This post I wrote in January 2013.

Three months. In a child's eyes it can be an eternity : three more months until the next birthday, three more months until Christmas can seem like years. The reality however, is far different. Three  months is such a short time, especially when we view it from eternity. Yet, those three months can be so significant. In three months we finished Nico's second round of OT, his first semester of social cognition therapy, begun speech therapy, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Jack Milan's first birthday, the flu, visited family, Mari's first orchestra concert, another broken arm scare with Liberty, school and school evaluations. So much in so little time.
 It reminds me to take the time for what is important. Set priorities. Too many times life gets so busy we forget what is important. And what is important? Whenever I need a reminder of what is important, where my priorities should lie, I think of this:

"What is man's primary purpose?"

This one question. That's it. The answer tells me what is my priority, my purpose.

"...to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."

So simple and so beautiful.

Update

I know it's been a while since I've written anything. We've been pretty busy. Nico is doing okay. He's had OT, PT, speech and Social Cognition therapy. While we have seen tremendous improvement in OT and PT  he is still struggling with the social cognition therapy. We've seen him depressed and angry. He is becoming more self aware and I believe that is contributing to his anger and depression. Currently, he is doing better but has difficulty interacting with others. Because he can not read facial cues or other non verbal cues he constantly misinterprets others' intentions and actions. We've noticed that he assumes that others know what is bothering him or causing him sensory overload. Instead of asking the other person to stop he tries at first to ignore it and then when it becomes overwhelming he blows up or has a meltdown.

Liberty had the first of her two reconstructive hand surgeries. She did very well but was NOT happy with the  doctor. Her firsts words after surgery were to the doctor telling him to "Take it off!" referring to her cast. This was the 3rd time in a year that her left arm has been in a cast. Thankfully, she did not have to have it on as long as the previous times. We also found out that Liberty can not tolerate any codeine products. It made her CRAZY! She's also sensitive to the absorbable Vicryl sutures. Her hand swelled until I removed them and her abdomen, where the tissue/skin graft was preformed reopened a little and "spit" the sutures.   

Everyone else is doing fine. Avery Mae is keeping us on our toes and in stitches. A friend gave her a bottle of pink nail. Avery Mae proceeded to paint the back seats in the car. When Daddy asked her why she replied, "Everything's more beautiful in pink!"  How can you argue with that logic?! Everything is more beautiful in pink!

Friends

Tuesday is Scout night. The night my son looks forward to all week. His time with only Mom and  his "boys".

Having a child with Autism is very different. Nico doesn't make friends easily, especially those that are his age. But through Cub Scouts, he has blossomed. He has made his first "real" friend, A. He's been invited over to A's home. Tonight A loaned Nico a Wii game. But the most touching thing about this friendship is the empathy flowing from this other 7 year old boy. Even though Nico begins each meeting anxiously on the peripheral of the group by the end of the night he is comfortably in the middle of a gaggle of running boys playing "Zombies" or some other such game, thanks to his friend A.  A is very sensitive to Nico's thoughts, emotions and the sources of his frustrations.

Tonight's meeting begin no differently. The boys were showing one another their collections. Nico was watching from the side. I'm not sure what, if anything was said, or if Nico even knew A had this particular game. Under normal circumstances, Nico would have begun "stimming" upon realizing someone had something or anything relating to his favorite character. But Nico sat quietly in his chair as one by one,  the boys begun to share their collections with the Den. Nico's friend, A, leaned over and asked me if Nico would like to borrow a Wii game. I asked A. "Which one?' and he pulled out Epic Mickey. Nico's face lit up upon seeing his favorite character and begun bouncing in his seat. I'm not sure how A knew Nico would love  that particular game or that Mickey is one of his favorite characters, but he did. Just as a best friend should.

The Gift

Sometimes in life, things do not go according to our plans. And we fight that. We fight the change and we whine and ask God "Why?". But the thing we forget and should remember, is that HIS plans are always better than ours. HE in omnipotent. HIS plans are the best for us and for HIS glory.

I am learning to live this minute by minute. My 7 year old son was recently diagnosed with Autisic Disorder, Developmental Coordination Disorder and Sensory Integration Disorder.

Autism.

What parent wants to hear that diagnosis? Their child will never be "normal". Live will never be "normal". Instead of school, play dates, field trips and  family vacations, life revolves around doctor appointments and multiple therapies. Everyone in the family must adjust.

And that is a good thing.

My neurotypical children are learning to be more like our Savior - less self-focused. Learning to put the needs of another above their own desires. God is refining and purifying me. In order to help my son, I am having to be a decidedly more disciplined person, more organized. And my son? He is learning that to function in a world that is not accommodating to his conditions, he must be flexible. Like clay in the potter's hand.

How can anything that molds us to HIS likeness be bad?
That is why I view this diagnosis as a gift.

The Weekly Review: Fire Alarms & Swine Flu

Sunday was normal.

