I've told my "Taco Bell" story multiple times over the years -- to school teachers, to young adults who have worked with Jeremy, to my friends and so on. My story begins in the year 1996 when our family was driving to St. Louis to see a specialist who would help us recover Jeremy from his disability of autism.
Jeremy was almost four years old when he was finally diagnosed. He was profoundly affected and considered severe by the doctor's standards. For the first couple of years we had Jeremy placed in a developmental preschool which meant that I drove 45 minutes to and from our house on a daily basis. It was wearying and time-consuming.
Although the occupational and speech therapists at this preschool did their best, I knew there was something non-traditional that needed to be done to better help our little boy. While visiting with another parent one afternoon I learned of a company called "National Academy for Child Development" that specialized in improving children's potential for learning. After much prayer, we decided to enlist the support of NACD to help recover our son.
On this particular day our family was traveling to St. Louis for our first visit with Bob Doman, Founder and Neurodevelopmentalist for NACD. Working with NACD would be costly and require extensive daily therapy at home, but we knew that NACD would be able to tap into Jeremy's dormant potential. I prayed that God would make it clear by giving me a 'vision' of where Jeremy could aspire to be. I knew that it would be important for us to believe that Jeremy could make significant progress given the right structure and plan.
Midway between St. Louis and Kansas City is the small town of Boonville, Missouri. A Taco Bell sits along the highway. Rick suggested tacos for lunch; although surprised with his suggestion, we soon found ourselves walking into this restaurant. Rick took Megan to the front counter to order while I whisked Jeremy to the bathrooms.
Many children with autism suffer strange fears and unusual behaviors -- our little Jeremy was no different =( The past several weeks had been difficult because Jeremy was showing great fear of the toilet seats. In an effort to alleviate fears our little boy would stand two to three feet away -- which wasn't optimal for many reasons. My voice became firm as I coached and gently pushed Jeremy forward. Jeremy howled and wailed like someone being torn away from his beloved blanket. "NO!" he yelled, "No!" Even more firmly I coached Jeremy until finally the deed was done. Jeremy and I wearily bolted from the restroom only to find the few restaurant gatherers staring with horrified expressions as we exited the restrooms.
With a questioning look, Rick took both children to the car while I finished placing the order. While waiting I took notice of the young employee who'd taken our order. He was fidgeting with his little black tie with a look of slight anxiety in his eyes. There were just three of us waiting for our orders. "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I blurted out to the employee standing in front of me. "Now where did that come from?!" I wondered. Again, "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I insistently pursued. "Well, sure," was his reply with a shrug of his shoulders. The other two gentlemen leaned in to hear as well.
"Well, our son has autism and he's going through a fear of the toilet seats right now," I began. "I have to be firm so that he'll get over this fear. One can't be afraid of toilet seats all their lives," I stammered on. Everyone took on a look of "Oh, yeah. I get it," then settled back into their usual places. But the young employee sort of smiled sadly and said to me, "I have autism, too."
I'd never met an adult with autism before. What a revelation to see a young man standing before me who was clearly able to work, to converse and understand relationships! After a few exchanges I learned that he'd attended regular public schools, still lived at home and was now working at Taco Bell. He hoped to move into an apartment of his own very soon. It was a balm to my soul to see someone who'd so obviously recovered from the debilitating disability of autism. There were little signs of his disability, as I reflected later, but none so obvious for the casual eye to observe.
As I walked to our parked car with our sack of tacos, it suddenly dawned on me that this not-so-chance of a meeting was a divine answer from God to me. He was giving me a glimpse of who Jeremy could become -- a functioning member of society with the capacity to know others, including his Creator. My heart swelled with gratitude and I resolved to always expect great things from Jeremy. I would share this story many times over the years to ensure that others would expect the same.
Once again, God had proven Himself to be faithful. I am reminded of the bible verse that says, "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel and watch over you." Psalm 32:8. Throughout the years God has consistently laid before us various therapies and opportunities for Jeremy. It has not been an easy road, but it has been rewarding to see Jeremy's progress since those early years of severe autism.
Jeremy is now twenty years old. He is able to communicate functionally, not so well, socially. Jeremy now works for a company that puts medical kits together for a local laboratory. It is repetitive work, but one that Jeremy seems to enjoy. Jeremy is considered moderately high-functioning at this point. Living alone is not an option, but we are still hopeful. Recently I found a website that helps build and restore brain cells. It was recommended to me by two people within a short window of time. Jeremy loves working these computer games -- and, I plan to register myself next month =)
For more information on NACD and Lumosity, please see these websites:
National Academy for Child Development (www.nacd.org)
Lumosity (www.lumosity.com)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Megan's Eye Troubles
I come from a long line of worriers. As a teenager I vowed not to carry on the family tradition and was fairly successful at this -- until the birth of our first child, precious and adorable, Megan.
