[!! SPAM] Re: To You, My Sisters

[Guest guest]

My son is 7 now and autistic - quite severe with learning disabilities and is non verbal. He was not dx with hypotonia but was checked when younger because he fell so much - tripped up over his own feet, seemed to walk as though his head was always infront of the rest of his body. He cut his forehead open one day by just literally dropping his head on top of a small concrete bollard while we were in town shopping. He just flopped his head over on it. Things like that were common place. I must say though as he has got olderit has improved greatly with age. He still tends to walk with his head further in front than the rest of his body but the specialists all think it is realted to his learning disabilities and autism and thought processes not working properly giving his body the messages.

To You, My Sisters> > > I'm not sure if this has been posted before but it is one of my > favorites. Just thought I would share. > > > > To You, My Sisters> > by Maureen K. Higgins -> > Many of you I have never even met face to face, but> I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you> on the Internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores.> > I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well> worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be.> Your words ring experience, experience you culled with> your very heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond> the expectations of this world. You are my "sisters."> > Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority.> A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any> other sorority, we were chosen to be members. Some of> us were invited to join immediately, some not for> months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse> membership, but to no avail.> > We were initiated in neurologist' s offices and NICUs, in> obstetrician' s offices, in emergency rooms,> and during ultrasounds. We were initiated with somber> telephone calls, consultations, evaluations, blood> tests, x-rays, MRI films, and heart surgeries.> > All of us have one thing in common. One day things> were fine. We were pregnant, or we had just given> birth, or we were nursing our newborn, or we were> playing with our toddler. Yes, one minute everything> was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as> it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or> months, our entire lives changed. Something wasn't> quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of> children with special needs.> > We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity> of our children's special needs. Some of our children> undergo chemotherapy. Some need respirators and> ventilators. Some are unable to talk, some are unable> to walk. Some eat through feeding tubes. Some live in> a different world. We do not discriminate against> those mothers whose children's needs are not as> "special" as our child's. We have mutual respect and> empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes.> > We are knowledgeable. We have educated ourselves with> whatever materials we could find. We know "the"> specialists in the field. We know "the" neurologists,> "the" hospitals, "the" wonder drugs, "the" treatments.> We know "the" tests that need to be done, we know> "the" degenerative and progressive diseases and we> hold our breath while our children are tested for> them. Without formal education, we could become board> certified in neurology, endocrinology, and psychology.> > We have taken on our insurance companies and school> boards to get what our children need to survive, and> to flourish. We have prevailed upon the State to> include augmentative communication devices in special> education classes and mainstream schools for our> children with cerebral palsy. We have labored to prove> to insurance companies the medical necessity of gait> trainers and other adaptive equipment for our children> with spinal cord defects. We have sued municipalities> to have our children properly classified so they could> receive education and evaluation commensurate with> their diagnosis. We have learned to deal with the rest> of the world, even if that means walking away from it.> > We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during> "tantrums" and gritted our teeth while discipline was> advocated by the person behind us on line. We have> tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from> well-meaning strangers. We have tolerated mothers of> children without special needs complaining about> chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that> many of our closest friends can't understand what it's> like to be in our sorority, and don't even want to> try.> > We have our own personal copies of Perl> Kingsley's "A Trip To Holland" and Erma Bombeck's "The> Special Mother". We keep them by our bedside and read> and reread them during our toughest hours. We have> coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our> physically handicapped children to the neighbors'> front doors on Halloween, and we have found ways to> help our deaf children form the words, "trick or> treat." We have accepted that our children with> sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on> Christmas. We have painted a canvas of lights and a> blazing Yule log with our words for our blind> children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We> have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And> all the while, we have tried to create a festive> atmosphere for the rest of our family. We've gotten up> every morning since our journey began wondering how> we'd make it through another day, and gone to bed> every evening not sure how we did it.> > We've mourned the fact that we never got to relax and> sip red wine in Italy. We've mourned the fact that our> trip to Holland has required much more baggage than we> ever imagined when we first visited the travel agent.> And we've mourned because we left for the airport> without most of the things we needed for the trip.> > But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never> stop believing. Our love for our special children and> our belief in all that they will achieve in life knows> no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and> extra points and home runs.> > We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We> dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses> and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices> singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes> smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying> over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at> the grace of their pirouettes. We never, never stop> believing in all they will accomplish as they pass> through this world.> > But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important> thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands as> together, we special mothers and our special children,> reach for the stars.>

[Guest guest]

My kids also had coordination problems,posturing,hypotonia and

ataxia. One still has a gait disorder. They always had what seemed

like heavy heads or going head first. They had ot but mostly grew

into adjusting. In most of our family pictures they either had a

flinstone bump or a black eye or stitched lip. A few aide calls for

head injuries,falls. I think you are right,its a signal error.

