living after the death of a baby, living with Autism, living as a family of six, living on our organic homestead, living miserably, hopefully, and with joy, and somedays just living

Archive for the ‘Family and Parenting’ Category

The Circus (and this time I don’t mean us)

A while ago Kyle and I watched Water For Elephants. It got me to thinking about the Circus, as a family we’ve only ever been to one.  It was a cool day, so I think it was spring, and I’m pretty sure it was 2010, so the kids would have been 5 or about to be 5 (times 2), 2.5 and Micah would have only been a few months old.  Yes, it was 2010.

The tickets were given to us, so it was a free outing. Well sorta… Kyle bought snacks at the concession, and we bought the kids colour changing sword light stick type things, that cost 15 dollars at the circus, or 2.50 at the dollar store, but hey, it seemed most other kids had something, and it was a free outing, plus we always say no. Kyle reluctantly paid 45 dollars, for the three toys that would break within the week.

With a family as large as ours, a trip to the movies is well over a 100 dollars. Normally it doesn’t bother me that we don’t get to go out very often, but sometimes it’s nice to feel like the family that can.  It was nice to be out.

So there we were in our seats, I had the baby strapped to me and Kyle had Natalia on his lap because all 22 pounds of her wasn’t enough to keep the snap-closed seat open.  We always feel vulnerable when both our hands are full. It’s hard to reach out and stop Elijah from running off, or pick him up off the floor, or grab his leg, so he stops kicking the seat in front of him. It turned out he was a star. The circus captivated that little guy, for the most part he sat and watched.

It was a small circus, the Shrinners I think, the pace was fast enough, and the show short enough so kids didn’t get itchy in their seats. Somewhere in the middle of  the acts was an intermission. All the kids were invited down to the floor. There was a giant inflatable slide, vendors selling balloons, and other over-priced merchandise, and various circus performers were doing a meet and greet type thing.

While all the other kids filled down to to the floor to slide, and run around,we asked our kids to stay in their chairs.  You see we couldn’t trust Elijah not to get over excited, cut in line, run around, bump in to kids, or who knows what – basically we couldn’t trust Elijah not to let his autism show.  Then there was the fact that there were four kids and only two of us. I don’t know about yours, but our kids never run in the same direction.  So, we sat there watching all the other kids actively take part in the circus while we held our place on the sideline.

Looking back on this day I feel quite a bit of regret, mostly because we didn’t even bother to give them a chance. From our seats we fielded the questions from the kids about why they couldn’t go.  They complained, but accepted our no.

There have been many no’s, many times we held back because it was too hard to even try.

I wish I had said yes that day. I wish we let them go a bit crazy. I wish I hadn’t decided they needed to sit still and behave while every other kid got to let loose a bit – high five a clown, head down the slide backwards, or actually stand in the center ring .

Life is full of regrets, and as far as this one goes it’s fairly minor. What I don’t regret is that we all sat there together. We do things as a family. It was too hard to head down with a son with autism, a tiny toddler and a new baby, so there we sat – all together. When my kids look back on their childhood and think about the things they didn’t get to do, for whatever reason, I hope they recognize that when we went without, we all did.

I hope that this becomes ingrained in who they become. I hope they look back and think – what we did, and what we did not do, was done as a family. We supported each other. I hope when they see injustice, and they see someone singled out, they’ll have the courage, and strength of character,to sit with them on the side lines.

The world isn’t fair, it never will be, but sometime it’s nice to have a little company when fairness eludes us.

They Think I’m Beautiful

August 08 2011

These are the photos of me I like best.  Blurry photos, or ones that are highly over exposed. They wash out my flaws, or make them invisible with motion blur.

I am a harsh critic.

It’s why I almost never turn the camera on myself.  It’s why when others take photo’s of me I am very uncomfortable.  I don’t like being on the other side of the camera.  I have no control. I don’t get to delete.

And yet when my children grab hold of the camera, they often chose me to snap pictures of.  I don’t want to rub off  my insecurities, I want them to be fearlessly self-confident, so I let them snap away happily, excited they get to play with Mom’s toy.  Then they pull up the album, and show me the best ones they took.   They tell me how beautiful I look, and what great pictures they take, and I agree with them.  I hold back the criticisms about not having my hair washed, the stain on my shirt,  the unplucked eyebrows, and the other endless things I don’t like about me.

They think I’m beautiful.

I am what they want to capture on “film”, they see me as so much more than I deserve.  I think I should try to see me through their eyes a little more often.