As Megan grew through her toddler years and into early childhood, I began to understand the part of life that included worry. Although I was a pediatric nurse at Children's Mercy Hospital, I didn't know much about common childhood ailments. Most of my nursing skills resolved around really sick children with cancer.
Watching Megan struggle through common illnesses, I became an innate worrier. To keep myself grounded, I would call my closest friends and asked them questions.
Then one morning three year old Megan asked, "Mommy, why do I see two of you?"
I was helping Megan buckle her pretty white patent leather shoes so we could soon leave for church. "What?!" I asked with stunned clarity and an escalating heartbeat. "Mommy, I see two of you. One right there, and one right there," she said while pointing her little finger to two unseen spaces in front of her. I leaned back to get a good look at her eyes. Sure enough, her right eye was veering inward. Survival mode kicked in as I fought to control the panic cycle within my heart. I'd taken care of lots of children who had vision issues related to their brain tumors.
It didn't take long to place a telephone call to our pediatrician. He didn't express much concern because Megan wasn't showing any other symptoms besides one crossed eye. She wasn't walking lop-sided, falling down or showing signs of nausea. In fact, Megan was happy as usual =) But I still worried. "What if ..., " kept pulsing through my mind. With a heavy heart I waited for Monday morning to arrive when Megan could be seen by a physician. Throughout the night I prayed and prayed and prayed, still worrying about the possibility of Megan battling a brain tumor.
The next day Megan was examined by a renowned children's eye specialist and later that day underwent a MRI of the head. We were sent us home with the promise of news within a couple of days and Megan was put on an antibiotic for a stuffy nose and cough that she'd had for more than a week. That night I tried hard to pretend that nothing was amiss, but inside I felt confused, scared and ... still worried.
It was almost midnight when we received the good news that Megan's MRI was normal. The doctor wasn't sure why Megan's eyes were turning inward, but thought it might be related to sinusitis that hadn't been diagnosed (pressure from the sinuses on the nerve that moves the eye). She wondered if the antibiotic had reduced the swelling of Megan's sinuses so that the optic nerves were no longer being pressured. No one knew for sure. But it certainly was good news was that Megan's wayward eye was no longer veering to the right! I was relieved and grateful for God's provision.
Almost exactly one year later it happened, again. Only this time I wasn't as scared. I'd been down this path before and realized that my worry did nothing to ease the pain of uncertainty. Once more Megan's eye returned to normal after being given an antibiotic. From then on we would be more wise and cautious about watching for signs of sinusitis. To date, Megan hasn't wrestled with this condition for a third time, although she still tilts her head slightly to the right when she watches television.
As the years have passed, our family has battled various health issues and injuries. It hasn't been easy and I will admit, sometimes I regress and worry. But I work hard to maintain an inner peace during times of stress or concern. It's easy for me to slip back into the worry-mentality. I still talk to my friends when feeling the need to be 'grounded'. I try to remember that my worry doesn't help, and, in fact, often makes the situation even more difficult to bear.
The one thing that helps me is to pray unceasingly through those stressful or painful situations that present themselves. As I pray, I lay claim one very special Bible verse:
"So do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you and help you; and I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10.
... and in time, I usually feel better.
As Megan grew through her toddler years and into early childhood, I began to understand the part of life that included worry. Although I was a pediatric nurse at Children's Mercy Hospital, I didn't know much about common childhood ailments. Most of my nursing skills resolved around really sick children with cancer.
Watching Megan struggle through common illnesses, I became an innate worrier. To keep myself grounded, I would call my closest friends and asked them questions.
Then one morning three year old Megan asked, "Mommy, why do I see two of you?"
I was helping Megan buckle her pretty white patent leather shoes so we could soon leave for church. "What?!" I asked with stunned clarity and an escalating heartbeat. "Mommy, I see two of you. One right there, and one right there," she said while pointing her little finger to two unseen spaces in front of her. I leaned back to get a good look at her eyes. Sure enough, her right eye was veering inward. Survival mode kicked in as I fought to control the panic cycle within my heart. I'd taken care of lots of children who had vision issues related to their brain tumors.
It didn't take long to place a telephone call to our pediatrician. He didn't express much concern because Megan wasn't showing any other symptoms besides one crossed eye. She wasn't walking lop-sided, falling down or showing signs of nausea. In fact, Megan was happy as usual =) But I still worried. "What if ..., " kept pulsing through my mind. With a heavy heart I waited for Monday morning to arrive when Megan could be seen by a physician. Throughout the night I prayed and prayed and prayed, still worrying about the possibility of Megan battling a brain tumor.
The next day Megan was examined by a renowned children's eye specialist and later that day underwent a MRI of the head. We were sent us home with the promise of news within a couple of days and Megan was put on an antibiotic for a stuffy nose and cough that she'd had for more than a week. That night I tried hard to pretend that nothing was amiss, but inside I felt confused, scared and ... still worried.
