when asked how many, she actually counted them and correctly answered "four".  We looked at each other in the darkened observation room in amazement.

Some of the tasks were non-verbal things, like sorting silverware or doing little block puzzles.  Janey had no trouble at all with most of them.  Sometimes, she had to be encouraged along a bit, but she didn't get upset, she kept working and she did them!

It was interesting to us that what she consistently got wrong was what I've never had any luck at all teaching her---colors.  She honestly seems to have no clue about colors, and sometimes I wonder if she might be colorblind.  I've been told, though, that many kids with autism have a hard time with colors.  She also gets a little confused on shapes.  She called a star a diamond---sort of like she knew it was one of the more exotic shapes but couldn't bring the name to mind.

Toward the end of the session, Janey was getting a little restless, and she started singing to herself.  It took me a while to recognize the song, but when I did, I was happy---it's a song I love that she's never shown much interest in---"I'd Really Love To See You Tonight".  An old 70's soft rock classic!  She just kept singing the first few lines---"Hello, yeah, it's been a while, not much, how 'bout you?"  She probably sang those 100 times over.  What struck me was how although it looked like she wasn't really paying any attention to the tasks at hand, she kept getting them right.

On the way home, as I processed the whole experience, a few thoughts kept popping up.  One is that Janey's mind truly is different than most.  Not less than most---different than most. It made me think how often I've assumed she was paying no attention, because in her situation I'd not be able to pay attention while screaming or singing or watching a show intently, but from seeing her at work, I realized her mind seems to work on more than one track at once.  

I also kept wondering how often Janey is bored out of her mind.  I've always suspected and in fact felt quite sure she knew more than she showed, but I don't think I realized how much more.  However, it's so hard to access that knowledge, and to know what she knows and how to teach her.  Tony put it well.  He said he always tries to not bring work home mentally, to leave work thoughts at work, and it's like Janey does that with school, and in fact with much she learns in any way.  If it's not something she needs to show in a particular situation, she doesn't show it.  I've asked her to count lots of times, and to use action verbs, and all that---but she seems to feel they aren't something she needs to show she knows, unless it's obviously a testing situation (and then of course only if she is in the mood)

I'm very glad we are part of the BU study. It's the kind of study I heartily support---not one that is aiming to figure out WHY she is autistic (and unspokenly, figuring out how to prevent future autism) but one that is trying to figure out the autistic mind---for that is indeed also my main task in life---figuring out Janey.  It's going to be a lifetime study on my part, and one worthy of the time spent.

A drink and a song

Last night, we decided to live it up a little and get some dinner out---some Burger King.  We ordered just what we felt like, because we are like that, living large, you know.  And then we ate it in the scenic lovely parking lot of the mini mall the Burger King was at.  I told Tony as we ate that I knew when I married him he'd take me some special places, and a night like the one we were having certainly proved I was right.

Seriously, though, we enjoyed ourselves.  I was thinking how in some ways, I'm pretty suited to the lifestyle that life with Janey brings.  I am not much into getting dressed and going out, I wouldn't really call myself unsociable, but I'm probably low-sociable, and I am as happy eating in the car in a parking lot as I would be in a fancy restaurant overlooking the ocean, most of the time.  We had a nice meal, joking around and people-watching.

At one point, Janey asked for a drink of Tony's soda.  He had a big diet Coke (he is a diabetic).  We don't usually like Janey to have soda, but in the spirit of a carefree night, we gave it to her without a lot of thought, and she had a nice big draw of it.

When we got home, it was the time Janey usually goes to sleep, about 7:30, but she wasn't sleeping.  She finally did go down about 8:30, which was fine.  In another example of just how we roll, we all went to sleep at that time, which is I have to admit a fairly typical bedtime for us.  We are just not late night people.

At four in the morning, Tony woke me up to say Janey had been up almost all night and it was my turn to take over, so he could get a little sleep before work.  I was happy to, but not happy to hear about the sleepless night.  We've certainly had them at times, but not too often recently.  There's two types of them.  One is the upset, screaming up all night and the other is the cheerful but demanding up all night, and Janey was in the second mode.  Every time Tony drifted into a minute or two of shut-eye (we stay up when Janey's up, but the human body can only take so much not sleeping and we drift off for minutes here and there), Janey had a new request.  So he was not in a good way.

