Thankful

My house is quiet.  It is late and everyone is sleeping.  I am baking.  

(I decided to bake desserts after all:))

The pumpkin dessert is in the oven baking, the pie crust is awaiting the oven, the brownies (yeah, I know, not your traditional turkey day indulgence, but I'm trying to provide a dairy free option) are waiting their turn for the oven also, the vegetables for the stuffing are prepped and in the fridge.  The laundry is getting caught up.  The bathrooms are clean, the house is (fairly) clean.  During this quiet time when there is no school tomorrow to be worrying about, no presentation to be preparing for, no 'pressing matters' to occupy my mind, my mind and heart are able to wander, to think freely.  

I think about BoyOne and BoyTwo and the amazing progress they have made here, in a family, our family.  I am overwhelmed by this miraculous transformation that is taking place in them physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and the equally as miraculous transformations that are taking place in the rest of us for opening our hearts to them.  

Right now, while BoyTwo is comfortably sleeping, all cozied up in a warm bed with his little stuffed animals and pillow and blanket, I can easily see the innocent child that he is.  His disabilities become invisible to me and the trials these disabilities present every day seem far away.  This is a rare occasion, sadly.  I wish he could have been here his whole life.  I wish I could have protected him from the effects of the lifestyle he was thrown into both prenatally and as an infant and toddler.  I wish that his whole life didn't have to be so difficult.  Even here, it is difficult for him.  Learning a new language.  Not being able to trust.  Still wondering about having enough to eat.  I wish I could make it all go away for him.

I remember all the people in Ukraine who had given up on BoyTwo.  At the age of 7!!  I don't judge them at all as I did initially.  If anything, I have far more respect for them and the difficult job they face of trying to teach and train and raise children in less than desirable circumstances, with very few resources.  Have they heard of FAS?  Do they have any idea about learning disabilities?  My word, they don't even understand physical disabilities.  Can you imagine the frustration they have trying to teach these children who appear to be 'normal' but cannot learn?  Can you imagine the irritation they feel when day after long day the child appears to be not listening or trying?  What about the outright defiance they have to endure?  I can empathize with them over this.  I have lived with it for the past year.  I have been spit on, sworn at, called names, hit, bit, had things thrown at me, etc., by one child!  Many times each of these things happened every day, day after day.  The orphanage the boys came from had nearly 300 children living there!  Can you imagine having multiple children doing this to you, day after day, year after year?!

I think of my (biological) little girls who have their own struggles, of the fight it has been, here in a free country with a surplus of knowledge and resources, to try to understand them and to find the help for them that they need.  I see them try so very hard every. single. day and still not understand what they are being taught and struggle to fit in.  What would have become of them if they had been the orphan in Ukraine?  It makes me sick to my stomach to think about what might have happened to Two, who, as an infant, literally cried hours and hours each day.  She couldn't tolerate most of the formulas we tried to supplement with and couldn't even tolerate rice cereal until she was 10 months old.  People.  She didn't even sleep longer than an hour at a time until she was 10 months old.  Even in the night.  She was completely nonverbal, no cooing, ahhing or utterance, until she was 1 1/2, except for when she was screaming bloody murder. She had a very difficult time making eye contact.  She couldn't hear well because of constant ear infections.  She was very small and grew slowly.  I can't imagine that with so many children needing attention, someone being able to sit with her for hours and hours, holding her and working with her, insisting on eye contact.  I can't imagine that there would have been anyone who would have been able, even if they wanted, to feed her one ounce of a bottle every hour and hold her until it had digested enough that she wouldn't throw most of it up.  Would someone have been able to take the time to learn sign language so that they could then teach her sign language so she could begin to communicate?  I'm not sure, but I imagine that babies like this are probably sent to separate orphanages for babies and young children with special needs.  Sometimes, at these orphanages, if they are lucky, they are treated well.  Sometimes, they aren't lucky and they lay in beds or cribs all day, every day, year after year.  After this, I know what happens.  When they turn 7 they are sent to a mental institution with people ages 7 on through adult.  Their circumstances are dire.  

