My Wide-Angle Lens

Happy New Year all. Maybe I'm still in the honeymoon phase or just high from all of these exercise endorphins (yes I'm sticking to my treadmill goals I had previously mentioned), but I feel physically and mentally healthier as of lately. I've been able to see my life clearer and gain control over the fears that once took over my mindset. Call me cynical, but it's finally becoming apparent that this life of raising a daughter with special needs isn't all that bad. 

Now this is where I may sound a little indifferent, spiritual, crazy, whatever people may call it, but I often wonder if my daughter being autistic is to protect us from something greater down the road in life. Meaning, because my daughter is autistic, the chances of her struggling with addictions, teenage drama, and so forth may be limited. Or maybe that's my wishful thinking, turning autism into something granidose when in reality, autism can be a huge struggle for many families out there. Thus, I'm not trying to glamourize autism. I'm just trying to understand it more, learn it's language as it applies to my daughter, and see it as something special rather than some sort of tragedy.  

Over the past few weeks, I've leared how wrong it's been to portray autism in general as being the wrongdoer in my and my daughter's life. Something I've played my personal fiddle to time and time again. Making excuses and crying the blues like "poor me, my life sucks" when in all actuality, I'm pretty darn lucky. Some of the things that make my daughter incredibly resilient and brilliant is due to her autism and not just because of her strong personality. 

Even though it may be a struggle for her and for me to understand her at times, and I'm certain the struggle isn't over yet,  I'm learning to become fluent in her language. I'm learning how to communicate and bond the best way Autumn knows how. I've adapted to her little world. Because of the above choices, she's allowing me into her circle during play. She tells me or shows me when she needs to regulate her sensory system or when she's feeling overwhelmed. The biggest challenge has been keeping my voice low and being patient with her when she wants to try to do something herself. I'm seeing that despite a label given to her by all of us (myself included), she's unstoppable. Autumn has already developed such motivation and a love for learning, being around other people and wanting to explore her world that at first, I was afraid to let her go, but now, I sit back and watch her flutter her wings. 

Isn't that the purpose of this journey? To have Autumn fly as high or as low as she chooses regardless of what the "experts, progress notes, and IEPs" say? In Autumn's world, I'm seeing that she has no limits. She doesn't see them like maybe we would. The rejections and the harsh judgments of society drowned in fear that holds many of us back hasn't gotten the best of my sweet girl. She doesn't view her world through a small picture frame but with a wide-angle lens seeing limitless horizons full of potential. So I've decided to do the same. 

I end with this tidbit. Recently we went to a play place where there was another little girl there that Autumn wanted to play with. The little girl wasn't interested in all of Autumn's jumping joy glory so she didn't want to play after Autumn tried to attempt socialization. Now maybe other NT little girls would've been hurt by this rejection. Well not my girl. She moved on quickly that eventually this little girl wanted to play with Autumn. By then, Autumn could care less at that point. She was already happily engaged into her Lego building/pretend cooking that she didn't notice the girl longing to play with her. She had moved on. She didn't let the initial rejection get the best of her or ruin her fun. Now that's a trait I'm sure many of us wished we possessed. Is it because of autism or not? Who knows...

Wide-angle lens all. The wide-angle lens.

Let's look through them like our butterfly  kids do. Like Autumn does on a daily. May that be a part of your New Years resolutions for 2015: any view can be limitless if you just look beyond your boundaries. 

Xoxo,

Trish 

2014: The Year of Letting Go

As we fast approach 2015, this is the time when I usually reflect on the past year: the amazing moments, the lessons to be learned, and everything else in between. 

2014 was also the year of Disney's Frozen and all things associated with Frozen mania. 

For our little family, Frozen and learning to "let it go" has been our motto. I know were not the only ones who were inspired by Frozen, who adored the characters and felt that kind of connection, but when I say that this simple yet powerful movie brought this family even closer and "transformed" each one of us, I'm speaking the truth.  

I admit, the first time I saw Frozen I wasn't that impressed. It was on my iPad and I was distracted a bit, but it was the first movie that my daughter sat down to watch. She ended up falling alseep after the first scene, but I was like, "wow, okay maybe were onto something." I ended up renting the movie for us all to watch, and after the third attempt, we sat there as a family intrigued. Finally, I purchased it and we've probably watched our copy at least 100-150 times since, no joke. 

