Saturday, we followed our hearts to Memphis, Tennessee. Yet, this wild journey didn't start there, it actually started about two months ago, with a simple click. My friend, Katie Artz, posted a link to help raise funds for orphans. Of course, I opened her link and began reading about her neighbors, the Musicks, who were raising funds to host a sibling set from Ukraine for the summer. Their story was so moving that I immediately donated an amount I knew Mike would also support and prayed for these precious kids to find their forever family. Throughout the day, I continued to click on the link to watch the progress, hoping and praying these kids could experience a break from their current situation--to get to be kids, with fewer worries, even if only for a brief time! The following day, while Mike and I were enjoying a few quiet moments after the Luteslets had left for summer school, I showed him the link. After watching their video, he closed the iPad and said that first of all, we should donate. After I told him we already had, he said, "What would it take?" That was the moment things began to change forever in the Lutes home. He was not asking what it would take to get them here, he was asking, what it would take to make them ours.
We spent the next few days inquiring, praying and checking in with each other to make sure this was still something we should/could/would do. We talked with the girls, prayed some more, researched some more. We decided we would give God a yes until we heard a strong no. As we started the paperwork, I continued to check in with Mike. As many of you know, I have always considered adoption--even before our struggles with infertility. However, my imaginings always appeared to me as a single child--about two feet tall. It turns out God is a little more creative. He imagines stretching us even more with not one but three children. Each of them taller than two feet. In an instant (or several months) we could add a teenage girl and two boys (what will I even do with boys)? But, I am getting ahead of myself. Right before I sent in the first big check and volumes of paperwork, I checked in again. Mike said, "N, I feel like all of the big decisions in my life have not been decisions, I have just known. I feel at peace with this." Wow! Ok, here we go.
If, at this point, you are wondering how we will do this now, on the twilight of my Cushing's journey, you are not alone. Mike and I often question the same thing. We have agreed that while I am improved, I am not there yet. I still get fatigued and Mike still takes more on than he should need to. That is one of our prayers that you can join us in praying. If this is God's plan for us, He will need to provide continued healing and strength. If this is the best health I achieve, we will not be able to provide what these precious kids need. Of course, I have asked God that if it is a no for us, to please give us that no by way of another family adopting them, not through PITA (my pituitary tumor) returning. That being said, I continue to receive excellent check-ups. My endocrinologist is "very encouraged." My worst days now are better than my best several months ago.
If you are wondering how we will manage going from 3 to 6 kids, you are not alone in that either. One evening, while Mike was working a night shift, the twins came running in just as I finally drifted off. They were yelling about some extremely important fight they were having that resulted in a physical altercation. I reacted as any well-adjusted, loving mother would have--I absolutely lost it with them. I returned to my room in a heated conversation with God. I proceeded to point out all of the reasons I would not be a good fit for this job. After my rant, I heard nothing in response. I began to calm down and went back in to check on my precious, vulnerable girls to reassure them of my love so they could sleep. Apparently, I was the only one experiencing any angst, as they were sleeping soundly. The song on the radio ended and a verse was read, talking of God's plans for us being bigger than we can imagine. Apparently, God wasn't silent, but waiting for me to be in a place where I could listen.
Moving forward to today, the Musicks were able to raise the money in record breaking number of days to get these kids here for the summer. As a result, we got an incredible opportunity to meet them prior to completing the adoption process. They are such sweet and loving kids! They are greatly neglected at best, eating everything in sight (they are actually smaller this year than last). It was so hard to leave this morning, especially since we were not supposed to discuss adoption with the kids. So hard to not give them hope! We left even more determined to do everything in our power to make this reality. If this is a shock to you, you are not alone--it is for us, too! Please help us pray for these kids--we want them to find their forever home, to be claimed and belong--even if that family is not ours.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Lyme-aide anyone?!
I recently got diagnosed with chronic lyme disease. Oddly, for someone who is usually very open with my thoughts, feelings and goings on, I am feeling somewhat hesitant to share this. Weird, I know. I hate complaining to others, and having lyme just feels like one complaint after another. It is hard to find good things to say about it. So, instead of being Debbie Downer in conversation after conversation, as I let everyone in the loop--I figured I would just blog about it. It strikes me now that this is perhaps quite selfish of me. I can drop my lyme bomb without actually having to partake in a bunch of depressing conversations. Good thing I have VERY understanding people in my life! Thanks for taking one for the team, everyone!
I feel like I should share this for several reasons--1. Many of you know I have been struggling with my health for about a year (I have had to stop teaching spin because I can't handle cardio anymore), and would want to know. 2. Those of you who aren't aware may have been wondering why I have I have been different--less social, less energy, less friendly, less attentive, forgetful, not creating, larger (my cortisol levels are climbing and causing me to gain weight no matter what I eat), odd rashes on my body, etc. 3. I could use your understanding and positive vibes right now. 4. Maybe someone out there is struggling with their own diagnosis and could benefit from my journey.
Ok, so that is the bummer--life has given me lyme in excess--how do we turn it into a bloom? Now that we have a diagnosis finally, we can focus on getting N back! I miss her. She wasn't perfect by any means, but she was fun and energetic and loved being surrounded by others. There have been many blooms that have come from this year of crazy symptoms--I have slowed down and learned to focus on the important things. I have learned to rely on others for help--and, *gasp* even ask for it. I have had to come to terms with the fact that I can not be superN, and the more I try, the worse I make it. I am learning to settle for just N--and learning that she can still be super in small spurts intermixed with plenty of naps ;). I have learned to be content without crazy. I have enjoyed deeper relationships, as I have had to lean on others and be more vulnerable.
