Getting Speech and Occupational Therapies After Age 3

M2 aged out of early intervention therapy a few months ago. The early intervention provided her with in-home speech and occupational therapy once a week, alternating. Once you hit age 3 though, that all goes away. Boom. Diagnosis or not, needing help or not -- Third birthday? GONE. Then what happens? The child still needs therapy, that need doesn't magically go away. What is next? Where do you turn?

At that point, the therapy goes through the school district. I never even knew that until M2 was going to need the help. The catch is: Getting the therapies isn't automatic. The child has to qualify based on the district's specifications (each does things differently) and it's a long process. It all starts with a call to the school district to tell them your child is aging out of early intervention services. Just because your child may be diagnosed  by a doctor with ASD or he/she has been getting therapy, it doesn't mean the school district will automatically agree that it's needed. They look at things from more of a school functionality aspect. If the issues won't later interfere with schooling, the child won't qualify.

Since August, I've been taking M2 for all kinds of testing to see if she'd qualify to get into the therapy provided by the school district. There were all kinds of hoops to jump through. Speech, cognitive, psychology, behavior, on and on the testing went. Once all the evaluations were finally complete, I met with the team to discuss what they'd determined. Then, we met to discuss what the best next step for her. I spent months worrying about what would happen if the team didn't say she qualified. A and I, along with her early intervention team, knew without a doubt that in order for her to progress she needed to get into the school district's program.

Without it, we didn't now what we would do or what would happen with M2. A private speech therapist and OT alone wouldn't cut it for what her needs are. Plus, those therapies run $150 plus a session and often (like in our case) are not covered by insurance to the extent needed, if at all. Her early intervention team said we had one big thing in our favor: Our school district has the absolute best programs for special needs kids around. It is the most understanding, willing to work with parents and eager to actually help the kids. That didn't stop me from worrying. Every meeting, evaluation, phone call -- anything -- I pleaded M2's case, advocated for her and fought to ensure she'd get the services she needs.

I was lucky that the team working with her saw everything I do and agreed wholeheartedly with everything I said and suggested. In the end, the school district agreed with her autism diagnosis, gave her that diagnosis for school purposes, and agreed that she has a severe speech delay that must be addressed. Her vocabulary, motor planning and clarity simply aren't there. All agreed that she'd need to extra help through the programs the district offers to get her ready for kindergarten. It was all enough to get her into special needs "preschool."

It's called preschool because it goes through the school district, but really, it's speech and occupational therapy twice a week for an hour in a group setting along with one-on-one speech therapy six times a month. The idea is to address the issues she has, expose her to more kids and get her ready to enter kindergarten in a few years.

Her "class" is made up of four or five other special-needs kids. With three teachers and a speech pathologist on hand at all times, it's as close to one-on-one as you can get! During the hour, the teachers work with the kids on things like sitting down to eat, interacting appropriately with peers and adults, sitting in a circle, following directions, playing appropriately -- I honestly don't even know what all she'll be doing yet! With all the time it took to set everything up, M2 has only had two sessions before the holidays started.

Eventually, she'll move up into a larger group then into a group that is a mix of special-needs and typical children. It's a ladder process to slowly get her to where she needs to be, based on her own needs and timeline. As she progresses, more learning and and preschool-type activities are added in addition to the therapies.

We wrapped up her early intervention therapies a day before her birthday and started the preschool therapy two days after. Depending on how she does, I'll most likely be finding a private speech therapist to work with her a few times a month as well. Her previous speech therapist (whom we loved) said she sees the most improvement with kids who have the school district provided therapy and private as well. Setting that up is going to be our next adventure.

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Getting Speech and Occupational Therapies After Age 3

M2 aged out of early intervention therapy a few months ago. The early intervention provided her with in-home speech and occupational therapy once a week, alternating. Once you hit age 3 though, that all goes away. Boom. Diagnosis or not, needing help or not -- Third birthday? GONE. Then what happens? The child still needs therapy, that need doesn't magically go away. What is next? Where do you turn?

At that point, the therapy goes through the school district. I never even knew that until M2 was going to need the help. The catch is: Getting the therapies isn't automatic. The child has to qualify based on the district's specifications (each does things differently) and it's a long process. It all starts with a call to the school district to tell them your child is aging out of early intervention services. Just because your child may be diagnosed  by a doctor with ASD or he/she has been getting therapy, it doesn't mean the school district will automatically agree that it's needed. They look at things from more of a school functionality aspect. If the issues won't later interfere with schooling, the child won't qualify.

Since August, I've been taking M2 for all kinds of testing to see if she'd qualify to get into the therapy provided by the school district. There were all kinds of hoops to jump through. Speech, cognitive, psychology, behavior, on and on the testing went. Once all the evaluations were finally complete, I met with the team to discuss what they'd determined. Then, we met to discuss what the best next step for her. I spent months worrying about what would happen if the team didn't say she qualified. A and I, along with her early intervention team, knew without a doubt that in order for her to progress she needed to get into the school district's program.

Without it, we didn't now what we would do or what would happen with M2. A private speech therapist and OT alone wouldn't cut it for what her needs are. Plus, those therapies run $150 plus a session and often (like in our case) are not covered by insurance to the extent needed, if at all. Her early intervention team said we had one big thing in our favor: Our school district has the absolute best programs for special needs kids around. It is the most understanding, willing to work with parents and eager to actually help the kids. That didn't stop me from worrying. Every meeting, evaluation, phone call -- anything -- I pleaded M2's case, advocated for her and fought to ensure she'd get the services she needs.

I was lucky that the team working with her saw everything I do and agreed wholeheartedly with everything I said and suggested. In the end, the school district agreed with her autism diagnosis, gave her that diagnosis for school purposes, and agreed that she has a severe speech delay that must be addressed. Her vocabulary, motor planning and clarity simply aren't there. All agreed that she'd need to extra help through the programs the district offers to get her ready for kindergarten. It was all enough to get her into special needs "preschool."

It's called preschool because it goes through the school district, but really, it's speech and occupational therapy twice a week for an hour in a group setting along with one-on-one speech therapy six times a month. The idea is to address the issues she has, expose her to more kids and get her ready to enter kindergarten in a few years.