It was almost midnight when we received the good news that Megan's MRI was normal. The doctor wasn't sure why Megan's eyes were turning inward, but thought it might be related to sinusitis that hadn't been diagnosed (pressure from the sinuses on the nerve that moves the eye). She wondered if the antibiotic had reduced the swelling of Megan's sinuses so that the optic nerves were no longer being pressured. No one knew for sure. But it certainly was good news was that Megan's wayward eye was no longer veering to the right! I was relieved and grateful for God's provision.
Almost exactly one year later it happened, again. Only this time I wasn't as scared. I'd been down this path before and realized that my worry did nothing to ease the pain of uncertainty. Once more Megan's eye returned to normal after being given an antibiotic. From then on we would be more wise and cautious about watching for signs of sinusitis. To date, Megan hasn't wrestled with this condition for a third time, although she still tilts her head slightly to the right when she watches television.
As the years have passed, our family has battled various health issues and injuries. It hasn't been easy and I will admit, sometimes I regress and worry. But I work hard to maintain an inner peace during times of stress or concern. It's easy for me to slip back into the worry-mentality. I still talk to my friends when feeling the need to be 'grounded'. I try to remember that my worry doesn't help, and, in fact, often makes the situation even more difficult to bear.
The one thing that helps me is to pray unceasingly through those stressful or painful situations that present themselves. As I pray, I lay claim one very special Bible verse:
"So do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you and help you; and I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10.
... and in time, I usually feel better.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Scary Dog Story
"Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you." Proverbs 4:25
Many years ago, when I used to run for exercise, I found myself running along the country road leading away from Camp Barnabas early one morning. I watched a few counselors running ahead of me. About a quarter of a mile out of camp I spied a large, ferocious-looking dog run from it's perch on a dilapidated farmhouse porch and growl menacingly while nipping at one counselor's heels. This young man kicked the dog away, but steadfastly kept running at his regular pace. The dog continued his pursuit until the two young men were beyond the fence boundaries of the farm.
My heart began racing as I envisioned this menacing farm dog literally tearing my legs off my body! By nature I am afraid of dogs bigger than, say, a small Bichon. So this aggressive canine was just too much for me to handle! Without skipping a beat I abruptly turned around and began running a little more quickly back to camp. "No way am I gonna face that dog," I thought to myself.
As I neared the entrance to camp I noticed other small groups of counselors leaving for their early morning run. I wondered how they would fare as they ran past the dog. Curious, I turned around to watch how others reacted to the growling dog. Amazingly these separate two-somes and three-somes just kept jogging -- mostly without missing a step and with little attention to their aggressor. "How can that be?!" I wondered aloud.
Then suddenly it dawned on me. They had kept their eyes on their target destination. Perhaps they glanced at the dog, but most of these runners paid little attention to their aggressor -- and just kept running. "Aha! That's the answer," I thought to myself. "I'll keep my eyes focused on my target destination and I won't even glance at the growling dog." Then a still small voice seem to whisper, "If these people can make it beyond the farmhouse, then so can you! Keep your eyes on your final destination. And ignore the distractions along the way -- including the scary ones."
I resolved to do the same and turned around once more. This time I focused on a distant silo -- my turn-around point -- and began jogging in a slow and steady pace. As you can imagine my heart began beating faster and my palms became sweaty as I approached the farmhouse. I continued to jog toward the silo, then, ever so slowly ran beyond the farmhouse. Steadfastly I jogged forward without looking to the right or the left. My eyes were zeroed in on that silo in the distance. I heard the dog barking as he ran onto this country road. He seemed to jump from my left side to my right side with reckless abandon. "Will I ever get beyond this house?!" my mind screamed. I kept going for what seemed like an eternity.
As quickly as the dog appeared, he disappeared. I kept jogging I reached that silo, then, resolutely began my return home -- instinctively knowing that it would be a little easier this time. My heart still sped up a little and my palms still turned sweaty, but not to the degree that I'd experienced earlier. When I returned to camp I put away my sneakers and didn't run for the rest of the week! Only later did I process and think about this experience. I learned that ...
Many years ago, when I used to run for exercise, I found myself running along the country road leading away from Camp Barnabas early one morning. I watched a few counselors running ahead of me. About a quarter of a mile out of camp I spied a large, ferocious-looking dog run from it's perch on a dilapidated farmhouse porch and growl menacingly while nipping at one counselor's heels. This young man kicked the dog away, but steadfastly kept running at his regular pace. The dog continued his pursuit until the two young men were beyond the fence boundaries of the farm.
My heart began racing as I envisioned this menacing farm dog literally tearing my legs off my body! By nature I am afraid of dogs bigger than, say, a small Bichon. So this aggressive canine was just too much for me to handle! Without skipping a beat I abruptly turned around and began running a little more quickly back to camp. "No way am I gonna face that dog," I thought to myself.
