10 Songs that Should be in the Soundtrack to Your Life

Fast-paced music usually means something exciting is going on, while slow, somber music may signify something serious.

But who says we cannot have that in real life?

So bust out your headphones or turn up the speakers and play these 10 songs, all of which should be on the soundtrack to your life.

Walking on Sunshine

There’s a huge reason why this Katrina and the Wave’s hit is a must-have (if slightly overused) happy anthem.

From the energetic opening to the optimistic lyrics, one cannot help but walk with a smile while this number playing in their ears.

Staying Alive

Feeling like strutting your stuff down the street? Well, then get the right mood going by playing the Bee Gees’ classic “Staying Alive” before you head out.

Holding on to a Hero

If you need to get pumped up before a big event or just want to blow off some steam, nothing signifies a competitive spirit quite like Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding on for a Hero.”

The opening beats really get you going and doesn’t let up through the whole song.

Daydream Believer

For those in a dreamy daze, “Daydream Believer” from the Monkees is the perfect choice.

After all, what other song gives you the feeling of floating through clouds?

I Won’t Back Down

If you want to show someone you mean business, go with Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down.”

Beautiful

Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” is the prime example of a pick me up ballad that everyone needs in their soundtrack, especially since it celebrates what makes us all unique.

I Will Survive

There is a reason why Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” is a classic karaoke staple; its universal language of not wanting to let someone bring you down applies to everyone.

Everybody Hurts

Sometimes we need a good cry, which is why having “Everybody Hurts” by REM in your soundtrack is key.

Just try listening to it without shedding a tear.

Keep Holding On

When you want to show someone special that you will always be there, then keep Avril Lavigne’s “Keep Holding On” on hand.

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

Of course, if you need something with a bit more kick to show them you care, use this classic tune from Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell.

Naturally, there are a lot of songs out there that can be included to the soundtrack of your life.

Which other ones can you think of?

Alexa: Your New Best Friend

In a household with three busy, scattered children and two unruly dogs, it is nice when I actually receive a response to my questions and requests!

Alexa, the comforting voice inside Amazon Echo, is there when I need to know the missing ingredient to a recipe, to set the timer so I won’t burn the muffins or to read the news while I complete a household task.

Although it may not sound like Alexa takes that much off my plate, she can perform a number of tasks that can save time and maybe even some money.

Shopping by Voice

Do you need to order a specific special needs product?

Ask Alexa.

She can service your request for dairy free yoghurts, nappies/diapers for older children, chemical free baby wipes or even a certain special needs book — quickly and easily.

The key is to have an Amazon Prime account and to be very specific about the item that you are requesting.

If you know the brand, title, specifications and color you need, you will be more successful at shopping via voice.

Gathering Information

Do you need to know the weather forecast so that you can plan your day?

It may be that you need some support or advice for a particular special needs topic.

Ask Alexa to find that information for you, and she will read it aloud.

Managing Home Electronics

Although I have not personally tried this, Alexa may be able to save you money by managing your home’s heat, cooling and lighting.

If your hands are full or busy with other tasks, she can turn on lights or other “smart” electronics that have these capabilities.

Your home would need to be equipped with the appropriate smart devices. However, the upfront investment will likely pay off in the long run in lower utility bills.

Taking a Relaxing Moment

Lastly, Alexa can be a friend who listens to you and helps you relax.

Have Alexa read you the news or play some soothing music when you need some down time.

Better yet, if you need a smile at the end of what was likely a challenging day, ask Alexa to tell you a joke!

Although Google Home, Amazon Echo or Microsoft’s the Verge cannot replace human contact, having an interactive tool in your home can make things just a little easier as you move through your busy life.

And if you just need some peace and quiet, you can just say, “Alexa, stop!”

ASD Sleep Routines: Tips and Advice

It’s 11.45pm and my gorgeous little boy is still not asleep!

In fact he hasn’t even lay down flat yet.

