...enjoying your first ever cup o' goodness from Starbucks!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Hopeful
Oia and I made a small venture this morning to our nearest Home Depot. Our mission: paint. After two years of living in this house, our interior walls will finally get the paint they so need. I called in our order before leaving the house so I expected the trip to be quick and uneventful. When we arrived at the paint counter, there was no one available to help us but we were in no rush, just two girls out enjoying our day. As we waited for someone to appear, I picked up Oia and placed her on the only stool next to the counter where she sat feeling like royalty of the paint department.
Our wait was short as help arrived momentarily. I watched our help round the end of an isle and then proceed behind the paint counter. He greeted me and I greeted him. We had a mutual, unspoken connection once he noticed Oia by my side and within a matter of just seconds, although I knew nothing about this man, I felt great admiration for him.
He asked if he could help me. I told him about my order of paint and he gestured to the bucket on the floor. I then requested 2 more gallons of another color. We smiled at one another and then he gladly began working on our request. I remained at the counter because I wanted to wait and watch this young man work his magic but instantly found myself with glassy eyes and a lump building in my throat. Just like that. I wanted to kick myself for the sudden surge of emotion. I quickly scooped Oia up off her throne and headed a few isles away to gather myself before anyone could notice. While Oia turned every knob on every grill she could put her hands on, I stood trying to comprehend all that I had just saw.
I just saw a man struggling to walk with a crooked and palsied body, knees that rubbed in stride, but a man who still offered to help lift a 5 gallon bucket of paint into my cart.
A man in AFO's, noticeable as his pants lifted ever so slightly as he walked.
A man with eyes obviously misaligned, but who still found it easy to look up and smile at a stranger.
A man with bent, stiff, uncooperative fingers, who managed to slowly but accurately type in my paint order.
A man who softly spoke words that many must struggle to understand, slurred and slow, but a man who didn't resist conversation with me or anyone else who came to the counter.
A man who wore a shiny wedding ring; a man who seemingly found someone who vowed to love him unconditionally.
Today, I saw a man who lightened my heart. Pure and simple. And in the first glimpse of him this morning, I felt so hopeful for my own daughter and for her future. He was more than a man who mixed paint for a living. He was an inspiration.
In the beginning, we wondered if Oia would ever walk or talk. Today we have our answer. But with each ounce of progress and milestone achieved, I still drift and wonder about her future. All moms do. Thoughts of slumber parties, dances, high school, college... Will she be able to drive a car? Will she have a profession? Will she experience true love and be married? Will she grow up happy and proud of who she is? Will she find acceptance in this world? The wonders are endless but the man who happily wore his bright orange apron this morning unknowingly filled my heart with even more hope and assured me that yes, most of this, if not all of this is possible... one just has to want it.
It's funny what inspires us. If I encountered this man just three years ago I would have never left with the same impression and outlook as I did this morning and I certainly would have never had to hide myself while I wiped away hopeful, happy tears from my face. But, lucky am I today because that is exactly what I did. I went to Home Depot to pick up 7 gallons of paint and instead I came home with that and much, much more.
Our wait was short as help arrived momentarily. I watched our help round the end of an isle and then proceed behind the paint counter. He greeted me and I greeted him. We had a mutual, unspoken connection once he noticed Oia by my side and within a matter of just seconds, although I knew nothing about this man, I felt great admiration for him.
He asked if he could help me. I told him about my order of paint and he gestured to the bucket on the floor. I then requested 2 more gallons of another color. We smiled at one another and then he gladly began working on our request. I remained at the counter because I wanted to wait and watch this young man work his magic but instantly found myself with glassy eyes and a lump building in my throat. Just like that. I wanted to kick myself for the sudden surge of emotion. I quickly scooped Oia up off her throne and headed a few isles away to gather myself before anyone could notice. While Oia turned every knob on every grill she could put her hands on, I stood trying to comprehend all that I had just saw.
I just saw a man struggling to walk with a crooked and palsied body, knees that rubbed in stride, but a man who still offered to help lift a 5 gallon bucket of paint into my cart.
A man in AFO's, noticeable as his pants lifted ever so slightly as he walked.
A man with eyes obviously misaligned, but who still found it easy to look up and smile at a stranger.