Her "class" is made up of four or five other special-needs kids. With three teachers and a speech pathologist on hand at all times, it's as close to one-on-one as you can get! During the hour, the teachers work with the kids on things like sitting down to eat, interacting appropriately with peers and adults, sitting in a circle, following directions, playing appropriately -- I honestly don't even know what all she'll be doing yet! With all the time it took to set everything up, M2 has only had two sessions before the holidays started.

Eventually, she'll move up into a larger group then into a group that is a mix of special-needs and typical children. It's a ladder process to slowly get her to where she needs to be, based on her own needs and timeline. As she progresses, more learning and and preschool-type activities are added in addition to the therapies.

We wrapped up her early intervention therapies a day before her birthday and started the preschool therapy two days after. Depending on how she does, I'll most likely be finding a private speech therapist to work with her a few times a month as well. Her previous speech therapist (whom we loved) said she sees the most improvement with kids who have the school district provided therapy and private as well. Setting that up is going to be our next adventure.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

To spend more time with family and friends who are visiting from out of town, I'm taking this week off from the blog. You'll still see me some on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram so be sure to follow me there (I'm such a social media addict). Before I go, I want to share a special Thanksgiving post with you.

Last year on Thanksgiving, I was still pregnant with baby B and my mother was in town to celebrate with us. Measuring 4 weeks ahead, I was huge. Baby B is approaching his first birthday rapidly. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. The year before, we spent the holiday with A's family out of state. Usually, we don't travel for Thanksgiving. I'm glad we did that year. We didn't know at the time, but would be the last time we'd see his mother. She passed away soon after from cancer. Three years ago, I was pregnant with M2. Five years ago, A and I were celebrating our first Thanksgiving as a married couple with his brothers. Over 15 years ago, Thanksgiving would be the last time I saw my aunt before she passed away in December. My parents, sister and I enjoyed turkey and all the fixing with extended family as my aunt was too sick to leave her bed. My grandmother was born around Thanksgiving as well. So many things have happened around Thanksgiving for our family, including those special last memories of loved ones. It's a time of both celebration and remembrance for me. I give thanks for my family, friends and for all those who have touched my life. All leave a footprint on my heart.

This year, so much has changed for my family. I give thanks for having a diagnosis for M2. For getting through despite new financial strain. For all the progress that's been made in getting her help. For baby B growing so big and strong. For 5 years of marriage to A. For our home and all the other many blessings we have.

So much has changed in the world as well. We face uncertain times in our country and across the globe. I am thankful for all the military personnel, many of whom won't be home with their own families for the holiday, who fight to protect us all.

As for you, my dear readers, I wish you all a wonderful holiday with friends and family. I wish you a day of peace and celebration for all which you are grateful. I am thankful for you all.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

To spend more time with family and friends who are visiting from out of town, I'm taking this week off from the blog. You'll still see me some on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram so be sure to follow me there (I'm such a social media addict). Before I go, I want to share a special Thanksgiving post with you.

Last year on Thanksgiving, I was still pregnant with baby B and my mother was in town to celebrate with us. Measuring 4 weeks ahead, I was huge. Baby B is approaching his first birthday rapidly. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. The year before, we spent the holiday with A's family out of state. Usually, we don't travel for Thanksgiving. I'm glad we did that year. We didn't know at the time, but would be the last time we'd see his mother. She passed away soon after from cancer. Three years ago, I was pregnant with M2. Five years ago, A and I were celebrating our first Thanksgiving as a married couple with his brothers. Over 15 years ago, Thanksgiving would be the last time I saw my aunt before she passed away in December. My parents, sister and I enjoyed turkey and all the fixing with extended family as my aunt was too sick to leave her bed. My grandmother was born around Thanksgiving as well. So many things have happened around Thanksgiving for our family, including those special last memories of loved ones. It's a time of both celebration and remembrance for me. I give thanks for my family, friends and for all those who have touched my life. All leave a footprint on my heart.

This year, so much has changed for my family. I give thanks for having a diagnosis for M2. For getting through despite new financial strain. For all the progress that's been made in getting her help. For baby B growing so big and strong. For 5 years of marriage to A. For our home and all the other many blessings we have.

So much has changed in the world as well. We face uncertain times in our country and across the globe. I am thankful for all the military personnel, many of whom won't be home with their own families for the holiday, who fight to protect us all.

As for you, my dear readers, I wish you all a wonderful holiday with friends and family. I wish you a day of peace and celebration for all which you are grateful. I am thankful for you all.

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Dear Know-it-All Mom: Yes, My Child Actually is Autistic

Since I told you my child is special needs, you've turned into Professor Sanctimommy McKnowItAll. While you pretend to be supportive, say you know all about and have experience with autism, and claim you're not judging, your backhanded, know-it-all comments have given you away.  Obviously, you don’t really understand that, like children, not all special needs are exactly the same. Especially when it comes to autism spectrum disorder.

Sorry, not sorry, that you don't understand that symptoms aren't obvious 24/7 365 and that there are are some good hours or days among the bad. (Even though you claim to know all about ASD.) Kids don't have to constantly be raging terrors to have issues. It's a bigger picture kind of thing here, and you're not seeing the bigger picture. I also am under no obligation to give you all the details so you can (maybe) see that bigger picture. It is none of you damn business.

You may not see what the professionals and we, as her parents, see. That doesn't make you right. It means you aren't an expert or someone who knows what to look for. Unless you're around my child as often as I am or have a qualifying degree, stuff it.
When it comes to Facebook, I'm allowed to post when my child does well and makes some progress. Contrary to what you seem to think, you can say good things about your child even when you're struggling to accept a difficult diagnosis. I refuse to bash my child publicly or ignore her existence on social media. What I do post on Facebook doesn't give you the right to claim I'm lying about the diagnosis.

It takes all my inner strength and resolve to not ream you a new one every time you argue with me, trying to claim that my child is fine, all kids do what she does, or --even worse-- that she's just a brat. Let's not even go there about your comments about it not being my child at all, it's just me being a bad mom who doesn't want to face up to that fact. That just would not end well for you.

