When my sister, Brit, died her school posted a poem in her memory.  I must have read hundreds of poems looking for the right one. In the end I chose EE Cummings’, “I Carry Your Heart with Me.”  The words floated off the page and into my soul; together these words communicated the love, the loss, the grief, and the need to keep Brit with me always.  Now that I am parent the poem has taken on an additional meaning.  It is my hope that when I leave this world my ladies will carry my heart with them and in doing so remember the important lessons I have taught them. 

I realized this hope for my ladies to keep me with them always is part of the reason that I blog and document their lives as I do.  When I am gone and they are feeling lonely and just want to be hugged by their mom or when they are in a tough spot and are wondering “what would mom think or what would mom do” they will have a piece of me that reminds them of not only who I was but who I encouraged them to be. 

I am not sure if is weird that think about things like this at the age of 34 when my oldest child has yet to even start kindergarten.  But after the pain of losing my sister and feeling like there are never enough pictures, never enough videos, or words written by her hand I want to make sure that I ease that pain for those who survive me.  And selfishly as I know how precious life is and that it can be taken away in the blink of the eye I want to create an environment that allows my ladies to live life to the fullest but also to create memorabilia from those experiences.  I am not big on selfies and when we go on outing I try to capture a few pictures at the beginning or the end of an adventure so that I can focus more on enjoying the moment than capturing the moment. 

It all comes down to wherever I am, wherever my ladies are I want them to know they are loved and if they are having a hard day be able to float back and touch a memory that will bring a little joy to a rough day. 

Do ever think about your legacy or how to ensure your children always have a piece of you?

 

Vivian Knows Best

The phone rang and in a fit of frustration, Caroline clawed at my right eye.  It hurt and left scratch marks all around my eye, the marks match those on my left hand and arm. My Sweet Caroline gives me a new scar almost every day. The pain from this assault pales in comparison to the sadness and frustration; I see when I look into Caroline's eyes during these trying moments.

My employer made the decision not to include insurance coverage for autism as part of our benefit package at the start of the calendar year – in August of last year I was lead to believe it would be covered—John and I have been paying for all therapy out of pocket since January.  We just took out a loan against my 401k to pay for therapy this summer but we can only afford therapy at less than therapeutic levels.  Caroline’s minimal access to therapy shows every times she leaves a scar on my body, hurls an object at me or the floor, engages in compulsive behaviors, or the fact that it is harder to get Caroline to say Momma even with a reinforcer. Don’t get me wrong, Caroline is wonderful, the light of my life but right now being her mom is a traumatic experience.

I realize how tired I am when at the dinner table, Vivian reminds me “Mommy you need to tell Caroline, first rice then candy.”  At four, Vivian understands the first-then technique.  The other night both girls wondered into our room around 3 AM,  John was singing to Caroline trying to calm her down—I acted like I was sleeping because I did not have the energy to engage—Vivian told John “Daddy, I think you need to stop singing to Caroline—you are only exciting her.”  Vivian was right. At 3 AM John was too tired to notice that Caroline was screaming and flapping out of excitement—he was just following his instincts.  To be an effective parent to Caroline one needs to know when not follow instincts like singing an overtired toddler to sleep and when to ignore them.  Vivian, even in the middle of the night, knows enough to remind us how we parent Caroline when we have our wits about us.  I find this comforting because it means at our best we are consistent enough for Vivian to pick up on our behaviors and for her to notice the effectiveness; I find this exasperating because we are too tired to be as consistent as we should be.

Part of the exhaustion and Caroline’s mounting frustration is surely attributable to our recent cross country move from San Antonio to Cleveland.  The move had to be made and had to be made quickly and cheaply which did not allow me to plan as much as I would have liked. The move has left John and I even more physically and emotionally drained than normal.

The sadness and frustration that radiates from Caroline’s body during her bouts of frustration are tearing at my soul.  The move was difficult but it had to be done for so many reasons—in the moment we are dealing with some setbacks but in the long run I see a lot of opportunity in Cleveland for the entire Buzzard Family.  I am stronger than this moment and will get through my tedious to do list that involves fighting with the insurance company, identifying therapists, establishing medical care, applying for social programs, and finding childcare for the summer and afterschool in the fall so I can get back to the business of enjoying my family.

I Thought We Had More Time.

An amazing and thoughtful blog about how quickly our kids with special needs grow up.