Yes, I’ve got a bedtime routine in place and have been returning him to bed continuously since 7pm but he couldn’t care less, he’s wired and totally happy running up and down singing to himself or trying to escape over the stair gate across his bedroom door.

I’ve actually given up now and plan to take him for a long drive as that is the only way we can get him to go to sleep.

My husband and I take it in turns to drive our son around in the car each night sometimes driving for hours only to find that he wakes up as soon as we walk through the door.

But even if we do finally get him to sleep it won’t end there because in a couple of hours he will be awake again!  Sound familiar?

This has been our exhausting bedtime cycle for a very long time.

However, fast forward a few months and for the last 16 days (yes, I am counting!) my son is going to bed at 7pm and falling asleep in his own bed by himself!

He will still wake up during the night and is an early riser but life has suddenly become a lot easier for the whole family and of course cheaper as our weekly petrol bill has dramatically gone down!!

So what did we do? Initially, we started by bringing forward the drive slightly earlier each night until we were taking him out in the car for a drive at 7pm every night.  

My son is a very happy, active little boy with lots and lots of energy. He’s always, “on-the-go” and definitely a sensory seeker.

So on the advice of his OT, we started looking at introducing “calming and alerting” activities throughout the day which included plenty of opportunity to be outside to run, jump on his trampoline and climb as well as time to rest using a weighted lap pad whilst using the ipad and / or sitting for snack at preschool, rolling over an exercise ball and applying deep pressure massage throughout the day.

My son is also very easily distracted and in the night we could hear him jumping off his bed and playing with his toys so, we stripped back his room of any distractions.

All wall art was removed, a bookcase which he used to try and climb, the bed frame was taken away to stop him jumping and all toys boxed and put away.  

He loves sensory rooms especially looking at the bubble tubes.

So we brought a mood light and a light up tortoise for him to look at whilst he was relaxing and trying to fall asleep.  

We also attended sleep clinic with a specialist who suggested adding a card next to his bed with a picture of lighting McQueen (his current obsession), some light up stars on the celling and our velvet throw from the lounge which he loves to cuddle up to.  

We kept the bedtime routine short so he could learn each step and would know exactly what was happening next and in turn prepare himself for bed.  

Our routine starts at 7pm every night.

It consists of bath, get dressed, brush teeth, sleepy time and wake up, we use a visual time line to reinforce this message and after each step take off the visual card saying “finished”.  

The whole routine is under 15 mins and we go straight from the bathroom to the bedroom where I cuddle and gently rock him in the velvet blanket before lying him down to sleep.

I started by staying with him until he had fallen asleep but now I leave the room straight away. 

Here are my top 10 tips:

1. Keep a sleep diary – write down when your child was put to bed, how long it took to settle, how many times they woke during the night and what time they woke up in the morning. Don’t forget to include naps and add any additional information e.g. activities, eating & drinking, constipation etc. You may see a pattern emerge. 

2. Make a sleep plan – troubleshoot with yourself or partner and get the whole family on board.

3. Timing – it has to be the right time for you mentally and emotionally to tackle any sleep issues, especially as there are likely to be other goals you’re working towards with your child.

4. Keep the bedtime routine short and at the same time every night – so it is a clear indication that bedtime will be imminent. Tip: if transition to bath time is difficult try introducing blowing bubbles or a special toys to only be used during bath time. 

5. Use visuals – a visual timeline or now and next boards (depending on understanding and language ability), work really well to prompt and reinforce communication / understanding to your child. Try ending the sequence with “wake up” so your child knows they will wake up after their sleep. You could also make a social story and play simple games such as pretending to go to sleep by lying down then waking up.

6. Reduce language – many children on the spectrum have some language processing difficulties so keep language simple and repetitive and leave time for your child to process your requests / instructions.

7. Environment – look carefully at your child’s sleeping environment is it too visually stimulating? Could mood lighting help create a more relaxing environment? Is the room dark enough? Or too dark? Think about the temperature of the room? Is the room noisy? Does your child prefer enclosed spaces?  Tip: if using mood lighting, is the child able to turn it on if they wake in the night, to settle themselves? Think about what thing you will leave in the room and what you will take with you when you go.

