"My son has autism."

I said those words today, just as casually as I might say, "My son has brown hair" or "My son is four." I was arguing with someone from Anthem, who insisted that they DID NOT have to pay for any of Liam's therapies because this was not in my policy. I informed her that under Kentucky state law they have to pay $500 toward his therapies; autism has to be treated as any other illness. Which really is a rip off if you ask me, there's no limit for diabetes, or cancer or the like, but I guess we are lucky to get anything at all since some insurance policies can exclude autism. Assholes.

So I got it straight with the insurance folks. Lo and behold after our conversation, this rep from Anthem conceded that they did indeed have to pay for some of Liam's therapies. Some, not all. No shit, I wanted to reply. Like $500 a month would even touch Liam's needs. But still, Angela-1, Anthem-0.

I used to hesitate, gulp, tear up, freeze when I was in a position where I had to say those words, "my son has autism." I would say, "He's on the spectrum," and pray that the person knew what the hell I was talking about. Or I would say, "He has autism-but-he's-really-high-functioning," so that the person I was talking to wouldn't pity us.

I guess I'm in that acceptance stage of the grieving process. My son has autism. This is life, these are the cards we were dealt and we're playing them just fine.

Beckett, aka "Chatterbox"

For awhile there I was really worried about Beck's language development. At his 18 month check up (actually 20 months, I was late but who's counting) I talked with Missy about it and while I don't think she was worried she gently suggested a First Steps evaluation to ease my mind. I never got around to it but kept it in the back of my mind.

It's a really different experience parenting a neurotypical kid after your first child has so many developmental delays due to autism. I thought Beckett was a genius in his first year and then I realized, "Hey, THIS is normal." While it was a relief to know that he was likely NT, it did bring up some grief all over again for my first boy. How he had to struggle those first years of his life to communicate--not that you would know it now of course.

So in honor of Beckett's recent language explosion, here are his words:

Mama
Papa
Liam
Mimi
Papaw
Drew
Rylee
go
no
phone
peaches
pee
kick
bye bye
hi
play
one
two
three
baby
eat
more
teeth
nurse
moon
blue
clue
bob
phone
shoes
cheese
grapes

To be continued...

Come and see my turtle...

So yesterday after Brad comes home from work I hear Liam say, "Papa, come and see my turtle." I was a little perplexed as I know that he doesn't have anything that resembles a turtle for a toy, but didn't think much of it.

I heard Brad say, "Wow, that's some turtle. We'll have to tell Mama to look at this."

Lo and behold I have a turtle drawn on my bedroom wall. With a Sharpie. Now this is ironic for me because at my friend Robin's birth on August 31st she paused between contractions to tell me to not to let her kids play with a Sharpie. Turns out she had just recently managed to cover Sharpie damage on the wall from three years prior. I was entertaining them with the contents of my purse and they were just enamored with the random things I pulled out--Sharpies, coupons, tampax, lip gloss. But I digress.

Secondly, I was really excited to see this representation of a turtle, even if it was on my wall. With a Sharpie. See its head, and its body and its many feet??? That's quite a feat for my sweet little boy, to make the leap from abstraction to concrete. So I'll take it, even if it is on my white wall. With a Sharpie.

He really is a success story.

I'm back this time. No really.

I know I said that once before...so I'm sure some of you are wondering, "well, why should I believe you again?" But I mean it this time. Pinky swear.

As most of you know, Liam attends Friends School, a Quaker based cooperative school. They are accredited by the National Association of Education for Young Children (NAECY) and one of their rules is that children must wash their hands before entering the classroom. Anyhow, here's a conversation that Liam had with his pal Jackson before school started last Thursday:

Liam: Hi Jackson!
Jackson: Hi Liam. (Note: Jackson is a bit of a melancholy sort).
Liam: Look at all of the bubbles!
Jackson: Those are my germs. (see above note :P)
Liam: That's gross.

I know I'm easily amused but that exchange just cracked me up.

I attended the Lamaze International Conference this weekend and I am still recovering...and I had a lovely birth right in the middle of it. My dear friends Leslie and Hewitt had a baby boy on Friday night, John Henry. He is just beautiful and Leslie got the all natural experience that she wanted this time around...I was so grateful to be a part of that.

Back to Lamaze, so many new topics & factoids to ponder upon. The maternal mortality rate in this country is now climbing--we're back to where we were in the 1990s. While that's mindblowing to me, it's not surprising. When 30% of women have surgery to give birth we're going to see the repercussions of that somehow--and women are indeed suffering. Hemmorage, infection, stroke, DVT--all of these maladies are striking women in greater numbers. It's so very sad and sickening because most of these cesareans are PREVENTABLE. Oh Lord don't get me started on the state of obstetrical practice in this country because it is a crime.

Since I won't be teaching a class until January I've got plenty of time to do some revamping. A few ideas that I had held to be true were challenged this weekend so I've gotta figure out where to go from here. Thank you Lamaze for helping me to develop and grow as a professional since my own damn organization isn't worth shit!!! (note to Bradley: you suck!)