Category Archives: special needs family

a happy, positive, crazy lady, with plenty to cry about.

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As I got into the car, I found myself weeping. I was glad there were no witnesses that might decide that it was finally time to check me into an institution. Why was I reacting with tears? I had a armful of flowers and lipstick smudges all over my face, marking the love of my friends and family. I’d done it. I’d managed to share my story with an audience without completely crumbling. There was a little crying, a few long pauses and some questionable ad libs, but I’d done it. Yet, there I was, sobbing and then cackling all the way back to my house. The five minute drive from the theater, with it’s manic mix of tears and laughter, might be an accurate description of who I am. I’m a happy, positive, crazy lady, who has plenty to cry about.

I’m not masking dark pain with my smile when you meet me. I’m genuinely a cheerful person, and when I say things like, “I’m lucky” I mean it. I won’t trade my life with any of you. I’ve been married to my best friend for almost 20 years and we’ve made two extraordinary children. Yes, I wish their lives were not touched by ALD, but I am grateful that they are each doing so well. We are surrounded by friends and family who hold us up when we need it and are always ready to celebrate the good times (the after-party ended at 2:00 am on Sunday morning). This crew is also an incredible assortment of interesting, loving, talented people who I’m honored to know – the cast of LTYM is a welcome addition to the pile. Our town, our house, our stuff — that’s gravy.

The challenges our family has faced have been horrific, but we’ve survived and managed to create a life that works. We are thriving and healthy(ish) and we don’t waste too much time focusing on the negative. I admit to acknowledging it occasionally (like releasing a poison – worried that if I don’t, it might kill me), but quickly try to go back to enjoying life. I hope the piece I shared on Saturday showed both sides of our family. It was about a reoccurring dream I have where Jack starts speaking. Not having heard Jack’s voice for seven years is the sad part of the story. But, if you can wipe away that detail, the story is about a family who has dreams that might never come true, but gets up every morning and enjoys magical smiles and laughter. THAT is the story I was trying to share.

I think the tears in the car were my letting go of the WHY I had a story to share and the laughter was that I shared the FUCKING STORY!! I also think the wild emotion was a result of adrenaline, exhaustion and that I am a little crazy.

Anyway — It’s over. Listen To Your Mother was one of the coolest experiences of my life. Not just getting the opportunity to share a part of myself, but being in a cast full of talented, amazing people and being part of something so much bigger than our individual stories. It was celebrating Motherhood. Motherhood is full of dreams, disappointments, tears and tons and tons of laughter. Thank you to everyone who came (and for everyone there in spirit) and for all the support and encouragement. Now, I promise to stop talking about it;-)

Love, Jess

One last thing — SOPAC has a Green Room and dressing rooms with lights around the mirrors. So cool.

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a pain in the neck.

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Jack is killing me one hug at a time.

Jack’s hugs are legendary. They’re intense and over-powering. He doesn’t just hug with his arms. He uses his whole body – his whole soul (if you believe in that kind of thing). Generally, these hugs are encouraged and stolen as often as possible. Something I look forward to as I get him out of bed each morning and as he steps off the school bus in the afternoon. But, this week I am avoiding them like the plague.

I woke up last Friday with a little crick in my neck, and by Saturday afternoon I found myself on the living room couch, crying to my mother on the phone because I was having trouble getting myself up. Dan rescued me and took me to the doctor. With a shot in the ass (not sure of what – I didn’t ask too many questions), and a pile of pills, I was sent home and told to “take it easy for a few days.”.

If you know me, you know that those are welcome words. Binge watching bad TV without guilt, generally would sound like a mini-vacation, but I wondered if the doctor really understood my ability “to take it easy” and the hidden dangers that lurk in our house.

Luckily, it was Saturday and Dan and Anna are unbelievable caregivers. They took charge of the dogs and the cooking, and set me up on the couch with a heating pad on my neck and my feet up. I was on a cocktail of valium, steroids and muscle relaxers and was finally able to forget about the pain and focus on the horrors (and blossoming love) unfolding in the Foxworth grandparent’s attic.

Jack was my partner. He loves nothing more than hanging with his mama on the couch and never complains about my choice of viewing (one of the benefits of having a non-verbal child). But sitting quietly on the couch watching Lifetime’s attempt at the Flowers in the Attic trilogy was far from relaxing. Jack would throw his leg on my lap, making me move and sending a spasm to my neck. Then he’d grab my arm causing the same reaction.

It happened again and again and I started getting frustrated, which made Jack sad. I could see him trying to figure out what he was doing wrong and how he could fix it. Suddenly, his beautiful brown eyes locked on mine and he knew what he needed do to make his mama feel better. He went in for a hug. Unbearable pain!

It’s been days, I’m off my medicine and feeling much better, but every time I see that look in Jack’s eyes, I get a little nervous. It’s going to be a few weeks before I can trust those arms around my neck again.