8. Out of sight, out of mind – put the mood lighting / pillow / dummy out of sight during the day so the child connects the items with bedtime.

9. Sensory – many children on the spectrum have sensory difficulties and it could be beneficial to request an appointment with your OT who can advise on many different techniques suitable for your child’s sensory needs. For example, alerting and resting exercises, deep pressure, etc.

10. Specialist interests & obsessions – tidy these toys up well before bed time, possibly posting them into a box, bag and then putting them away somewhere safe until the morning.

Special Needs Parenting: My Biggest Disappointment…

Well it’s not.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d never wish for her to be disabled.

This isn’t the path I’d have chosen for her, for me, for any of us. But now we’re on it, we’re making the best of it.

No, no my biggest disappointment is my parents.

My disabled child’s grandparents.

Never did I imagine they would have been such a disappointment.

Never did I imagine that they’d so totally and utterly let her down and let me down.

When we’ve embraced it, they’ve run a mile. When the going got tough, they got going.

The early signs were there that my parents wouldn’t feel ‘comfortable’ with the fact that they had a disabled grandchild.

They struggled to interact with her in any way. My dad even refused to lift her.

It was difficult to ignore comments like ‘This sort of thing never happened in our day.’

No mum, it did, it really did. Previous generations just locked their disabled relatives in institutions to be forever forgotten.’

Leaflets about our daughter’s condition were pushed to one side, left unread and eventually dropped into the recycling bin.

I was unfriended from Facebook because I posted too much about special needs issues.

Discussions about her future were quickly closed down, never to be spoken about.

In my family, the rules are simple; do not draw attention to yourself & do not make a scene.

That’s kind of impossible with a child with special needs. Loud noises, flapping and strange behaviours are usually part of the package.

You learn to grow a thick skin, ignore the stares and get on with living life the best you can.

They just couldn’t do it – she was an embarrassment to them. And over time they stopped coming out with us and their visits to our home got less and less.

Excuses were made at Christmas because it was no longer the relaxing event they expected it to be. Birthday cards were put in the post and not hand-delivered with a present as they had been in the past.

Ten years on and we very rarely see them.

It’s sad isn’t it?

I’ve come to terms with it, it still hurts but not as much as it used to. But what I find difficult to comprehend is how they managed to do a fairly good job with me yet could not step up to the mark and be a great grandparent.

It’s not just their practical support I would like, I miss their emotional support too.

They must’ve given me the strength to be a good special needs mum (even if I do say so myself) so how come they are so lacking when it came to being a special needs grandparent?

I love to see grandparents commenting on blog posts, on Facebook, in forums.

If you’re a special needs grandparent reading this post – I salute you.

The very activity of reading this shows you’re involved, you’re interested and you want to learn more.

Maybe you torture your son or daughter with therapy ideas, email them constantly with toys suggestions or articles they might be interested in.

Perhaps you drive them crazy, but please keep doing it because of the alternative… well, the alternative is being like my parents – in denial.

We’re a lovely family, me, my husband and our beautiful daughter who just happens to have special needs.

There’s a lot of love in our family, a lot of laughter, a lot of good times. It can be loud, it can be manic and it can be scary, this special needs journey but we’re determined to have fun along the way.

I just hope my parents don’t regret their decision not to be a part of our family. I hope they change their minds before it’s too late.

Our daughter is our life, our love, and our greatest achievement.

So no her disability will never be my biggest disappointment.

Developmental Delay? More like Groundhog Day!

I never thought that when my little girl was diagnosed with Global Developmental Delay at 11 months old that I would end up feeling trapped in my own personal Groundhog Day.

Babies are only babies for a short period of time for a reason. It’s bloody hard work and it’s exhausting.

