Who is the 'retard'?

Today in the Huffington Post:

 "Ann Coulter called President Obama a "retard" on Monday night.

 

 She made the remark on Twitter after the fourth and final presidential debate between  Obama and  Mitt Romney. "I highly approve of Romney's decision to be kind and gentle to the retard," she tweeted.

 

Coulter was met with some backlash from people on Twitter, who called it "offensive and disrespectful" and asked her "Are you out of your f-cking mind?"

Okay. Wow. I'm really surprised by this, and I am extremely supportive of all of the backlash, and I am offended for the people who are offended.....but I am not offended for my family.

Back when Logan was quite a bit younger, the first mention of the word "retarded" came up in conversation with his pediatrician, for lack of a better word I guess? Delayed, slowed, not progressing, were all thrown in there too. Okay, we knew all this. We knew Logan was delayed, and slow and not progressing, but had I considered the word mentally retarded? Handicapped? Not really...not until that day.

I recall feeling like I had been punched in the stomach when those words came out of his mouth. I didn't hear the words for their meaning, I heard a negative insult. I heard my kid was a screw up. I heard this is the label we are slapping on your child, sorry, I am his doctor and now I've said it, it's out there, it's never going away.

The truth of the matter is...since then, I have come to personally feel that there is a difference. Logan is indeed mentally retarded. He is challenged, he is delayed, he is slow to progress. But what he is NOT- is a "retard".

A retard is a word thrown around carelessly, by many, many people. Good people, kind people, caring people, people who may even love a mentally retarded person. I've even had people use it in conversation with me, and then apologize. Honestly? The apology offends me way more than the use of the word. Are you apologizing because you think Logan is a retard? Because I don't. Maybe you are, considering you can't come up with another, more impressive word to call someone.

So, I get that the word will be used. I get that it definitely will offend many people, so you should really be careful where you're slinging it. But Logan is not, and never will be a 'retard' so please, don't apologize on our account.

Happy Birthday Logan

October 18, 1995: I sat in the waiting room, nervously tapping my foot. My turn was next. I was 10 days overdue and I was hoping today would be the day I would be induced. To anticipate your due date, then have it come- and then go- is so disappointing. Abby sat next to me with a book, babbling away. Her little mouth never stopped, she always had something to say about something. She was 3, and everything was exciting "mama, look at this!" and "mama, what does this say?" She kept my attention until my  name was called.

The ultrasound tech wasn't all that talkative. She was pretty right to the point- "Your baby has the cord around his neck, I need to get the doctor" and she was gone. I'm laying there alone on the table, shirt pulled up, gel dripping off my little bump. I hadn't gotten nearly as big with this pregnancy- no matter how hard I tried, so I was still comfortable and loved my little belly. Abby came over and asked if we were done. "Not yet" I told her.

The doctor in charge of the department that day came in. I'd seen him off and on through this pregnancy, any time my regular doctor was away. He confirmed that the baby's cord was indeed around his neck. He looked at me, looked at Abby, asked if I had anyone else with me. I said I didn't, my husband was at work. At that time Seth was working 4 days a week, 10 hours each day. This was one of his 'on' days and he wasn't due home for several hours. I figured even if they had induced me he'd have plenty of time to get there, so I didn't make the appointment a big deal, he went to work.

The doctor asked how long it would take for my husband to get to the hospital? I told him less than an hour. He sort of hemmed and hawed, looked at the image on the screen again and said "I'm going to send you home. Be back here at 7 am for induction". And he walked out. So that was that, I cleaned up, grabbed my Abbygirl, and we went home.

If this had happened today, I would have insisted we start the process immediately. I would have been assertive and demanding....but I was 21, and trusted them..