The road to recovery could be long, and I may even feel worse before I feel better. But, that is ok, I can handle that. The good news is that this disease isn't going to kill me--and in the end, maybe I feel even stronger and be healthier. Lyme-aide anyone?!
I feel like I should share this for several reasons--1. Many of you know I have been struggling with my health for about a year (I have had to stop teaching spin because I can't handle cardio anymore), and would want to know. 2. Those of you who aren't aware may have been wondering why I have I have been different--less social, less energy, less friendly, less attentive, forgetful, not creating, larger (my cortisol levels are climbing and causing me to gain weight no matter what I eat), odd rashes on my body, etc. 3. I could use your understanding and positive vibes right now. 4. Maybe someone out there is struggling with their own diagnosis and could benefit from my journey.
Ok, so that is the bummer--life has given me lyme in excess--how do we turn it into a bloom? Now that we have a diagnosis finally, we can focus on getting N back! I miss her. She wasn't perfect by any means, but she was fun and energetic and loved being surrounded by others. There have been many blooms that have come from this year of crazy symptoms--I have slowed down and learned to focus on the important things. I have learned to rely on others for help--and, *gasp* even ask for it. I have had to come to terms with the fact that I can not be superN, and the more I try, the worse I make it. I am learning to settle for just N--and learning that she can still be super in small spurts intermixed with plenty of naps ;). I have learned to be content without crazy. I have enjoyed deeper relationships, as I have had to lean on others and be more vulnerable.
The road to recovery could be long, and I may even feel worse before I feel better. But, that is ok, I can handle that. The good news is that this disease isn't going to kill me--and in the end, maybe I feel even stronger and be healthier. Lyme-aide anyone?!
Monday, January 20, 2014
The best funeral ever....
I just got home from Kansas City, where I attended my Grandpa Davidson's funeral. I titled this the best funeral ever with absolute sincerity. What a celebration of an amazing life. So thankful for his presence in mine. There was an opportunity for his grandchildren to speak, and I have been asked if I would post what I said. So, here it is.When I look back on who Grandpa was through the eyes of a child, I recall that he had a seemingly magical quality. His eyes had such a twinkle, and oh, that smile! You could be in a room full of people and life (any room with more than 2 Davidsons in it tends to be rather lively) and somehow Grandpa would catch your eye. Calling you over with a slight nod of his head and a quick little wink. The next thing you knew, you were sharing his chair, he was snuggling you in, whispering, "that's it!" It seemed that the more importance he placed upon the message, the more dramatically quiet his delivery. I often found I needed to snuggle in closer to catch it all. He had a way of being completely present in the moment and ensuring you were, too!
Grandpa was always happy to listen and even happier to guide. I can assure you that these little chats had at least one little nugget of wisdom tucked inside. However, looking back, the phrases I most recall were, "You are so precious!" "You are my special, special girl!" and "I am so, so, so proud of you." In fact, I heard these sweet whispers so often that I actually believed that I held a favored spot in Grandpa's heart. It wasn't until a few years ago when my cousin, Addie, mentioned being his special, special girl that my bubble was popped. If I am honest, I will admit to a moment of selfish disappointment. However, my awe of Grandpa soared to an even higher level as I realized that all of his granddaughters, his daughter, his daughters-in-law and probably many of you celebrating with us today were his special, special girls. It dawned on me then what an amazing gift he gave us--a gift of confidence. The gift of knowing we have immense worth!
Most of my memories of Grandpa are so intertwined with Grandma. It is difficult to talk about one without talking about the other. I was blessed with two amazing grandparents, each with very different gifts and personalities. But, Grandpa Marshall and Grandma Helen truly were an example of the sum of the equation being greater than the two parts. I didn't fully appreciate this until Grandma passed away. Whenever I would call, neither would talk until the other had picked up a phone. Every letter written had a message from one, followed by a message from the other. Often, they would each add comments to the other's message in the margines. Grandma would often melt into the background when it was just the three of us and Grandpa wanted to chat, either picking up some reading material or leaving the room. When the chat ended, I would notice Grandma sitting nearby, watching us and smiling. Sometimes, Grandpa would wonder off suddenly, muttering about a project that needed fixing--giving Grandma and I some time. When the other rejoined, they would often give the other a compliment, a kiss, or just a knowing smile. Somehow, that show of unity strengthened the value of what you just shared with the one.
Grandpa need not worry that his nuggets of wisdom during our chats got lost in his message of love. This is because Grandpa and Grandma lived their wisdom every day. As is usually the case, I learned way more from watching them than I did from their words. I would like to share with you the legacy of the Davidsons as I see it.
The top 6 principles for living a life of contentment:
1. Don't waste your money on things that don't matter. If you save it, you will have it when you need it and when the right opportunities to share with others come your way. Money is best spent on:
A. helping others and sharing God's message
B. experiences and memories--creating opportunities to share and spend time with others. They understood that life gets busy and we all prioritize differently. They repeatedly organized and funded family reunions to insure that they would happen and we would ALL be there. I think we would all agree just how priceless those times were.
2. If you want close relationships, they must be fed. After my dad died, Grandma and Grandpa (his parents) kept putting themselves in my mom's life. Inviting her to be a part, accepting and even embracing her new family when she remarried. Every letter I sent them was followed by a response from them both. And, if the time between my response stretched to long, another letter from them would arrive. They were constantly touching the lives of those around them, looking for and creating opportunities to keep the bridges strong.