A man with bent, stiff, uncooperative fingers, who managed to slowly but accurately type in my paint order.
A man who softly spoke words that many must struggle to understand, slurred and slow, but a man who didn't resist conversation with me or anyone else who came to the counter.
A man who wore a shiny wedding ring; a man who seemingly found someone who vowed to love him unconditionally.
Today, I saw a man who lightened my heart. Pure and simple. And in the first glimpse of him this morning, I felt so hopeful for my own daughter and for her future. He was more than a man who mixed paint for a living. He was an inspiration.
In the beginning, we wondered if Oia would ever walk or talk. Today we have our answer. But with each ounce of progress and milestone achieved, I still drift and wonder about her future. All moms do. Thoughts of slumber parties, dances, high school, college... Will she be able to drive a car? Will she have a profession? Will she experience true love and be married? Will she grow up happy and proud of who she is? Will she find acceptance in this world? The wonders are endless but the man who happily wore his bright orange apron this morning unknowingly filled my heart with even more hope and assured me that yes, most of this, if not all of this is possible... one just has to want it.
It's funny what inspires us. If I encountered this man just three years ago I would have never left with the same impression and outlook as I did this morning and I certainly would have never had to hide myself while I wiped away hopeful, happy tears from my face. But, lucky am I today because that is exactly what I did. I went to Home Depot to pick up 7 gallons of paint and instead I came home with that and much, much more.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Hippo: Righty Rides
Another session of hippotherapy... another great morning. B, Oia's therapist, recently added noodles to the barn which Oia really enjoys riding through.
The noodles have several great therapeutic purposes; reaching up/out, grasping, etc. Here is a video of Oia stopped under the noodles to encourage the use of Righty. She is getting by with bonking one of the volunteers on the head with a noodle, simply because she is actively using two hands. (This girl can get by with just about anything as long as Righty is involved.) Notice that once she is turned around facing forward again, she grabs a hold of the handles with both hands, just before B gives her the verbal cue to do so. Awesome.
The noodles have several great therapeutic purposes; reaching up/out, grasping, etc. Here is a video of Oia stopped under the noodles to encourage the use of Righty. She is getting by with bonking one of the volunteers on the head with a noodle, simply because she is actively using two hands. (This girl can get by with just about anything as long as Righty is involved.) Notice that once she is turned around facing forward again, she grabs a hold of the handles with both hands, just before B gives her the verbal cue to do so. Awesome.
"She's Smart"
When Oia's first neurologist diagnosed her has a spastic quadriplegic with cerebral palsy, he in the very same breath advised us to "familiarize ourselves with mental retardation" because he strongly felt this was what we'd be up against. Our girl... mentally retarded, a hole in her brain.
Numb. Words that stung. Still the worst day of my life.
To this day, the words of that less-than-desirable doctor make me tear up every single time I revisit that moment. So why relive the moment?
Because I'm a remember-where-you've-been kind of girl. Because I appreciate the path that lies behind me since after all, that path has brought us to today. And today is good.
Because when your child's preschool teacher informs you that she'd like to move your child into a class of 4 year olds; saying things about your child like "she's smart" and "she's ready for pre-academics" makes it really hard not to remember the once spoken words of that painful moment, but suddenly, they're not so painful anymore for someone else sees the potential we knew she had all along.
We know a girl today who is bright and inquisitive. We know a girl who is identifying colors, learning letters and numbers. She is participating in literacy centers, math centers, and calendar time. She is enjoying recess and PE with her classmates; on her own two feet. She is socializing and her personality is blooming. She is aware. She understands completely. And we never, ever doubted it. Not for one second.
Numb. Words that stung. Still the worst day of my life.
To this day, the words of that less-than-desirable doctor make me tear up every single time I revisit that moment. So why relive the moment?
Because I'm a remember-where-you've-been kind of girl. Because I appreciate the path that lies behind me since after all, that path has brought us to today. And today is good.
Because when your child's preschool teacher informs you that she'd like to move your child into a class of 4 year olds; saying things about your child like "she's smart" and "she's ready for pre-academics" makes it really hard not to remember the once spoken words of that painful moment, but suddenly, they're not so painful anymore for someone else sees the potential we knew she had all along.