*photo taken by Petra age 6

All Hipstamatic settings chosen by her as well

Lens – Chunky

Film – Ina’s 1935

Flash – off

Killing Them Softly

When I’m telling people that Kate died,  I never say she passed away.  Actually I kind of cringe at that expression, passed away to where, passed what?  I don’t begrudge others from using it to describe the death of their loved ones, people should say what they feel comfortable saying.  For me its a little too soft, too pretty, too acceptable.   In fact part of me likes the shock that comes from saying that our baby is dead, if I can be perfectly honest.  It’s a particularly difficult chapter in my life, and it shouldn’t be easy to say.  In fact the two most difficult things for me have been Kate’s death, and Elijah’s autism.

Autism isn’t the tragedy that Kate’s death was, in fact it’s hard to call Autism a tragedy, but for many of us, Autism means worrying about tragedy.

Part of what makes Autism so difficult to deal with is the tendency that many kids with autism have to wander.  To make matters worse a lot of kids with Autism seem to be missing the ability to feel fear, or sense danger.  I can think of two incidences with Elijah that makes my blood stop.

One day while putting his baby sister upstairs to bed, Elijah undid three locks on the front door and let himself out, naked.  Thankfully it was summer, not winter.  We lived in Chicago, at an intersection of two very busy roads, Western Ave and 119 street.  When I came downstairs the first thing I noticed was he was missing, and the door was open.  The police were called, and I frantically searched the area asking passer by’s if they had seen him.  The truth was, since he loved cars I feared he was already dead.  Traffic doesn’t stop in Chicago, crossing the street is a ridiculous danger.   To make a long story short he was found safe, and sound, and I was never the same.

A few months later while on a trip to see a Floortime therapist, we were taking Ky’s car instead of the van.  I strapped Elijah into to his booster seat, both age and weight appropriate for him.  A half an hour later while going 70 miles/110km an hour down I-94, Elijah undid his belt, and opened the back door.  Luckily the force of our speed made opening the door difficult, and it shut again.  I pulled over, yelled at him, called Kyle, cried, and belted him back in, and always used the 5 point harness seat.  Death was too close again.

When we lost him in line at Disneyworld while waiting to see one of the 3D movies, Kyle didn’t hesitate for a second to pop up on a rail, so he stood above the crowd, and shouted at the top of his LUNGS: ” Attention, my son with Autism is missing, he has a blue shirt on”, and then gave a description.  In a matter of a only a moment he managed to get to the other side of  a packed lobby of a few hundred people without any concern that he couldn’t see his parents.  A few moments more he may have found an exit, and few more and who knows.

During these scares Elijah didn’t speak more than a handful of words.  If kids are found wandering and are unable to tell an adult who they are, or where they live, they are more likely to be abandoned by that adult, because they are unable to help immediately.  The older the kid, the more likely this is, in fact a wandering 16 year old isn’t likely to be approached with help at all.

A while ago I wrote about James Delory who died  of hypothermia after wandering from his Nova Scotia home.

Adam Benhamma

Today I am a wreck over beautiful Adam Benhamma, Adam wandered away from the people he was with.  The “fading hope” has me feeling helpless.  As I sit here typing this blog out, his family is worrying about whether they will be arranging a funeral tomorrow.  As a mother I’m heart broken for them, as a mother with a son with autism I can imagine it could be me, as a mother who’s buried a child, I hope above fading hope that he’ll be found.  Adams Story

More and more we hear stories of kids with Autism dying due to wandering.  With our collective US and Canadian governments refusing to see Autism as an epidemic, even with a a rate of 1 in 110, and as high as 1 in 65 in some pockets, we should all get ready for more autism deaths.  Autism is killing our children by robbing them of a sense of danger.  Children are dying from incidents that stem from their Autism.   And just like babies dying, there is no gentle way to say that.

Part of me wonders if the outrage isn’t as strong as it ought to be, because it’s not normal kids dying.  These are the weirdos, the kids who bang their heads, the ones who don’t talk, the ones who scream, who hit and bite, the ones who spin in circles, and flap their hands.  The ones whose mothers and fathers love them dearly, whose bothers and sisters don’t care that he/she isn’t the same as other kids, the ones who have a special bond with the family pet, because animals don’t judge, the ones who love back in unconventional ways. We should all be outraged.

Elijah is getting better, he bolts less often, we can keep him engaged more these days, and he’s learning to play with his sisters, so he stays near more often now.  I can look away for a second, and it’s okay.  But when I can’t find him, my heart goes straight back to that place that has me wondering if we’d bury him beside his sister, and what we’d write for his epitaph.

So what can you do?  Other than donating money to an Autism charity?