Try having a child stuck at the baby stage for 7 years and I challenge you not to be frustrated, tired and a little bit fed up.

You see, my little girl has a developmental age of a 6 to 9 month old baby.

She’s been at this stage since she was 11 months.

You know that line they chart on the developmental graphs?

Well, hers has stayed stubbornly horizontal at every 6 month review with her Paediatrician for the last 6 years.

In fact, the diagnosis of Developmental Delay is a bit of a misnomer, Developmental Deadlock or Developmental Standstill would be more accurate.

This is despite endless hours of physiotherapy, speech and language therapy, occupational therapy, sensory therapy, hippotherapy, hydrotherapy…

Anyway, you get the picture.

It’s not been for want of trying.

Don’t get me wrong.

She’s has made ‘progress’ but just not enough to push her into the next developmental stage.

So sometimes that leaves me with the feeling of same shit, different day.

And I don’t just mean the nappies.

But yes, when I thought that stage would be long past I’m still changing nappies.

What this means is if you visit us you could be forgiven for thinking we had a baby in the house.

You may be greeted by the pungent aroma of a freshly changed nappy.

You’ll find packets of baby wipes in every room, changing mats stored in the corner.

Nappy disposal bags tucked into pockets and drawers.

Thankfully, I don’t have to pay for them any more – her incontinence is now a medical issue which entitles us to free nappies.

If you’re a mum I’m sure you remember that exciting time of weaning – preparing little pots of pureed fruit and vegetable with love and care, cutting up varieties of food into small chunks.

The delight of watching your little one try new textures and flavours, watching him or her discover this whole new world of food.

6 years on and that weaning stage has lost its appeal – it’s replaced now with a dreading of meal times, tears of frustration, hair pulling and endless worry.

Is she eating enough, how much did she actually get into her mouth and how much was thrown on the floor for the dog.

Will she have lost weight at her next weigh in? Will she be one step closer to having a feeding tube fitted?

I sympathise with anyone who has or has had a windy or colicky baby.

It’s horrific to watch your baby writhe in agony, pulling their little legs up to their tummy and not being able to do anything to ease their pain.

But remember, this time will pass.

For us, it hasn’t.

Reflux is a constant in our lives.

But please don’t think you know what life is like for us.

You don’t!

Your baby had bad colic?

It’s not the same.

My 7 year old may have the developmental age of a 6 month old but she’s the size and weight of a typical 7 year old.

We can’t walk her around to ease the pain caused by reflux, we can’t rock her in her car seat, we can’t sit and rub her back, we can’t just pop her in the bath.

If she throws herself back as another cramp snakes through her body, she’s in danger of breaking the nose or jaw of whoever is holding her at that time.

To move her at all is a two person job or involves the use of the hoist.

Our bath has now been replaced by a wet room.

It’s nearly impossible to ease her pain.

It’s been like this for 6 years.

And yes we’re still as exhausted as we were when she was 6 months old.

Remember back to those days when you proudly pushed your newborn around in a fancy new pram?

Endless strangers stopped to comment on your beautiful sleeping baby.

It was bliss.

Now do you remember how 6 months later when strangers were still stopping to coo at your baby, it was starting to get a little bit annoying?

Your baby didn’t always like the intrusion of strangers, sometimes they even cried leaving you to apologise and make your excuses, ‘Sorry she didn’t sleep very well’, ‘Sorry he’s at that being strange stage.

Inwardly, you were thinking would you please just leave me alone to get on with my day. Well, that still happens to us.

A pretty little girl in a sparkly pink wheelchair can attract a lot of attention.

She doesn’t like it.

In fact, coping in a busy environment is a big enough challenge for my daughter without a stranger sticking their face in hers.

So, 6 years later and I’m still making my excuses and giving strangers false smiles.

That never ending Groundhog Day.

If I’m completely honest I wasn’t that that keen on the baby stage with my other children.

It can be a lot of hard work for very little in return.

So what keeps us going with our daughter? Well, it’s those little glimmers of hope.