3. Work hard, don't expect anything to be handed to you. Grandpa was a commercial painter. Grandpa and Grandma raised their family while putting Grandpa through college and seminary school. Often in our chats, Grandpa would comment more on how proud he was for my hard work than for actually reaching my goal. The journey was more important than the prize.
4. You can do anything--the longer you sit and cry about it, the longer it stays broken. I came for a visit once right after breaking up with a boyfriend. Grandma and I chatted about it for about an hour. She listened and encouraged. Then, the next thing I knew, Grandpa came in the room needing help shoveling snow on the farm. After about an hour of hard work, Grandpa and I were making snow angels in the yard. That's it then, time to move on!
5. All people have worth. You don't have to agree with them, or even fancy them, but they are children of God and should be honored as such. During graduate school, I got to go on a trip to Europe with my grandparents, and two of my aunts, Rose and Rhea. Towards the end of the trip, Grandma let it slip that she and Grandpa found a certain person to be difficult to deal with on occasion. I was shocked by this revelation. Every interaction between them had been full of love and acceptance throughout my life. For over 20 years I had been clueless that this person ever bothered them! Bottom line, this person was a child of God, was important to someone they loved. They didn't have to live with this person, or even agree with this person. But, this person deserved to be treated with love and respect, we all do. Wow!
6. Love God, study Him and strive to live your life as He would choose. God gave each of us a brain and many abilities. Trust them, follow Him and you will have all you need to go far and make them so, so, so proud of you!
In closing, I would like to reflect on the Davidson goodbye. I have witnessed in other families, the goodby that lingers. Not so in the Davidson house. You enjoy the visit right up to the very end. Then, you give a quick, very strong, goodbye hug. "You see," Grandma would say, "you have to say goodbye in order to say hello again!" Then, you hop in the car, roll down the window, stick your arm out and wave energetically until you are out of sight. Full of love and full of the promise of next time!
Until next time, Grandpa!
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
My heart is bursting with....
I am not sure, relief? Pride? Happy? No, it is more than that. Deeper somehow. This pierces to the very depth of me. While it is not painful, per say, it is piercing--almost a searing joy. One I have rarely felt. One that appears during a long journey full of intense emotions. Today, I met with Alli's teacher for 2nd grade student teacher conferences. Although I have received very little negative feedback from her teacher this year, I was still bracing myself for surprises. Things Alli was struggling with. Perhaps a new challening coping mechanism, struggles making friends, or an inability to reach certain milestones consistent with her peers. I thought I was ready to hear anything the teacher had to report. Turns out, I was wrong.In case you are out of the loop, Alli has struggled since she started kindergarten. It is so hard to watch your child struggle in kindergarten. Kindergarten should be easy, confidence building and fun! At first, she had a hard time being apart from Milana, her twin, for a full day. Every other transition during their lifetime had been made together. Now, they faced a huge one alone! They had been fine in preschool, each attending four days with one going on Tuesday alone and the other on Thursdays. So, I did not anticipate how much Alli relied on Milana's presence for her confidence. However, after a few months of working with Alli, it became apparent that separation anxiety wasn't the answer for all of her difficulties. She struggled to recite the alphabet all the way through, count to a certain number and was not making expected progress with reading. She also struggled with huge levels of anxiety because she was missing cues during class and transitions. With this level of anxiety came some odd behaviors that served to lower her anxiety. Unfortunately, they did not help her socially adapt. Once we figured out that she has ADHD inattentive type, with some extra help, her academic issues were quickly resolved. In fact, it turns out that Alli is really bright! It has been such a joy to see her brain process and learn to it's potential.
Throughout first grade, the anxiety remained. The girls were allowed to be in the same class, which helped Alli, but she still struggled. We continue to work with this, through therapy, love and encouragement. We also realized that some of her issues at school had to do with her being little. She can't reach things and this causes her to find creative ways to deal with her life. Unfortunately, her creative ways sometimes lead to different issues. We have been able to identify these problems and provide alternate solutions that are more appropriate. She really has been so fortunate to have amazingly relentless teachers, other school staff, friends and family behind her, praying and cheering her on. This year, we went in with an IEP (individual education plan), some extra support in areas of known difficulty, joining Milana in her math class first thing in the morning (they are in separate classes the rest of the day), and a guardedly hopeful heart. Guarded because to hope freely is beyond what I have left. To hope freely would leave me too vulnerable to the deep hurt that comes when you see your child struggle again and again. I can remind myself over and over that these struggles will help Alli become the amazing woman she is intended to be, but that doesn't help me stop wishing life wasn't so hard for her. It doesn't keep my heart from breaking when I see her tears of frustration. But, guarded hope is better than no hope. And a plan is always better in Natasha's world than no plan ;). As I said earlier, I thought I was prepared to hear anything her teacher had to say, but I was wrong. It was ALL positive! Don't get me wrong, her handwriting could use a bit of tweaking--but, so could my husband's! When looking at her writing sample, I could read her thoughts (yes, plural--there was more than one thought :), which is much more than I could say for last year's writing. For the first time since preschool, it was clear that Alli is exactly where she should be, both academically and socially. I am relieved, yes, I am so proud of her hard work, too. But it is much deeper than that. I am bursting with joy! It is searing my soul. My little Alli is finding her groove.