Janey switched over to requesting things from me.  She watched part of "Journey to Joke-a-lot", a Care Bears movie that I think was designed mostly for late night college parties where there might possibly be some non-sobriety going on, due to its many wild colorful scenes of roller coaster type rides going through bizarre landscapes.  Then she asked for another show on the "big TV", but I told her it was time to lie down, and if she couldn't sleep, she could use her iPad.  That was a mistake, as it turned out her iPad was out of charge.  That is something Janey doesn't get at all.  I think she thinks we just every now and then decide to take away the iPad, to show our dominance or something.  We've tried getting her to use it plugged in, but she immediately unplugs it.  So she was ready for a meltdown.

Grasping at straws, and cursing the caffeine in the diet coke, consumed after 12 noon, which we have to be reminded over and over and over results in her not sleeping, I asked her if she wanted me to sing her a song.  She said immediately "Yes!" which startled me, as she isn't usually a direct answerer and she generally isn't that into my singing.  I asked her what song, and she said "Angels we have heard on high!"  Another direct answer, and I knew what it really meant.  I pretended I didn't, and started to sing the carol, and she said "On the big computer!"

For some reason, Angels We Have Heard must always be played through iTunes on the computer, with the visualizer on.  I knew that from the start, and I dragged myself out of bed and put it on.  And we listened and watched, the unseasonable song and the mesmerizing colors and shapes.  We listened together to five versions of the song.  Janey danced next to me.  Some of the versions required me to clap along, which Janey let me know by clapping my hands for me to get me started.  We skipped version six, done by Neil Diamond, and went to version seven, a VeggieTales version, proving that Janey doesn't always have great taste in music.  We wiled away the very early morning hours, until it was time to get ready for school.

I thought, after I'd had a little rest, that like the parking lot dinner, that sometimes what Janey wants and needs is similar to what I'd want and need.  I love hearing many versions of a song, and getting into the light show the computer provides, and aside from not quite wanting to do it when I'd rather be sleeping, I'd enjoyed myself a lot with Janey, having a drink and a song with a friend.  My life today isn't exactly what I'd ever pictured, but whose life ever is?  Life is what happens while we're busy making other plans, to quote John Lennon.  Having a child like Janey isn't in most people's plans, but it's life, and like any life, it has its downs but it also has its nights of drink and song.

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.

Road Trip

This past weekend, we took Freddy back to college in Saratoga Springs, NY.  We were going to make it a one night trip, but with the early week reports of the blizzard possibly hitting Boston, we added Friday night on.  The blizzard didn't hit, but the two nights away made for a good little getaway.

Janey did extremely well with the trip overall.  There were many great moments.  She loves hotel rooms, and we stayed in two different ones (as it was too late to add a second night to the first one we booked).  She literally danced around with joy at her first sight of each one.  I've heard a few other parents of kids like Janey say that their kids love hotels, too. I'm not sure why.  Part of it with Janey is that hotel rooms tend to have lots of mirrors, and she very much enjoys mirrors, but I think part of it is just having a new little pocket world to explore.  She can go anywhere she wants within the room, and that gives her something new to explore on her own---something she doesn't get a lot of.

When we ate in public on the trip---one trip to Wendys and one to the hotel breakfast buffet, and when we went to the Target to get Freddy some last minute things, I realized something interesting.  It doesn't bother me when Janey gets stared at anymore, not really at all.  She was stared at plenty, but although I noticed it, I was able to pretty much ignore it.  Or else I thought "Yeah, here's one of those kids with autism you hear so much about in the press, live and in person!  Feast your eyes!"  It was a bit of an in your face attitude I felt, and believe me, that is not an attitude that comes easily to me.  But as Janey gets bigger, she stands out more and more, and unless we keep her out of sight at all times, she's going to be stared at.  And...so be it. Especially in the Target, there were plenty of odd people that I think warranted more staring than Janey, but that's life.

I also noticed during the trip that we are better able than we used to be to set aside tough moments and remember times as positive.  There were certainly screaming moments on the trip, times that Janey for no reason we could see just lost it and screamed and bit her arm, times that she was quite unhappy.  But we know now that usually, unless something big is going on, these times pass if she's in a generally good mood.  She said one of her longest sentences in a while when looking in the mirror---"I have one blue eye and one big eye"  She actually has two blue eyes that look the same size to me, but it was a cool moment to hear her thoughts while looking at herself.  She also did a lot of singing and dancing---always fun to watch.

As the years go by, I think we are learning to meet Janey in the middle.  For someone with typical kids only, this trip might have seemed like not much fun.  We did little outside the hotel rooms or the car.  We drove around a lot, as Janey loves that.  We did get out to dinner, just Tony and me, on Saturday night---thanks, big brother Fred!  We dealt with a few meltdowns, but we also laughed a lot.  Our lives with Janey are never going to be mainstream.  She's going to be stared at, she's going to scream at times, we aren't going to be able to do typical getaway things.  But we will also have the fun of watching her joy at little things, and the freedom, in a way, that comes from having a preteen that still gets a thrill out of being with her parents doing not much. We'll keep on going, and take our fun where we can get it.