Now, the thing for our little Autism family and many others out there, once our kiddos have a routine, it's difficult to break it. Watching Frozen became a part of Autumn's nightly routine. Dinner, bath, books, Frozen, bed. We all relished in this routine because something started to happen that I credit Frozen for doing: 

1. Her relationship with her father strengthen by watching this movie together.

2. Autumn's vocabulary increased immensely by repeating the words said and sung throughout the film.

Before Frozen, Autumn struggled to make a connection with her father and as much as he tried, it was difficult for her to sit with him and formulate that bond. This was extremely heartbreaking for my husband. Imagine one's child not really wanting anything to do with them no matter how hard they tried. Because of Frozen and their popcorn routine, the two of them are inseparable. Autumn talks about her daddy, greets him when he comes home and sits with him nightly as he reads to her. Frozen helped them make that connection. Frozen gave my husband a daughter and her a dad so if anyone from Disney happens to read this, thank you forever for making our family become whole. 

In addition, every word, song, and moment being portrayed during the film, Autumn danced and sang along. She started to repeat words, phrases and now, she's able to sing sentences to the songs. I don't care if it's scripted speech, my kid is saying words and singing! A year ago, I wasn't certain if she'd be able to do such a thing. Also, everytime the beloved Elsa would come onto the screen, Autumn went crazy for her. She would verbally stim with sounds, spin and flap with excitement.  I know many little girls love Elsa because she's "magical" and maybe that's why Autumn loves her too, which is really cool because she too is making that connection. Still, seeing her light up everytime she saw her beloved "queen" always put a smile on our faces. In addition, after watching this movie on numerous occasions, my husband and me started to see many resemblances within Elsa and Autumn: both of them being born "different" and having to "conform" to societal norms. The more we watched as a family, the more we evolved as parents and within. 

Elsa taught us how to "let go" this year. To let go of the expectations set forth onto others and ourselves and to "come out" of our shells and stop pretending to have it all together, when were human and we don't. She also taught us to embrace our daughter and her autism rather than trying to "conceal" her stims or sensory issues that may set her a part from society as a whole. Elsa being "different" has helped me see my daughter in a brighter light. Someone who's beautiful and capable at achieving anything as long as she has the love and support to thrive. Now this where Anna comes in. She always loved her sister no matter what. That is why Disney writers (spoiler) probably chose to not go back to explain things to her when she was at the trolls with Kristolf and he says "I've seen this done before". It didn't matter to Anna, she loved Elsa unconditionally regardless of her magical powers. You see, I've spent way too much time watching and analyzing this movie (insert LOL)!

Overall, 2014 was filled with all things Frozen in this Autism household. We learned to let Autumn go and grow. She started preschool this year and it was very difficult for me to begin to move forward from EI services to preschool because moving forward meant that I had to let go of my fears and introduce change into our lives. It was also the year of many tests, tears within personal family struggles, and transition. At the end of it all, we survived.

Even though the Frozen hype isn't over yet, here's to hoping that 2015 is filled with much love, less stress for all, and more time to spend together as a family. 

I end with a quote I heard from my beloved sister, "Love is a four letter word: time." Let's make the best of it in 2015. 

Xoxo,

Trish 

The year of Frozen: 

Autumn's 3rd family birthday party. 

Autumn asleep on her daddy while watching Frozen.

Autumn as Elsa on Halloween

Autumn looking magical here during our holiday pictures 

Confessions From an ASD Child's Mother

Today I've decided to share something very personal, yet I know many can relate towards....drum roll please:

"Hello, my name is Patricia and I'm depressed." 

Whew, there, I said it and boy does it feel good. 

You see, I've been depressed for a long while now, but I've been fighting these urges for as long as I can remember. Maybe it was denial or shame, but I'm done living a lie and pretending to always have my stuff together. I don't. Not even close. So please before proceeding forward, do not pity me. I'm simply admitting defeat, and I feel relieved for waving my white flag today. 