As I neared the entrance to camp I noticed other small groups of counselors leaving for their early morning run. I wondered how they would fare as they ran past the dog. Curious, I turned around to watch how others reacted to the growling dog. Amazingly these separate two-somes and three-somes just kept jogging -- mostly without missing a step and with little attention to their aggressor. "How can that be?!" I wondered aloud.
Then suddenly it dawned on me. They had kept their eyes on their target destination. Perhaps they glanced at the dog, but most of these runners paid little attention to their aggressor -- and just kept running. "Aha! That's the answer," I thought to myself. "I'll keep my eyes focused on my target destination and I won't even glance at the growling dog." Then a still small voice seem to whisper, "If these people can make it beyond the farmhouse, then so can you! Keep your eyes on your final destination. And ignore the distractions along the way -- including the scary ones."
I resolved to do the same and turned around once more. This time I focused on a distant silo -- my turn-around point -- and began jogging in a slow and steady pace. As you can imagine my heart began beating faster and my palms became sweaty as I approached the farmhouse. I continued to jog toward the silo, then, ever so slowly ran beyond the farmhouse. Steadfastly I jogged forward without looking to the right or the left. My eyes were zeroed in on that silo in the distance. I heard the dog barking as he ran onto this country road. He seemed to jump from my left side to my right side with reckless abandon. "Will I ever get beyond this house?!" my mind screamed. I kept going for what seemed like an eternity.
As quickly as the dog appeared, he disappeared. I kept jogging I reached that silo, then, resolutely began my return home -- instinctively knowing that it would be a little easier this time. My heart still sped up a little and my palms still turned sweaty, but not to the degree that I'd experienced earlier. When I returned to camp I put away my sneakers and didn't run for the rest of the week! Only later did I process and think about this experience. I learned that ...
- It's best to focus on our destination rather than on the scary distractions that can pop-up along the way;
- We learn by watching others walk through difficult situations and scary times;
- Others learn from watching us walk through difficult situations and scary times;
- Courage is a force of will that can be learned;
- And, sometimes a step of faith if necessary to complete one's journey.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
New Friendships
One balmy, August morning, I wearily climbed down from the school bus and traipsed into our junior high school gymnasium. Along with others from my bus, I ambled into the gymnasium while scanning for friends. Because it was so early in the morning, there was usually very little chatter until we ultimately reached our destination -- school. It was a time to socialize, flirt and preen before others ~~ as 7th graders, the bottom of the barrel in junior high school.
For almost a week now I had endured this change from elementary to junior high school. Exciting at first, it became more socially challenging as I worked to establish myself into the hierarchy of seventh grade student life. After all, there were so many more people to meet and get to know. I wondered where would I fit. I really didn't feel a part of any specific crowd.
Throughout most of grade school I had been a part of a trio of friends in our little elementary school. We three had many things in common like Girl Scouts, dance lessons, sleepovers and camp- outs. But now I was watching my three best friends stand in a huddle with a group of other girls ~~ a new group was evolving. For some reason I no longer felt comfortable around my old friends, nor did I feel capable of cracking into what I viewed as their inner sanctum. Truth be told, I was tired of trying to fit in these last couple of weeks in junior high. Brushing past the satellite groups of people standing on the gymnasium floor I resolutely climbed the steps of the bleachers to sit alone. It was in that time of solitude that I made the conscious decision to make new friends -- friends with whom I would feel comfortable and accepted.
The next week I climbed onto my school bus and scanned the crowd for a seat. I spotted a girl from my old elementary school sitting with an open seat beside her, so I asked if we could sit together. "Sure," she quipped, and a friendship took root that day that has lasted more than 40 years. Looking back I see that moment as being pivotal in my life. I learned quickly how to make friends and to have confidence in myself as a friend. To this day it is always a treasure for me to learn about others, and that's exactly how I went about making friends with Robin. I took it upon myself to learn about my new friend, and she began to learn about me. We shared, giggled and laughed our way through six years of being the very best of friends.
Robin helped me gain confidence in myself. She taught me how to be comfortable with all sorts of people. Together we made all sorts of new friends. I understood loyalty in a precious new light as Robin stood by me again and again despite my many flaws. The end of our high school years brought some separation when life took us in different directions.
As Megan and Rebekah have each entered their formative years I have used this story to help them understand the importance of being able to make new friends while maintaining your older friendships. I have tried to teach them to be comfortable with the friends they choose. It seems to be very important for seventh and eight grade girls to want to be thought as as pretty, fashionable and popular with someone or some group of friends. There certainly was nothing wrong with the girls with whom I parted company. Some remained friends as we continued to share extracurricular activities together. It was simply time for me to make new friends ~~ for a new season in life.
God brings friends into our lives for different seasons and reasons. Since that time in seventh grade I've had many friends -- some have stayed with me for a very long time, others have moved on depending upon the stages of our lives. It has been a pleasure getting to know so many other people in my lifetime. I feel blessed to have made some very precious friends who have supported and loved me throughout the years.