Yes, my child got a diagnosis fast. No, that doesn't mean that the doctors are wrong/not good enough/I'm lying/whatever crap you come up with. It means that my child's issues were just. that. obvious. to someone who knows what the heck they're talking about.

By the way, my getting help doesn't make me a bad mother. I want my child to have all the help she can get in order to have the happiest, best life she possibly can. That's so nice that another mom you know with a special needs kid never got help or even considered it. It's her choice, I'm sure she's doing what she thinks is best. The same that I am.

Finding out my child has special needs isn't something you should be congratulating me on. The diagnosis is a devastating thing to hear. Having an answer and knowing it's not all in my head is wonderful. On the other hand, being told it's all in my head and that I can just do XYZ to make her life better would be even more wonderful. Her issues aren't going to go away. There's no out growing it (yeah, you're wrong on that count, too). Having a special needs child isn't cool or fun. Knowing your child is struggling and will struggle throughout her life rips out your heart. Please don't minimize that and act like this is something that I wanted as you accuse me of lying about it in the next breath.

By the way, lying about the diagnosis? Why would I do that? I could show you all the paperwork with the evaluation and diagnosis. Could, but I won't. Because it's none. of. your. business. My child's medical records are private, not for you to gawk at.

Telling me, "Oh, it could be worse," trivializes the struggle my family, especially my daughter, is going through and will continue to go through. The situation can always be worse, that doesn't mean our struggles aren't real or important.

My child being diagnosed as special needs doesn't make what you go through any less difficult. It doesn't effect your life. Yet, after lacking any understanding and being totally unsupportive, you tell me, "I just can't deal with it." You just can't deal with knowing my child is special needs? Well, I just can't deal with your attitude. No parent should have to defend their child, themselves, or their child's diagnosis.

At the end of the day, my child is still the same wonderful, amazing, awesome person she was before the diagnosis. She's got you beat in spades, Professor.

To find out how everything mentioned in this post turned out, read my follow up here.

Read more about our journey with autism here.





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Recognizing Autism Spectrum Disorder

Since I've started talking about M2's autism spectrum disorder (ASD) journey (read more here and here) I've had a number of people ask what her specific symptoms are. Even family and friends who don't have experience with autism, or who don't see her often, have asked. I think what the questions stem from is many parents really wondering, "How do you know? What is different so I can see if my kid is on the spectrum, too?" Autism hides from plain view. It isn't easy to spot like some other disabilities. ASD kids look like any other kid on the playground unless you know what you're looking for so it's a normal reaction to want to know how to recognize ASD. With how prevalent it is now, parents want to know how to tell if their own child may have it.

Every single child and case is different. Some kids show symptoms others don't. Some may have many, some may only have a few. Any of the stereotypes you hear about are just that: stereotypes. With ASD, it's really a big picture kind of thing when it comes to autism. Since it's a spectrum, the severity varies greatly as well. Cases toward the high-functioning end may be harder to spot. There is simply no set-in-stone checklist to know for sure if your child has autism spectrum disorder. The best way to find out if your child does have autism spectrum disorder is to take them to see a developmental pediatrician. These are the experts who can give you answers, who know what is neurotypical and what isn't, who know when it's simply a quirk or something more. A and I suspected, but didn't know for sure, until we took M2 to the developmental pediatrician (read about what that was like here).



With M2, we noticed early on that she didn't really play with toys. I always wondered why there are even toys for babies when they do nothing with them and show absolutely no interest. She was also dead focused on learning to do one thing at a time and that is all she'd spend her time doing. Each day, she'd spend almost all her time trying to sit up. Then crawl. Then stand. And so on. Forget helping her with anything, either. Everything had to be done by her, her way, end of story. All of this we pushed aside, figuring she was just determined and independent. Even now, she doesn't play with toys as much as kids usually do. Once we started seeing how different baby B is, we started to wonder.

The big tip off with her is her speech. Her development in this area is far behind what it should be. At first, we thought it was a typical speech delay, which many children have. Then her therapist started pointing out how she doesn't fit in with anything you'd expect with a typical speech delay. As the therapist put it, a whole book could be written just on M2's speech delay. Now we know that the delay stems from the autism.

What sealed it and convinced us something more than M2 just being M2 and having a speech delay was the major changes in behavior. Loud noises bother her. Random noises bother her. She may hear a clock ding the hour proceeds to scream, cry, hold her ears, stomp, kick things, hit and pound the wall. Or, she'll hear the clock and end up in a tight ball on the floor shaking and screaming, "ear ear ear" (well, her sound for ear). Yet another time, she may be fine. The same can happen if she hears traffic, a bird, a dog bark...anything that at that time bothers her. Rain or thunderstorms are sure to set her off. She's not scared of them, it's the sound that is way too much for her to handle. Her senses become over loaded. Similarly, if we're out in public and another child starts throwing a fit, screaming, crying, etc., she'll react to that as well. The noise, plus knowing that something is wrong, overloads her. It's one of the big reasons we so appreciate, and are totally for, people removing misbehaving or upset kids from the situation. When you don't remove your child, mine then ends up terrified and upset so we have to remove her. Our whole day gets ruined when people are inconsiderate like that. The longer the noise lasts, the worse she gets.

Hiding from pictures

Crowds and/or places she doesn't know don't usually go over well in M2's world. To put it simply, she doesn't like them. How she reacts to them are one thing friends and family will point out to try to argue she can't possibly be autistic. People seem to expect an autistic child to have a typical yelling, screaming, kicking, hitting melt down. As I said from the start, each kid is different though. For M2, she shuts down. She does anything she can to get away from the situation. She runs away with no care where we are or where she is going. She won't respond to anyone. She crawls into B's stroller, covers her eyes and hides. If you touch her, she is even more likely to take off. Touch also sends her into a screaming fit. She goes into her own little world, no facial expression, no reaction, no anything.

Once people realize this and actually look at how she's acting next to other kids her age, it's very obvious something is off. As you can imagine, we have to be very careful with where we take her. I also don't take both kids out alone. It's too much of a safety risk when I don't know when or if she'll all of a sudden take off, leaving me having to decide whether to stay with the baby or go after her. I can't be assured that if I look away at something on a self in a store or to help baby B for a second that she'll still be there. She's fast. We always make sure someone is watching JUST her, ready to spring, so that she remains safe.