Anyways, I know that being a parent feels like a very lonely road, add autism to the mix and take that lonely road times ten. 

Then take distant family members who only see your child a handful of times a year and act like they know what's best for them or pacify your concerns because they only see a glimpse of what you have to endure on a daily basis, add another five to the above number. 

The constant reminders from therapists, teachers, behaviorists, doctors and other "experts" informing you as to what is "best" for your child and the pressure this causes on said parents, add a three.

The little time said parents have to spend together to focus some time on their marriage because everytime they talk, there's interruption, they sleep, interruption, want to eat, interruption....you get where I'm heading towards? So by the time they DO have time together, they collapse and the LAST thing they want to do is spend quality time bonding because they just want to sleep. And we wonder why couples of special needs children have an 80% divorce rate?!

That every moment since the diagnosis, said parent's lives have been derailed. Their plans professionally, financially, physically and mentally have been put on hold in order to focus on their child's needs because "the child comes first". Hence no money, no time, increase in weight gain, decrease in everything else, etc.

All of the above factors, plus others I'm not even going to mention, are reasons as to why I've been depressed, but never fully admitted it to myself because, I'm supposed to be perfect right? Hahahha I wish. I feel like a horrible mother most days because I struggle to control my daughter, to make her happy, to "disipline her" due to not having all of the answers. I feel like I should because I'm considered an "expert" within this field and the secret is, I am not even close. 

It's been such a difficult pill to swallow having to relay on other "experts" to help my daughter when I haven't been enough and I'm never going to be enough for her. Yet, I work with kids like her and do my job well. Why is it that I can help them, but I struggle with feeling like I haven't been able to help my own child like I do my families? I know, I'm taking on a lot when I say the above and have become better at accepting the fact that her autism isn't a result of my bad parenting. It is just a part of who she is. It's that uniqueness that makes her special. 

However, the realization that my daughter's diagnosis and this journey were on will be lifelong, hasn't been easy on my husband and me. That I feel like I've already given my all to help her and that some days I loose it and I cry and I hate this life and wish I was alone and could run away from it all...but...I'm not a coward. I will NEVER do that to my sweet girl or husband. Ever. I realize that I can beat this fog. That I deserve my happiness. That I don't have to resort to antidepressants to clear the air (just not for me because it will make me worse- I've tried).  

Thus, I've made a decision, an investment for my future and happiness today that will begin in let's hope, two weeks from now. I got myself a treadmill (thank goodness for financing and holiday sales because we can't afford to buy one outright). I'm going to dedicate time to myself each day and exercise my ass off so that I can decompress and start to feel better about myself again. I need something. We all need something. This is and will be my something. 

I've decided that in 2015, I'm taking back my life. I'm going to train for a 5k and run someday. I'm going to run for autism awareness, autism acceptance and love. I'm going to run for our daughters and your sons. In going to continue to advocate for the beautiful people within this community. I may cry, I may fall while doing so. I am human and I will get back up keep moving along.

That's what this ASD child's momma is great at doing: falling, living and learning. 

Today is the day I've decided to combat my depression, admit that I have a problem and do something about it. Maybe tomorrow will be yours. Maybe not and that's okay.  

Hang in there. 

With love because I too "get it". 

Xoxo,

Trish 

Tis The Season

Lately, I feel like I've been flatlining. The holiday season is upon us all and that's enough to send anyone into a tizzy. 

With snow, sickness spreading around the household, and new demands at work, I just wish I can throw my hands up in the air and walk away or plan a really nice long vacation to be taken in my wildest daydreams. The vacation planning sounds more reasonable.

Anywho, I was waiting for Belle today during dismissal and those effing feelings of meloncholy came over me as some older kids walked by with their smiles and language in tact. Then at OT, hearing a mother and her child the exact same age as mine conversing over the snow falling outside and how easy speech seemed to be brought on those thoughts again. Lastly, scrolling through my Facebook feed seeing pictures of happy kids with Santa, kids participating in holiday functions smiling and engaged, and those darn elf on a shelf pics because even at three, their little ones understand the concept of the elf...and here comes the flood gates...