Summertime, and the living is...not so hard

Yes, I wouldn't call the living easy, but it's closer to easy than it usually is with Janey.  Here's an account of a typical day this summer with Janey....

8 am ...  Wake up.  Janey has shown that left to make her our schedule, as I pretty much do with my kids in the summer, she is a night owl.  She's been staying up late and wanting to wake up late.  Actually, thinking about it, 8 am is not that late, but in our family of mainly larks, it is.  

8-9 am  Get ready for summer school.  I tell Janey it's a school day as soon as she wakes up, along with any other vital information about the day.  The problem with that is that she's always ready to move on to the next part of the day, so if it's a school day, she wants to be out waiting for the bus.  I delay her as long as possible, but we always wind up waiting for the bus long before it actually comes at 9.  Some days, there's screaming and arm biting as she gets tired of waiting but it's too late to go back in, but most days, it's been okay.  I sing some special bus waiting songs, mostly songs from Oklahoma, which for some reason I've sung each summer as we waited for the summer school bus.  I comment on each car or truck or bus that goes by, using my excited voice, which tends to keep Janey happy.  And then the bus arrives, and she hops on quite readily, to head off to the black hole of summer school.

9-3  I call it the black hole of summer school as I have little idea what she does there.  Her teacher does write now and then, and I know there's ABA and going in the sprinklers and breakfast and lunch, but of course Janey tells me nothing about her day, not a word.  That is a tough part of having a minimally verbal child.  Her life when not with me is a blank to me.  However, she seems happy!  I do dishes and laundry, and garden and play Scrabble on Facebook and try to make myself clean, and usually sneak in a nap.

3-4  The Waiting For Daddy Hour   Tony goes into work very early in the summer, so he can get home around 4.  Janey knows EXACTLY when he should be home.  I don't know if she can tell time somehow, or is just a very good judge of how long time chunks are.  But every day, about 3:45, she asks to "go see Daddy", which means walk down the street to meet Daddy coming home from the train.  If Daddy is late, or takes the train that comes in a different place, it's not very pretty.

4-6   This is Janey's favorite time of the day.  It's when Daddy does one of three things with her, sometimes all three.  He takes her for a ride in the car, a ride to nowhere, just cruising around and listening to mix CDs he has made for her.  She's become a huge fan of The Animals and The Monkees, and it's mostly those they listen to, with a few other songs thrown in---some Black Sabbath, some Beach Boys.  If they aren't riding in the car, they are cooking together.  Janey's favorite is "soup", which means kale or collard greens fried in oil and topped with hot sauce.  The third activity is a fire in a little fire pit Tony got.  We of course watch her extremely closely during this activity, but she adores looking at the fire.

6-9 (or whenever) This is video or TV time, combined with YouTube and iPad time, with occasional snack time or brother time thrown in.  Janey is in love especially with one movie this summer "The Little Mermaid 2:  Return to the Sea"  I am not sure what the appeal of it is, but we know it by heart.  There's also a lot of Word World and some Little Bear thrown in.

9 TV unplugged time, bed time.  We have to unplug the TV, as when Janey gets tired, she gets dissatisfied with shows after about a minute.  Most of the shows she likes are on Amazon Prime, which we have to use a password for, as otherwise, Janey can and has bought shows that aren't included in our membership.  So we are called upon to enter the password every time she gets tired fo a show, even if she just wants to watch a different episode of the same show.  We do let Janey have the iPad in bed.  It doesn't keep her awake, as once she's ready to sleep, she sleeps, instantly.  There is no drowsy period with her---she's wide awake or fast asleep.  Some nights, she's up until 10 or 11, but I'd say 9:30 is a good average.

So....we are hanging in there.  I left out a lot of times that there is screaming or arm biting, not just to make the days look better, but because these episodes are far shorter than usual lately.  We can edit them out of our days because I'd say the longest they have lasted all summer is half an hour in a row, which in the scheme of things, is very short.