For almost a week now I had endured this change from elementary to junior high school. Exciting at first, it became more socially challenging as I worked to establish myself into the hierarchy of seventh grade student life. After all, there were so many more people to meet and get to know. I wondered where would I fit. I really didn't feel a part of any specific crowd.
Throughout most of grade school I had been a part of a trio of friends in our little elementary school. We three had many things in common like Girl Scouts, dance lessons, sleepovers and camp- outs. But now I was watching my three best friends stand in a huddle with a group of other girls ~~ a new group was evolving. For some reason I no longer felt comfortable around my old friends, nor did I feel capable of cracking into what I viewed as their inner sanctum. Truth be told, I was tired of trying to fit in these last couple of weeks in junior high. Brushing past the satellite groups of people standing on the gymnasium floor I resolutely climbed the steps of the bleachers to sit alone. It was in that time of solitude that I made the conscious decision to make new friends -- friends with whom I would feel comfortable and accepted.
The next week I climbed onto my school bus and scanned the crowd for a seat. I spotted a girl from my old elementary school sitting with an open seat beside her, so I asked if we could sit together. "Sure," she quipped, and a friendship took root that day that has lasted more than 40 years. Looking back I see that moment as being pivotal in my life. I learned quickly how to make friends and to have confidence in myself as a friend. To this day it is always a treasure for me to learn about others, and that's exactly how I went about making friends with Robin. I took it upon myself to learn about my new friend, and she began to learn about me. We shared, giggled and laughed our way through six years of being the very best of friends.
Robin helped me gain confidence in myself. She taught me how to be comfortable with all sorts of people. Together we made all sorts of new friends. I understood loyalty in a precious new light as Robin stood by me again and again despite my many flaws. The end of our high school years brought some separation when life took us in different directions.
As Megan and Rebekah have each entered their formative years I have used this story to help them understand the importance of being able to make new friends while maintaining your older friendships. I have tried to teach them to be comfortable with the friends they choose. It seems to be very important for seventh and eight grade girls to want to be thought as as pretty, fashionable and popular with someone or some group of friends. There certainly was nothing wrong with the girls with whom I parted company. Some remained friends as we continued to share extracurricular activities together. It was simply time for me to make new friends ~~ for a new season in life.
God brings friends into our lives for different seasons and reasons. Since that time in seventh grade I've had many friends -- some have stayed with me for a very long time, others have moved on depending upon the stages of our lives. It has been a pleasure getting to know so many other people in my lifetime. I feel blessed to have made some very precious friends who have supported and loved me throughout the years.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
A True Friend
Watching our sons play in the backyard I stood talking with a good friend from church. Our boys were born the very same day -- November 26th. At two and a half the boys were as different as night and day. Alison's son was short in stature and physically coordinated. Jeremy was taller, but less coordinated. And try as hard as he could, Matthew just couldn't seem to get Jeremy to play with him. Instead Jeremy ran around the yard waving broken branches he'd picked up from the ground which was typical behavior for him.
With a slight pause, Alison gently asked me, "Kathy, have you ever thought of autism when you watch Jeremy play?" Inside my mind screamed, "Yes", but to Alison I said, "No. My doctor says Jeremy is just fine and that he's just a late bloomer." The awkwardness descended and I left soon thereafter. And I hardly talked to my friend, Alison, for another two years.
It wasn't that I didn't like Alison. Actually, I liked her alot. But she knew my secret -- a secret that I hadn't been able to accept myself -- that Jeremy just might have a very real problem. And I couldn't face the thought that someone else might guess my terrible fear. So I put Alison on a shelf and left her there for quite some time.
A couple of years later we did have Jeremy tested. And sure enough, he was diagnosed with autism. This was in the early 90's when not that many children were being diagnosed with autism so I don't fault my pediatrician -- too much. But when Jeremy was finally diagnosed I remembered back into my past of all those times when others after Alison had tried to talk with me, including God.
Later, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my friend Alison called to ask if she could come by. Although I felt sheepish for ignoring Alison the past couple of years, I also knew that Alison cared about me. So we made plans for a short visit. On the day of our scheduled visit, I'd received phone calls from several doctors urging me to start chemotherapy due to the aggressive nature of my cancer. No one was at home with me that day and I started to panic. Alison called earlier than expected, listened, then said she was on her way over right then and there. What a blessing it was to have Alison with me on the very day when I needed someone to cry with. We prayed and cried together, and I was able to say that I was sorry for leaving our friendship behind. Without batting an eye my friend said, "That's okay. I understood. And you're still my good friend =)"
God provided me with this one friend who wasn't afraid to come forward with the truth -- in love and gentleness. She was willing to sacrifice our friendship knowing that someone needed to speak the truth to me in love. And God used Alison to minister to me in a very profound way =) To this day I consider Alison one of my very good friends. I know that she will be straightforward with me -- and gentle when needed. My only hope is that I can be that sort of friend to my friends.