Parents of kids with Autism are often tired, its an extreme sort of parenting.  We feel like we don’t fit.  It can be hard for us to make other mommy and daddy  friends, because parents would rather their kids didn’t play with ours.    So here’s some of my suggestions of what you can do.

If you are good friends, offer to babysit in their home, so mom can have a nap.  But don’t expect a yes until you really learn what it means to babysit a kid with autism, take the time to learn what the dangers are, are they likely to bolt, drink/eat things they shouldn’t,  and what kind of attention they need.  Find out what sets him/ her off, find out how to calm them, what they can and/or will eat, and how they communicate.  Plan to spend some time with them beforehand, so the he/she trusts you.  Don’t be offended if we come down from our “nap” several times, it’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s just that we need to know our kid is okay, shooing us away is not the answer.  Know that that even the shortest break is appreciated, and if you keep offering help, and you seem to truly be able to handle our kid, we really will sleep eventually.  The reason most of us say no to your offers to help is because we know you can’t handle our kid, we don’t mean that condescendingly, we know that some days it’s almost too much for us, and we’ve eased into it from infancy, it’s important to us that you know what you’re getting into.

Short of that, you should know most of us have been shunned at moms groups, gym class, ballet etc. if not outright kicked out.  Befriend the mom with the odd kid in art class, be friendly, be kind, be open, and check your judgement of what kind of kid and/or type of parents they must be at the door.  Over time maybe invite us over for a playdate?? When that playdate ends with the kids not playing together, toys played with in other ways than their intended use, and with shrieking and/or complete silence, and with the mom hovering over the kids, invite them to come over again!

Short of that, make a meal, shovel a sidewalk, mow a lawn, or volunteer with an organization that makes a positive impact to individuals with Autism.

Short of that, donate your internet space on Facebook, Twitter, or other social media to promote Autism Awareness, Autism reform in your State or Province, or to support a family who is struggling (make sure they are okay with you sharing their struggle).  This month it’s easy, April is Autism Awareness month.

Short of that, when one of ours kids goes missing in your community, help us find him or her.

And today pray for Adam, Adam’s family, and for all families dealing with Autism.   Pray often for fewer deaths, more acceptance, and better programs to help individuals with autism make meaningful and positive contributions to an more inclusive society.

“fading hope” has me feeling helpless.  As I sit here typing this blog out, his family is worring about weather they will be arranging a funeral, tomorrow.  As a mother I’m heart broken for them, as a mother with a son with autism I can imagine it could be me, as a mother who’s buried a child, I hope above fading hope that he’ll be found.  Adams Story

He Bit My Face: Losing Touch With God

My blog has been neglected.  I had a goal of posting once a week.  Unfortunately my last few starts have been such heavy and controversial topics, I’m intimidated to finish them, begin writing them, and most certainly to publish them.  I’ve got works in progress about timing for sharing pregnancy news featuring baby death, one about food and why we’re working at self sufficiency featuring nutrition for Autism symptoms, and one that has been floating in my head about Autism, and its suspected causes, featuring why the vaccination debate will never go away.

In the mean time, I’ve met this amazing mom blogger who inspires me.  Somehow, she manages to write everyday.  I don’t know how she finds the time.  I would accuse her of making her kids up, but she speaks from a heart that undeniably has children.   I highly recommend her blog if you have kids, have a child with ASD, have had a baby die, or if you have multiples.  Can you believe we have that much in common?  Oh, and both our husbands are teachers, and are prince charming handsome.  How is that for unbelievable?  You can blog stalk her here, Four, plus an angel

Her posts aren’t always very long, but always packed full of head nodding and the like, and her short post today has inspired me to just write a post, partly on inclusion too, or more like exclusion.  Today she writes a letter to her storytime mom’s group telling them why she’s not going back, and it’s about acceptance.  It got me to thinking about our playgroup experiences, why we quit before we could be kicked out, and how those moms choose not to let me into their circle because Elijah refused to be a part of the music circle.  I was the mom with the weird kid.  This was before our Autism diagnosis.  I wonder how many of them assumed there must be something wrong with my kid, which then got me to thinking about this time at church, which is what this post is about:

Somehow I’ve become a lapsed Catholic.  There was a time when I wondered how people could let that happen.  I was self-righteous, I figured if I could make it to church after Katie died, after having twins, and later with two toddlers and a baby, there was no good reason for anyone else to allow their faith to lapse.  That was until Autism.