I think we've been catering to Janey, to how she likes things, more than other summers.  I am sure this has to do with her time in the hospital.  We needed to keep her fed and keep her calm there, and once she first came home, at all costs.  It was a life or death matter, and I am not overstating things to say that.  And I think we realized, after doing that for a while, that we were all happier if Janey was happier.  We don't bother as much to say no to the little stuff.  If Janey needs a ride, if Janey wants to wait for the bus early, if Janey desires 5 viewings in a row of Little Mermaid 2, who cares?  If we are creating a monster...well, we aren't.  We are creating a happy girl, and one who because she is happy is making us happy.  We've done more family drives and had more of those spontaneous little good times than in years this summer.  I'm going to write more about some thoughts about what I'd call a new approach to life with Janey, but for now, I'm going to go meet her bus, cut up cheese into thin slices while she watches, the only way she likes cheese, put on a show and then change it if she needs it, and walk to meet Daddy.  And I'm glad to do it.

Accepting Autism Acceptance

Tomorrow is Autism Acceptance Day.  You might know it as Autism Awareness Day, but like a lot of others, I have chosen to change the name.  I think most of us are aware of autism by this point.  The next step is acceptance, and that is a step not only for the general public for but many of us personally.  Or at least it is for me.

I struggled for a long time with the idea of autism acceptance. My reasons were many, but there were lots of times I heard that term and said to myself "Never!  Accept autism?  That's not going to happen!"  I always told myself it had nothing to do with accepting JANEY, it has to do with accepting her autism.  However, I think I'm finally there.  I've figured out what autism acceptance means to me.

Autism acceptance doesn't mean liking the tough parts of autism, or NOT liking the great parts.

When Janey bites herself or others, or when she cries for hours on end for reasons we don't understand, acceptance doesn't mean not trying to help her to feel better and stop hurting herself or others.  It DOES mean accepting that those behaviors are part of how autism affects her.  It means not denying the parts of autism that are so tough, not writing them out of the story to make autism more palatable.

When Janey is delightful, amazing, hilarious, autism acceptance doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the positive effects of autism.  I don't have to say "Janey is wonderful DESPITE her autism".  I can say "Janey is wonderful partly BECAUSE of her autism"  That's a tough one for most people to take, somehow.  But when Janey recites dialogue amazingly well, when she learns songs instantly and sings them so well, when she snuggles us without the typical pre-teen reserve---I accept that those behaviors are part of her autism, and I love them.

Autism acceptance applies to ALL parts of the spectrum.

This year, when the press decides to showcase people with autism, I wish for every Temple Grandin, for every child that has written a book or learned to type and give us all insights into their world, they would also showcase a child on the lower end of the spectrum, like Janey.  I don't accept Janey conditionally, and I dream of a world that doesn't accept people with autism because they have or might someday do something amazing.  Janey and and the children of my friends around the world with a child with low-functioning autism deserve to be accepted and to have their lives made as meaningful and joyful as possible.

Autism acceptance also applies to acceptance of a family's choices

It is very hard to see how fragmented and politically correct and potentially trigger-filled the world of autism is.  Part of what I think we all need to accept is that we've all made different choices in how we deal with the autism.  Some people embrace ABA.  Others do Floortime.  Others have put their children on special diets.  Some use vitamin supplements.  Some use medication.  Some homeschool.  Some have children in residential placements.  There are an amazing number of ways to educate and medicate and provide therapy to children with autism.  We might feel strongly our way is the best, but we need to accept another family might not feel that way, and as long as we all have the goal of helping our child live a happier and healthier life, these issues should not divide us.

I will close with a video a lot of you have already seen, as I put it on my Facebook page.  It's Janey surprising me with a different message than the one I asked her to give---I asked her to say "Happy Autism Acceptance Day!" but her Boston and 1/8th Irish got the better of her!  She also says in the video "I have autism"  I love her sweet voice as she says that.  I used to avoid using the word "autism" around her, but I have decided that's not at all what I should do.  I accept Janey's autism as part of the amazing little girl she is.  I love you, Janey.

Here's the video!

A thankfully rare memory of rude people!

Janey's brother Freddy has been attending an after-school support group for siblings of children with special needs, run by a fellow student.  I am so happy he's getting a chance to talk with other kids who truly understand what life is like for families like ours.  The leader of the group asked him to write about a memory that stood out from his childhood involving Janey.  He wrote about a time I remember vividly.  Here's what he wrote...