With a slight pause, Alison gently asked me, "Kathy, have you ever thought of autism when you watch Jeremy play?" Inside my mind screamed, "Yes", but to Alison I said, "No. My doctor says Jeremy is just fine and that he's just a late bloomer." The awkwardness descended and I left soon thereafter. And I hardly talked to my friend, Alison, for another two years.
It wasn't that I didn't like Alison. Actually, I liked her alot. But she knew my secret -- a secret that I hadn't been able to accept myself -- that Jeremy just might have a very real problem. And I couldn't face the thought that someone else might guess my terrible fear. So I put Alison on a shelf and left her there for quite some time.
A couple of years later we did have Jeremy tested. And sure enough, he was diagnosed with autism. This was in the early 90's when not that many children were being diagnosed with autism so I don't fault my pediatrician -- too much. But when Jeremy was finally diagnosed I remembered back into my past of all those times when others after Alison had tried to talk with me, including God.
Later, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my friend Alison called to ask if she could come by. Although I felt sheepish for ignoring Alison the past couple of years, I also knew that Alison cared about me. So we made plans for a short visit. On the day of our scheduled visit, I'd received phone calls from several doctors urging me to start chemotherapy due to the aggressive nature of my cancer. No one was at home with me that day and I started to panic. Alison called earlier than expected, listened, then said she was on her way over right then and there. What a blessing it was to have Alison with me on the very day when I needed someone to cry with. We prayed and cried together, and I was able to say that I was sorry for leaving our friendship behind. Without batting an eye my friend said, "That's okay. I understood. And you're still my good friend =)"
God provided me with this one friend who wasn't afraid to come forward with the truth -- in love and gentleness. She was willing to sacrifice our friendship knowing that someone needed to speak the truth to me in love. And God used Alison to minister to me in a very profound way =) To this day I consider Alison one of my very good friends. I know that she will be straightforward with me -- and gentle when needed. My only hope is that I can be that sort of friend to my friends.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Abortion Recovery
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." -- Proverbs 3: 5-6
The year was 1986. Much had changed since 1976. Vices like drinking and smoking had given way to studying and serious living. I was in my senior year of college (second time around) about to finish with a nursing degree. Somehow I managed to finish undergraduate school with social work and sociology degrees -- and was now finishing a degree in nursing. For the first time in a long time I felt relaxed and more at peace with myself and even excited for my new career as a nurse.
Then came Jeremy's diagnosis of autism along with my diagnosis of breast cancer later that same year. God now had my complete attention and I was powerless to do much besides fight the cancer with surgery and chemotherapy. I could no longer trust in just myself. I trusted my doctors to help pick the right treatments, but soon knew that I needed to trust God even more.
The year was 1986. Much had changed since 1976. Vices like drinking and smoking had given way to studying and serious living. I was in my senior year of college (second time around) about to finish with a nursing degree. Somehow I managed to finish undergraduate school with social work and sociology degrees -- and was now finishing a degree in nursing. For the first time in a long time I felt relaxed and more at peace with myself and even excited for my new career as a nurse.
Then I met the man who would help to heal my wounded heart.
Rick and I were instantly attracted to one another and married one year later. He was someone who knew my past and loved me anyway. We lived an exciting life together those first couple of years. Then along came Megan, our firstborn daughter, and a trip to Hawaii with my family that ultimately changed both our lives. Because Rick credited God with saving his life from a dangerous rip-tide, we headed back to church. Neither of us had been seriously involved in church for many years, but Rick wanted to dedicate his life to God in gratitude for saving his life. (See 'Lost At Sea" blog for details.)
As a wife and mother, I can now see that I worked hard to earn God's love and a place in heaven someday. I was a mother of two children less than five years of age, one of whom was showing signs of developmental delay. And seemingly overnight, I morphed into a helicopter mother -- hovering nearby in a desperate to prevent bad things from happening to those I loved. I strove to be the perfect mother. It was a terrible stress to my body and mind.
If anyone asked about my thoughts on abortion, I said that I was pro-choice. And there I remained for several years -- while attending church, teaching Sunday school and participating in bible studies. Remember, I'd pushed the memories from the abortion into the deepest recesses of my mind. And, I needed to justify my decision to have the abortion.
Rick and I were instantly attracted to one another and married one year later. He was someone who knew my past and loved me anyway. We lived an exciting life together those first couple of years. Then along came Megan, our firstborn daughter, and a trip to Hawaii with my family that ultimately changed both our lives. Because Rick credited God with saving his life from a dangerous rip-tide, we headed back to church. Neither of us had been seriously involved in church for many years, but Rick wanted to dedicate his life to God in gratitude for saving his life. (See 'Lost At Sea" blog for details.)
As a wife and mother, I can now see that I worked hard to earn God's love and a place in heaven someday. I was a mother of two children less than five years of age, one of whom was showing signs of developmental delay. And seemingly overnight, I morphed into a helicopter mother -- hovering nearby in a desperate to prevent bad things from happening to those I loved. I strove to be the perfect mother. It was a terrible stress to my body and mind.