She will shine!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Last weekend, the girls and I stopped at a garage sale. It was the first of the season for the girls and boy were they GIDDY! They often remind me that you never know what treasures you will find and that your dollar goes so much further at a garage sale than the store! Have I mentioned how much I love my little minions lately?! Anyway, I digress. We quickly ran over the rules: 1. no matter how cute, we are not taking home any live or stuffed animals. 2. Keep your fingers out of your mouth until we are back in the car and you have sanitized :). 3. You can only buy what you can afford. 4. When momma says it is time to go, we will stop browsing and go with a great attitude or next time we will drive on by (Egads! I know, drive by a GS without stopping, how could you?!).
Once I got three "Ok, Momma"s, we were off on the hunt for treasures under $2. Much to my dismay, Milana found a lovely ceramic girl and another ceramic angel--all for a whopping $.75. Seriously, another thing to collect dust and get broken! But, then again, who am I to judge another man's treasure--boy would I be in trouble if I were judged on my GS treasures! Not only that, but if we all had the same idea of a treasure, they wouldn't be there for me to take home cheaply at a garage sale. So, I oohed and awwwed apropriately as we paid for our purchases. When we got to the car, she asked me to hold it for her so it wouldn't break. She said, "Do you know why I bought that one, Momma?" I told her I wasn't sure, but I couldn't wait to hear. She then explained that she had bought it for me because she thought it looked like her and I could put it out where I could see it all day when she is at school. That way, I wouldn't have to miss her so much. She also said that everytime I saw it, it would remind her of her love for me. Of course, my heart instantly melted and I scooped her up in a huge hug.
While the girls were buckling up, I picked up my new "treasure" and looked at it again. I commented that she was right, it did bear a resemblance to her. It had huge eyes that had a sparkle, blonde hair and she was sitting like a frog, ready to hop (Milana is constantly in motion).
Once I got three "Ok, Momma"s, we were off on the hunt for treasures under $2. Much to my dismay, Milana found a lovely ceramic girl and another ceramic angel--all for a whopping $.75. Seriously, another thing to collect dust and get broken! But, then again, who am I to judge another man's treasure--boy would I be in trouble if I were judged on my GS treasures! Not only that, but if we all had the same idea of a treasure, they wouldn't be there for me to take home cheaply at a garage sale. So, I oohed and awwwed apropriately as we paid for our purchases. When we got to the car, she asked me to hold it for her so it wouldn't break. She said, "Do you know why I bought that one, Momma?" I told her I wasn't sure, but I couldn't wait to hear. She then explained that she had bought it for me because she thought it looked like her and I could put it out where I could see it all day when she is at school. That way, I wouldn't have to miss her so much. She also said that everytime I saw it, it would remind her of her love for me. Of course, my heart instantly melted and I scooped her up in a huge hug.
While the girls were buckling up, I picked up my new "treasure" and looked at it again. I commented that she was right, it did bear a resemblance to her. It had huge eyes that had a sparkle, blonde hair and she was sitting like a frog, ready to hop (Milana is constantly in motion).
Friday, December 14, 2012
If only it were that simple....
After I hugged each girl fiercely as they got off the bus, we had a family meeting in the living room while continuing to snuggle on the couch. I had to ask my two 6 year-olds and 8 year-old what they would do if they heard gun shots in the school. We had to talk about the several uncomfortable concepts--where to hide, how to best pretend to be dead (no, sticking out your tongue isn't actually the most believable idea). We had to tell them that some people are terribly sad and angry, so sad and angry that they want to hurt children so that others will feel the same pain that they feel in their hearts every day.
How different is Waunakee, Wsconsin than Newtown, Connecticut?! How do I now tell my children that they should feel safe at school? How do I, in good conscience, try to convince them that armed with monster spray, they will be safe when I am not near? How can I make a promise that I know I can't keep?!
Early on in my journey through parenting, I was gripped with fear that some monster would hurt my precious, perfectly made children. The only way I could let go of this fear enough to let them grow and encourage their independence was to trust that my God had made each of them perfectly--that He designed them with a specific plan for each of them. And, that if something terrible was going to happen, that He would be there with them. That He could heal any pain--even mine. And, that if I do not get to have one of my children for more than the blink of an eye, that He would also find a way to create goodness out of that terrible situation, too. Just as He did with the early death of my Dad. It still breaks my heart to imagine any of the possible evils in this world afflicting my children--or anyone I love--or even anyone on this earth! But, at least knowing that my God is capable of healing, bringing peace and scooping up my children in His big and loving arms when I am unable--that is what helps me sleep at night. That knowledge is what allows me to send my girls off on the bus every school day. That is the only way this control freak is able to let go enough to move through life when I can't be with them!
Do I wish we could live in a world without pain? Yes, that would be ideal. I wish that Adam Lanza could have grown up without pain, too. Am I angry? Yes, I am angry! I am angry at all of it--angry that guns are so easily accessed. Angry that video games and TV and movies are so violent. Angry that parents aren't as present in their childrens' lives as other influences are. Angry that parents make the easier choice to be a friend to their kids or hope that the schools will fix their problems, rather than making the tough choices. Angry that it is so often the innocent that are hurt by those with deeply hurting hearts. Most of all, I think I am angry because I feel so helpless and unable to stop any of it! If only it could be as simple as monster spray....