Upset M2

With other kids, M2 may or may not interact. Most often, she's the one wanting to be alone and do her own thing. A quick hello or a hug, then she's done. I'm not even allowed to play with her most of the time. When I try, she gets mad or upset. Her toys and the decorations in her room are often to be found lined up as well. She'll also be the kid walking on tip toe and toe first.

In M2's case, there are more symptoms than these (such as she hates having her picture taken, is picky with food and has to have things done a certain way). This post would be insanely long if I talked about every one! It's also important to keep in mind that every day with M2 is different, as with most ASD children. Some are good, some are bad, some are very bad. ASD kids don't always show symptoms daily, let alone constantly. It's like Forrest's box of chocolates each day -- you never know what you're going to get. Every day, we start anew and learn more.





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How to Help Kids Identify and Express Feelings

For children, identifying and expressing their emotions can be a frustrating struggle. In M2's case, having a speech delay and autism makes it even more difficult. (Read more about her diagnosis here.) Her emotions can go from happy and content to scared and screaming as she shakes in a little ball. A loud noise or an outcome she doesn't like (such as being told no) can send her into a rage. Flying off the handle screaming; shrieking; slamming into, hitting and kicking walls and doors and she melts down. Even getting too close to her can make it worse. Forget touching her, that'll really cause more problems. Hearing other kids having fits, crying or whining also sends her into sensory overload. She doesn't understand what she's feeling and can't identify it. There is no way for her to communicate with us how she's feeling as saying the words is impossible for her right now. The frustration and fear at not being able to understand or identify what she's feeling is often evident on her face.

I've tried showing M2 pictures in books of different expressions to help teach her what different emotions are. This is a common technique and one that can be started even when kids are babies B's age. However, it hasn't been something M2 has connected with. To her, those cute books of babies and kids are just that...books of other babies and kids. The emotions on the faces don't register with her. There is no difference from one face to another. The same goes when I try to make different faces myself to help her. It just does not register in her world. Often, she won't even look at my face as I try to look mad, sad or happy to the extreme. Ask her to look at Mommy and she'll look anywhere but at my face.

Since she's gotten her My Happy Pillows, M2 has been making progress. These adorable pillows and their matching plush mini me's were developed by 6-year-old Isabella to help other kids express themselves. Each animal pillow has a side with a happy face and a flip side with either a scared, shy, angry, bored or sad face. There are Zee the monkey, Sunny the bear, Rosie the dog, Leo the lion, Spotty the giraffe and Shadow the panda from which kids can choose.

Rosie and Leo give M2 a cute way learn about feelings. Eventually, my hope is that she'll show us how she's feeling herself by holding up the correct side of one of the pillows. She has started saying, "happy," since getting the pillows and I'm working with her so she learns what sad and scared look like as well. I call that success!

The difference in the sides on the pillows has registered with her as she likes to keep them on the happy side. She runs around calling them "my happy" and insists they stay in a special spot (lined up) in her room. The matching little stuffed animals she carries around and loves to hang from different spots or have sit in her doll high chair watching over her while she sleeps.

Now that she's identifying the feelings on the pillows, I'm incorporating other learning tactics as well. The books of different facial expressions seem to be starting to connect for her. Flipping through, she picks out the happy faces. Subtle differences in expressions are still lost on her and she doesn't have a name for the others yet. When she gets upset herself, I've begun naming the emotion for her. I'll ask, "Are you angry?" Or, "Are you sad?" Sometimes there is no response, other times she'll say yes or no. For us, any little progress is progress so I'll take it!

My Happy Pillow seems to have been the key to getting through to her. The pillows have become the launching off point for her to learn to connect with her feelings. Plus, they're so soft and cute! The perfect size for her to cuddle up with.


This post is sponsored by My Happy Pillow.


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How to Help Kids Identify and Express Feelings

For children, identifying and expressing their emotions can be a frustrating struggle. In M2's case, having a speech delay and autism makes it even more difficult. (Read more about her diagnosis here.) Her emotions can go from happy and content to scared and screaming as she shakes in a little ball. A loud noise or an outcome she doesn't like (such as being told no) can send her into a rage. Flying off the handle screaming; shrieking; slamming into, hitting and kicking walls and doors and she melts down. Even getting too close to her can make it worse. Forget touching her, that'll really cause more problems. Hearing other kids having fits, crying or whining also sends her into sensory overload. She doesn't understand what she's feeling and can't identify it. There is no way for her to communicate with us how she's feeling as saying the words is impossible for her right now. The frustration and fear at not being able to understand or identify what she's feeling is often evident on her face.

I've tried showing M2 pictures in books of different expressions to help teach her what different emotions are. This is a common technique and one that can be started even when kids are babies B's age. However, it hasn't been something M2 has connected with. To her, those cute books of babies and kids are just that...books of other babies and kids. The emotions on the faces don't register with her. There is no difference from one face to another. The same goes when I try to make different faces myself to help her. It just does not register in her world. Often, she won't even look at my face as I try to look mad, sad or happy to the extreme. Ask her to look at Mommy and she'll look anywhere but at my face.

Since she's gotten her My Happy Pillows, M2 has been making progress. These adorable pillows and their matching plush mini me's were developed by 6-year-old Isabella to help other kids express themselves. Each animal pillow has a side with a happy face and a flip side with either a scared, shy, angry, bored or sad face. There are Zee the monkey, Sunny the bear, Rosie the dog, Leo the lion, Spotty the giraffe and Shadow the panda from which kids can choose.

Rosie and Leo give M2 a cute way learn about feelings. Eventually, my hope is that she'll show us how she's feeling herself by holding up the correct side of one of the pillows. She has started saying, "happy," since getting the pillows and I'm working with her so she learns what sad and scared look like as well. I call that success!

The difference in the sides on the pillows has registered with her as she likes to keep them on the happy side. She runs around calling them "my happy" and insists they stay in a special spot (lined up) in her room. The matching little stuffed animals she carries around and loves to hang from different spots or have sit in her doll high chair watching over her while she sleeps.