If anyone asked about my thoughts on abortion, I said that I was pro-choice. And there I remained for several years -- while attending church, teaching Sunday school and participating in bible studies. Remember, I'd pushed the memories from the abortion into the deepest recesses of my mind. And, I needed to justify my decision to have the abortion.
Then came Jeremy's diagnosis of autism along with my diagnosis of breast cancer later that same year. God now had my complete attention and I was powerless to do much besides fight the cancer with surgery and chemotherapy. I could no longer trust in just myself. I trusted my doctors to help pick the right treatments, but soon knew that I needed to trust God even more.
Six months later I finished surgery and chemotherapy -- and found myself dealing with life issues once again. With a fresh perspective on life I began to think deeply about myself and my past. No longer content to just do, I began to focus on who I was and why I was still here on this earth. I'd heard about a bible study for women who'd had abortions. Maybe I should register for this study.
I finally went through the eight-week study with four other women about a year after finishing treatment for cancer. I learned about myself and discovered truths I'd not known. For the first time I began to realize that I had never really forgiven myself. For so many years I'd squelched all those feelings and memories of the abortion down to the very depths of my being. I vaguely remembered shutting out the memories the very night of my abortion because they were just too painful to deal with. But now those memories and feelings were surfacing -- like a teapot bubbles to the boiling point when the heat is turned up. For years my grief had simmered deep inside, but now rose to the surface. My grief needed to be examined and explored. My recovery was slow, but steady, from then on.
I wish I could tell you that I had it altogether. It's been many years since I finished that bible study and I am still 'unfinished business'. I liken our growth and healing to that of peeling an onion. It seems like God peels one layer at a time. Each peel is painful, but necessary for growth.
There are several resources available to those who have experienced abortion in some fashion. And there are symptoms of post-abortion that are common to many. Everyone's journey is very different so it's not fair to expect another who's dealt with an abortion to have the same walk. We are varied and diverse. Below I have listed some of the best resources for those wanting or needing to heal and recover. Here are some of the best resources:
Advice & Aid Pregnancy Center - http://www.adviceandaid.com/
Ramah International - http://www.ramahinternational.org/
Forgiven and Set Free - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Women
Healing A Father's Heart - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Men
Rachel's House - A Pregnancy Resource Center - http://www.rachelhouse.com/
I finally went through the eight-week study with four other women about a year after finishing treatment for cancer. I learned about myself and discovered truths I'd not known. For the first time I began to realize that I had never really forgiven myself. For so many years I'd squelched all those feelings and memories of the abortion down to the very depths of my being. I vaguely remembered shutting out the memories the very night of my abortion because they were just too painful to deal with. But now those memories and feelings were surfacing -- like a teapot bubbles to the boiling point when the heat is turned up. For years my grief had simmered deep inside, but now rose to the surface. My grief needed to be examined and explored. My recovery was slow, but steady, from then on.
I wish I could tell you that I had it altogether. It's been many years since I finished that bible study and I am still 'unfinished business'. I liken our growth and healing to that of peeling an onion. It seems like God peels one layer at a time. Each peel is painful, but necessary for growth.
There are several resources available to those who have experienced abortion in some fashion. And there are symptoms of post-abortion that are common to many. Everyone's journey is very different so it's not fair to expect another who's dealt with an abortion to have the same walk. We are varied and diverse. Below I have listed some of the best resources for those wanting or needing to heal and recover. Here are some of the best resources:
Advice & Aid Pregnancy Center - http://www.adviceandaid.com/
Ramah International - http://www.ramahinternational.org/
Forgiven and Set Free - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Women
Healing A Father's Heart - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Men
Rachel's House - A Pregnancy Resource Center - http://www.rachelhouse.com/
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Sixteen & Unexpectedly Pregnant (cont.)
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
There were several of us sitting in recliner chairs that cold winter morning in February 1975. All around I heard murmurs from others in various stages of recovery from their abortions. Beside me sat a young 20-something woman. "First time?" she asks, "Don't worry. It gets easier with each one." I know that she's talking about abortion even though she doesn't actually say the word. Close by another young girl is sniffling quietly.
"Whatever have I done?" I ask myself. For the first time in my life I feel completely alone and empty inside. No longer do I have the joy of a living being inside my tummy. The thought crosses my mind, then, "I've made a terrible mistake" -- one that will have long-term consequences for me, I think. I grown inwardly and turn onto my side. (Away from God?) I hurt physically and mentally.
Within the hours I am dressed and driving home with my mother in silence.
All day I rest in my bedroom with the shades drawn and door shut. I just want to be left alone. Music is softly playing from my stereo system. Silent tears fall onto my pillow. My younger sister checks in on me. She doesn't understand. Judy only knows that I've had some sort of procedure and am very sad. Soon, though, I resolve to move along with my life. As quickly as turning off water from a faucet, my heart shuts out the pain.