Going out to public places has always been one of the most difficult things to do with my younger sister. When she was around 6 and I was 13, we went to a fast food place simply because my sister doesn't do well with long waits. My sister was just being herself, quoting the TV shows she likes, repeating nursery rhymes, and occasionally joyful outbursts. She wasn't bothering anyone, or so we thought. At the table next to us, there was a family of people from another part of the country with two children, a boy and a girl, under 10. I'll never forget the way they looked at my sister. They stared at her and exchanged whispers, as if she were some sort of alien. Instantly, I felt extreme hatred towards them. Jane is my sister, how dare they even look at her like that. Of course, they may have just never seen an autistic child before, and they were "interested" or something, but I couldn't take it. I had to get us out of there, because I couldn't take another minute of their stares. When we got into the car, my brother and mother felt the exact same way I did. We had just as much right to eat at that place as they did, and they were staring at us like our hair was on fire.
Don't get me wrong, this didn't stop us from eating out. Luckily, most people in Boston are quite tolerant of special needs children, but I have no tolerance for those who don't.

 I remember so much about that awful meal.  The family was talking loudly at first, before they noticed Janey, and we heard all about how they were vacationing here.  Janey was being so good, I was thinking at the time.  She was sitting nicely, eating, and talking away.  We loved then and love now when she gets into one of her fairly rare talkative moods.  As Freddy said, she was quoting all kinds of shows, singing a bit and perhaps now and then making a happy noise.  The family suddenly got very quiet.  They all started staring at Janey.  This wasn't any subtle stare.  It was an all-out stare, like, as Freddy said, they were watching an alien being.  Then they started the whispering---taking a look at her, whispering to each other and then taking another long look.

What upset me most was that the adults (what looked like a mother and grandmother) were fully involved in this staring and whispering, just as much so if not more so than the kids.  I remembering hoping against hope that the boys were not noticing what was going on.  However, before we finished eating, they both asked to go.  I was happy to.  We gathered up our food and went to the car, Janey happily holding our hands.  For once, I was very glad she was oblivious to all that was going on.

In the car, both boys burst out in anger.  They were furious at the family.  And I found myself completely unable to disagree.

What strikes me is how unusual this scene was.  I've had people say something nasty to me about Janey maybe three times ever.  I've had people notice her and look sad somehow.  I've had people ignore her.  But I don't really think I can ever, ever think of another incident of people staring and whispering.  And that is good.  Maybe Freddy is onto something.  Maybe the greater Boston area is a good place to have a child like Janey.  Bostonians are fairly tolerant.  They are also generally not whisperers, I'd say!  If they have something to say, they say it.  Maybe this family felt it was more polite to stare and whisper than to smile at us, to let us know that they saw Janey was unusual and to talk to us about it.

I'm thinking in contrast of something that happened this weekend.  Tony and I were at a Dunkin Donuts with Janey, and she ran away from us and went to a table where a man and woman were sitting.  She reached for the woman's doughnut just as Tony grabbed her and stopped her.  The woman gave us a big smile as Tony said he was sorry.  She asked Janey her name, and Tony said Janey was autistic and wasn't much of a talker, and asked Janey to say her name, which she did.  Later, when taking Janey to the bathroom, we passed them again, and they smiled and waved to Janey.  That was a case where the people obviously realized Janey had special needs, but they acted in such a way that we left feeling happy and included.  It takes so little to do that, and I must say, most people are great in that way.

Memory is funny.  I am not sure why Freddy and I, and William too, so vividly remember that awful family.  I wish memory saved instead the many, many times people have been kind to Janey, have delighted with us in her uniqueness.  They are the people I want to have occupying my memory.

A Parenting Book for One

One of the huge frustrations of having a child like Janey is that any mainstream advice books for parenting absolutely don't work.  They don't cover kids like Janey.  They give advice that assumes a child can talk at a age-appropriate level and can understand basic cause and effect.  They assume a child is motivated by praise, and that a child's actions have external stimuli.  They don't cover outbursts that become so extreme a child ends up in the emergency room, restrained by many people.  They don't deal with screaming with absolutely no reasonable cause that lasts for hours or days.

I've realized over the years that I need to write my own parenting book, one that covers one child only, Janey.  I've written it in my head.  But I'm going to gradually post it here, bit by bit.  I do this because perhaps some parts of it will also apply to other children a bit like Janey.  But I caution---much of it won't.  Take what you can use, but each of you with a challenging child will also eventually write your own personal parenting book.

Today's chapter---how to calm Janey down when she has an outburst.  I should say, how to MAYBE calm Janey down, as very often, you simply can't.  But a few things sometimes work.  I'll list them in order of what will work for a milder outburst up to what we use in extreme situations.

1.  Food..  Often, when she's upset, she's hungry.  She doesn't seem to make this connection.  And her hunger, like so much of her, seems sometimes out of the blue.  She can have eaten a lot already, and still be very hungry.  We have learned to quickly get some food into her if she is starting to escalate.

