A WINTER PRAYER

Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. 

Martin Luther King Jr. (from Strength to Love)

Dear Persons,

It’s easy to grow bitter. Sure, if you have a child with special needs, losing faith in this world is often tempting; but in this divisive political climate being human is an indicator for general angst. So yeah, we need help. Here is my Winter Prayer to the Universe, the One Song we all share: 

Dear Universe,

As the days grow colder and shorter,  may the extra darkness offer rich soil for growth. May the falling temperatures allow us to, um, appreciate the warmth betterer? 

May there be less wintry mix precipitation and black ice and more coziness and sparkle. 

How about no black ice.

May those entrusted with our children (Betsy DeVos, I'm talking to you!!!! [Oops, did I write that out loud?]) actually have their best interests at heart. 

Likewise, may those entrusted with our only home, Mother Earth, do the same, dear Universe. 

May we - in the waking hours we can muster this season - find the strength, energy, and time to be there for each other, and to find the resources we need to advocate for and nurture our differently-abled children, selves, family, and loved ones. 

May we learn to ask for help when we need it. 

Before we judge, may we consider the possibility of unseen struggles, mental health issues, “invisible disabilities”…

May we learn not to take things personally, even as we refuse to countenance injustice. 

Can those “All Lives Matter” people make a Black friend, please? 

Might we send a contingent of willing trans persons as ambassadors of queerhumanness to all places showing evidence of small-mindedness around gender? 

Let’s get some drag queens in there, too. They could bring cupcakes from Scott Cakes! And warm coats!

Please sprinkle in some other people with differences that differ from the “norm” in these places (in whatever ways: religion, ethnicity, citizenship status, ability, sexual orientation…), bearing, perhaps, free kids’ books about diversity and inclusion, in order for peoples’ definitions of people to expand. 

Actually, can we have all of these individuals bring their families — whether of origin and/or orientation — as part of their delegations? Can we? And then partner each family with a local family, have them plan and cook a meal together,  and give them a discussion agenda that includes favorite funny movies, animal heroism stories, and, I dunno, high and low life moments? 

Thanks! Because it seems to me that when people see people as PEOPLE it becomes nigh impossible to hate. 

And, just a thought, can we get some people on the spectrum on this whole tax reform thing? Because some of us are pretty good with numbers and our “literal,” “black and white thinking” around, you know, the math aspect might be a strength for the future of U.S. civilization in this particular context. Do you want to know whether a particular change to the tax code will benefit the economically disadvantaged or the middle class? We can actually tell you. 

Come to think of it, may there be progress, however incremental, in people being fairly paid.

Also? The men in charge right now…could they be immersed in a crash course in menstruation, harassment, gender discrimination, childbirth, and motherhood? Also also, working and single motherhood? Thanks. REALLY - thanks. 

Bonus: In fighting injustice and working to empower others, may we never degrade or forget the humanity of all concerned. (That’s a hard one sometimes - healthy anger fuels change while destructive, vengeful rage destroys lives.)

See, because either we are engaging or we are withering. Bitter. And you know what? Bitter people are often cruel. I know this all too well too.

May we hold our loved ones close, knowing that life can be all too fleeting. May we make every day count, even the *&^$ ones. 

Dear Universe, we all cry the same salt tears. May we also have the mental and emotional space to see the beauty, joy, courage, and kindness that coexist with the hard stuff. 

May we retain our hope and faith. May we regain our hope and faith. 

May we find strength through love. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

P.S. What are your prayers, dear reader? Feel free to share them in the comments below, or email me at jineffable@gmail.com.

Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

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INFANT MASSAGE CLASS: “EARLY SIGNS”

Articles and blog posts on the early signs of SPD (sensory processing disorder, which I call sensory processing differences) and autism fill me with a mixture of recognition (yes, much is familiar), trepidation (at this point I’ve reached a certain level of saturation and also seen many stereotypes and errors), annoyance (ditto, plus the occasional offensive or condescending bits can set me back for days), and, sometimes, gratitude (after all, some of this stuff could be very helpful to parents – and most writers mean well!).

