Warrior Mama and my Direct Selection Kid

When I was pregnant a good friend of mine said, "Wait till you meet Mama Bear!" And I was like, "Who?"  And he chuckled knowingly and said, "Oh, you'll recognize her when you see her."

He was so right. There's no one or thing I will fight for like my child. All Mama's out there know what I am talking about. And not to slight the Dads, because there are certainly Papa Bears too.

You know from the last posts that we have been struggling with figuring out what Ellie can use to help her communicate. I have been VERY frustrated with one of the specialists at the school who is the gate keeper to technology for Ellie and the same person who has been shunting Ellie down a direction that has felt like the wrong way to go but I didn't know why. It wasn't until Friday when the outside specialist came to observe Ellie that I could put words to why. But wow what a relief to finally have the words to put behind my nagging yet previously unfocused conviction.

To back up just a tad, the school has been working with Ellie to figure out what technology would be best for her, and this regard they are getting a lot of it right. We are really happy with the work going on in speech and OT and regarding the use of symbols and just the shear creative variety they are using to approach it all. 

But there is one area that has been keeping me up at night. Early on last September Ellie got to try "Intellikeys" a couple of times at best. At that time the specialist working with Ellie was new (to Ellie) using new material in a new room, etc. See that word "new".   Putting  "new" in front of Ellie is like throwing down the gauntlet and is the thing that makes Ellie decide she is going to resist until it's not new. I always try to mix the familiar with the "new" so that she overcomes that hurdle more quickly, kind of like hiding the peas in the mash potatoes. 

In January, I had asked this specialist about the strategy again and she told me that Ellie couldn't manage Intellikeys and that Ellie would probably use a number of ways to communicate, like finger spelling, signing, and switches.  She then back paddled and said that she wasn't saying that Ellie would never be able to use it... 

This did NOT sit well with me. 

She also told me that she tried her on Intellikeys because of what she was told Ellie could do and that Ellie did not demonstrate that. See my comments on New - which this specialist didn't realize. When I told her about that monster named New, she looked away and checked the time and then just stared at me. I realized she was not interested in any data from me, "the over compensating, unrealistic parent figure".   That's so old school. I hate it when teachers take the "I'm and expert and have nothing to learn from you, oh bothersome parent" approach, which effectively shuts the parent out. Which, of course, in my world is a critical error. 

Mama Bear has been raging inside me ever since, but with no words and only a feeling that this approach was wrong. The bar, by this person, was set low on Ellie. All the stuff she is doing at home doesn't relate to what is happening at school - at least when it comes to accessing the computer.  

In the mean time, Dave got Ellie an adapted key board for the lap top she inherited. Her very first time on it,  she proceeded to try out every single key to see what each one would do. She ended up discovering  7 keys that we didn't know about.  This wasn't a perfect set up but it was something.

Finally on Friday I got an Assistive Technology guru in our home to check out what Ellie can do and to try her on Intellikeys when I was present so I could provide the familiar to ease the New.   Ellie was able to flip through a familiar story and learned 4 new keys there and then (though until we put a familiar story to use the keys on, she would have nothing to do with it).  

The upshot of the meeting was a few really important things:

#1. Ellie is a Direct Selection kid - meaning she likes to push buttons.  Direct Selection  - no kidding?! I looked around our house at all of Ellie's toys and noticed that they are all about pushing different buttons in different sequences to make stuff happen.  She had been "declaring" herself, as Dynio used to say, for a very long time.

Eureka!!!  

The specialist also observed that Ellie had memorized the buttons on her keyboard so that she could use them without looking at them.  Ellie had memorized the keys so that she would not have to refocus her eyes from key board to screen because that is really hard for her due to her hypotonia.  This also explains why asking her to scan images using a switch is going to be harder on Ellie than having her directly select what she wants via a keyboard. She will still have to do some scanning but providing her with choices that are laid out before her that she can use her thumbs to access make sense for her. That is what she has been doing her whole life! 

#2. Strategy. We finally have a strategy that makes sense to me versus the "we'll see what she does" and try to force fit her into someone else's view of her regardless of who she is. It's really amazing how people don't allow themselves to see Ellie when she is right there in front of them. People have so many filters about what a kid in a wheelchair who drools can and can not do they forget to see them as they are. 