The next morning, bright and early, Seth and I headed to the hospital. I was hooked up to the IV and Pitocin was started. Seth paced. My mother, who was in the final rounds of cancer/chemo showed up to support me. Now, what happened next is all written out in my blog named "birth". To summarize, my labor with Abby had taken about 12 hours total, so this time while we were waiting for the contractions to really get going, I sent Seth away to buy the car seats I'd been wanting, thinking there was plenty of time and not much for him to do sitting at the hospital. I am a silent sufferer, and having been through this 3 yrs earlier, I knew there was literally nothing he could do or say that was going to help me. I am just like that with pain- I deal internally. No screaming, no swearing, just pick a spot to focus on and let the pain do it's work- get this baby out.

The baby came extremely fast. Nurses rushed to get a doctor. The doctor looked surprised as he delivered this tiny head, I don't think he expected it to happen this fast. As this was happening, my sister walked in with a camera and started recording. He had me stop pushing with just the baby's head out so he could cut the cord. The cord was wrapped extremely tightly around the baby's neck- twice. The cord had actual knots in it as well. This baby had been an acrobat in my stomach, so I wasn't surprised. After I was finally allowed to deliver the rest of him- he didn't move or cry. He had blue hands and feet. He was limp. They didn't lay him on my stomach like they had with my other delivery- they took him.

My sister taped all of this, so I have watched it over, and over, and over. He finally does take a breath at the 1 minute Apgar marker, and because of that, he got decent Apgar scores. He cries shortly after. As his blood oxygenates, his color pinkens up and he looks healthy. He is much smaller at 7 lbs 2oz, 19" than Abby had been at 9lbs 3oz, 21". He wasn't small by newborn standards, but he looked so tiny to me.

Seth walked in before I held the baby. I guess I forgive him..I mean, I had sent him on the errand and there was no way to tell how fast this would happen. I did have my mother and sister there.

I finally got to hold him. This little, scrawny, beautiful, baby. His arms and legs were like chicken bones, not much fat at all. Besides being a little skinny- he was perfect. I felt great- the labor was fast and although much more painful than with Abby, it was relatively easy as far as pushing and all of the exhausting work. I got right up and showered and felt even better.

About 6 hours later my mother in law came in with Abby. We got it on tape- the baby was still unnamed up until this point. I asked Abby "what are we going to name him? You can pick his name" she smiled brightly and said in her cute little voice "Logan".

So began our journey of being the parents of Logan. We became a 4 person household. I was 21, and still new at this, but Abby had been so much fun, so I figured this would just enhance our family- and it definitely did. Logan was a welcome addition, even when the problems started.

I've also blogged about his progress and his medical issues in previous posts, so I won't list off all of the details of the things he's been through. I will say that within a couple of weeks I knew there was something wrong. His arms and legs were so skinny, but his abdomen was distended. He was coughing. He was vomiting a lot and often. At 8 wks he had a corrective surgery for Pyloric Stenosis, which was his first of many hospital stays. He failed to thrive no matter what we did. He was frequently dehydrated and needed extra nourishment. We were at the hospital a lot and a feeding tube was discussed more than once.

He was missing milestones left and right. Not sitting up, not walking. He was so, soo small. Its been a long, arduous journey for all of us. I have included several photos at the end of this blog, sort of a timeline as he aged. He looked adorable with clothes on, but so skinny undressed. At about the age of 6 was when he finally filled out and got to a healthy weight.

Being his mother has been the toughest and most rewarding job I have ever had. I've gone through a range of emotions I never knew I had in me. I have dug a courage out of myself that I never knew existed. I have been proud of things I would have otherwise taken for granted. He has taught me some life's lessons, and I have learned what is truly important. I am a completely different person than I was before being his mother. On the days when I would rather just stay in bed, the fact that he gets up and faces his challenges head on gives me the extra push to make it through my day.

The last 17 years have been an amazing whirlwind of hope and love. They have created memories and bonds that are so special.

Happy Birthday LoganBerry. You are the best son I could have ever hoped for. You make my life worth the effort, and you make me a better person on a daily basis. I wouldn't be half the person I am if I had never had you. Together we can and will overcome anything and everything. No mountain is too high, no river too wide. I will always stand by you, I will always fight for you, I will always love you.