What would happen to Three?  She looks normal, but would appear to be defiant because she does not listen.  We know that she is listening but does not understand what she is being told.  They would not know this.  They wouldn't understand this.  Would her orphanage staff had given up on her, deeming her unable to learn?

Tonight I am so grateful that I am their mom.  I am so grateful for each of my six children.  I am grateful that they are here with me, under my roof, within my reach.  I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for blessing me with the resources and insight I need to see my children for who they are and who they have the potential to become.  I am so grateful that I know of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.  I am so grateful that I know that I can ask Them for help and for strength and for forgiveness.  I am so grateful that They know my children, and me, our needs, strengths, and weaknesses and how to overcome them through Them.  I am really grateful that I have been blessed with a simple and quick faith.  I am grateful for prayer.  I am grateful for the relationship I have with my Heavenly Father and Savior.  I am grateful for their unfailing, perfect love.

With this gratitude and thankful heart, there is the flip side, and I wonder and worry about all the other misunderstood children in the world.  

Number of Days

422 - number of days the boys have been home

420 - number of days before BoyTwo told us he loved us

2,579 - number of days before I found out that Three couldn't understand what we were saying to her

2592 - number of days before I realized/understood that Three couldn't/can't understand what we are saying to her

3,309 - number of days before I realized that Two possibly has CAPD, too  (she's 9 so that's why this # is so much larger than Three's.  It was actually only 3 days after Three was diagnosed)

********

Every morning when the kids wake up, we tell them good morning and that we love them.  Then before they leave for school, we tell them again.  When I drop them off at school, as they jump out of the car, we say 'I love you!' again.  During their day at school, I usually see one or more of them (because let's face it, with five kids at the elementary, I still practically live there:)), as we part I say it again.  We say it after we pray together.  After we brush their teeth and send them upstairs to await being tucked in, we say it again.  On the final tuck in (is there really such a thing??) we express our love to them.  If they get off their beds they are sent back (or escorted back) with an 'I love you!'.  Sometimes these 'I love you's are accompanied by us telling them something specific that we love about them, or listing several reasons why we love them.  Five of the six kids always answer back, 

'I love you, too!!'  Two days ago, after brushing BoyTwo's teeth, I sent him up to his bed to wait for a tuck in.  'K, BoyTwo, I'll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in.  I love you!'  And holycrap, 420 days and approximately 2,100 times later, the kid answered back,

'I love you, too!'

Huz and I were brushing different kids at separate sinks in the bathroom and both of us stopped, looked up and did the whole, 'did he just say what I think he said?', 'did you just hear that?'.  

Now, lest you think that hell froze over, this week, particularly the past few days, have been quite... rough.  That's a pretty nice way of putting it.  After really classic bad behavior, and a series of 'loving consequences', I tucked BoyTwo into bed tonight.  As I scooted the covers away from his face (he often buries his face and then I have to 'find' him, you know the game you play with your two year old) to 'look' for him, I noticed the sober look on his face.  Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a tear, out the corner of his eye.

Now, BoyTwo definitely cries, but his cries are usually raging cries, hateful cries where you can see in his face that he is wanting to rip the skin off your face and eat it.  This cry was different.  He was tender.

And then it hit me.  He had opened up to us on a whole new level (saying 'I love you') and was now testing us (bad behavior past few days) and was feeling sadness that I had been disappointed with the things that he had done!

Just to underscore the magnitude of this verbal expression of feelings, BoyTwo denies up and down that he loves his brother (whom we know without a shadow of a doubt he does in fact love) and according to the both of them, has never expressed this feeling to anyone.  In fact, one time I had tried to get him to verbalize his feelings for his brother, hoping that it would help him to recognize and put a name to that feeling that he had toward his brother.  He would. not. say. the. word. love.  He actually started to hyperventilate when I suggested that he loved BoyOne.  But, now this!

Hallelujah!!  The child can feel!!!  