Was that a proper wave goodbye this morning?

Did she actually clap her hands during song time?

I’m sure that noise sounded like, ‘Ma Ma’.

She definitely pushed up through her arms during tummy time. She ate all of her lunch yesterday and wasn’t sick.

Her eye contact has been brilliant today!

All little signs that the hard work is worth it.

That’s what makes it all worthwhile.

Together with the most amazing smile.

A smile that makes up for all those developmental milestones still to be met.

I’m a Bad Person Now: Raising Children with Disabilities

If I sit here, I can think of many things that now make me angry, or bitter that didn’t before. 

I don’t feel like a better person. Who knew that the words ‘I’m pregnant ‘ from friends and family would fill me with such strange emotions.   I started having children early; I was 25 when I had my daughter and already had a 5 year old son.  I know I sound like a terrible person but while my initial reaction is of course that I am so very happy for them, it’s quickly replaced with another feeling, one I cannot even name.  This is what goes through my head:

Friends weren’t having children – but now that we are all married and in our 30’s it’s like a baby boom.  

“I’m sorry I cannot talk about pregnancy with you, it’s because I don’t want to scare you.  I don’t want you to think that because you felt a pain in the same place I did that there is something wrong with your child.  I am sorry if I don’t jump for joy if you are having a girl, I feel jealous.

I know that you are already planning 20 years down the line and I don’t want us to be a reason that you imagine all the things that could go wrong.  

I know how much you are looking forward to ballet or gymnastics lessons and buying pretty girl’s shoes & dresses because I was too (dresses just don’t work when you can only crawl. AFO’s and pretty shoes, never going to happen!).  When your baby is born, I am truly happy for you but it’s also a reminder of what I wanted.  In six months time your child will have physically overtaken my daughter, they will be sitting on the floor, soon after you’ll be bursting to tell me all about how close they are to standing and walking.

Sleepless nights are hard, I know I’ve had 5 years of them.  

People always say their children are so clever for learning to walk, it makes me mad.   You’ll talk about how you can’t wait to get rid of the pram because it’s a nuisance to get in and out of the car.  After a while you will realise my daughter can’t do the trips to the park, long walks, soft play or bike riding – and then I know that we will see less and less of you.

I know, but a wheelchair is so much heavier and a lifelong accessory.  

You’ll worry they are not reading quickly enough or writing neatly enough when my daughter can’t hold a pencil.   I sound bitter and selfish, I know I am not a good person.  I do want you to be able to talk to me, I’m just sorry if sometimes I don’t respond in the way you expect me to, because I probably just want to cry and scream or tell you how I truly feel but this is your time to enjoy your baby.

Please know however, that I while I battle these internal feelings I am truly happy for you.

And really I know I wouldn’t change my daughter for the world.”

By a Special Needs Dad: Unanswered Questions, What Ifs and Escaping the Void

You can read it here: 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Special Needs Dads 

When I read over it at the time, I thought it just sounded like me rambling about things I wanted to get off my chest.

It was with much surprise then, when I got so many comments back from all around the world. It was lovely to see how much it resonated with so many people facing similar issues.

It meant a lot to me too and reassured me that I wasn’t alone in feeling how I did.

The comments also highlighted just how tough it can be for Dads whose children have special needs and how little support there is for those Dads. As someone much wiser than me once said ‘It’s good to talk’.

I think Dads are much less likely to share their feelings (myself included).

So I thought I’d have a go at some more rambling.

The unanswered questions 

I am so lucky to have two wonderful boys; my eldest is now six years old and profoundly disabled. The cause of his disabilities are still unknown, he’s simply classified as having an unknown genetic disorder.

My youngest son is four, thankfully he is unaffected by this disorder and is a typical lovable and mischievous little boy.

Where he differs though, is his amazing and unconditional love for his big brother.

Ever since he has been able to, he has helped his big brother and cared for him in a way that inspires and amazes his mum and I every single day.