Best wishes,

Tishanne

-- In AutismBehaviorProblems ,

" mel " wrote:

>

> My son is 7 now and autistic - quite severe with learning

disabilities and is non verbal. He was not dx with hypotonia but

was checked when younger because he fell so much - tripped up over

his own feet, seemed to walk as though his head was always infront of

the rest of his body. He cut his forehead open one day by just

literally dropping his head on top of a small concrete bollard while

we were in town shopping. He just flopped his head over on it.

Things like that were common place. I must say though as he has got

olderit has improved greatly with age. He still tends to walk with

his head further in front than the rest of his body but the

specialists all think it is realted to his learning disabilities and

autism and thought processes not working properly giving his body the

messages.

>

>

> To You, My Sisters

> >

> >

> > I'm not sure if this has been posted before but it is one of my

> > favorites. Just thought I would share.

> >

> >

> >

> > To You, My Sisters

> >

> > by Maureen K. Higgins -

> >

> > Many of you I have never even met face to face, but

> > I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you

> > on the Internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores.

> >

> > I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well

> > worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be.

> > Your words ring experience, experience you culled with

> > your very heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond

> > the expectations of this world. You are my " sisters. "

> >

> > Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority.

> > A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any

> > other sorority, we were chosen to be members. Some of

> > us were invited to join immediately, some not for

> > months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse

> > membership, but to no avail.

> >

> > We were initiated in neurologist' s offices and NICUs, in

> > obstetrician' s offices, in emergency rooms,

> > and during ultrasounds. We were initiated with somber

> > telephone calls, consultations, evaluations, blood

> > tests, x-rays, MRI films, and heart surgeries.

> >

> > All of us have one thing in common. One day things

> > were fine. We were pregnant, or we had just given

> > birth, or we were nursing our newborn, or we were

> > playing with our toddler. Yes, one minute everything

> > was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as

> > it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or

> > months, our entire lives changed. Something wasn't

> > quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of

> > children with special needs.

> >

> > We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity

> > of our children's special needs. Some of our children

> > undergo chemotherapy. Some need respirators and

> > ventilators. Some are unable to talk, some are unable

> > to walk. Some eat through feeding tubes. Some live in

> > a different world. We do not discriminate against

> > those mothers whose children's needs are not as

> > " special " as our child's. We have mutual respect and

> > empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes.

> >

> > We are knowledgeable. We have educated ourselves with

> > whatever materials we could find. We know " the "

> > specialists in the field. We know " the " neurologists,

> > " the " hospitals, " the " wonder drugs, " the " treatments.

> > We know " the " tests that need to be done, we know

> > " the " degenerative and progressive diseases and we

> > hold our breath while our children are tested for

> > them. Without formal education, we could become board

> > certified in neurology, endocrinology, and psychology.

> >

> > We have taken on our insurance companies and school

> > boards to get what our children need to survive, and

> > to flourish. We have prevailed upon the State to

> > include augmentative communication devices in special

> > education classes and mainstream schools for our

> > children with cerebral palsy. We have labored to prove

> > to insurance companies the medical necessity of gait

> > trainers and other adaptive equipment for our children

> > with spinal cord defects. We have sued municipalities

> > to have our children properly classified so they could

> > receive education and evaluation commensurate with

> > their diagnosis. We have learned to deal with the rest

> > of the world, even if that means walking away from it.

> >

> > We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during

> > " tantrums " and gritted our teeth while discipline was

> > advocated by the person behind us on line. We have

> > tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from

> > well-meaning strangers. We have tolerated mothers of

> > children without special needs complaining about

> > chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that

> > many of our closest friends can't understand what it's

> > like to be in our sorority, and don't even want to

> > try.

> >

> > We have our own personal copies of Perl

> > Kingsley's " A Trip To Holland " and Erma Bombeck's " The

> > Special Mother " . We keep them by our bedside and read

> > and reread them during our toughest hours. We have

> > coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our

> > physically handicapped children to the neighbors'

> > front doors on Halloween, and we have found ways to

> > help our deaf children form the words, " trick or

> > treat. " We have accepted that our children with

> > sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on

> > Christmas. We have painted a canvas of lights and a

> > blazing Yule log with our words for our blind

> > children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We

> > have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And

> > all the while, we have tried to create a festive

> > atmosphere for the rest of our family. We've gotten up

> > every morning since our journey began wondering how

> > we'd make it through another day, and gone to bed

> > every evening not sure how we did it.

> >

> > We've mourned the fact that we never got to relax and

> > sip red wine in Italy. We've mourned the fact that our

> > trip to Holland has required much more baggage than we

> > ever imagined when we first visited the travel agent.

> > And we've mourned because we left for the airport

> > without most of the things we needed for the trip.

> >

> > But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never

> > stop believing. Our love for our special children and

> > our belief in all that they will achieve in life knows

> > no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and

> > extra points and home runs.

> >

> > We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We

> > dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses

> > and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices

> > singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes

> > smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying

> > over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at

> > the grace of their pirouettes. We never, never stop

> > believing in all they will accomplish as they pass

> > through this world.

> >

> > But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important

> > thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands as

> > together, we special mothers and our special children,

> > reach for the stars.

> >

>