I love you oh-teen-and-a-half honey pie. Love, Your Honey Nugget

Happy Birthday

Abby naming Logan

6 weeks

8 weeks Boston Children's Hospital

6 months

7 months

8 months

8 months- cast foot for Metatarsus Adductus

9 months just sitting up

10 months

1 year

Abby-4 Logan-1

14 months

15 months

Abby 4 Logan 18 mos

20 months

22 months

24 months

Logan 2 Abby 5

2 yrs old

3 yrs old

4 yrs old

4 yrs old

4th birthday



almost 6

The photo bomber!!

A bully story...a wolf and her flock of sheep

There are so many issues kids today deal with. Many are the same things we dealt with, but they are on a whole new playing field when you bring the Internet and cell phones into the mix.

I have been bullied over the years, in many different forms. Some of these are brushed off as normal "kid stuff", but they really impacted my development, and how I treat others. I have a few particular incidents that really have stayed with me my entire life. These are situations where I may have been bullied- or witnessed bullying and not stood up to the bully, for fear of being the victim.

Once as a young kid, maybe 9 or so, I was waiting outside a friends house for her. There was a bully in our neighborhood and I was trying to stay under his radar, so I was in the habit of scanning the street for him..So far so good..I heard a male voice and turned. I saw the bully, standing there crying and an adult man (I assume his dad) was changing a tire on a car, while berating this boy. He was calling him names and taunting him for crying. My view of him changed that day, even at the young age of 9. I knew he was dealing with some bad stuff at home and I suddenly felt extremely sorry for him. I actually mustered up the guts to say something to that guy. I have no idea where this came from inside me, and I couldn't stand this boy, so why the heck would I put my neck out for him? Couldn't tell ya, but I did. I remember the whole thing so clearly. I was actually wearing pajamas and had bare feet. I marched over on that dirt parking lot and said in my 9 year old shaky voice "he isn't a baby for crying YOU are a baby for teasing". Yea, I know..not the most threatening thing I could have said. I wasn't used to standing up to adults, and its all I could come up with I guess. The dad just laughed at me, and then continued to mock and taunt his son by saying "you need a little girl to stand up for you??" I guess I'd made it worse.

I remember another day..I was friends with 3 other girls, all of us lived near each other. There was, like in most cliques, a "ring leader" who seemed to call all the shots and we followed like sheep. We were still young, grammar and middle school aged. If she was mad at you for something (and she usually was) then the whole group was mad at you. We didn't dare hang out with each other without her, she'd be mad. We didn't dare make plans and not ask her, she'd be mad. We didn't dare do anything it seemed. What a sad thing. Like living under an 11 yr olds thumb.

One day she was mad at a fellow sheep. The sheep was walking home ahead of us, not allowed to walk with us, and I was with the wolf behind her-maybe 15 feet or so. The wolf proceeded to loudly bounce this hard red rubber school ball and make comments.. I cant remember what I did, but I know I didn't stand up to her. Suddenly, the ball leaves her hands as she whips it and hits the back of the sheep's head. I remember that sound. I remember seeing her head snap forward as the ball hit her. My heart broke, my stomach lurched. I couldn't believe it...but did nothing to stop it.

Another time we were on a walking field trip, and I was someone elses partner. God forbid!! How dare I do such a thing? did I have a death wish? We walked to a nursing home to sing Christmas Carols. Standing in front, regrouping, the wolf is at the front of the line, me and my forbidden partner at the rear. I hear her yell my name across all of the students and I looked up. Was she forgiving me? We were friends again? Maybe she wanted us to come to the front with her? She says "You cant come in, it says on the sign no dogs allowed".