We know a girl today who is bright and inquisitive. We know a girl who is identifying colors, learning letters and numbers. She is participating in literacy centers, math centers, and calendar time. She is enjoying recess and PE with her classmates; on her own two feet. She is socializing and her personality is blooming. She is aware. She understands completely. And we never, ever doubted it. Not for one second.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Security
Rob and I took Oia to the park yesterday. Weather was remarkable and there was no other place we should have been than outside on such a beautiful day. The air was cool so Oia was toddling around in a comfy pair of pants, pink of course, the first time since last winter.
She played and smiled and enjoyed having the both of us there with her. The park was all ours and life was good. Then shortly later, a mom or two arrived with their young children which always has a tendency to set my mind in motion. And yesterday it did. The thoughts come without warning and for reasons that I could never find the right words to explain.
And, suddenly, those cute pink pants seemed to be in the way. And I'll admit... those pants are in no ones way but my own. Those pants cover up the ticket, the pass, the explanation; call it whatever you want, of who we are. They hide an important piece of our story. That little brace that accessorizes every one of Oia's outfits has become my sense of comfort. It answers a lot of questions before they even get asked. Being in public without it, like the pool of course, or when the weather is cooler and it's hidden under pants like yesterday, makes me feel no different most days than a fish without water. That brace is my security.
One may notice the cute glasses that rest on Oia's sweet little nose, or the eye patch that hides behind them, but glasses and patches are not entirely all that uncommon. One may notice the drool that hangs from Oia's chin or even her dampened shirt but she is a toddler after all, and for now that is within the realm of acceptance. Maybe some notice her microcephalic head but doubtful; she's been blessed with a beautiful blond ponytail that catches all the attention, not to mention the most glorious smile you have ever seen. They probably notice her limp or uneven gait but may assume she is a new walker and just tall for her age. They may notice her right arm functions a bit differently, a little slower than the left, but not always. If they're lucky, they'll catch an earful of one really important story known and told with conviction by no other than Little Miss herself, but likely to not understand a word of what she spoke. Then the question of "How old is she?" pops up which seems to fill strange faces with question. Maybe they know something is special about our girl... or maybe they don't. But, I can read their minds... they glance and they wonder.
Security comes in all shapes and sizes. Mine these days seems to come in the form of a molded piece of plastic that wraps around my daughter's right leg. It allows us to be who we are without question or rather it is the answer to the unasked questions. It allows us to be uniquely different. I'm proud of that little brace but no more proud of it than I am of the little girl who wears it. And needless to say, I'm thankful for it; it's functions are many. I just wish the whole world could see it... and all the time.
Picture from 10.2.10 while spending the day at Belvedere Plantation.
She played and smiled and enjoyed having the both of us there with her. The park was all ours and life was good. Then shortly later, a mom or two arrived with their young children which always has a tendency to set my mind in motion. And yesterday it did. The thoughts come without warning and for reasons that I could never find the right words to explain.
And, suddenly, those cute pink pants seemed to be in the way. And I'll admit... those pants are in no ones way but my own. Those pants cover up the ticket, the pass, the explanation; call it whatever you want, of who we are. They hide an important piece of our story. That little brace that accessorizes every one of Oia's outfits has become my sense of comfort. It answers a lot of questions before they even get asked. Being in public without it, like the pool of course, or when the weather is cooler and it's hidden under pants like yesterday, makes me feel no different most days than a fish without water. That brace is my security.
One may notice the cute glasses that rest on Oia's sweet little nose, or the eye patch that hides behind them, but glasses and patches are not entirely all that uncommon. One may notice the drool that hangs from Oia's chin or even her dampened shirt but she is a toddler after all, and for now that is within the realm of acceptance. Maybe some notice her microcephalic head but doubtful; she's been blessed with a beautiful blond ponytail that catches all the attention, not to mention the most glorious smile you have ever seen. They probably notice her limp or uneven gait but may assume she is a new walker and just tall for her age. They may notice her right arm functions a bit differently, a little slower than the left, but not always. If they're lucky, they'll catch an earful of one really important story known and told with conviction by no other than Little Miss herself, but likely to not understand a word of what she spoke. Then the question of "How old is she?" pops up which seems to fill strange faces with question. Maybe they know something is special about our girl... or maybe they don't. But, I can read their minds... they glance and they wonder.