And yet, there is something I can do. I can continue to raise my girls with purpose. I can continue to show them love, to show them how to love others well. I can teach them to look for moments to touch others' lives with love. To watch for hurting in others and use those openings to help heal their hearts by showing them the good on this earth through random acts of kindness. To help them feel and understand how God loves us, so that they can extend this experience to others. Maybe, just maybe, they will someday touch the heart of a child like Adam. Maybe they will be a positive touch for a child who has been relentlessly bullied at school, or told they are worthless at home. Maybe they can help someone see that in His eyes, they are wonderfully and beautifully made. That God is the great designer of each and every one of us, and that He doesn't make mistakes! Maybe, if all of us could help our kids believe this, and they treated every single person they encountered as if they had extreme worth, we could bring change and stop the senseless hurting--both for the victims and the perpetrators.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Expectations vs. Hope
Exactly one year ago, there was a lot of excitement in our house. The entire house was looking forward to big changes around here: in one month, the twins would be starting kindergarten. Mike and I were looking back and wondering how we had gotten here so quickly--seemed like we had gone from a goal of "controlled chaos" with a house often filled with wails to kindergarten in the blink of an eye. The littles couldn't wait to meet their new teachers, ride the bus with their big sister, eat lunch at school every day and fill their new backpacks. Bella was enjoying filling them in on EVERYTHING they might need to know about school! Mike and I were enjoying the thoughts of how we might fill in all of our newly discovered free-time. Mike's with our dog, Blue, the outdoors and a few fat pheasant roosters, mine with shiny things, friends and daytime leisurely dates with M. I even signed up to teach exercise classes again and to take a metal-smithing class.
The girls did go to kindergarten and Bella to first grade. Mike did get some hunting in, I did get some jewelry making time, managed to get back into shape, and did find a bit of time to hang with friends. However, the leisurely and relaxed pace we were looking forward to never materialized. You see, right from the start, the littles hit a bump in their elementary journey. Alli was showing some extreme behaviors at school, refusing to communicate and play, regressing--which included daily bathroom accidents and other behaviors that were disrupting to the classroom. She was unable to perform simple tasks and transistions and even had an incident where she yelled uncontrollably at a peer. She complained of constant stomach aches and was so convincing that she was sent to the nurses office quite often. That same week (the first week of school), I received a very surprising and disturbing call from Milana's teacher. It appears that Milana (our child who fights for justice for all and is so sensitive to others' feelings) happened upon a physical playground fight and joined in, physically beating the VICTIM--in front of the victim's mother. WHAT?!
I had already been researching twin separation anxiety--the girls had met every other transition in their lifetimes together. They spent most of their waking and all of their sleeping time together, since birth. In preschool, I had anticipated this coming transition to separate classrooms, and had each twin go on MWF and one went on Tuesday and the other, alone, on Thursday. Halfway through the year, this seemed to be such a non-issue for them that their teacher and I decided to just put them both in 5 days a week to increase their readiness for kindergarten. However, something was very wrong. Both girls had always been confident, easy-going, engaged in school and a great friend. After a week of kindergarten, Mike and I found ourselves in a meeting with both of their teachers. It seemed the school staff thought they were not mature enough for kindergarten. Later that week, in a meeting with the principal, my girls were given one month to acclimate in kindergarten before they were pulled and placed in 4K. I spent many a day and night worrying that I had made the wrong decision. I contacted their preschool teacher, whose input I greatly valued to get her take on the situation. She was just as confused as I was. In the beginning of their last preschool year, she thought maybe I should hold them, but by the end of the year was convinced they were ready for kindergarten. They were bright, often led the discussions, were good friends to others, appropriately behaved and great listeners. In class, they rarely chose to sit close to one another or to play together, preferring to be near their friends.
During those initial meetings at school, I brought up the twin separation factor, and Alli's behaviors possibly being related to anxiety. They agreed to put the girls together during team times and I began observing in Alli's classroom (while I 'volunteered' and worked on projects) as well as volunteering during team times. This seemed to help Alli a little bit and her regression behaviors started to lesson. However, at home and at school, she was still really struggling with learning. We would work on site words and then less than 30 seconds later, she couldn't recall the word. This would happen over and over again. Anyway, toward the end of the month, as Mike and I were hiking and discussing Alli's difficulties, it suddenly hit us that her difficulties were consistent with ADHD inattentive type. Our little Alli was so overwhelmed by everything at school and couldn't focus and attend to the tasks and transitions. She would appear to be uninterested, but in reality, she was not able to focus and had checked out. Then, she would notice that the whole class was transitioning and her anxiety levels would shoot through the roof because she had no idea of the instructions given. Her confidence levels were plummeting because she knew she wasn't fulfilling expectations in the classroom. She is such a pleaser and hates to disappoint.
I don't know why we didn't see it before, given both of our training (Mike is a doctor and am ABD for a doctorate in psychology, specializing in children)--perhaps because she is our child. Anyway, the relief I felt that morning was incredible. It suddenly all made sense--I think I skipped down the back side of the bluffs that morning at Devil's Lake! I couldn't wait to get home, do some research, run it by my good friend, Angela (who happened to actually finish her PhD in psychology), schedule an evaluation and tell the teacher! It wasn't that I wanted something to be wrong with my child--it was that I KNEW something was wrong and it was a relief to have a possible diagnosis and things to try to help her succeed despite her difficulties. I just wanted so desperately to find a way to get her back on an even playing field with her peers so that she could feel confident and happy. It was so incredibly frustrating to have a child who disliked school so much in kindergarten!! Especially when she had loved preschool so much! The school psychologist thought I was missing the boat, but Alli's teacher was willing to work with me and try some new ideas in the classroom.
