Category - disability

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Walk On Walk Star—Celebrating Her First Steps
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Invited—When Your Child With Special Needs Gets A Birthday Invitation
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Sometimes
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The Beginning—This Is Not The Life We Ordered

Walk On Walk Star—Celebrating Her First Steps

  I spend a lot of energy focusing on moving forward, but when I take a moment to look back, I’m amazed at how far we’ve come. Moreover, how far SHE has come.    She wore legs braces to help align her ankles, knees and hips. She worked hard at physio every week. She practiced standing and balancing and taking a step or two holding one of our hands.    Then she took a few steps on her own. It was hard work and it took years and a lot of effort.    And then one day she just did it. Inspired to get up and chase after her new dog, she walked on her own. She fell a few times, but got up and tried again until she got just walked across the room all on her own.  I still get choked up when I watch the video of that magical moment. Walk on, walk star. We’re proud of every step you take.               Click to watch this Walk Star’s First Steps  

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Invited—When Your Child With Special Needs Gets A Birthday Invitation

It happened. Finally, joyfully, my five year old atypical child received her first ever invitation to a typical peer’s birthday party. She tore open the envelope and exclaimed wide eyed, “I party!” “I so happy,” she said while I cried big, sobby tears. “Mummy sad?” she asked, looking concerned. No my sweet girl. I’m not sad. I’m thrilled for you. You deserve so much—fun and parties and all the great things that come with having friends who love you, for you. I want to tell this *mother, the one who sent the invitation, how much this means. I’m sure she has no idea. Avery has carried the invitation around with her all morning and won’t put it down. And now she wants to go out, like right now, and buy her friend a “bir-day pwsent.” The happiness on this child’s face and the excitement pulsing through her body reminds me, because sometimes I forget, that life is truly a celebration.  Party on big girl. *I sent the mom an email to explain how much this invitation meant to us and to sincerely thank her. I also hugged her (hard and possibly a tiny bit too long) at the party.   […]

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Sometimes

Sometimes when you have too much to say, you end up saying nothing at all. I’ve tried to write many times this week. But instead of writing a word, I clicked “close” every time.   Sometimes when life is too hard, you shut yourself off. You assure everyone around you that everything is fine and you try to believe it.    I feel guilty because others have struggles much harder than my own. I have a child with special needs. So what? So do many, many other parents. Our story is not unique. Avery is healthy and happy and beautiful and I should feel lucky. Or so I have been told. But some days, instead of lucky, I feel frightened, frustrated, angry or sad.   I’ve always had the attitude that everything will be okay. This is our normal and life is good. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. It seems you can only go on for so long fooling yourself into thinking your life isn’t hard.  My life is hard. Avery is funny and loving, but she’s difficult. She doesn’t understand “danger.” She is always at risk and it’s taxing living in a constant state of fight or flight.[…]

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The Beginning—This Is Not The Life We Ordered

My husband gave me a tacky beer cozy—you know those foamy cups that insulate your bottle? “This is not the life I ordered!” was written across it in neon letters. It was a silly gag gift for an occasion I can no longer recall. When our daughter was diagnosed with the genetic disorder that would change all of our lives, I dragged out the beer cozy from a box in the basement and announced that I would be using it to hold all future beverages.  The Beginning: When our daughter was four months old we had concerns. This baby, our second child, wasn’t gaining weight, she refused to nurse or drink from a bottle, and she wasn’t achieving the milestones associated with her age. By six months we were worried. By seven months we were frantic. Our family doctor (the only medical professional who actually listened to us), was at a loss. She ordered the necessary genetic testing, and in the meantime referred us to a pediatrician who I took Avery to see several times. On the last visit, near tears, I begged him to take our concerns seriously. My husband and I knew something wasn’t right. His response to my plea for[…]

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