Security comes in all shapes and sizes. Mine these days seems to come in the form of a molded piece of plastic that wraps around my daughter's right leg. It allows us to be who we are without question or rather it is the answer to the unasked questions. It allows us to be uniquely different. I'm proud of that little brace but no more proud of it than I am of the little girl who wears it. And needless to say, I'm thankful for it; it's functions are many. I just wish the whole world could see it... and all the time.
Picture from 10.2.10 while spending the day at Belvedere Plantation.
Friday, October 1, 2010
PT: Balance and Step Ups
Oia had 2, one hour PT sessions of CME per week during Early Intervention with our wonderful PT. Since she now receives PT services through her preschool and is no longer in EI, we still chose to continue with private PT sessions but 1x/wk with the same wonderful PT. The once a week private session is where she practices CME, a method of PT that we attribute much of Oia's mobility and strength to.
First 2 videos are exercises that T will sometimes do with Oia. The goal of balancing while in mid air is for Oia to stand tall, potentially reach upward, to provide a decent stretch throughout her hip flexors. The student therapist is trying to encourage Oia to reach up and touch the ceiling (most CP kiddos have some degree of compensation which makes standing tall and straight very difficult, which is the case for Oia). Also, the movement in mid air is dynamic which creates a greater and constant challenge for Oia to maintain subtle weight shifts thus remaining balanced.
Same dynamic movement, different approach with beam:
The boxes below are greatly challenging. Oia must step tall, shift weight forward throughout her trunk and hips, while bending the lead leg knee. Tall order, especially without hand holds. She does fairly well but this CME exercise will be a part of our routine for a long time to come.
Not bad, really. More PT videos of CME coming soon...
First 2 videos are exercises that T will sometimes do with Oia. The goal of balancing while in mid air is for Oia to stand tall, potentially reach upward, to provide a decent stretch throughout her hip flexors. The student therapist is trying to encourage Oia to reach up and touch the ceiling (most CP kiddos have some degree of compensation which makes standing tall and straight very difficult, which is the case for Oia). Also, the movement in mid air is dynamic which creates a greater and constant challenge for Oia to maintain subtle weight shifts thus remaining balanced.
Same dynamic movement, different approach with beam:
The boxes below are greatly challenging. Oia must step tall, shift weight forward throughout her trunk and hips, while bending the lead leg knee. Tall order, especially without hand holds. She does fairly well but this CME exercise will be a part of our routine for a long time to come.
Not bad, really. More PT videos of CME coming soon...
Oia's Week
Our new life, that is post-early intervention, is moving along fairly well. I'm enjoying the change of pace and scenery as therapies are now at the therapy center, instead of at home. I feel a part of society again to actually have a reason to leave the house and drive Oia to school or therapy. The addition of preschool into our lives has only been minimally stressful and I know it will prove to be so instrumental to Oia's social development. Change is good.
I'm sure it goes without saying (as most of you in this boat well know) that any part of our day, scheduled or not, lends itself to countless therapeutic opportunities that we are, and forever will be, mindful of. Daily routines always turn into mini PT, OT or ST focuses however, here are the scheduled portions of Oia's typical week:
M: Preschool, 8-noon, PT and OT during school
T: Open for appointments, or 9:30-11:30 playgroup
W: Preschool, 8-noon, ST during school
R: Preschool, 8-noon, PT and OT during school
F: Private PT at center, 1 hour session of CME
S: Hippotherapy, 30 minute session
S: Open
Oia's a busy girl and life is good; but therapy makes it even better.
I'm sure it goes without saying (as most of you in this boat well know) that any part of our day, scheduled or not, lends itself to countless therapeutic opportunities that we are, and forever will be, mindful of. Daily routines always turn into mini PT, OT or ST focuses however, here are the scheduled portions of Oia's typical week:
M: Preschool, 8-noon, PT and OT during school
T: Open for appointments, or 9:30-11:30 playgroup
W: Preschool, 8-noon, ST during school
R: Preschool, 8-noon, PT and OT during school
F: Private PT at center, 1 hour session of CME
S: Hippotherapy, 30 minute session
S: Open
Oia's a busy girl and life is good; but therapy makes it even better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)