I usually find that I am holding my breath as I read, waiting for the triggers...yet I am compelled to read, always hoping to learn more about our neurodiverse world.

My son G was diagnosed with SPD at three, autism at eight. Being a bit spectrumesque myself, I would never have thought there was anything about him that needed to be evaluated (his evaluations were always at the behest of his teachers) but in retrospect a few things stand out.

My earliest memory of being aware of G’s possible difference from his “normal” peers occurred in an infant massage class. We mothers – this was in the East Village, in New York City, but yup, all mothers – were told to sit in a circle. I don’t remember precisely how old the babies were – early parenthood is kind of a blur – but they were all quite young, a few months old at most. We had pads and brought blankets and placed our babies on their backs on those blankets. We were given diagrams of massage strokes and instructed in proper technique for stroking and soothing our babies.

Infant massage was meant to be a bonding exercise. To stimulate our babies’ brains and help with their digestion! To make them happy! Healthy!

Except - my baby didn’t seem to be with the program. While all the other babies enjoyed a free and loving massage – yeah, try getting that a few decades down the line, babies! - my darling G was having none of it.

Figure I – Infant Massage Class. Not Shown: Ashamed Mother.

As soon as I tried to massage him, heck, as soon as I lay him down on his back, the screaming would start. Sure, there was the occasional peep from another baby, but nothing like G’s agonized cries. I actually tried three sessions before giving up in despair.

Clearly, I was missing some important mothering skills. I blamed myself, of course.

When G was a baby, I thought of myself as someone who accepted all people, someone who would never discriminate on the basis of ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation...Someone who accepted and loved people of all sorts. Yet I knew little to nothing about neurodiversity!

It would have been helpful to me as a new mother to have a positive concept of other kinds of difference, an idea of the incredibly wide ranges of neurology, physiology, psychology, sensitivity, sensory processing etc. that make up human beings. Obviously, this would not have led to shifting blame to my baby! It just would have made things make sense.

It would have helped to know that my baby needed deep pressure, not fluttery strokes that probably felt like torture to him. It might have been best to keep him partly or fully wrapped so that he could locate his body safely in space, instead of flailing around. He never liked being moved; there might have been better ways to transition him.

Instead, all I knew - in that context, with the limited knowledge I had – was that something seemed wrong. Since I myself had also always been “different,” this initially added to my disorientation and self-blame.

These moments keep coming, but now they come cushioned with fundamental commitments to diversity, acceptance, and hope.

When you and/or your child live(s) with an invisible, complex difference, explanations and strategies can be elusive and imprecise. I still sometimes don’t know whether my child needs help; and when he does need help I don’t always know how to help him. Sometimes I try to help him in unhelpful, unwanted or unnecessary ways, as do others. Other times we miss the boat and G is on his own with his challenges when some wisdom or support is sorely needed.

When G was screaming in the otherwise serene and harmonious infant massage space, I knew he was deeply uncomfortable, but I didn’t know that he had SPD, or that he was autistic, and that his sensitivities would benefit from a very different approach. Parents who recognize their children in “early signs” lists will I hope have important tools at their disposal, not least the knowledge that all parties concerned are doing their best – and that that is just fine. For the Full Spectrums, the labels that apply to us are mostly useful in that regard.

There’s still so much I don’t know, but I do know our differences are not our “fault.” I know that what is “wrong” is not us but a world that is primarily designed for the “average,” “normal” person – whoever that is.  

I know that I accept and celebrate G exactly as he is.  Same for me. And you. And you, and you, and you...:

This blog is a safe space for people to recognize a full spectrum of human being, and to explore how we might make the world a more welcoming place for all. Parents and caregivers who are searching for ways to understand, connect with, and support their children, individuals who are exploring their own differences, early-signers and adult-figure-outers, you are all welcome here.

Please visit the other sites below for more informative and inclusive posts.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

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