Damn it!! I thought I've been feeling so good and in a happy place regarding Autumn and her progression, but little moments like the above are getting the best of me. Why can't I just accept the fact that Autumn isn't like my Facebook friends kids? She doesn't give a shit about presents or Santa or making Holiday cookies! She may not ever care about the above and for a while, I was okay with that until it really hit me while driving home today as I questioned every  messily thought pondering in my head: Why? Why do I care? Why again? Oh yeah now I know why...

My memories of Christmas time as a child growing up in Nashville, TN takes the cake. The holiday visits to Opryland hotel, picking out our Christmas tree, listening to classic holiday music, the cookie baking, the blue lights, mass and choir music, and the fun family gatherings.  However, my favorite was the anticipation of waiting for Santa to arrive, falling asleep and then waking up my siblings and sneaking downstairs together to see the presents around our silver and blue decorated Christmas tree and goodness, oh how those short moments felt like magic! That's when my family was whole before the innocence of life was taken from each one of us with age. Oh how I miss those times so much. 

Fast forward to now, adult Trish, who tries so hard to keep old traditions alive even though they feel beyond her reach. Having a daughter with autism who struggles with doing "typical" holiday functions isn't easy to watch especially when her mother lives and breathes "hark the herald angels sing". I know she's still young but I remember when I was three and celebrating Christmas. I remember it because it was our first Christmas in Nashville. It was also when this occurred:

Oh the joys of having to share presents with the sibling on Christmas (I was such a spoiled rotten brat that even the elf on a shelf probably wouldn't have worked for me).

So why does it matter to me so much? Because Christmas time and the memories of this time of year are probably the best memories I have of my childhood and life. I so desperately want my daughter to get to experience the joys of Christmas that it's a pain in my heart knowing that were just not quite there yet with her and I need to accept this and move forward without putting more expectations onto her, but I'm having a difficult time accepting this and I just don't know how so I feel stuck.

Even this past weekend, in all of my sick glory, we went to the Caring Santa event sponsored by Autism Speaks and even though I loved that something like this was being offered to special needs families, Autumn STILL wasn't interested or ready for Santa Claus and I knew that going in, but why did I have her go? Why did I try? Hope. Hope that maybe just exposing her to Santa and to Christmas/holiday decor she may have a breakthrough, she may start saying "Santa" or "Christmas" like she says the word "speech". Maybe she'll want to help mommy bake cookies this weekend or go pick out presents for loved ones or want to talk about the snow over some chocolate milk/warm cocoa. Hopefully someday. Hopefully...hope. The hardest part is not knowing when that "someday" will be and that's why this time of year is beautiful, but hurts for many families like mine. "We keep trying, hoping, shinning, praying for a miracle that someday will be on the horizon." 

Until then, I will continue to try to make the best of our experiences together. I will continue with traditions but modify them according to what my daughter is capable of experiencing and call it a day. 

That's enough for now. Here's our Holiday card that I made for this year. It's probably one of my favorite pictures ever. I absolutely adore it as this is a memory within itself. It may not be a Nashville Christmas, but it sure is magical!

Xoxo,

Trish 

Back-Off

Last night was my very first parent-teacher conference at Belle's school. I walked in and her teacher was patiently waiting with a big smile on her face. I really like her. She's the epitome of what a pre-k and elementary school teacher should become. I'm going to miss her bc she's not technically Autumn's classroom teacher for the year; she's been the replacement teacher until Autumn's teacher comes back from maternity leave. Overall, she's done an exceptional job with my daughter. 

With that being said, I'm going to focus right now on the positive highlights of our meeting. The moment that I was brought to tears listening to how special my daughter is to her teacher and aides and how they truly love and adore my little girl. It makes leaving her a little easier knowing she's in excellent hands. Would I be saying the same if Belle wasn't in "Special Ed" ? I don't know. We discussed Autumn's progression and how far she's come since the beginning of the school year. The teacher listened to my woes and how difficult it's been to let her go. She responded to my concerns with such compassion. I couldn't be more grateful for her words. 