Now that she's identifying the feelings on the pillows, I'm incorporating other learning tactics as well. The books of different facial expressions seem to be starting to connect for her. Flipping through, she picks out the happy faces. Subtle differences in expressions are still lost on her and she doesn't have a name for the others yet. When she gets upset herself, I've begun naming the emotion for her. I'll ask, "Are you angry?" Or, "Are you sad?" Sometimes there is no response, other times she'll say yes or no. For us, any little progress is progress so I'll take it!

My Happy Pillow seems to have been the key to getting through to her. The pillows have become the launching off point for her to learn to connect with her feelings. Plus, they're so soft and cute! The perfect size for her to cuddle up with.

Thanks to My Happy Pillow, you have the chance to win a pillow and stuffed animal set for your own child. Whether your child is special needs like M2 or not, the pillows are a great tool for kids to start learning about or identify emotions. The giveaway ends at 12 a.m. EST Thursday, September 10, 2015, so enter now!

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This post is sponsored by My Happy Pillow.


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The Journey with Autism Begins

Through sharing our story and being honest and open, I hope it may help someone else going through similar. In light of that, I want to share more of M2's, and our, story. Starting with the day she was diagnosed as autistic and our journey officially began.

As I mentioned here, she was diagnosed with autism, mild-moderate, just over a month ago. That day was one of the most difficult of my life. We went in for baby B's well-child appointment the day before and took M2 along. While we were there, I told the doctor (they have the same pediatrician) that I'd talked to her early-intervention therapy team. All of them recommended that she get screened for autism, especially the therapist she's known the longest and who knows her the best. I was fully prepared to have to argue with the doctor about the screening, then to have to fight with insurance to get the referral pushed through. When the doctor agreed immediately, I was shocked. When he said that there was an available appointment the next morning if I was willing to drive the hour back out to do it, I was dumbfounded. Rather than waiting another month or more for an appointment, I jumped at the one for the next morning. I figured I should before I chickened out and put it off again, as I'd already done for months fearing what we'd be told.

The developmental pediatrician wanted to see all her assessments from the early-intervention team as that would give him a better picture of what all is going on with her. Those therapists see her weekly in our home so they get a pretty good picture, one a doctor who has never met her might not. I quickly called her coordinator to get her assessments, figuring at 4 p.m. there was no way we'd get them. Amazingly, her coordinator was there and sent them over via email immediately.

A and I decided that taking B along with us to the appointment would just be distracting from M2. Instead, he stayed home with B the next morning while I drove M2 the hour back to her developmental pediatrician appointment. I spend the most time with her and have been coordinating her care, so it just made the most sense for me to take her. At the appointment, the doctor got to see the full M2 as she was bouncing off the walls and doing many of the things we were concerned about. She did not sit still for 30 seconds the entire appointment.

I managed to answer all the doctor's questions while keeping M2 from running out of the place. We spent hours there going over everything. I wasn't sure if we'd get a diagnosis that day. I already knew from A's coworker going through the process with his son that if the doctor had any questions or doubts, there would need to be more appointments, possibly with additional specialists. The developmental pediatrician told me that he had seen enough, plus with her previous evaluations, that he was confident in making a diagnosis then.The moment he said, "diagnosis," I knew I wasn't going to like what he said next.

He said there was no question that she was autistic. As soon as I heard that, my stomach dropped and my heart broke. I started telling him things like, "But sometimes she's fine. This isn't all the time!" and, "But she does XYZ." Anything and everything I said, the doctor simply responded nicely with, "That just proves my diagnosis and that I'm right even more. That's exactly what autism is. There is no way you could be making all this up or have it wrong, it's too obvious."

I wanted to cry at that point. Mind you, I am not a crier at. all. Here my happy little girl is bouncing (literally) all over the room and off the walls, as a doctor tells me she is autistic. A diagnosis that changes her life and ours. Something that won't go away, can't be treated with a pill, and that she will struggle with her entire life.

I asked the doctor where he'd place her on the spectrum. He said that it wasn't too important, it was more important to get her set up with therapy and get her help, but that he'd place her as mild-moderate. As for B, he said he is at a higher risk but that I should already be seeing some signs. The signs B is showing us so far are ones that tipped us off to the fact that something is going on with M2. He's totally different from her so far. Things M2 did as a baby that we excused as being just her, something she'd grow out of (but didn't) or just her showing her independence were really red flags. There were so many that we didn't see until we saw how B is and until M2's behavior started making the autism too obvious to ignore. Still, especially after his head injury soon after birth, we worry that he will have special needs as well.

I spent the rest of the appointment trying not to cry in front of this doctor, and especially not in front of M2. How do you act after a doctor tells you that about your child? If I cried, I'd look hysterical and upset M2. If I acted like I didn't care, I'd seem like an inattentive, uncaring mother. If I acted happy, I'd seem like a nut job. No emotion seemed "right" and I had no idea what to say or do. I went with the "upbeat, we can handle this" attitude, even though I was wondering how in the world we'd make it through and how in the world M2 would over come it.

The doctor explained that we needed to get her set up with therapy and that he'd be sending an overview of his diagnosis. He went over why he'd made the diagnosis, pointing out things that I'd never even noticed or equated with autism. Or even any issue. I think if M2 had been the second child and I'd had more experience with what's "normal," I would have noticed more.

After the doctor ended the appointment, a nurse came in and offered to wheel M2 around the center in a wheelchair while I waited for her pediatrician to come in and talk to me. I so appreciated having a few minutes alone. Hearing that your child has autism is difficult. Very, very difficult. I know that it could be so much worse. But that doesn't take away the hurt of what she and we are going through and will go through. No parent wants to know their child is going to struggle. Right now, we don't even know how much. We don't know when or if she'll really start talking. Speech therapy isn't working. Her delay stems from the autism and so far no techniques are working. She also has sensory, behavior and other issues. We have no idea what is to come.