Fast forward to 7th grade. The 'in' thing was high topped Reeboks. You had to have them, they were the be all end all to 7th grade footwear. I can remember vividly- they were $50. That was a huge amount of money for sneakers then, and really unheard of at that point. My mom got us knock offs and honestly, to me they looked the same, and I was perfectly happy. I wore them proudly, with my thick colorful socks, skinny jeans all tucked in. Yea, I liked these. Until I got to school and got the 'up down'' and then "Oh I used to have sneakers just like that!..then my father got a job" *evil smirk*.

I lived this way for years. Fearful of doing or saying something wrong. Afraid to crush on the wrong boy- what if SHE liked him? Always trying to wear things that were cool enough, but not daring to try anything cooler than her.

I remember getting a crimping iron. This was one of the first out there and we had to get it at a beauty supply store. This was a big deal and I was delighted. We were just getting into MTV and Nina Blackwood and Martha Quinn crimped their hair- I couldn't WAIT! My mom helped. I went to the wolf's house, hair crimped. She was actually impressed, and wanted to crimp her hair too - YES!! Success, I would be allowed to keep my crimper! Her mom walked in, and the wolf pointed out my hair. Her mother gave this look of distaste and said "couldn't you get the same look by just braiding it?" Instant deflation, then anger set in and the crimper was forgotten about.

There were soo so many of these instances that went on. These are just a few of the ones that jump out at me. Why could I stand up to a grown man but not to a girl my age?

Girls are a different breed than boys. Boys duke it out on the playground and move on. Girls are sneaky, manipulative and professionals at emotional warfare. They gossip, back stab and connive. I am so thankful there was no Internet or cell phones back in those days, I had enough trouble.

I think these experiences made me appreciate true female friendship. I cherish my sister. I am extremely loyal to the solid female friends that I have.

If you are a woman, or girl, please support each other, don't tear each other down. In the end, did the wolf feel better for these incidents? Who knows...but I am guessing ultimately not, unless she's a sociopath. Something was going on in her head to make her act this way, and want to have this control over us. Maybe she felt out of control at home. Honestly- I don't care enough to analyze it. It was a relief when we parted ways, and I haven't looked back.

Ladies- dump the baggage. If someone is treating you badly, ditch them. Its them, not you. Don't blame yourself. Just respect each other, even the people you can't stand. It makes you a better, stronger person in the end, and that's all that ultimately matters- how you feel about yourself in your heart.

I am...

Okay, this should be interesting. You Know It Happens at Your House Too has issued a challenge of sorts- a social experiment. For 5 minutes, I am supposed to write about myself. Each sentence must start with "I am". This is to point out my positives to myself, about myself. Let's see where this goes...on my mark, get set..

I am...a mother above all else. It is my first and foremost, so it had to be #1.

I am...a loving wife, sister, sister-in-law, daughter & daughter-in-law, and I love my family fiercely.

I am...lucky to have the job that I have. I stumbled across it, and have clawed my way up in ranks.

I am...a teen mom but I am the anti-stereotype, and it doesn't define me.

I am...married to my high school sweetheart

I am...not supposed to play online during the day as much as I do, but I am creative and do anyways

I am...naturally blond, but have been black, dark brown, red and eggplant

I am...not always quite as happy and positive as I project. I've been through some pretty dark times

I am...a mess making hoarder by nature and I have to work every second of my life to stay organized

I am...having a hard time thinking of much else!

Embrace your day

Last night I was scrolling through my inbox. I get many, many messages saying the sweetest things. They usually express that they feel encouraged or inspired by my posts. I love this, but I don't feel worthy of this- so I struggle.

The reality is, Logan is the star here, and I am simply a messenger, or an interpreter in some instances. I have learned how to interact with him and bring out the best and worst in him, and I share that on my page for lots of reasons...but I feel guilty getting any credit for it.

I know, I know, I raised him, I should accept some credit, but honestly I just did what any and every parent does on a daily basis. Loved him, took care of him, helped him. His spirit is unique, and I am just very, very lucky that I got to be his parent.