Love, Jess

Here’s just one example of the intensity of a Jack hug. Be warned.

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non-flossing, slacker mom

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jackOOO

How many of you floss every day? Be honest. Don’t give me the answer you tell your dentist. I want the truth. Do you floss daily or a couple times a week when you’re given the luxury of an extra few minutes in the bathroom? Now, I want you to picture flossing a sixteen-year-old boy. A strong teenager who doesn’t follow directions and is not afraid to bite.

I wrestle with Jack every morning. Literally. Getting Jack ready for school is a work out (I have 2000 steps on my Fitbit by 8:00 am and toned arms to prove it). It’s not a routine that I resent, but it’s not a part of the day that I look forward to either. And, I’m certainly not anxious to add anything to our morning regimen.

I get Jack out of bed at 7:00 am, lead him to the bathroom and sit him on the toilet. I give him some time alone, while I throw his sheets and PJs in the wash (a daily requirement following what Dan and I refer to as Jack’s nightly “pee pee party” ). I return to the bathroom to shower, dress and pin Jack down to put on his deodorant. The last thing we do before heading downstairs is brush his teeth. By this point, I’m usually glancing at my watch, counting down the minutes before the bus arrives. We still have medicine, hydration, breakfast and his leg braces to deal with.

Some mornings I do pause long enough to hear the words of his dentist whispering in my ears, “You really need to floss his teeth every day.”

Jack has a dentist, an oral surgeon, an OT, a PT, a speech therapist, a pediatrician, an endocrinologist, an orthopedist, an ophthalmologist, two neurologists, and ALD specialist. Each of them provide me with their own list of daily obligations. There is no way that we could incorporate everything into our schedule. My job is to pick and choose which of these obligations are necessary, which are a good idea when we have time, and which are ridiculous under any circumstances. Of corse, I’m not always completely honest with our choices.

“Yes, we floss every day. It’s a little tough to get in there, but that doesn’t stop me.” Is my usual answer when we see the dentist.

I tell our doctors exactly what they want to hear. I want them to know we appreciate them and respect that THEIR specialty is what is holding our little man together. I need to feel secure that if we ever reach out for anything, they will pick up the phone and not think of me as the non-flossing, slacker mom.

I love being Jack’s mom. I also love being Anna’s mom, and Dan’s wife, and a daughter and a friend. I like walking, teaching my art classes and writing in my blog. I might even enjoy going out, eating rich food and drinking too much wine. I’m not a model parent. I’m just a normal parent, trying to balance what’s necessary to keep my kids safe, my family happy, and me sane.

I’m just hoping that I’m not alone. Please tell me that I’m not the only person who doesn’t follow all the rules. Jack rarely gets flossed and he never uses his leg braces on the weekends. My dogs sometimes miss their monthly dose of heartworm medicine. Anna texts while doing her homework and I always let her break curfew if she has another parent willing to drive her home. We order chinese food at least once a week and I buy those “ready made” salad mixes. The TV is often on when we eat dinner (around the island in the kitchen, with paper towels as napkins). I could go on and on, but I don’t want you to judge me  — too much.

Love, Jess

I’m heading to my own doctor next week. I can already hear myself, “Social drinker? One or two glasses of wine . . . on weekends? That sounds about right.”

listen to your mother

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Announcing-LTYM-North-Jersey-Cast

Generally, I do my best to avoid failure. I rarely set myself up for disappointment. But, thanks to the encouragement and support of a good friend (actually a huge pile of friends and family, but one friend who actually sent me the link and twisted my arm a little), I went out of my comfort zone and auditioned for LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER – a live production (hosted in 39 cities across the country) celebrating motherhood. An incredible event where a cast of local writers share their stories “ . . . on the beauty, the beast, and the barely-rested of motherhood, in celebration of Mother’s Day.”

I went to the audition to prove to myself that I could do it. If sharing our family’s story is the goal, I need to start taking some risks. Knowing the caliber of the cast last year, I doubted that I’d be considered, but needed to give it a shot.

I left the audition sweating and wishing that I could have a do over – an opportunity to read the piece again, minus the tears and the shaky voice. Writing alone in my den and hitting “send”, is very different then sharing the words out loud. But, I did it. I stood up and shared a piece of my writing about my family, my boy and a reoccurring dream.

Returning home, I was proud of my attempt and already considering what I could submit next year. When I got the call that I’d been selected for the cast I was shocked. Literally, I found myself running around the house like I’d just scored a prom date. It’s been over a week and I’m still overwhelmed by the news. No disappointment this time!!