M2's pediatrician came in and told me that he agreed with the diagnosis. The nurse came back with M2, who was ecstatic that she got to go for a ride. She had absolutely no idea what had been going on or how much had just changed in the instant I'd been told she is autistic. Seeing her so happy and so unaware ripped my heart out even more. She has no idea what is to come in her life or that anything is even wrong. I guess in some ways, that's really a blessing that she doesn't know.

The ride home I called A and spent trying not to cry while driving. I'm happy to have a diagnosis and to know it's not all in my head. On the other hand, I'd really have liked to be told, "Lady, your nuts. Stop doing XYZ and your child will be perfectly fine. Just get your act together." Despite that, and despite the doctor telling me that there's no way I could be making stuff up (and that I did an amazing job handling her during the appointment, he was impressed how well I managed to do so), I still wonder if maybe I'd said or done something differently, he wouldn't have given that diagnosis. It's hard not to second guess everything and to wonder.

Since the diagnosis, I've gotten lots of comments and advice. Some downright upsetting, nasty and unsupportive from people from whom I actually expected the most support. Some way off base as the person simply doesn't understand autism or is a family member who also doesn't want her to struggle. Others very, very helpful. Our family and closest friends are offering the support they can. As you read here, one of M2's godmothers is on the spectrum herself. Her reply when being told of the diagnosis was, "Well, I guess she's really lucky to have me as god mom!" And she is. I know Lindsey is going to help her so much through her journey. None of her family or friends are treating her any differently. Family who initially questioned the diagnosis are on board and supporting her once I explained what was going on better. Her uncle asked me why we'd never told him what was going on sooner, when she was a baby, so he would have known and been able to maybe do something. I told him it was because we honestly didn't even realize it ourselves. I think deep down we wondered, but didn't want it to be true.

We still don't want it to be true. I still hope we'll find out in the future that the doctor was wrong. Daily, though, I see why he's right. I also remind myself often of the best, most supportive, and helpful thing I've been told since she was diagnosed as autistic. As soon as we found out, I told her therapists who'd been waiting to hear. One told me, "Remember, she's still the same awesome little girl who you love so much. Having the diagnosis doesn't change her at all. And it doesn't change how much you love her." And she's right. My little girl is freaking amazing.

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The Journey with Autism Begins

Through sharing our story and being honest and open, I hope it may help someone else going through similar. In light of that, I want to share more of M2's, and our, story. Starting with the day she was diagnosed as autistic and our journey officially began.

As I mentioned here, she was diagnosed with autism, mild-moderate, just over a month ago. That day was one of the most difficult of my life. We went in for baby B's well-child appointment the day before and took M2 along. While we were there, I told the doctor (they have the same pediatrician) that I'd talked to her early-intervention therapy team. All of them recommended that she get screened for autism, especially the therapist she's known the longest and who knows her the best. I was fully prepared to have to argue with the doctor about the screening, then to have to fight with insurance to get the referral pushed through. When the doctor agreed immediately, I was shocked. When he said that there was an available appointment the next morning if I was willing to drive the hour back out to do it, I was dumbfounded. Rather than waiting another month or more for an appointment, I jumped at the one for the next morning. I figured I should before I chickened out and put it off again, as I'd already done for months fearing what we'd be told.

The developmental pediatrician wanted to see all her assessments from the early-intervention team as that would give him a better picture of what all is going on with her. Those therapists see her weekly in our home so they get a pretty good picture, one a doctor who has never met her might not. I quickly called her coordinator to get her assessments, figuring at 4 p.m. there was no way we'd get them. Amazingly, her coordinator was there and sent them over via email immediately.

A and I decided that taking B along with us to the appointment would just be distracting from M2. Instead, he stayed home with B the next morning while I drove M2 the hour back to her developmental pediatrician appointment. I spend the most time with her and have been coordinating her care, so it just made the most sense for me to take her. At the appointment, the doctor got to see the full M2 as she was bouncing off the walls and doing many of the things we were concerned about. She did not sit still for 30 seconds the entire appointment.

I managed to answer all the doctor's questions while keeping M2 from running out of the place. We spent hours there going over everything. I wasn't sure if we'd get a diagnosis that day. I already knew from A's coworker going through the process with his son that if the doctor had any questions or doubts, there would need to be more appointments, possibly with additional specialists. The developmental pediatrician told me that he had seen enough, plus with her previous evaluations, that he was confident in making a diagnosis then.The moment he said, "diagnosis," I knew I wasn't going to like what he said next.

He said there was no question that she was autistic. As soon as I heard that, my stomach dropped and my heart broke. I started telling him things like, "But sometimes she's fine. This isn't all the time!" and, "But she does XYZ." Anything and everything I said, the doctor simply responded nicely with, "That just proves my diagnosis and that I'm right even more. That's exactly what autism is. There is no way you could be making all this up or have it wrong, it's too obvious."

I wanted to cry at that point. Mind you, I am not a crier at. all. Here my happy little girl is bouncing (literally) all over the room and off the walls, as a doctor tells me she is autistic. A diagnosis that changes her life and ours. Something that won't go away, can't be treated with a pill, and that she will struggle with her entire life.

I asked the doctor where he'd place her on the spectrum. He said that it wasn't too important, it was more important to get her set up with therapy and get her help, but that he'd place her as mild-moderate. As for B, he said he is at a higher risk but that I should already be seeing some signs. The signs B is showing us so far are ones that tipped us off to the fact that something is going on with M2. He's totally different from her so far. Things M2 did as a baby that we excused as being just her, something she'd grow out of (but didn't) or just her showing her independence were really red flags. There were so many that we didn't see until we saw how B is and until M2's behavior started making the autism too obvious to ignore. Still, especially after his head injury soon after birth, we worry that he will have special needs as well.

I spent the rest of the appointment trying not to cry in front of this doctor, and especially not in front of M2. How do you act after a doctor tells you that about your child? If I cried, I'd look hysterical and upset M2. If I acted like I didn't care, I'd seem like an inattentive, uncaring mother. If I acted happy, I'd seem like a nut job. No emotion seemed "right" and I had no idea what to say or do. I went with the "upbeat, we can handle this" attitude, even though I was wondering how in the world we'd make it through and how in the world M2 would over come it.