He shouldn’t have to do this, but he just does; its human nature at its very best.

As he’s getting older though the questions are starting to come and they’re getting more difficult to answer.

Not always because the questions are harder, just that his need for answers is growing.

Last week we were sitting together, I’d just got home from work and he was watching some TV and telling me about his day at nursery.

Some of the older kids in our street were outside playing football. I could see him watching them and then completely out of the blue he turned and said to me ‘why can’t my brother walk?’ He’s asked this question before, many times, but I think it was just the context of the situation that hit me so hard.

I could see what he was thinking, I’m sure you can all see what he was thinking, you don’t have to be a child psychologist. The longing in his eyes hit me like a speeding train.

I stumbled over my answer, trying in vain to explain that all children are different. He’s four but he already knows that.

The real question is why? That’s one I can’t answer for him, or in truth for myself. I instantly had a feeling of guilt that I was somehow letting him down. I’m his Dad – if I can’t tell him why something has happened, then who can?

There are so many unanswered questions with regards my eldest son.

Will he ever walk?

Will he ever have meaningful communication skills?

Will we ever get a diagnosis for his condition?

What does the future hold?

Who will care for him when my wife and I aren’t able?

The list of questions is endless and it never goes away. I’rsquo;m in a much better place now. It’s over four years since we were given the devastating news about our son’s condition. No matter how long passes though, the questions are always there and very few are being answered.

The ‘what ifs’ 

Sometimes the most normal of situations can bring all the emotions back to the surface. I say normal, but let’s face it, very little about life with a disabled child passes for what most families class as normal.

We recently got tickets to take the boys to see their first football game. We called ahead just to check on wheelchair access, lucky we did.

It turns out we’d booked the wrong tickets, so we couldn’t bring our oldest boy, at least not in his wheelchair.

It was a health and safety thing, so fair enough; I guess we should have checked before buying the tickets!

Plan B, one of our friends has a little boy the same age as our eldest, so we agreed a kid swap! They’d look after our oldest boy and we would take theirs to see the game.

The ‘What If’ moment happened almost straight away.

Just seeing the two boys together, both as excited as each other, but with our friend’s little boy taking the lead role. The big brother role.

It’s a role that’s reversed in our family.

As we travelled to the ground, I was conscious of all the old emotions rapidly resurfacing.

What if things had been different?

What if our eldest son wasn’t disabled?

This would be the most normal thing in the world. A little brother excitedly holding his big brother’s hand as they started out on a childhood adventure together. I’m sure my youngest was blissfully unaware of all the thoughts rushing through my head but I still worry.

I worry that in his head’s he’s worrying and upset that his big brother can’t come with us and wondering what it would be like to have a normal relationship with his big brother.

Obviously, our eldest boy was not in the least bit annoyed at missing the game; in all honesty it would have probably been a struggle for him.

But as with all things, we fight to keep the normal. What if it was normal all the time?

The void we can’t escape

I’ve spoken to many parents and read loads of articles that describe the sense of loss, the sense of emptiness that you feel as a parent to a child with special needs.

I’ve tried to explain it to other people who aren’t in this position, but I don’t think I’ve ever managed to convey just what it is and I’m not sure if I will manage to now.

‘Void’ – noun – a completely empty space. In lots of ways that word, void, explains how many of us feel on a daily basis. It’s that sense of being robbed of the child you expected, robbed of all of your hopes and dreams.

As my son gets older and time passes, I’m learning to accept his disability.

It does get easier, but the void is still there.

I suspect it always will be; it’s compounded by the unanswered questions and what if moments. I’m on a mission though, to fill the void as time passes.

Regardless of his problems, my son gives my wife and I so much joy. He brings his own special and unique brand of love into our lives and we’re so lucky to have him.

I saw a quote recently that made so much sense: ‘In the hopes of reaching the moon, men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet.’ I’m not sure who said it but I think it sums up really well how I’m trying to cope.