Some days I have a hard time with it, with the fact that he struggles. I want things to be easier for him, more "normal", and not being able to give him that really hurts, but he brings me back up with a smile or a "honey nugget" and all is well for a while.

The truth about parenting, or about my life as a whole is, I have screwed up a lot. More than I care to admit, even to myself. I've been mean, I've been bitchy, I've been judgemental. I've said things I later regretted, and forgot to do important things I should have done. I'm human, but I've stumbled quite a bit. Logan helps me realize that this is all okay. These flaws, these screw ups, these personality traits I'm less proud of- they make me who I am, and they're okay- because overall I'm a good person. I try my best (almost) every day. I am aware of my mistakes and try not to follow those paths again.

Logan has taught me all of this. It's taken me almost 39 years to reach a place where I can really appreciate this. After 23+ years with my husband, I can finally appreciate him. We really butted heads for a long, long time after we realized Logan was having some issues. We coped differently and he really went off the deep end on me for a while there. He wasn't dealing well and he surely wasn't helping me, and I resented him for a long time for that. It's taken him years to make that up to  me, but I'm really glad we sucked it up and pushed through it.

So, I'm not a perfect super-mom. I haven't figured out the answers to how to parent a kid who needs extra help. I'm just like every other mom, with failures, laundry that needs to be done, screw ups, a few pounds that need to be lost, and a husband who can absolutely drive me nutty- but it all works.

Take whatever you have in your life, and strip it down to what matters. It really makes you appreciate it fully. It may take a while, but you'll get there. I did. I never thought I would, but I did. Now I think back to all of those years spent wandering around in my own head, like a ship afloat with no course, and I think to myself, wow, how did you even cope day to day? I am so anchored now, I can't imagine going back to that, but in reality, anything can send you spiraling off course, and there's little you can do to prevent it...so embrace what you have solid and good in your life today, even if that's a husband or wife who drives you nuts, or a screaming kid who you just want to walk away from. You can never tell what tomorrow may bring to your doorstep, and you might look back and wish you'd made the most of what you had yesterday.

Logan bustin' a move at Abby's wedding

I wish we could all live just a little bit more like Logan. If he's tired, he takes a nap- so what if it's not 'cool' for a teenaged boy to nap? If we're at a party or wedding, he dances- no matter what type of music, he is out there. If it's a hot day- he is at the beach in his bathing suit having a blast, he doesn't mind that he needs to lose a few pounds. Logan has taught me to embrace the day, make the most of your life, and appreciate the little things.

Guilt

Now that I am over the initial shock of the condition of Logan's feet, I can think a bit more logically and realize that this wasn't my fault. I cried when I saw them, felt sick, panic stricken almost, at the thought that this could have gone on right under my nose without me knowing. I felt guilty and so, so sad that he endured this without complaint. He must know I would have helped him, had he said something. Why wouldn't he say something? After thinking about this for a couple of hours, I know why he didn't. He is Logan.

Logan is a tough as nails kid, who has been through a lot. Other kids have endured much, much more than he has, but he really has gone through quite a bit. After being born with a cord around his neck, he was in the doctor's office off and on for 8 weeks until he was admitted into Boston Children's Hospital for surgery. Over the course of the next several years he had multiple MRI's, CTscan's, bone density testing, organ and lung biopsies, scopes put into his stomach and lungs, sweat tests, countless blood draw, and many, many hospital stays with IV.

He is doctor shy because of this. When he was little we'd go in to the doctor for a cough or a tummy ache and we'd end up in the hospital on an IV. He remembers all of this. He still talks about this. He is somewhat traumatized by this. He once walked around for 4 weeks on a fractured growth plate in his foot with minimal complaint. I have had to become a detective and pick up on subtle clues, piecing a puzzle together and determine if he needs medical attention or not.