The doctor explained that we needed to get her set up with therapy and that he'd be sending an overview of his diagnosis. He went over why he'd made the diagnosis, pointing out things that I'd never even noticed or equated with autism. Or even any issue. I think if M2 had been the second child and I'd had more experience with what's "normal," I would have noticed more.

After the doctor ended the appointment, a nurse came in and offered to wheel M2 around the center in a wheelchair while I waited for her pediatrician to come in and talk to me. I so appreciated having a few minutes alone. Hearing that your child has autism is difficult. Very, very difficult. I know that it could be so much worse. But that doesn't take away the hurt of what she and we are going through and will go through. No parent wants to know their child is going to struggle. Right now, we don't even know how much. We don't know when or if she'll really start talking. Speech therapy isn't working. Her delay stems from the autism and so far no techniques are working. She also has sensory, behavior and other issues. We have no idea what is to come.

M2's pediatrician came in and told me that he agreed with the diagnosis. The nurse came back with M2, who was ecstatic that she got to go for a ride. She had absolutely no idea what had been going on or how much had just changed in the instant I'd been told she is autistic. Seeing her so happy and so unaware ripped my heart out even more. She has no idea what is to come in her life or that anything is even wrong. I guess in some ways, that's really a blessing that she doesn't know.

The ride home I called A and spent trying not to cry while driving. I'm happy to have a diagnosis and to know it's not all in my head. On the other hand, I'd really have liked to be told, "Lady, your nuts. Stop doing XYZ and your child will be perfectly fine. Just get your act together." Despite that, and despite the doctor telling me that there's no way I could be making stuff up (and that I did an amazing job handling her during the appointment, he was impressed how well I managed to do so), I still wonder if maybe I'd said or done something differently, he wouldn't have given that diagnosis. It's hard not to second guess everything and to wonder.

Since the diagnosis, I've gotten lots of comments and advice. Some downright upsetting, nasty and unsupportive from people from whom I actually expected the most support. Some way off base as the person simply doesn't understand autism or is a family member who also doesn't want her to struggle. Others very, very helpful. Our family and closest friends are offering the support they can. As you read here, one of M2's godmothers is on the spectrum herself. Her reply when being told of the diagnosis was, "Well, I guess she's really lucky to have me as god mom!" And she is. I know Lindsey is going to help her so much through her journey. None of her family or friends are treating her any differently. Family who initially questioned the diagnosis are on board and supporting her once I explained what was going on better. Her uncle asked me why we'd never told him what was going on sooner, when she was a baby, so he would have known and been able to maybe do something. I told him it was because we honestly didn't even realize it ourselves. I think deep down we wondered, but didn't want it to be true.

We still don't want it to be true. I still hope we'll find out in the future that the doctor was wrong. Daily, though, I see why he's right. I also remind myself often of the best, most supportive, and helpful thing I've been told since she was diagnosed as autistic. As soon as we found out, I told her therapists who'd been waiting to hear. One told me, "Remember, she's still the same awesome little girl who you love so much. Having the diagnosis doesn't change her at all. And it doesn't change how much you love her." And she's right. My little girl is freaking amazing.

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An Adult Aspy: A Personal Summary

I'm so excited to introduce you to the author of this article. Lindsey is a very good friend of my family's (really, we consider her to be family). She volunteered to do a guest post on a topic I've been talking about more recently – autism. She herself has mild autism (often referred to as Asperger's Syndrome) so had been a great support with M2's diagnosis of mild-to-moderate autism. Here is her perspective as an adult who has dealt with Asperger's for over 30 years. Keep in mind, the way autism presents itself can vary from person to person. 

Geek. Awkward. The weird one. Anti-social.

I grew up with more disheartening labels than I care to mention. Born into a military family in the early eighties – when mild autism was unknown and women were never diagnosed – my personality quirks weren’t seen as a disorder that could or should be addressed by a professional. Consequently, my ad hoc ‘therapy’ growing up in a society that wasn’t structured for my strengths and weaknesses was less than stellar. I’ve always had the feeling of being left out, right down to my bones – I wasn’t interested in the same things as other children my age, I didn’t know how to communicate with them and they confused me.

Frustrated and lonely, I withdrew into things that I did understand; scholastic pursuits, fine arts, computers, etc. And so my childhood went, actively working on my IQ without corresponding attention to my EQ. I’d implicitly accepted that somehow I was broken, and would spend my life as such.

Then, years ago when I was in my mid-20s, I had a good friend of mine ask a simple question that caused a reexamination of the structure I had built to understand myself. She said, “I don’t want to offend you, but do you walk on your toes? Because I think you’re an aspy.” Considering I take pains to hide my "natural" toe-first stride, this came as a bit of a shock. This friend had been officially diagnosed as having Asperger’s Syndrome, now known as mild autism, and had seen traits in me that paralleled her own. While it wouldn’t be worth the hassle to garner an official diagnosis, as I’m not seeking assistance or programs for help, having a recognized and researched behavioral structure to compare and contrast my personality with has proved a tremendous help in proactively boosting my social integration and EQ. I use trusted and tested behavioral therapies to address traits I would otherwise not have recognized.

Eye Contact – Appropriate eye contact is something most children learn intuitively from watching others around them. Many mild autistics lack this skill, either not enough (appearing disinterested or not attentive) or an uncomfortable staring (appearing aggressive). I still have some troubles in regards to making appropriate eye contact with people I’m speaking with, but is something I try to be actively aware of, especially when conversing with people I don’t know very well. I’ve made good strides in this regard, and mostly falter when I’m highly emotional – tending to avoid eye contact most when I’m angry.

Touch Sensitivity – Growing up, I had a counter-intuitive relationship with physical contact. On the one hand, I liked to climb into my mother’s lap past the age where other children grow out of this, cuddled with people sleeping next to me, and absorbed as much information from touching an object as seeing it. On the other hand, I reacted negatively to others making physical contact with me without my initiating it. I earned a reputation of hating to be touched. It wasn’t until much later in life that I married the two disparate feelings, grasping that it wasn’t that I hated being touched, but that it was too much sensation I wasn’t prepared for. Uninitiated contact was the sensory equivalent of an unexpected camera flash.