I’m trying to come to terms with his disability and learning to have new dreams. Many people would consider his disability a disaster or a tragedy. In many ways that was me and quite often the questions and the what ifs try to drag me back there.

Slowly and surely though, I’m getting there, I’m learning to accept that it’s not a tragedy, it’s just a different life, one I hadn’t expected, but one that can be so rewarding in so many ways.

To all the Dads

I know everyone’s different and people reading this will be at different stages of their journey. Some will be starting out and struggling to see a way past the tragedy.

Others, I hope, will be on the other side, living their alternative life and filling the void.

Whatever it is for you and wherever you are, I hope you have a super Father’s Day with your son or daughter. You deserve it. Ramble over.

Happy Fathers Day!

Thank You for Making Me a Better Person, Son

As I realized just how vital his presence is to me, I decided to write him a letter sharing with him exactly how I feel as his mom and now I am sharing that letter with you all.

Writing this letter forced me to take time to really appreciate who Cooper is and why I need him just as much as he needs me.

If you’re ever feeling a bit melancholy over your child and their struggles, I encourage you to sit down and write them a letter.

“Dear Cooper,

Today I sit here thinking about you, my sweet, wild but innocent little boy.

There’s so much that I would like to say to you, so many feelings I would like to share.

You wouldn’t know it now, but you were a big surprise to your dad and me.

Neither of us ever thought we’d be parents, then all of the sudden, we were.

As you grew in my belly much like your baby sister is growing in there now, I would spend hours sitting around imagining who you would be and what you would look like.

I admit, you weren’t what I had pictured—in my mind I saw you with my dark, ebony hair and your daddy’s beautiful hazel eyes.

I pictured you as a bouncing, chubby, healthy baby dazzling us as you hit all of your milestones.

Instead, you were born with a head full of blond hair that undoubtedly came from your father, and my big, round doe eyes—brown and sparkly as a new fawn.

You also came much earlier than expected—seven weeks to be exact—and for a terrifying moment, I thought I was going to lose you—a notion that didn’t really seem fair after all that we had been through during my pregnancy.

The pediatric specialist who looked over you in the NICU warned us that while you were physically healthy, there could be some developmental issues that would become apparent over time.

For a long time, your dad and I brushed off that notion, sure that you were fine.

But as time went on, we realized that the doctor’s warnings hadn’t been in vain—you were, in fact, lagging behind on your milestones.

You were 18 months old before you took your first step and nearly two before you could say a complete sentence.

When you did begin to talk regularly, we noticed that your speech was a little different than most kids your age.

In fact, we couldn’t understand most of what you said and you had to point and use other forms of communication to tell us something.

Finally, your dad and I agreed that we needed to take you to a specialist.

I was sure you would be tested and found to be on the autism spectrum.

As it turned out, you weren’t autistic nor did you fall on the spectrum at all, but there were some “problems.”

The specialist diagnosed you as being developmentally delayed, about a year and a half behind other children your age.

At first, I was sad.

I thought all of my dreams for you would never come true.

But that turned out not to be true, either.

As we’ve moved along in this journey with you, I’ve realize that you, dear Cooper, are everything I’ve dreamed of and more.

Your delays don’t make you who you are, they just mean we have to work a little harder than everyone else to reach certain goals.

But they don’t change who you are at your core.

You are kind, loving, personable, imaginative, and smart.

Yes, I said smart.

Though you often hear that you are dumb or stupid, your dad and teachers and relatives and I know differently.

Though you have to learn in a different way than everyone else, you are incredibly intelligent, maybe even more than your dad and me.

I still have high hopes for you and there’s not a doubt in my mind that you will one day become a paleontologist or marine biologist, depending on which profession you love more by the time your school years are over.

You are also the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You made me grow up, learn some responsibility, and, most importantly, you’ve taught me how to be a better person.

You’ve taught me that the world is not black and white, that things are not always one way or the other, but sometimes the solution lies somewhere in the middle.