His memory of these doctor's visits are vivid in some instances. He will talk about a song that was on the radio, the day we were pulling into the hospital parking lot- for something, I can't even recall what, a year ago. Some of these hospital memories are deeply ingrained in his mind. Since we have had 4 major deaths in the last few years, he has become even more hesitant to go to the doctors. It makes me so sad for him, and I try so hard to make sure everything is explained to him ahead of time, but he knows as well as I do, if the doctor wants to send you for tests, or if you need to be admitted for treatment- that's that and we're going.

Fortunately, Logan hasn't had to be in the hospital for anything overnight for about 4 years. I wish he could let go of some of these fears. Its something we work on.

It's amazing how we as mothers parents take all of this burden of blame upon ourselves. 1,000 kisses and hugs, 500 bedtime stories, hundreds of delicious meals, warm baths, loads of clean folded laundry- all of the things we do to care for our kids and make sure they're comfortable can be cancelled out in an instant over one situation like this. Years of good and nurturing parenting- tossed right out the window in our own minds. It's crazy. We need to learn to accept that even in the most loving and vigilant household, things slip by us. We're busy, we're working, we're grocery shopping, getting gas, paying bills. I was preoccupied with Abby coming home and Kevin going away. If you aren't familiar with what I am talking about regarding Abby & Kev, please read this blog entry.

So, I will go home tonight, and give Logan an extra big hug and kiss and tend to his poor feet. But I won't continue to beat myself up over this, it's not helping either of us. We're all still learning as we go.

Thank you Humble

There I sat, for years- first in MySpace, then my friend Lori talked me into Facebook. It was scary, hard to figure out, and I hated it at first. Once I 'got' it, I was hooked. I could see what my friends were up to, who they married, what their kids looked like, but most of all, I could see what Abby and her friends were doing. It was FUN. It was like I was a techno voyeur, lurking around, clicking on pix, status updates, comments.

After a while, Logan's classmates started making accounts. At first they were little kid accounts, and nobody posted much. A few added Abby and I would poke around a little. After a while, the accounts became more real, and I was seeing pictures of girls Logan's age in bikinis, and boys riding dirt bikes. Honestly, this part of Facebook totally sucked for me.

I am not a catty person. I am not an "oh you look so great at 40 so I freakin hate you" person. I'm glad for my friends who are successful, skinny, living the dream. I loved looking at Abby's classmates prom photos, and would smile at the gorgeous dresses, the handsome dates. But for the kids Logan's age, I couldn't get happy. I couldn't bring a smile out of myself. I was jealous, and that's not in my nature.

I was sinking- the hole was deep and dark, and I was partway down. Facebook wasn't fun anymore, and I was logging in less and less. I didn't want to see it anymore. I wanted to think of Logan's classmates as little kids who were still watching cartoons, not kids who would soon be driving and dating and doing the stuff that teens do- and now post about.

Around wintertime or so, I came across a page. I read some of her posts, and I felt connected for some reason. I read quietly, not really commenting, I wasn't in a place to share. I wasn't in a mood to converse. I kept reading. She made me smile, she touched my heart, she woke me up. That page is Slice of Humble. I posted a photo to her wall one day of Abby and Logan at Abby's wedding. Her response was so warm, so genuine. I knew I liked this girl. I continued to just love and laugh with her page, and that was enough for then.

After being a Humble fan for quite some time, and struggling with all of the shitty emotions I was feeling, I decided to vent them all- the good, the bad and the ugly- on my own page. I 100% credit Humble for giving me the courage to put it all out there- and it feels great. I feel like I can share something about Logan with all of you that most people never see, because he can't express himself like most teens his age. He is locked in a world where his thoughts often go unheard, and its not fair. I give him a voice and he gives me a purpose.

I want to thank my lovely Humble for holding my hand- even if she didn't realize it. If I had never found the Slice of Humble page, I probably wouldn't have made my page, and I wouldn't be sharing and venting and laughing and crying so openly. This has become my platform to help the world know an amazing kid, and it's also become my therapy. I am forever grateful.