Monday was quiet.

Tuesday, Nico set off the fire alarm at Sam's Club.

Wednesday, Early Afternoon: A friend came over for a play date and the children played in the pool all afternoon while the baby slept and we worked. And drank homemade iced mocha. Yummy!

Wednesday Evening: Nico went with Daddy to Blockbuster and the take-out Chinese place to grab fried cheese won tons (my favorite!) to go with dinner. Unfortunately, Nico decided to leave his lunch there, all over the floor. Daddy had never seen projectile vomiting.

Thursday morning, long before the sun ever rose: Nico was sitting on our bed, bowel in lap, vomiting.

Thursday, 3am: Daddy gave up on sleep and decided to get ready for work.

Thursday 6am: Daddy returned from an early morning trip to Wal-Greens for pedialyte to find a certain little boy sound asleep. Yeah! Except Daddy had to go to work.

Thursday, 7:40am: That certain little boy decided that he was "all better" and wanted to play. With someone. That someone turned out to be the sleeping baby.

Thursday 2pm: Just put everyone down for a nap when Daddy rang the doorbell. He was so sick he couldn't even open the door.

Friday morning: Friend from play date earlier this week calls to say that I must really hate her. Her son is now vomiting. Wants to know if it's swine flu. Probably, I tell her.

Later on, Friday morning: Nico had a melt down. I wouldn't let him go to co-op, but Mari got to go. Daddy called to remind me that tonight the guys are going to play pool, which reminded me that the girls are having a Pampered Chef party tonight. I called our favorite babysitter, but everyone is busy. Explains why some of the guys aren't going to play pool. They're watching their children because their wives are going to the party. Perhaps, the guys could reschedule for tomorrow night?

The Final Frontier:

Ok. So let's try this bloggy thing one last time. My life is just too interesting and funny not to share. And preserve for my children. Especially when they call at 2 am because they've just realized that the baby has thrown three of big brother's matchbox cars into the toilet. But not before flushing said toilet.

Our smallest, biggest blessing.

In July 2007, we find out we were expecting baby #3. We were very excited and also a little concerned. Pregnancies are very hard on my body. I have been on bed rest for all of my pregnancies. This last one was no different, except I was on bed rest for all but 4 weeks. At twenty weeks I was 80% effaced. Our midwives and doctors begin preparing us for the reality that our child would not survive if she were born so early. I was put on complete bed rest, with two small children. My husband had just been hired with a new company (an answer to one of our prayers) that required full time travel for the first 18 to 24 months, meaning he was gone usually from Sunday afternoon until late Friday night. And you know what? God sustained us. Every other week, I was in the hospital for an ultrasound and there was always someone available to watch the children. When I would have to go to the hospital in the middle of the night with contractions, my husband's family was always there to watch the children. Friends stopped by several times a week to bring food, clean house and take my children to the park. Week by week went by, and God sustained us and protected us.
When I hit 36 weeks, I was finally allowed off bed rest. And still no baby. Thirty seven weeks, we stripped my membranes THREE times, and still no baby. Thirty eight weeks found me walking around the mall for hours on end, trying to get the show on the road. And still no baby. Saturday, March 22 found me at a friend's house for a picnic and bible study. Shortly before we started the bible study, I came out of the bathroom and told my husband and friends that my water had broken. Nothing else though, no contractions. Later that evening we called our midwives and they immediately came over (I have a history of very, very short labors). My water was indeed broken, but no contractions. We walked up and down our darkened road for hours. My neighbor stepped outside to see what was causing her dogs to bark, and still no baby. At four 0'clock in the morning we decided to take a nap. When I woke up a few hours later, still no contractions. Our midwife called the doctor to update him on my progress and to get medical permission to keep me at home. (We had been planning a homebirth and our state law requires that a doctor be consulted when your membranes have been ruptured for X amount of hours with no progress.) The doctor said okay, to start antibiotics at 1:30pm and bring me in then if I hadn't had the baby. So it kept going. We tried everything to get labor going and nothing worked. Finally, we decided to pray. Why we didn't do that first, I don't know. It always seems that instead of running to God first, we always try to take care of things ourselves. And it never works. Within 10 minutes of taking it to God in prayer I was in transition. 8cm dialated. Within 20 minutes the midwife was shouting for my husband to come or he was going to miss the birth. At 1:32pm, two minutes past the doctor's deadline, our daughter was born at home, at 39 weeks gestation. It was Easter Sunday.

What a beautiful picture of God in his sovereignty. Over two thousand years before, His Son had risen from the grave, a Savior for all mankind, promised since the beginning, and here my husband and I were holding our new daughter, whose days God had already ordained.

Today is that sweet little baby's first birthday. The very one who doctors said would never make it to term, and would in all probability die as a result of a premature birth. Soon after her birth, a very close friend gave me a scripture that the Lord had led her to:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11