No one talks to me about the abortion on this day -- or in the days that followed. We all carry on as if nothing unusual has happened. My parents sent me to see a counselor. Jerri was youthful, energic and, anorexic. She was helpful, and, more importantly, affirmed my choice to abort.
That night I call the love of my life, the guy who had professed undying love for me and had stood by and silently encouraged my abortion. My boyfriend has gone on a date. "How could he do this to me!" I fume. "After all I've gone through for him!" Crushed, alone, and feeling utterly despondent, I weep bitter tears -- not only for the loss of my baby, but for the loss of life I'd known before my pregnancy. Nothing was the same -- nor would it ever be.
Our relationship struggles for the next several months. We argue, break-up and then reunite every couple of weeks. I begin to diet in an effort to lose the 'baby weight', convinced I am "fat". I lose more than 20 pounds before the end of our junior year in high school. This is the first clue that I am feeling out of control.
By the end the schoolyear I felt betrayed, used and utterly worthless. Something in my heart clicked. No more, I think to myself. I vowed that no one would ever have the chance to hurt me like this ever again. My hardened heart grew bitter as I began to plan for the final break-up.
School ended and so did my relationship. And, that's when my life began to spin out-of-control. Drinking helps to dull my anxieties and feelings of self-worthlessness. Smoking cigarettes helped me control my weight. I didn't feel pretty anymore. The difference in my sophomore and junior school photographs tell the story. My eyes look sad.
Our senior year is a blur. I graduate and plan to attend KU that fall. And when I reach the campus, my life really begins to crumble and fall apart. I found myself spiraling into an eating disorder. My life was completely out-of-control. I ran away to California for three days only to return defeated.
My heart felt wounded and battered. My belief in God was still there, but I no longer pray to Him for support. I reasoned that my abortion and subsequent rebellion had set me apart. There was now a rift between God and me that could never be reconciled -- or so I thought.
There were several of us sitting in recliner chairs that cold winter morning in February 1975. All around I heard murmurs from others in various stages of recovery from their abortions. Beside me sat a young 20-something woman. "First time?" she asks, "Don't worry. It gets easier with each one." I know that she's talking about abortion even though she doesn't actually say the word. Close by another young girl is sniffling quietly.
"Whatever have I done?" I ask myself. For the first time in my life I feel completely alone and empty inside. No longer do I have the joy of a living being inside my tummy. The thought crosses my mind, then, "I've made a terrible mistake" -- one that will have long-term consequences for me, I think. I grown inwardly and turn onto my side. (Away from God?) I hurt physically and mentally.
Within the hours I am dressed and driving home with my mother in silence.
All day I rest in my bedroom with the shades drawn and door shut. I just want to be left alone. Music is softly playing from my stereo system. Silent tears fall onto my pillow. My younger sister checks in on me. She doesn't understand. Judy only knows that I've had some sort of procedure and am very sad. Soon, though, I resolve to move along with my life. As quickly as turning off water from a faucet, my heart shuts out the pain.
No one talks to me about the abortion on this day -- or in the days that followed. We all carry on as if nothing unusual has happened. My parents sent me to see a counselor. Jerri was youthful, energic and, anorexic. She was helpful, and, more importantly, affirmed my choice to abort.
That night I call the love of my life, the guy who had professed undying love for me and had stood by and silently encouraged my abortion. My boyfriend has gone on a date. "How could he do this to me!" I fume. "After all I've gone through for him!" Crushed, alone, and feeling utterly despondent, I weep bitter tears -- not only for the loss of my baby, but for the loss of life I'd known before my pregnancy. Nothing was the same -- nor would it ever be.
Our relationship struggles for the next several months. We argue, break-up and then reunite every couple of weeks. I begin to diet in an effort to lose the 'baby weight', convinced I am "fat". I lose more than 20 pounds before the end of our junior year in high school. This is the first clue that I am feeling out of control.
By the end the schoolyear I felt betrayed, used and utterly worthless. Something in my heart clicked. No more, I think to myself. I vowed that no one would ever have the chance to hurt me like this ever again. My hardened heart grew bitter as I began to plan for the final break-up.
School ended and so did my relationship. And, that's when my life began to spin out-of-control. Drinking helps to dull my anxieties and feelings of self-worthlessness. Smoking cigarettes helped me control my weight. I didn't feel pretty anymore. The difference in my sophomore and junior school photographs tell the story. My eyes look sad.
Our senior year is a blur. I graduate and plan to attend KU that fall. And when I reach the campus, my life really begins to crumble and fall apart. I found myself spiraling into an eating disorder. My life was completely out-of-control. I ran away to California for three days only to return defeated.
My heart felt wounded and battered. My belief in God was still there, but I no longer pray to Him for support. I reasoned that my abortion and subsequent rebellion had set me apart. There was now a rift between God and me that could never be reconciled -- or so I thought.
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