This new strategy focuses on Ellie's strengths - the use of her thumbs, her curiosity about how things work and manipulating things via buttons. She navigated the Intellikeys easily.  It was clear to me that Ellie has declared herself and her preferred communication but I needed the words to make sense of it. It's not that Ellie won't sign or use other forms, but I almost feel like she was doing those things to fit in / join in with what everyone one around her is doing. She loves to learn and she loves to sign, I don't want that to go away. But signing is hard - pushing buttons takes a lot less energy. And communication for her should be suited to her to make it easier -  not harder. Switches are often the preferred device for kids without the fine motor ability that Ellie has. Ellie has great fine motor and shouldn't be limited to a two button switch where she has to rely on scanning with her eyes - which is what is hard for her. 

#3. Equipment.  Finally an answer on what equipment she needs now and some idea of where that will lead. Right now we are looking for a used Intellikeys as well as a programming language that I will write about later once I get the report from the specialists. 

Relief. Direction. Sanity. At Last.

Don't you hate it when you know someone is wrong about your child but you can't argue why because you don't have the words?  

Glasses, Development, No more Cisipride, and "I love you"

It seems since graduate school, which I entered in 1997, life has been a constant game of catch up. There have been virtually NO moments, since 1997, when I have been on top of my to do list. This has got to be that middle life stuff I so despised in my parents. They were just all about work all the time and stressed out.  I can remember completing a task that was the last task and I was done.  My day was truly free. That was in 1996. I remember it was a sunny day in LA and I went for a run on the beach and then meandered to Trader Joe's and went to bed early. I can't even run any more due to my crappy knees.  

Ugh.

Today I took Ellie, finally, to her optometrist. He's great. He's actually the head of Optometry for Children's Hospital Boston. He probably thinks I  am an idiot though. I took her because for the last three months, Ellie has been throwing off her glasses. Whipping them off seconds after they go on. And as I understood it, she needs her glasses to help her eyes focus due to the CP. We were there from 10am until 12:15pm. Ellie patiently looked at cards and pointed to the little stripy boxes getting more and more obscure. She endured the drops that make your eyes dilate.  At the end, Dr. Hunter told me that her vision has not changed and that the power of her lenses need not change either. It came down to three explanations:

1. the fit was too tight

2. her ability to focus has gotten better so she doesn't need them like she did

3.  she's getting attitude.  

On our way out we stopped to visit the guy who sells the frames and he gave her glasses a work up. Fixed the little flaps that sit on the top of her nose, widened the side bits so that they didn't sit as tight, tightened and glued down the screws that hold in the lenses. He was great and so patient. Ellie was really tired at this point but has not thrown off her glasses since. So it was the fit. Dah!  Dave and Ellie and I all have glasses now but we are all new at this. I am glad it was just the fit and we will check that first next time. Does this mean her head grew ? I hope so.

Development. 

Where are we?  I don't know anymore. There is no marker no road map. She seems to be coming along. But lately I have had the misfortune of moms from that other world, where your kid comes out at 40 weeks and sits at x number of months and walks around a year, and eats and talks, etc. make comments to me about how surprising it is to have such adult like conversations with their six year old. They always, end these musings with a "ya know?" And I just say "mmm".  Ah, NO I so don't know. But what can you say? It's great to see their evolving relationship the awe that comes with these comments. I don't want to spoil it for them by making it about something else. So I sort of just agree. "Ya, that's amazing."  It is amazing, but in truth I have no idea what that is like. 

Ellie, in my warped and tired brain, is finally, officially six. Her due date was Feb 4, so there is no clinging to five any more. She's six and not having adult-like conversations with me.  And recently she has gone back to reading some of the books she did two or three years ago. What is up with that?  I feel anxious about this and don't know how to make sense of it. I don't know other kids that closely to know. My sister's kid, who will be 6 in March is doing complex craft projects, using a microscope and wanting me to teach her oil painting. 

There are benefits I can get through the Massachusetts Department of Mental Retardation. Yep they actually call it that. DMR. Nice huh. Progressive. But they give you money for stuff, like augmentative communication devises, etc. But to get those benefits you basically have to declare your kid is MR. MR. Mentally Retarded. Yep they still call it that. 