Hand Flapping – While I don’t recall much hand flapping as a child, I don’t doubt I had similar self-stimulating behaviors to cope with stressful situations. Hand flapping is about a white noise of physical sensation, like sleeping with a noisy fan. I would never advocate a complete cessation of this coping mechanism (as long as self-harm is not involved), but certain behaviors are less intrusive than others. As an adult, I’ve turned my initial reflex from flapping to either clenching my fists or rubbing my hands together. People are less likely to look at you askance and wonder about what you’ll do next. It’s worked out better if people perceive me as frustrated or nervous, rather than unpredictable.

Toe-First Stride– Toe walking is one of the more puzzling characteristics of the disorder. Many diagnosed autistics naturally walk with only the ball of the foot in contact with the ground, rather than with the expected heel-toe placement. Sometimes this is called walking on tip-toe, but this is rather a misnomer; the heel of the foot is not highly elevated in the step. This lack of heel contact is more often noticed as an unexpected bounce in a person’s stride. When in my home, especially when in socks or bare feet, I walk on my toes. I can’t tell you why, but that’s the most comfortable way for me to move about. Forcing myself into a heel-toe stride feels like I’m stomping around like a rogue jackhammer. When in public, I make an effort at a ‘normal’ stride. Accordingly, I look for flats with good heel support when shopping for shoes, to lessen the thud-thud sensation of a heel-toe placement.

Speech Processing – To not put too fine a point on it, I’m an educated and intelligent individual. I don’t say that in a condescending or bragging tone, but as an admission that I’ve done well scholastically through the years. Unfortunately, sometimes I’m taken for being slow on the uptake or a bit of a space cadet, because speech processing is not one of my strong points. A similar judgment happens when someone is conversing in a non-native language; the extended search for a particular word to convey a concept more precisely will inaccurately give the impression of a slow or ignorant mind. Luckily, conversation is a skill that can be improved with practice. While I still have trouble assembling what I’d like to say during especially complicated or subtle conversations, everyday banter has become smoother and more natural as I’ve focused on improving it.

Integrated Social Anxiety – Not all mild autistics have anxiety issues to boot, but enough do to make this complication worth mentioning. My own social anxiety and autism traits are intimately linked – not intuitively understanding other people leads me to feel isolated and uncertain in social situations, and that confusion makes me anxious and ill. From experience I’ve learned I need to couple behavioral therapy with a prescription SSRI to cope effectively with this imbalance. A side benefit of my particular prescription (sertraline HCl, brand name Zoloft) is that the drug has a “disconnecting from the outside world” effect. I call this a benefit, as it reduces the sensory impact of life enough for me to handle physical contact, movement, unexpected loud noises, etc., with grace.

Though perhaps not the case for those diagnosed with more severe levels of autism, I’ve come to view my personality not as an autism-spectrum disorder, a thing to be cured, but more as a different operating system. Apple OSX to the world’s Microsoft Windows, if you will. My efforts have been focused on how I can best integrate with society at large, rather than trying to change the core of my being to match. I will still “geek out” about things that interest me, but actively watch for the glazed look of too-much-information when talking to others. I’ll never love talking on the phone to strangers (where I lack visual cues to help interpret speech), but make myself do so in optional situations, to become less terribly anxious when I’m required to do so, such as client calls and job interviews.

And, most importantly, I take these experiences, these 30+ years of living with, well, ME, and share them with other people. With people who have no experience with autistics, so they won’t fear the unknown. With people who have autistic friends and relatives, so they understand what makes us tick. With people diagnosed or suspected of being autistic, so they won’t feel alone or rejected. It’s how I pay forward the good things in my life, and make this a better place to be.

Author Bio
Lindsey is a graphic designer who lives, works and plays in the D.C. metro region, and has known and loved Melissa, A, and their kids for years. She is currently available for freelance design work and is interested in full-time graphic design positions as well. Find out more about her services and experience.



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Get Kids Reading, Thinking and being Creative with DOT Magazine

I've mentioned before how important I find reading to be. Even before M2 was born, she had a bookcase stuffed with books. We have them all over the house. M2 already loves to read. She gets super excited when she has something new to read, especially if there are lots of colors. Even more so if it comes for her in the mail. Little kids just LOVE to get something addressed to them in the mailbox. When she's reading (well, us reading to her or her flipping through herself) something educational, I'm extra happy. With DOT magazine, M2 gets to read something fun with plenty of color to keep her attention and I'm happy that she's learning.

DOT is a quarterly magazine printed in the United Kingdom. (Why is it that we Americans always seem to think things are extra cool if they're from England? I have no idea, but it does seem to up the cool factor.) It's the happy mag for creative kids. Why is it called DOT? Because the little guy on the front is Dot. He and his friends are throughout the magazine.

It's printed on recycled paper using vegetable ink, making it eco friendly. The pages are nice and thick, not the usual thin, glossy paper you find in magazines. It's really more of a book, which means that M2 isn't going to destroy it right away and can keep it on the book shelf to read and enjoy over and over.

The magazine is printed in vibrant, deep primary colors to attract the little one's attention. M2 was thrilled when I handed it to her. She got to read through it at bed time then insisted on tucking it in and sleeping with it. I take that as a sign that she really likes it.

The inside is filled with cute little stories, nursery rhymes and activities with adorable drawings. I love that here are no ads so the focus is purely on on being educational. The issue M2 got is all about shapes. Fun activities kids can do themselves in the magazine accompany the lessons. The pages about shapes have the kids draw their own. An interview with a librarian has them setting up their own library. There are even pages to color and instructions on a cute craft involving shapes. The whole publication is really dedicated to the mission of encouraging kids to think and be creative. Since the pages are thick enough, any activities M2 can do in the magazine aren't going to bleed through or ruin the pages.

The magazine fosters family time as well. I can sit and go through it with M2, ask her to point out colors and shapes or draw with her. Since the colors are all primary, they're easy for her to figure out. With 32 pages, there is plenty to read and do.

You can sign up for a subscription no matter where in the world you live. If you'd like to learn more about the magazine, stop by here. It's published by Anorak Press, whom you can find here.


This post is sponsored by Anorak Press.