Now onto the "negative" part of the meeting: the topic of "full day" came up again. Apparently Autumn isn't progressing as fast as they "like to see". She's moving forward, but not up to "their expectations". Well more like not up to the BCBA expectations. I'm not going to lie, it pissed me off hearing this again. Since I have a good relationship with her teacher, my frankness came pouring out like tears. I informed her that we have her in outside therapies four times a week and despite her not being at school, we do lunch and out the door again for therapy. Are days are full. Plus, she LOVES her therapists and looks forward to going to see them. I also said this and rightfully, she agreed:

"Imagine having to leave your house at 8:30am not to return until 4pm at the ripe age of three?" That's a long day for an adult or any typically developing child, so why this for a "special needs" child? 

I went on and on about the appropriate use of ABA within our home, how I pick the activities she'll enjoy and that she leads me; I don't push and push and push her over the threshold because I don't want her love for something, such as learning, be jaded. I informed her teacher that Autumn loves school and her therapies and perhaps she could handle the full day, I just don't want that experience to take away from the joys of school that she has developed at this point within her life. 

Lastly, I love being home and present for my daughter. It has been quite the adjustment to leave her and go work with my little kids for the few hours I do. I miss her and look forward to picking her up daily and spending our afternoons together, whether within her therapy sessions and when were home. The past three years have flown by and I hate this so much. I hate that my baby is growing too fast for my liking. I hate that she's already at an elementary school doing things that my friends kindergarteners are doing. I hate that I feel like the past 18 months have been consumed with therapies and doctors appointments and ELAPs to IEPs. This wasn't the life I had imagined for my little family, especially for her. I hate that there's so much pressure on her and that I've been the biggest contributor to this "push" to "normalize her. How freaking selfish is that? I think about this pressure and if it's bad for her, how much more would be "expected" if she was NT? I think to myself how we put so much strain onto all of our children and we wonder why screwed up shit occurs. We wonder why half of Americans are on meds for physical and mental stress. We wonder why therapists like myself will NEVER be out of business because of these expectations that we choose to put within this heirachal latter, that "becoming someone important"  is more valuable than kindness. That a career "defines us" rather than our life choices and "what we do" to make a life for ourselves is seen as ideal, even if it means hurting those to climb up that "latter of success". 

Often I ask myself, what the heck is so wrong that she's "different"? What's so horrible about autism that people fear it, stigmatize it, and feel awful about talking about autism like it's the huge elephant in the room? That it's something shameful and should be kept away from the world. That there are idiots out there who choose to not of have their children vaccinated because of "fears of autism"? How effed up does that sound when autism is now being thrown into a life-threatening disease pile or seen as "cancer". This angers me so much can't even go there anymore. Granted, I know that autism can be very draining and hinder families, but there's something beautiful about my daughter's autism. Hers and hers alone. 

Maybe the above is just my ploy of feeling a little burned out from hearing the same ole "she needs to do more" mantra. Or maybe I just don't want her to change certain aspects about herself that make her special and unique that her autism has caused. That innocence and love for all things that I know this cruel world would've and will ruin for her if she becomes "typically developing" like it did for the rest of us. Then again, I don't want her to be blinded from reality as well. This will be the balancing act that I'm sure well work through as she gets older.

Overall, I'm honored that her school sees so much potential within my daughter. That she's been their little "project" of what successful tools utilized at such an early age can do for a child on the spectrum, but stop with the constant push. Stop it. I would be speaking the same tone if she wasn't on the spectrum. Kids need to be kids and parents need to be parents and enjoy phases of life together as life is too precious and short. Plus, at the end of the day she's three. Yes I know, I say this often as if it's my crutch, but it's the truth. Like my husband stated last night, "what's next, she'll have to memorize the Greek alphabet at four?". Because from the looks at what they want her to do, even most typically developing kids aren't expected to do those things "eighty percent of the time". Like the tortoise, she may be moving slow, but she will get there. She WILL. I've seen it and continue to see it and believe it. 

Thus, the teacher appreciated my words. I told her that I will be in contact with the BCBA and school psychologist informing them to stop pushing the full day onto us right now. Maybe next year, but it isn't happening this year. Done and done. I hope they respect my wishes otherwise, in my husbands words, she'll be pulled out if they don't stop with their "unrealistic expectations". 