I haven't been able to even call them. Several people have given me their number. I haven't done it. What is MR anyway? Is anyone really MR? I worked with juvenile delinquents who had IQs of 70 - which was considered MR. But what I found of them is that you can do a lot with that. And Ellie. Ellie, she used to be able to do things that kids her age couldn't, like know her alphabet at age 2 and all her colors and shapes. But now, those same kids are having "adult-like" conversations with their mothers and we are reading books from a few years ago. 

I am not surprised. Not really. But seeing the gap widen - and it was probably always this wide or wider - just harder to see - is difficult. I am not in denial either. I want to see Ellie as she is. But what I don't want to do is label her something that fixes her in space and time and arrests her development. I think labels are THAT strong. I want to keep the bar high on her and keep hope and believe she will move forward at her pace and her time. I really don't want to label her anything. It's so final and I don't want others to label her either. I can sense a low bar being set for her miles away. The dismissal of possibilities stinks like a poppy diaper filling up a room. I can't stand for that. So it's not that I don't notice these differences, but I just can't live in them. They are only helpful in giving me ideas about things to do with Ellie to teach her about the world and maybe create a new neuro pathway via experience.

Today, after reading Jacqui's post, I showed Ellie what a letter was and where the stamp went. We will have to do that again to make it stick. I need to bring the world to her that a typical 6 year old could access though I am not sure of all that is. We recently started a ballet class that was inspired by Ellie. She looks really cute in her pink leotard and ballet shoes. Pictures soon to come. She has navigated that new setting beautifully and it's part of the bring the world to her paradigm. 

Cisipride.

Ellie is still off it and none the worse. I have to say I have really noticed the difference. When I am in the market I can consider bringing home grapefruits without shuddering. I can give her herbal teas without wondering and worrying. And having one less med to give her four less times a day is a huge thing.  Sometimes its the small things.

Another new thing she has been doing, spontaneously, versus being coaxed, is signing I love you. The sign for I love you is tough for Ellie. All the open handed signs are and in this one you have to keep your middle two fingers down and the other three up. It takes her about thirty seconds to make it using two hands. And that's a long time in communicating and when you are six. Yesterday, Ellie signed it to me when I was pumping gas and tapping on the window to amuse her while I did so. Moments like that sustain me. They really do. It was like since Ellie was born. It would be a look she would give me, or a nuzzle, or just a sense that she would emit into the ethers. The message is always, "It's going to be ok mama." 

I am not sure what ok is going to look like, but I trust Ellie.

Time for Toilet Training

I hate making equipment orders ever since a very junior PT in 2003 ordered a adaptive chair and a stander that were way too big for Ellie and having it take 6 months and lots of phone calls and waiting on hold to correct it, I am wary of making equipment orders. If you screw it up you are simply screwed. And it's Ellie who misses out. So I have been delaying ordering her a potty seat. And I know my delay has probably been as long as it would have taken to correct a bad order. Bad mama!

Ellie can't sit very well on her own so I need something that will hold her up while I help her clean up so she doesn't fall. I like the idea of a low to the ground stand alone seat because I remember sitting on the edge of the adult toilet as a 2 year old being petrified to fall off. Yes. I actually have many memories that far back. I also like the idea of her having her own separate seat from a germaphobe perspective.  Lastly, I like the low to the ground seat because she can practice sitting down on it and standing up from it. An Ellie size seat might feel more fun like a toy versus any thing that is threatening.

Any suggestions? What has worked for your child in this matter?

Any thoughts you want to share will be MUCH appreciated! I need to get off the fence and get this going. It's time. Ellie's ready and I have to get ready too. Easier said than done. Not sure why I am dreading this but I am.

Ellie Meets Santa

The order of the pictures is a bit off but the very last one is when Ellie first sat on Santa's lap. She met up with Santa at her school's holiday jubilee this December. She wasn't too sure about her dress until Dada saw her in it and said, "Oh Ellie, you must be one of Santa's helpers in that dress!" After which the dress was perfect!

She was in awe to say the least, when she finally got to meet Santa. After she had said her initial hello which consisted of her taking in Santa for a good thirty seconds. She immediately finger spelled S-A-N-T-A and Santa, being the awesome guy he is, knows sign language and was properly impressed and Ellie equally as delighted. You can see Ellie making an A and an N in one of the pics. You can also see her gluing decorations on a stocking and receiving a gift from Santa.

It was a great day. The best part of course being S-A-N-T-A!