You’ve taught me not to measure achievement by accomplishments and failures, but by the journey in between.

So thank you, my son, for making me better.

Thank you for loving me unconditionally and without prejudice even on my worst of days.

Thank you for teaching me to slow down and appreciate the magic in everyday life with you.

Thank you, Benjamin Cooper, for being you.

I wouldn’t have you any other way.

Love,

Your Mama

Hello! Everyone meet AJ

After a perfect pregnancy and an eventful labour, he was born blue, floppy and lifeless with apgar scores of 2, 2 and 7.

As part of Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month, today’s post is from Emmy Heaton.

Mum to AJ who has Cerebral Palsy.

He needed a lot of help and resuscitation, and with that he took his first gasp at 6 and a half minutes old, and then another one at 9 minutes.

He was then intubated and whisked off to NICU to be cooled as part of the TOBY trial. Cooling is where the babies core temperature is lowered to 33 degrees (induced hypothermia) for 72 hours after birth.

This was to help slow down and hopefully stop any further swelling/damage to his brain.

When AJ was born he were diagnosed with severe hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy HIE, grade 3 and he had bleeds on his brain.

Whilst in NICU me and my partner were told to expect the worst, and at the very best we should expect our precious boy to be severely disabled.

We were given ‘the talk’, the talk which no parent should have to sit through.

Did we want them to stop helping him with his breathing?

Of course we didn’t want them to stop, why were they even asking us this?

He was our baby, we didn’t care about how much care he would need, we just wanted him to survive.

It was like a huge kick in the gut, and if it wasn’t for the help and support I got from the NICU nurses, my partner and family, I don’t think I would’ve got through it like I did.

Aj has had a lot of struggles in his life, countless tests, Physio appointments, OT assessments, EEG’s, MRI’s, blood tests, sensory assessments, hearing tests and Botox.

Sometimes I think we should live in the hospital!

But he has undergone all of these tests and appointments with grace and he still manages to come out with a big beautiful smile at the end of it all.

While he was a baby, I feel I was quite ignorant to the fact he had extra needs, it was our normal (I had no other children). He missed a lot of milestones, yet I was still in denial.

He will catch up, he has to”.

I think I also put aside my own feelings more than I should’ve. I pushed people away and lost quite a few friends. I just didn’t have the time for people anymore!

Aj was 11 months old when he was ‘officially’ diagnosed. They said he has significant delays and that he has cerebral palsy. Spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy.

I wasn’t shocked, I knew it was coming, but I didn’t expect it to hurt like it did. I felt like we were back in NICU, because that’s where we’d last heard that term.

Eventually I felt comfortable enough to tell people his diagnosis, I tried to avoid telling people face to face, as I hated to sympathetic head tilt, and the “Aww but he’s so cute though”.

I didn’t want people to pity us.

It’s getting easier to tell people, and easier to discuss his difficulties with others. But I still struggle when I think about his future.

I worry whether he’ll be happy, whether we can do enough for him and sometimes I worry I do too much for him.

I worry he won’t have friends and one of my biggest fears is bullying or what will happen when I’m not around to protect him?

In September Aj should hopefully be starting at a special needs school. I am SO excited for him to go, I’m really hoping he’ll blossom whilst he’s there, they have a huge sensory room which I know he will love!

The thing I would most like to tell people, is to find joy in each day.

Whether it’s something huge or just a little something to smile about.

I’ll admit, I struggle to find things to smile about some days but it does help when everything’s not all doom and gloom.

Our lives are still pretty busy, we have around 4-8 appointments every week, sometimes even more!

The list of diagnosis seems to be growing again, he is currently under investigation for epilepsy and autism.

They should include on that list that he has an infectious smile and his awesomely, cheeky personality. The difference now is I make sure I talk about it, whether it’s to the doctor, my partner or my mum.

I make sure someone knows how I feel about it all. And that helps a LOT! My sunshine keeps shining bright throughout all this, he keeps me going.