I know that her language sucks compared to her peers, but it was only a short 16 months ago that it took her over 45 minutes to say the word "milk" after working and working with her and having our "break through". That this time last year she finally started to acknowledge Leah, that six months ago, her daddy and her truly started to bond over Frozen and popcorn, that her language has "blown up" to the point that she no longer needs pecs to assist. That her sensory system is much more regulated that shopping with her has become easier, that she greets everyone and looks right at people, etc.,. The list goes on and on. Things we've been working with her on for a long time. So feeling like we've been discredited is an understatement, which explains my emotions throughout this post. And it hurts. Period. But I know that I have the power to choose how I feel and I won't feel discredited or "less" bc my daughter isn't doing things on their terms. I know she's worked hard and I couldn't be prouder of my Belle. Here's to climbing this mountain together. All of us, together. 

Okay, I think I'm done for now. Happy Friday all.

Xoxo,

Trish 

Picture of Autumn using Leah as a car ramp/track...cleaver cleaver...hehe 

Leah, Our "Keeper"

"As I walked into the door, there she was, sitting on the steps in our first home in all of her glory, excited to see her "mama" for the first time in several days. I sat on the stairs next to her, embracing her, while the tears streamed down my face. Just like the movie, these words were said, "in a few minutes, your life is about to change. Your sister will be coming through that door." Her daddy walked in, holding the car seat as the tears overwhelmed his eyes when he greeted his girl with a new surprise: the baby. Inquisitive she was while looking at this new life, not sure what to make of this, but even, within those first moments, she was hers. She was always meant to be hers." (The first time Leah met Autumn)

Five years ago to the day, my life forever changed. It was the day we adopted our rescue Labrador Retriever mix Leah. I so desperately wanted to be a mom but knew my husband wasn't ready so instead of a baby, he gave me the go-ahead to adopt a dog. I searched for days for the perfect dog and knew what I wanted: a young female puppy that had to be some sort of retriever mix. Oh boy did I get more. 

When she first came to us, she smothered me with kisses and then went right into the kitchen, which is where she's never left. Training her had it's difficulties, granted she WAS a puppy after all, but we got through those tough days together. Not only did Leah become my companion, she helped me overcome my depression with her constant love, she got me into better shape with our daily walks, she kept me motivated to continue moving forward when I wanted to give up while attend grad school with that look in her eyes, and most of all, she brought the fun back into my life with our games of "ball" and dancing to christmas music. She filled many lonely days with love, laughter, and sometimes irritability because she loved chewing on my clothes. Aside from my husband, I had another "best friend" within my life. 

But things got even better. Fast-forward to after Autumn's arrival and the years that have since followed. We were so nervous as to how Leah would be when Autumn was born. We even took a dog class to help introduce the pup to her sister and felt ashamed for ever doubting her.  As we all know, Belle was diagnosed with Autism after she turned two and despite some of the hurdles she's had to go through, Leah has always been by her side and has loved her from day one. There's no doubt about it. The two of them have been inseparable, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, Leah's ALWAYS been right by Belle'side. Even though it's taken Autumn some time to "warm" up to her, she too loves her "sissy" more than anything. I can see it within her eyes, in both of their eyes, when we play outside or in her room, it's like magic.

As we celebrate five years of becoming a family, I can't help but think how precious time and life can be and how lucky we are to have this beautiful creature, who has captured our hearts, but most importantly hers, within our lives. I'm also reminded that there will come a time when we will have to say goodbye to our "first born", her "sissy" and "our keeper" and how on earth will we be able to get through that? How will Belle cope with this and how unfair it seems to be that our pets are not meant to outlive their owners. It just seems so cruel and breaks my heart at the mere thought of loosing Leah someday. 

I know I can't focus on the latter, but I will say that having adopted Leah, she's  taught me how to become a mother. She taught me how to love unconditionally and to try to see the good in everyone. She's taught me to give second chances to those who deserve them, to follow my instincts, and to also kick the grass behind me when when life seems to be full of crap. The best though, is she's allowed me to see what it's like to be forever patient, kind, enduring, selfless and always there supporting those who need love without muttering any words. That silence can be golden and a hug or a dog'a kiss goes a long way.