By November, Alli was seen by her pediatrician and started on Adderall. We saw an improvement in focus right away and within another month, had the dosage figured out. As she was leaving for Christmas break, Alli was no longer having potty accidents (they stopped immediately with the proper dose since she could now focus on her body's messages), her other concerning behaviors were almost absent (unless she was faced with a task she perceived as too difficult and therefore experienced higher anxiety). She was still behind academically, and had learned some avoidant behaviors to get out of the hard stuff at school before she was medicated, so we were working on that.
In January, we were finally able to get Alli in for a formal evaluation. She did, in fact, receive a diagnosis for ADHD, inattentive type. We also found out that Alli is incredibly bright, which gave us and her teacher the confidence to increase our expectations academically. We also began therapy for anxiety to help her learn to cope at school. By March, Alli was hitting her stride! I remember clearly the day I thought to myself that finally, we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel! It was the same day that I later got a call from Milana's teacher. She was worried about Milana at school. Not academically, for Milana was performing just below mid-pack, but more that she was starting to "check out" and have attention difficulties. Here we go again! Now, Milana performing mid-pack should not have raised a flag for her teacher, however, for us, it did. You see, Milana had taught herself to identify letters, including their sounds before she was 2 years old. She would point to your shirt, say each letter and the sound that it made. She had mastered all 26, prior to Bella mastering it (who is 18 months older). She was fascinated with letters and her vocabulary has always been precocious.
So, in March, Milana also began Adderall. Because we had already been down this path, it was a bit easier this time. Milana was able to focus much better and started to learn to read. However, for both girls, they had a lot of catching up to do. They had missed learning and absorbing during the first 7 months of the 9 month academic year. We amped up on reading, math problems, etc. at home. By the end of the year, Alli was reading at the same level Bella had finished at one year earlier. Not that I spend a lot of time comparing our girls, but it was such a reason to celebrate since Bella has always been a strong student! Alli and Milana both cried the last day of school. Alli kept saying that she was going to miss Mrs. Gaines, her best friend. This from the child who disliked kindergarten most of the year! When Milana was formally diagnosed this summer, she was tested at a 1.7 grade level for reading while off medication. Woohoo! I have to say that both of their teachers' determination to reach these girls and help them find success and confidence was incredible. We were so blessed to share this journey with them!
At the end of the year, I again met with the principal to discuss placement of the twins. The school district has a strict policy that splits multiples up for classroom placement. My concern was that our girls, especially Alli, had lost a lot of confidence during the year. Milana, too, was getting frustrated with learning, giving up and showing a lost confidence in her ability to learn. I believe that prior to kindergarten, they got some of their confidence from knowing the other was right there. It was my thought that if they could enter 1st grade together, in the same classroom, they may be more have more confidence and less anxiety from day one. I also felt strongly that both of the girls would need a teacher who could work well with their special needs. I know that our school is filled with excellent teachers, but we all have gifts and deficits making us better at working with some than others. If there is in fact, one 1st grade teacher who is especially gifted at working with the challenges of ADHD, how should the principal choose which of our girls should have her--especially after they both struggled to reach their potential in kindergarten?! I filled her in on the difficult year, the drop in confidence and reminded her that without confidence, learning stops. I also admitted that I don't know what the right decision is. I don't know how the girls will do together after being apart for a year. I also see the value in them finding their own confidence. What I really wanted was to capitalize on the recent successes and hit the ground running next year. I wanted to see the girls continue to enjoy school and to continue to learn and grow their confidence. I also told her I was not looking to have them together after this coming year. To my surprise, our principal said she would consider placing the twins together for one year. She would have to think about it, talk to their teachers and get back to me.
On the last day of school, I drove the girls. We had some very special gifts to hand out to their teachers. I had made each of them a piece of jewelry. But more than that, I needed to hand deliver them with the girls. I needed these two remarkable women to know, to feel, my gratitude. I needed finish the year seeing my girls happy in their environment and witness their hesitance to leave kindergarten. I needed to experience the success of the girls, their teachers and myself for a few minutes. The looks exchanged carried more meaning than most. As I drove home that day, the tears fell and the sobs rang out. I thought to myself, anyone passing me in the neighborhood will think I am crying because my girls are done with kindergarten. The truth of the matter is that I was crying BECAUSE they were going into first grade. For much of the year, even after the decision to keep them in kindergarten, we weren't sure they were going to be promoted. We had made it, and their was no longer any question that 1st grade was where they belonged! I cried for every time I didn't as I watched my girls struggle and fail and struggle again. I cried for every time I didn't when I questioned my decision to put them in kindergarten rather than holding them back because their birthday fell in the summer months. I cried for every time I didn't when Mrs. Gaines would look at me and tell me we would find Alli's spirit again. I cried because we did! I cried because I knew that no matter how many times this diagnose would provide another challenge, we would and could find a way to succeed.
The girls were together in the same class for the summer. They had both been recommended to take part in the remedial learning program in summer school. This program was taught in the 1st grade classrooms and led by one of the 1st grade teachers. I got a call from the principal saying that she wanted to hold off deciding until she observed how they did together during summer school. Again, I was floored by her commitment to looking at the entire situation, collecting available data and making the best decision for our girls.
We just received word that they were great in school together during the summer and will be placed in the same class in the fall. They were not distracting to each other or peers, they are not dependent on each other, but do seem to do well knowing the other is there. They both continued to grow academically--in fact, their teacher wondered why they were in the program. They do both have a pretty big deficit in fine motor skills, probably due to the inability to focus on tasks that require them prior to medication. We will need to continue to put in extra time on this at home. I also keep working diligently on the math and reading, trying to get it in any way I can (I feel like I am homeschooling this summer!).