2.  A shower.  Janey has taught us this one herself.  The most common thing she asks for when upset is a shower.  The warm water streaming down seems to calm her immensely.  We let her stay in the shower as long as she wants.  I sit in the bathroom with her and read.  The one has the added benefit of getting her away from the rest of the family, so they can have a little break.

3.  Turning everything off.  If Janey watching TV, or if music is playing anyplace, we turn it off.  We often have to unplug the TV so Janey doesn't turn it back on.  We stop talking much, we turn off lights, we make the surroundings as quiet and calm as possible, to avoid any external triggers.

4.  Covering Janey with blankets.  If I can, I get Janey on the bed and cover her up.  Like many kids with autism, the pressure of the blankets seems to help a good deal.

5.  Repetitive soothing touch and sound.  I will often massage Janey's feet with lotion.  While doing this, I'll sing a song, something mellow and quiet, over and over.  Sometimes it's just a made-up song, like "Massage, massage, massage Janey's feet..."

6.  Backing away.  If Janey is still upset after all this, I've learned lately I need to just get out of her way.  I don't want to be hit or bitten or have my hair pulled, for several reasons.  One is of course that I don't like being hurt, but also, if I am hurt, I naturally react in a way that escalates the whole situation.  So sometimes, I just walk away, and let Janey rage.  If she follows me, I keep moving.

7.  Nothing.  When Janey is truly agitated, nothing helps.  Nothing at all.  All that can be done is to wait it out, sometimes until she falls asleep.  Doing anything at all makes things worse.  So sometimes, we just stand back and do whatever we can do with screaming and flailing going on the background.  This is the hardest one for me to do.  I want to help Janey, but sometimes, there is no help.  She needs to just get through the episode on her own.  Of course, we step in to keep her safe when necessary, but otherwise, we just wait for the storm to pass.

As you might guess, it's been a long morning here.  I have used all these techniques and am now, in writing this, on step 7.  It seems to be working a bit.  Janey is watching nursery rhyme videos on YouTube, no longer screaming or hitting me.  Merry Christmas Eve Eve.

Thanksgiving 2014

It's hard to remember too many specifics from Thanksgivings of my past.  Thanksgiving isn't usually a day that stands out in memory---the best Thanksgiving seems like the ones before it, in a good way. However, I don't think I'll ever forget Thanksgiving 2014---waking up without Janey here, driving to visit her, coming home without her.  I also won't forget it because of how grateful and thankful I feel.

It was strange to wake up this morning to a house without Janey, as it's been strange for the last week. Everything seems oddly quiet and calm, and I have been waking up after sleeping all night long, something that has rarely happened in the last 10 years.  I miss Janey horribly in the morning, though.  It feels wrong to have her gone.  I have my morning coffee, but somehow it feels unearned.  I've cut back to one cup most days, which is a huge cutback.

Freddy went to see his last Thanksgiving Day football game as a Boston Latin student, and we had a non-eventful morning---no kids TV, no Janey asking for bacon, no monitoring her movements and anticipating her moods.  I am trying hard to accept the respite and to let myself enjoy it, knowing she is safe and cared for, and for brief periods of time, I am succeeding.  But it's been so long that our life has had her as a focus, everything feels a little empty.

We had a Thanksgiving meal for 4 around 1.  We are not big eaters of traditional Thanksgiving Day fare---we had a roasted chicken, but with purchased turkey gravy, and some strawberry shortcake.  We said what we were all thankful for, but didn't have Janey to coax to say something.

After we ate, we drove to Providence to see Janey.  Every time we get to the hospital, I feel a knot in my stomach.  It's not because it's not a nice place, because it is.  I think it's just the feeling of going to see my child at a psychiatric hospital.  It feels like I have somehow stepped outside of the world I know, and entered a different world.

Janey was very happy to see us, all four of us.  She hasn't seen William for a long time, since he was at college.  She gave us a huge smile, and we went to her room.  We had brought her lots of food for her special meal, and she ate a huge amount of Daddy's pesto, some purple onions and lots of chocolate chip cookies.  We sang to her, and played catch with her Care Bear.  She talked very little today, but seemed very pleased we were there, at first.  Eventually she got tired of being in the room and eager for more action, and when we asked her if she wanted us to say goodbye, she repeated emphatically "GOODBYE!"

We took her out to the staff people, who said they would take her to join her group in the occupational therapy room.  Janey had gotten a bit agitated by then.  She kept grabbing our hands and saying "Take a walk!"  We explained we couldn't, but her friends there would take her for a walk.  She started yelling "Goodbye!  Goodbye" but trying to go with us.  The staff distracted her, and we said a final goodbye and left.  My heart was a bit torn up.