Buy your tickets now. Seriously, it’s almost sold out;-) YIKES!!!!
http://listentoyourmothershow.com/northjersey/

Love, Jess

Words

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jacks smile

I’m sad to report that we didn’t win the lottery last night. I’m not sure why I’m always surprised when our numbers don’t match. A feeling of disappointment comes over me when we need to reshelf our “early retirement, Block Island dream house, pay off everyone’s mortgage” plans. Truthfully, money isn’t even what our family dreams about most. Our real dream is for words.

A friend of mine posted a question on Facebook yesterday, “If you could have one free day of any illness, what would you do?” THAT is a lottery that our family would love to win! I spent only a second before answering, “We would listen to Jack’s stories all day long.”

Jack does not speak, sign or write notes. Not only do I miss hearing him say “I love you Mommy”, but his lack of speech makes certain situations particularly challenging. We were at the hospital two weeks ago with Jack. He was clearly sick and not able to tell us what was bothering him. Not knowing if it was his stomach, his throat or his ears created the need for additional tests and extra worries. Even on a typical day Jack’s silence is complicated. His inability to call out if he needs us in the night sets Jack apart from even a young baby.

Strangers often have a difficult time understanding. They assume that his speech is limited or difficult to understand. I try to be clear, explaining that the only sounds Jack makes are sneezing, coughing and laughing.

“But how do you know when Jack’s hungry or sad?” I try to explain that although he can’t be specific, Jack is able to communicate most of his needs without words. When he locks his eyes on yours he is able to be quite clear. I’m not really sure how he manages this, but people who love Jack learn quickly how to read his eyes and his silence becomes less quiet. While he might not be able to tell you when he has a sore throat, he can fill a room with stories without saying a word.

It doesn’t mean that we are content with Jack’s silence. Seven years after ALD stole his words l still dream of hearing them. Dreams so realistic I can still hear the sound of his voice when I open my eyes. It’s hard to wake up smiling only to realize that it was just a dream, but I won’t trade those magical moments for a winning lottery ticket (even the $485 million variety)!!
Love, Jess

Jack does use an iPad and (mostly at school) has some success answering questions AND Jack is able to sigh one thing — I LOVE YOU.

GivingTuesday

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smiles

CPNJ / Horizon High School asked us to make a donation on #GivingTuesday and to take an “UNselfie” sharing what inspired us to donate.

“What does Jack do at school?” is a question I’m often asked. I usually answer, “Jack does what every other 16 year-old boy does – he hangs with his peeps and flirts with pretty girls.”

In fact, Jack does a lot more at Horizon High School. He gets therapy (PT, OT, and Speech). He has classes in Science, Career Skills, Social Studies, Language Arts, Life Skills, Drama, World Cultures, Art, Music, Technology, and Math. He works at the school store. He participates in modified sports. He attends dances and parties and plays. He goes on field trips to Trader Joes to practice “appropriate behaviors” (although I think that might be more hanging and flirting).

After The PG Chambers School we were concerned that we wouldn’t find a good fit for our boy as he entered his high school years. There are no schools for ALD boys post transplant – no schools designed for handsome young men who understand inappropriate humor but can’t speak or reliably use the bathroom. We did find several schools that could handle Jack’s needs but Horizon had something that the others were missing. They approach school the way that Jack approaches life – with GUSTO!

Cerebral Palsy of New Jersey (CPNJ) runs programs for people of all ages with all sorts of “complicated” issues. And, they treat each of those people with respect and devotion. Monica (Jack’s one/one aide and a friend) often sends home pictures of Jack during the day. Whether it’s him in the classroom, planting in the garden, or rockin’ out at a dance party he always has a huge smile on his face. THANK YOU CPNJ FOR CONTINUING THE SMILES!

http://www.cpnj.org/givingtuesday

Love, Jess

Slow down and check your rearview.

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driveway

We have a very narrow driveway. It’s sandwiched between a curb and a low stone wall that has left long scratches on the right side of every car we’ve owned since we’ve move into this house. I’ve found that if I focus just on the left side car mirror, I can follow the length of the driveway without harm. I’ve managed to avoid any damage for months – until yesterday.

Yesterday was my birthday. It started with a gentle birthday kiss on my cheek and a playful lick of my toes (Dan cheek/Finn toes). The morning continued with it’s perfection as we got the kids up and out, I ate my birthday breakfast and took a long walk with the dogs. I then got to sit down on the sofa to sort through piles of birthday wishes via text, phone and Facebook. I was feeling quite loved and very calm.

It wasn’t until I glanced at the time and realized that I was late for a meeting, that reality spilled back. What time was I supposed to be there? What time is that dinner thing tonight? Oh no – do I have anything to wear for that? Did Maria say she could be here by 6? Yikes, my folks called again – how did I miss that?

I threw on a coat and raced to the car. As I got in the driver-side, I was hitting the voicemail button on my phone wanting to hear my parents message. The Grateful Dead was blaring, my mother’s voice was wishing me a happy birthday and I was focusing on that left side mirror so that I could get to out of the driveway and to my appointment without being late.