So, I find myself with the same feelings I felt last fall. Only this time, it isn't based on the simple expectation that things will go smoothly. This time, it is a bit more tentative, one built on hope. This time, it is so much more meaningful. This hope has grown from hard work, dumb persistence, teachers' belief in our girls, medications, expertise and a principal's willingness to go out on a limb and do what is best for two little girls. Even if this year doesn't turn out to be the one with a leisurely relaxed pace, I will forever be grateful for this feeling of hope that I am feeling and the excitement that goes along with a fresh new school year!
The girls did go to kindergarten and Bella to first grade. Mike did get some hunting in, I did get some jewelry making time, managed to get back into shape, and did find a bit of time to hang with friends. However, the leisurely and relaxed pace we were looking forward to never materialized. You see, right from the start, the littles hit a bump in their elementary journey. Alli was showing some extreme behaviors at school, refusing to communicate and play, regressing--which included daily bathroom accidents and other behaviors that were disrupting to the classroom. She was unable to perform simple tasks and transistions and even had an incident where she yelled uncontrollably at a peer. She complained of constant stomach aches and was so convincing that she was sent to the nurses office quite often. That same week (the first week of school), I received a very surprising and disturbing call from Milana's teacher. It appears that Milana (our child who fights for justice for all and is so sensitive to others' feelings) happened upon a physical playground fight and joined in, physically beating the VICTIM--in front of the victim's mother. WHAT?!
I had already been researching twin separation anxiety--the girls had met every other transition in their lifetimes together. They spent most of their waking and all of their sleeping time together, since birth. In preschool, I had anticipated this coming transition to separate classrooms, and had each twin go on MWF and one went on Tuesday and the other, alone, on Thursday. Halfway through the year, this seemed to be such a non-issue for them that their teacher and I decided to just put them both in 5 days a week to increase their readiness for kindergarten. However, something was very wrong. Both girls had always been confident, easy-going, engaged in school and a great friend. After a week of kindergarten, Mike and I found ourselves in a meeting with both of their teachers. It seemed the school staff thought they were not mature enough for kindergarten. Later that week, in a meeting with the principal, my girls were given one month to acclimate in kindergarten before they were pulled and placed in 4K. I spent many a day and night worrying that I had made the wrong decision. I contacted their preschool teacher, whose input I greatly valued to get her take on the situation. She was just as confused as I was. In the beginning of their last preschool year, she thought maybe I should hold them, but by the end of the year was convinced they were ready for kindergarten. They were bright, often led the discussions, were good friends to others, appropriately behaved and great listeners. In class, they rarely chose to sit close to one another or to play together, preferring to be near their friends.
During those initial meetings at school, I brought up the twin separation factor, and Alli's behaviors possibly being related to anxiety. They agreed to put the girls together during team times and I began observing in Alli's classroom (while I 'volunteered' and worked on projects) as well as volunteering during team times. This seemed to help Alli a little bit and her regression behaviors started to lesson. However, at home and at school, she was still really struggling with learning. We would work on site words and then less than 30 seconds later, she couldn't recall the word. This would happen over and over again. Anyway, toward the end of the month, as Mike and I were hiking and discussing Alli's difficulties, it suddenly hit us that her difficulties were consistent with ADHD inattentive type. Our little Alli was so overwhelmed by everything at school and couldn't focus and attend to the tasks and transitions. She would appear to be uninterested, but in reality, she was not able to focus and had checked out. Then, she would notice that the whole class was transitioning and her anxiety levels would shoot through the roof because she had no idea of the instructions given. Her confidence levels were plummeting because she knew she wasn't fulfilling expectations in the classroom. She is such a pleaser and hates to disappoint.
I don't know why we didn't see it before, given both of our training (Mike is a doctor and am ABD for a doctorate in psychology, specializing in children)--perhaps because she is our child. Anyway, the relief I felt that morning was incredible. It suddenly all made sense--I think I skipped down the back side of the bluffs that morning at Devil's Lake! I couldn't wait to get home, do some research, run it by my good friend, Angela (who happened to actually finish her PhD in psychology), schedule an evaluation and tell the teacher! It wasn't that I wanted something to be wrong with my child--it was that I KNEW something was wrong and it was a relief to have a possible diagnosis and things to try to help her succeed despite her difficulties. I just wanted so desperately to find a way to get her back on an even playing field with her peers so that she could feel confident and happy. It was so incredibly frustrating to have a child who disliked school so much in kindergarten!! Especially when she had loved preschool so much! The school psychologist thought I was missing the boat, but Alli's teacher was willing to work with me and try some new ideas in the classroom.
By November, Alli was seen by her pediatrician and started on Adderall. We saw an improvement in focus right away and within another month, had the dosage figured out. As she was leaving for Christmas break, Alli was no longer having potty accidents (they stopped immediately with the proper dose since she could now focus on her body's messages), her other concerning behaviors were almost absent (unless she was faced with a task she perceived as too difficult and therefore experienced higher anxiety). She was still behind academically, and had learned some avoidant behaviors to get out of the hard stuff at school before she was medicated, so we were working on that.