And now---Thanksgiving night.  I am going to try to rest and not worry.

It has been a strange Thanksgiving, but it has also been a very good one, in that I know more than ever how much I have to be thankful for.  I have my family---my husband, who has been incredible through all of this, my wonderful boys and my Janey---my girl who has my heart, and both warms it and breaks it so easily.  And I have my friends---and I count all of you reading this as my friends.  You have been INCREDIBLE.  Your support, here and on my Facebook page, is what has kept me going many a long day.  You have made me feel like sharing my story has helped YOU, when it is YOU who has helped me.  My dear friend Jamie has reached out to get help for me with bills and expenses---something I never, ever expected but I am very, very grateful for.  I have talked to many of you, in person, by phone or by email or Facebook message, and you have supported me so hugely.  So many people I've never met in person have shown their caring for my family and me.  I know more than ever that there are so, so many good and caring people in this world, and I am very thankful for that.

I wonder what Thanksgiving 2015 will look like.  I hope Janey is happier, calmer and most of all we are all together, that Thanksgiving and every Thanksgiving from here on for the rest of my life.

Visiting Janey

Bradley Hospital, where Janey is being held, is in Providence.  In ideal conditions, it could be a 50 minute drive from our house.  However, anyone who has ever driven in or around Boston knows that those ideal conditions exist only at the rarest of times.  In some ways, the drive to get to Janey seems like a metaphor for so much of the last few weeks---frustrating, exhausting, yet crucially important.

I'll give yesterday as an example.  Tony went in to work extremely early, so he could leave at 2 and we could get an early jump on going to see Janey.  We left the house right around 3.  When we got to where we get on the highway (about 10 minutes from our house), we could see it was almost completely gridlocked.  There is s storm predicted for today, and Boston is full of college students and others who want to go elsewhere for Thanksgiving.  So Tony made a change and got on some local routes.  We used our GPS, which seemed intent on giving us a tour of southeastern Massachusetts.  After a long time, we made our way back onto the highway, and proceeded to creep toward Providence, at 10 miles an hour.

Finally, we got past an area where bridge work was being done, and we were able to make some time.  Regardless, the drive to Bradley took two and a half hours.

We had agreed a few days ago to be part of a major study of autism while Janey was at the hospital.  I spent a big part of yesterday filling out about 10 long forms about Janey's behavior.  We had agreed to have blood drawn last night.  By the time we got there, the woman we were going to meet with was gone, but a head of the study and the blood-drawer had stayed late to get the blood.  We explained the traffic, and I hope they understood, although Boston traffic seems to be something very Boston, which although Providence is quite close, they seem somewhat mystified by.

After having the blood drawn, we had to go back to the waiting room to wait to see Janey.  We were told she was a bit upset and we'd have to wait a minute or two.  When they came for us, they said she had been taking off her clothes again, and asking to go to sleep, as she often does at home, far too early.  They calmed her down and she was waiting for us in her room.

The visit on Monday was great---Janey was calm and happy.  Last night, she was less content.  It was nothing like the scenes at Children's, but she bit herself a few times and at one point half-heartedly pulled my hair.  She also did the repeated asking for things "Want chicken nuggets?  Want to take a walk?  Want water?"  We finally resorted to singing---we sang her a mixed medley of her favorite Beatles and Black Sabbath songs, Black Sabbath being my older son's favorite group.  We modified words as necessary!

After about 40 minutes, though, Janey wanted more action.  We aren't allowed to visit with her outside her room, and she wanted to get out.  So we said goodbye.

Before we went home, we needed to drive to Waltham and pick up William at college, so he could come home for Thanksgiving.  We were thrilled to be getting him home, but tired beyond belief.  The traffic was okay on the way back, but not perfect.  We took local routes home, and finally got home about 9:30.

When I got in and checked the mail, there was a badly photocopied 5 page letter from something called something like Value Health in Rhode Island.  It said they had authorized a 5 day stay for Janey at Bradley, and that any longer of a stay would have to be arranged by the hospital.  I am assuming that has been done, as today would be day 6, but I am not sure at all.  In my hazy state, the form was hard to understand.  We have Blue Cross, so I am unsure why some other agency is the one to decide on Janey's stay.  There was no number on the letter.  Instead, there was a form for JANEY to fill out to authorize me to get information on her behalf.  I need to read the form more today, but a quick look last night said this had to be done even if the patient was a minor.  I need to make calls and try to figure out what is up with all of that, but I have a feeling the day before Thanksgiving is not a good day to reach the right people.  I also know my mind is not in a great place for figuring out complicated letters and forms.  I assume the hospital would let us know if the funding for her stay had ended, but I have nightmares of multi-thousand dollar bills arriving.