I’m not sure what happened next. Maybe it was seeing a person waving their arms outside the passenger side window or maybe it was the loud “you’re too close” sound our car makes or maybe it was just the loud bang as I plowed into my friend’s car. My dear friend, Jen, had come by to surprise me with a birthday gift. I was so wrapped up in my crazy that I hadn’t noticed the giant SUV parked at the end of the driveway. I had been so overwhelmed with plans and meetings and stuff that I had forgotten to look around me.

Sometimes I feel very on top of things. Proud of the way I maneuver through a rather complicated life. I manage to have a fridge full of food and warm meals for my family. I teach some art classes at the local schools and write every day. But, sometimes I get a little distracted by my list of to dos that I forget to look around and notice the people around me.

Every year I write a list of goals I hope to achieve before my next birthday. This year at the top of that list is to remember to stop and look around before hitting the gas. I don’t want to miss special moments with special people AND I don’t want to damage any more cars.

Love, Jess
When I finally opened the box that Jen had delivered, It was delighted to see it was filled with 45 lottery tickets. I called to thank her and told her I hoped that I would win enough cash to pay for our cars to be fixed.

The “C” word.

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Lately we’ve been reminding our daughter, Anna, to leave all her doors open as she approaches adulthood. Strong grades, long lasting relationships, healthy habits — these are the things that can keep those doors open, leaving her with as many opportunities as possible. Jack had most of his doors shut before his ninth birthday. These lost opportunities have been huge focus for me the last couple of weeks.

Jack’s smile is usually enough to melt any feelings of sadness or frustration over what Adrenoleukodystophy (ALD) has done to our family. Jealousy seems to be harder to dissolve. Jealousy is the latest emotion in my journey toward acceptance.

When Jack was first diagnosed, we were thrown a pile of statistics and quickly learned how lethal ALD can be. The more advanced the disease at diagnosis, the worse the outcome. Loss of speech, vision, and hearing are almost expected and mobility is the next to go. All these possibilities seemed manageable as long as we didn’t lose our boy. And, we didn’t – we brought Jack home 79 days after his transplant and he managed to walk from our dented silver minivan to our front door. He was able to see the “Welcome Home” signs filling the front yard and hear the cheers of his friends as he arrived. We were lucky and I swore I’d never complain.

I’ve kept my promise — mostly. Dan, my mother, and my best friends know the ugly truth that I’m not always the picture of acceptance and joy. I do have my moments of anger and resentment and do sometimes yell, “Why the $%^& did this happen to us?!?!?!” Usually these moments are brief and can be calmed with a glass of wine or a strong hug. And, until recently, they’ve been sporadically sprinkled over an otherwise positive mood.

Lately, I’ve noticed a reoccurring knot in my stomach and a hard lump in my throat. Sometimes it’s followed by the need to leave a conversation quickly, and the want for a long walk or time alone in my room. It took a while to identify this feeling as jealousy and to figure out what was triggering it. After some soul searching, I’ve discovered the source of my uneasiness — college.

College is suddenly the topic of choice in our middle age, suburban circle. Jack’s peers are starting to prepare for their next chapter and they’re doing it without him. They’re visiting schools, planning their futures, and soon they’ll be heading off to their next adventure. All while Jack will be here with us in Maplewood (forever the dependent child). I’m jealous that our boy is faced with so many closed doors,  is not working on his college portfolio AND that Dan and I are not planning our empty-nest phase.

Typical Jesse, I keep finding myself knee deep in these conversations, as if the outcome is going to miraculously change. That it won’t bring me back to Jack and his lack of need for SAT prep and college essays. It’s ripping open the scab that I thought had fully healed, but I keep on asking the questions, “Where are you applying?” “Are you thinking a big state school or something smaller?” “How’s your SAT prep going? Have you found a good tutor?”. The truth is that I want to know. These are kids that I love and I am excited about all of their opportunities. I want to know every detail of their process. It’s also a way for me to prepare for Anna’s next steps as a student (writing those words brings that lump back).

So – when will I get over this latest bout of jealousy/anxiety? Sometimes writing it down helps me reach the end more quickly. Somehow it takes a little of the poison out of the situation. And, I know that acknowledging the problem is always a good first step.

Our local friends/neighbors are now going to panic that they need to steer clear of the “C” word for my benefit. Actually, I think it’s better if they do the opposite. The more I hear the word “college” the better. I need to get passed this or the next few years are going to be miserable!!
Love, Jess

Jack-O is . . . a punk rocker!

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Jack left for school this morning with a big smile on his face and a large mohawk on his head. By all accounts he rocked his way through the halls of Horizon High School and returned home with the “Most Creative Costume” award.

Any time you are feeling sorry for Jack and his complicated life, look at this picture.

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Love, Jess