I know within my heart that there will never be another dog quite like Leah. She's been one of the best things that's happened to our family and for Autumn without a doubt. She's the perfect "therapy dog" (if you want to call her that) for myself, my husband and for Belle. Who can ask for anything better? How lucky we are to receive such love within our lives? How amazing is it that an animal, this four-legged enigma, can bring such happiness that I never thought existed?! Words cannot express my gratitude for you my "sweet Lee". Just like our song: "When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful, Every hour we spent together, lives within my heart

And when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears, And when she was happy, so was I, when she loved me." (Except I still love you and never will stop loving you.)

Xoxo,

Trish 

Here are some of my favorite pictures of Leah, "our keeper" and the best darn companion, a family could ever ask for!

(Leah on the beach for the first time)

(Daddy snuggles)

(My favorite picture of us)

(my girls)

(And there she is, Our sweet Leah girl)

The Day I Stopped Giving a S***

Diagnosis day, or what us butterfly parents refer to as "D-Day", was the day I stopped caring and giving a shit about the one thing that most moms have dealt with in some form or another: the mommy wars. Oh yes, you all know what I'm referring towards. Those endless debates about how a mom chooses to raise her family and the cycle of narcissism that stims from these so-called "friendly debates" because we all know that "our way is the BEST way and screw everyone else".

I admit, I was one of "those moms", feeling like I had to "defend" certain topics in hopes that someone would approve of my parenting style and reassure me that I got this, "raising a child" thing down. When all in all, I didn't need anyone else's approval or support to tell me I was doing a good job, except maybe my husband. 

Thus, I happily raised my white flag in victor the day that my daughter received her autism diagnosis because everything up to that day no longer mattered. None of that petty shit was on my "defend list" anymore because I realized in those moments that there will be bigger battles ahead that will have nothing to do with what transpired within the first year or two of Belle's life. I had no choice, but to become stronger and resilient in many areas of life as a mother and a person in order to move forward for Autumn's sake. 

Also, when it comes down to it, I realized that no one really gives a crap as to how you "parent" your child, except your child. Who knows, perhaps in twenty-five years they'll be blaming you as to why their life turned out the way it did and I guarantee they will not complain about whether you "nursed them enough" or if they wore "cloth diapers" (unless they're bloody face from AHS-serious fan here- then maybe they will, joking!, insert LOL). Or maybe they'll be in college, living at home, on their own, married, kids of their own, etc., the opportunities are endless here. Regardless of where our children may be in the future, they'll STILL need our love and support and honestly, that's all that they will care about once they become adults themselves (scary bittersweet thought). Just like most of us "may" still need our parent/parents in our lives for emotional support. The cycle will continue.  

Having a special needs child diagnosed with autism changed my mindset, my focus, and helped me realize that there are so many more important things worth my time. I grew up a lot on her "D-day" and that feeling has been humbling. However, I feel that if we do decide to give it another go in the future, I'll be prepared, more confident in my choices as a parent, and won't need an "audience of approval".  Since having my first being a "butterfly", well, it makes this parenting road a little more interesting and unpredictable, but I've learned that's parenting in general. 

Thus, my journey isn't "greater" or "more difficult" than other parents and our opinions most likely differ, but if it's one thing we all can agree upon is that we love our children more than we'd ever thought possible. So for any new/soon-to-be parents out there, my best advice is, none. This is YOUR journey to take, your story to tell. It's not my place or position to say anything indifferent. In time, you may learn to take it all in stride and to not waste your time defending what "you do" as a parent. It took my daughter's diagnosis confirmation for me to realize the above. 

However, I will say this one thing and this goes for all parents out there: You ARE the expert on your child. No textbook will give you the answers. That's 100% the truth. Remember that! 

Xoxo,

Trish 

(This post was inspired by seeing all of these "mommy debate" blog posts throughout my news feeds. Below is a picture of Belle and me when she was ten days old. See the tired look in my eyes/face. She was also crying in this picture. Adjusting to the "newness" of motherhood/babyhood together.)