*******

Still trying to sort through the whole CAPD thing.  As I read about CAPD (over and over and over into the wee hours of the morning) I see indicators or 'red flags' that may indicate that your child (or you) may have CAPD.  Every time I see that list, I don't see Three, I see Two.  Over and over.  Oh, how I hope I'm wrong.  Two has SPD and is actually the reason I first heard about CAPD years ago.  I thought she, possibly, could have this.  However, the 'red flags' for CAPD didn't encompass the sensory 'issues' she has.  And there's a lot of them.  So, when she was diagnosed with SPD, I basically forgot all about CAPD.  Until now.  Until I realized that I have been mentioning to Huz and her teacher how I'm concerned that she is not comprehending well.  Until I realized how many times a day she says 'huh?' and 'what?'.  Until I remembered the blank stares, her very delayed language progress, her serious difficulties with reading, rhyming, spelling, word confusion and substitution, etc.  

One thing that I was told that would help Three was to speak slower.  It would allow her more time to process what she was hearing.  I really thought that didn't apply to me.  As her mother, I have never once heard her indicate that she could not understand what I was saying.  She's never mentioned that she couldn't understand me.  Because of the SPD, a lot of the parenting things we do in our house are similar to those things you do for CAPD and ELL kids.  I have been thinking for a few days that I ought to try slowing down my speech.  Part of me wasn't going to try it because I really felt that as a mother, I would have known/noticed that this was something I needed to do.  I hadn't noticed a need.  Didn't think I needed to try.

Tonight, as I began read to Three and Four (BoyTwo is usually with us but was already in bed-see above section), I humbled myself and decided to try speaking quite slowly.  To be very honest, I felt like I was reading at a ridiculously slow pace.  We read half of what we usually did in the same amount of time.  When I finished, I turned to Three and asked if she liked the new way I was reading or if she wanted me to keep reading how I usually do.

"The new way."

Bad mommy.  I closed my eyes and then said, 

"I'm sorry I usually talk so fast!  I didn't realize you didn't understand me."

She said, "It's okay mom."

I love their immediate forgiveness and love.  She continued, 

"That's why I don't answer questions when we read scriptures (we read scripture together every morning.  Well, One or I read, the others listen as they can't read).  I can't understand you or Savanna."

Oh my holy crap.  Bad bad mommy!  (I'm not looking for anyone to reassure me that I'm not a bad mommy, it's just the immediate thought I had when this happened.  It's a natural feeling, I think, to realize you have unintentionally failed your child)  This poor child.  Then the whole movie thing happens where you flashback to twenty different scenes and replay them in your head in a matter of a millisecond.  I thought of all the 'labels' she had been given.  Shy.  Quiet.  Withdrawn.  Not attentive.  Difficulty keeping up with classwork.  Well, duh.  She seemed shy, quiet and withdrawn because she couldn't tell what was going on.  I remember being in Ukraine, hanging out with a bunch of Russian speaking adults.  I could have easily been tagged as all of those things.  Not attentive.  Difficulty keeping up with classwork.  Well, yeah.  When you can't tell what anyone is saying, you can't exactly follow along.  

Hugs.  Kisses.  Again.  Tuck in.  More 'I love yous'.  Go downstairs to read with Two who is waiting patiently on my bed with her book.  We have this great system.  She reads, I read.  This helps her a ton as she tires when she reads.  She has a hard time comprehending.  She, through much effort on her part and mine, has become a good reader.  In fact she tested really well, being able to read at a 6th grade level.  Comprehension?  Nope.  Below her current grade level (3rd grade).  She has learned to compensate.  She taught herself to read well and quickly.  People just have no idea that she doesn't know what in the world is being said.  (except her teachers and myself who notice this.  it's kept her safe from feeling alienated from classmates)

When it was my turn to read, I read my section slooooowly, as I had done with Three.  When I was done, I asked Two if she liked the new way I was reading or if it was too slow and did she want me to read my usual way.  She, too, liked the slower reading.  I told her that I know I read fast and that I was sorry that I hadn't asked her before.  She told me it was okay and that she thought it was better to have me read slow because then she could understand what was going on (in the book) and maybe we could all talk slower, too, so she could understand.

For reals?!  For reals.  I had no. idea.  

I'm sure you've heard of 'Fast Talker' and 'Soft Talker' and 'Loud Talker'.  Let me introduce myself to you,  

"Hello, I am now s.l.o.w.  t.a.l.k.e.r."