And that is where we are.  Janey is calmer, but far from all the way back to what I am learning is called "baseline".  We are tired and stressed almost beyond functioning, worried about Janey and money and what comes next.  Today the weather will keep us from visiting, it seems, and although the drive is a nightmare, it kills me to think of a day without seeing Janey.  Nothing feels settled, nothing feels calm.  And I wonder if it ever will again.

The day it all hit me

It's funny how the mind and body work when you are in the middle of a crisis.  There must be some kind of system that kicks in that lets you keep going when normally you would have collapsed on the floor, overwhelmed.  That system was in high gear from last Friday until yesterday.  It's not that I didn't cry some or feel exhausted, but I was functioning.  Last night, the system wore out and I was hit hard.

I was okay yesterday morning.  I did housework and laundry and dishes, enjoying the feeling of doing everyday work again.  We drove to Providence to see Janey midday.  Freddy came too, to see her in the new hospital.  The drive went quickly---we are figuring out new routes to take, and it's a pretty straight shot to drive there, although a long straight shot.  We are starting to know the routine, how to check in, what not to bring into the hospital, where the long locked halls lead, all that.

Janey looked well cared for, which was great to see.  Her hair was clean and brushed, and she was dressed in her nice clothes.  She seemed much quieter, calmer overall.  We visited with her in her room, as we are required to do.  She seemed happy to see us.  We brought her her toy Olivia and Beanie Baby style My Little Pony, and we played with those a bit.  Then I sang her some Christmas carols, letting her choose what I would sing next.  She looked at me with the look I only see when she is totally overcome with music---a look of wonder and amazement, as if she can barely believe the perfection of the songs (not my singing!)  When I sang "O Little Town of Bethlehem", she kept repeating the line "yet in thy dark streets shineth" and I sang that part over and over.

After a while, she was getting restless and started asking for the kind of things she asked for in the hospital, over and over..."Want to take a shower?  Want to watch Olivia?  Want bacon?  Want take off socks?"  We realized it was probably time to go, before she got more upset, and we told her we were going to say goodbye.  She said "Put on shoes?  Go to Mama's house?"  If there is a moment when a parent has their heart broken, that is it---when your ten year old daughter, in a locked psychiatric ward, asks for you to take her home.  I hope I never again feel what I felt that moment, and I hope none of you ever have to feel that feeling.

We took her back out to the ward---the area they seem to spend weekend days in, outside her room.  I won't write much about the other kids there, because it is not my story to tell and I respect their privacy, but I will say Janey was the only girl I saw, and also the only child that seemed to talk.  She stood out, as it feels like she has done all her life.  I wish so much sometimes I could gather all the girls together that I have met through this blog, that we could get our girls together in a room so Janey for once could have peers like herself.  Maybe someday that can happen.  But for now, it so often feels like Janey is very alone.

After we got home, I did mindless things---watching some Star Trek, reading, knitting.  Tony was working on a long, long application we have to do to try to get state supplemental insurance for Janey, to help with the bills that will soon start rolling in.  At one point, he asked me for a little information for the form.  I found I couldn't answer.  I couldn't think.  I couldn't put together simple sentences.

Tony quickly realized what he was dealing with.  He stopped asking any questions.  He made me some hot chocolate, and then, a French bread pizza.  He comforted me as I collapsed into my bed, crying and crying.  I am incredibly lucky to have a husband like him.

Later, my rock of a friend Maryellen called me, and we talked for an hour.  She listened to my teary account of the visit to Janey.  That is so important---to have someone I can pour my heart out to, someone outside the family but still very connected.  I am so lucky in the support I have, from friends like Maryellen, from my family and from my extended blog family.  I truly want you all to know that---how much you all have helped.

Today I feel stronger.  I am sad we will probably not visit Janey today.  The Patriots play in between where we are and where she is, and traffic back and forth becomes a nightmare.  I would not let that keep me away, but I think also Janey might need a day without the confusion our visits seem to bring.  I hope I am right there.  I know she is in the place she needs to be, but I miss her so intensely.  It is not the normal course of things to have your little girl so far away, literally locked away.  My life has taken a turn which is often feeling surreal.  I need to get through this.  I think today, I will retreat to gather strength for the next round, to go on and keep on fighting.