In January, we were finally able to get Alli in for a formal evaluation. She did, in fact, receive a diagnosis for ADHD, inattentive type. We also found out that Alli is incredibly bright, which gave us and her teacher the confidence to increase our expectations academically. We also began therapy for anxiety to help her learn to cope at school. By March, Alli was hitting her stride! I remember clearly the day I thought to myself that finally, we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel! It was the same day that I later got a call from Milana's teacher. She was worried about Milana at school. Not academically, for Milana was performing just below mid-pack, but more that she was starting to "check out" and have attention difficulties. Here we go again! Now, Milana performing mid-pack should not have raised a flag for her teacher, however, for us, it did. You see, Milana had taught herself to identify letters, including their sounds before she was 2 years old. She would point to your shirt, say each letter and the sound that it made. She had mastered all 26, prior to Bella mastering it (who is 18 months older). She was fascinated with letters and her vocabulary has always been precocious.
So, in March, Milana also began Adderall. Because we had already been down this path, it was a bit easier this time. Milana was able to focus much better and started to learn to read. However, for both girls, they had a lot of catching up to do. They had missed learning and absorbing during the first 7 months of the 9 month academic year. We amped up on reading, math problems, etc. at home. By the end of the year, Alli was reading at the same level Bella had finished at one year earlier. Not that I spend a lot of time comparing our girls, but it was such a reason to celebrate since Bella has always been a strong student! Alli and Milana both cried the last day of school. Alli kept saying that she was going to miss Mrs. Gaines, her best friend. This from the child who disliked kindergarten most of the year! When Milana was formally diagnosed this summer, she was tested at a 1.7 grade level for reading while off medication. Woohoo! I have to say that both of their teachers' determination to reach these girls and help them find success and confidence was incredible. We were so blessed to share this journey with them!
At the end of the year, I again met with the principal to discuss placement of the twins. The school district has a strict policy that splits multiples up for classroom placement. My concern was that our girls, especially Alli, had lost a lot of confidence during the year. Milana, too, was getting frustrated with learning, giving up and showing a lost confidence in her ability to learn. I believe that prior to kindergarten, they got some of their confidence from knowing the other was right there. It was my thought that if they could enter 1st grade together, in the same classroom, they may be more have more confidence and less anxiety from day one. I also felt strongly that both of the girls would need a teacher who could work well with their special needs. I know that our school is filled with excellent teachers, but we all have gifts and deficits making us better at working with some than others. If there is in fact, one 1st grade teacher who is especially gifted at working with the challenges of ADHD, how should the principal choose which of our girls should have her--especially after they both struggled to reach their potential in kindergarten?! I filled her in on the difficult year, the drop in confidence and reminded her that without confidence, learning stops. I also admitted that I don't know what the right decision is. I don't know how the girls will do together after being apart for a year. I also see the value in them finding their own confidence. What I really wanted was to capitalize on the recent successes and hit the ground running next year. I wanted to see the girls continue to enjoy school and to continue to learn and grow their confidence. I also told her I was not looking to have them together after this coming year. To my surprise, our principal said she would consider placing the twins together for one year. She would have to think about it, talk to their teachers and get back to me.
On the last day of school, I drove the girls. We had some very special gifts to hand out to their teachers. I had made each of them a piece of jewelry. But more than that, I needed to hand deliver them with the girls. I needed these two remarkable women to know, to feel, my gratitude. I needed finish the year seeing my girls happy in their environment and witness their hesitance to leave kindergarten. I needed to experience the success of the girls, their teachers and myself for a few minutes. The looks exchanged carried more meaning than most. As I drove home that day, the tears fell and the sobs rang out. I thought to myself, anyone passing me in the neighborhood will think I am crying because my girls are done with kindergarten. The truth of the matter is that I was crying BECAUSE they were going into first grade. For much of the year, even after the decision to keep them in kindergarten, we weren't sure they were going to be promoted. We had made it, and their was no longer any question that 1st grade was where they belonged! I cried for every time I didn't as I watched my girls struggle and fail and struggle again. I cried for every time I didn't when I questioned my decision to put them in kindergarten rather than holding them back because their birthday fell in the summer months. I cried for every time I didn't when Mrs. Gaines would look at me and tell me we would find Alli's spirit again. I cried because we did! I cried because I knew that no matter how many times this diagnose would provide another challenge, we would and could find a way to succeed.
The girls were together in the same class for the summer. They had both been recommended to take part in the remedial learning program in summer school. This program was taught in the 1st grade classrooms and led by one of the 1st grade teachers. I got a call from the principal saying that she wanted to hold off deciding until she observed how they did together during summer school. Again, I was floored by her commitment to looking at the entire situation, collecting available data and making the best decision for our girls.
We just received word that they were great in school together during the summer and will be placed in the same class in the fall. They were not distracting to each other or peers, they are not dependent on each other, but do seem to do well knowing the other is there. They both continued to grow academically--in fact, their teacher wondered why they were in the program. They do both have a pretty big deficit in fine motor skills, probably due to the inability to focus on tasks that require them prior to medication. We will need to continue to put in extra time on this at home. I also keep working diligently on the math and reading, trying to get it in any way I can (I feel like I am homeschooling this summer!).
So, I find myself with the same feelings I felt last fall. Only this time, it isn't based on the simple expectation that things will go smoothly. This time, it is a bit more tentative, one built on hope. This time, it is so much more meaningful. This hope has grown from hard work, dumb persistence, teachers' belief in our girls, medications, expertise and a principal's willingness to go out on a limb and do what is best for two little girls. Even if this year doesn't turn out to be the one with a leisurely relaxed pace, I will forever be grateful for this feeling of hope that I am feeling and the excitement that goes along with a fresh new school year!
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