When we packed up and made the big move to Chicago we figured we would find community at church, and we did meet some great friends in the young families group there, who are friends still.   Though we were going through the gauntlet with Elijah,( two and a half to three and a half  was my own personal hell) we continued to go to church every week.  He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t keep quiet, he wouldn’t play quietly during the service.  I could feel all eyes on me when he would scream, run away, or otherwise misbehave.  I was embarrassed.  I couldn’t understand why my kid was so unmanageable.  I was strict, I would glare angrily over at Kyle when I felt he wasn’t doing enough to keep him in line.  I wanted nothing more than for him to be like the other kids there, and I figured by continuing to go every week he would eventually learn.

One Sunday, while sitting near the front, I was holding Elijah, who was trying his best to break free, so he could run around like Max from Where The Wild Things Are.  Frustrated that I was stronger than he was, he screamed, and lunged forward and bit my face HARD, I had lingering teeth marks in my cheek.  I was mortified, people saw, and I imagined they must think, that he is either the most unruly kid in the world, or I was the worst parent.

Soon after that we stopped going to church.  I needed the break.  Somewhere in that break we got a diagnosis of Autism for Elijah.  Sometime later we went back one Sunday for a service.  While taking Elijah out for a walk during the service in the foyer, I ran into a lovely woman who said we had been missed, and wondered what had been keeping us away.  Upon telling her we had been coming to terms with an autism diagnosis for Elijah and we needed some distance,  she said,” Oh, we thought it might be something like that. ”

I died a little inside that day.  It was obvious to everyone that my kid was damaged, I wasn’t ready for that.  I wasn’t ready to know that people were armchair diagnosing my kid with various neurological disorders, either.

Shortly after that we were packing up and moving again.  We didn’t do much to find a church.  The Catholic church believes that church should be experienced as a family, so there’s little in the way of children’s services.   Besides I’m not sure if Eli could go to an unparented children’s bible study, or if he’d be too much, and we’d be kicked out of one more thing.    He doesn’t do mass so well either, it’s too long for him, and doesn’t hold his interest.   We could go to a more intresting chruch, one that’s louder, has more music, a better program for kids, but I don’t want to, I feel like I’m a Catholic.  So now I’m a lapsed Catholic, because I don’t feel like we can go to church.

I miss  going to church, I miss the communion with God, I miss the quiet moment dedicated to prayer.  I miss believing.  Over time , I’ve come to worry at the possibility of no God.   In some small round about way Autism has stolen my faith, along with my energy, patience, and the parent I imagined I would be.  No God means no Heaven, and no Heaven means no future with Kate.  Autism, it seems, is slowly stealing her away as well, it’s too unfair. I pretend I still have faith. I cling to it with hope, that in saying it out loud it might make it true, but I worry about nothingness with a dread I can’t even begin to explain.

So I stand at this crossroad wondering what to do.  Give up being a Catholic for a church we might integrate into better, give up church, or start going to a Catholic church again and pretend the eyes on me aren’t there, when Eli starts making sound effects during communion prayers.  I’ve been standing here for some time, and I imagine I’ll stand here a bit longer, losing my faith all the while.

Living A Romance, Not With A Romantic

I am lucky, I really am, I have this amazing husband, but if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s romantic.   Seriously, we don’t celebrate Valentines Day, or our Anniversary in any sentimental way.  We’re too practical.

I know a friend who flew to Vancouver secretly, there and back in a day,  so he could present his bride with a blue Tiffany’s box on their wedding day.  I dream of stuff like this, but it’s not the stuff that Kyle is made up of.  Heck if we get in a big argument there aren’t even flowers when he gets home.  I can’t actually remember the last time I got flowers, it was either for my Anniversary, or Micah’s birth, but not both.  Even his flower choices are always practical, mixed bouquets because they last the longest, and cost less than roses.

When I was pregnant there was no way he’d ever make a craving run, and there was no sparkly present from a small box when I delivered our babies.  He is not with out his romantic gestures, while dating I did get a whole pile of roses once, and for our tenth anniversary I did get sapphires, though I really wanted a Parisian vacation, the sapphires where a delightful surprise.

He’s not a man of grand gestures, or public displays of affection, nor though, is he a burly man’s man. It’s just really easy for us to get caught up in the daily task of parenting, and forget that we are also a married couple.  Our needs take second place to those of our children.  We’re also in the thickest, most time intensive part of parenting.  Currently we have 4 kids, 5 and under.  It will ease over time and there will be more time for us, as our kids become more independent.  For now though, we can go a whole day without stopping to hug or kiss each other.

And despite all of this, despite, my wish for the husband strait out of a romantic comedy.  I believe I have a love greater than most.  I never worry that our love will fade, or that we may not make it.  I know we are solid.  In talking with some other women, many have  spoken of the relief of having their spouses go to work,  and on those blissful business trips.   Life is easier when he isn’t around for short spells some feel.   I, on the other hand, would prefer to have my husband home with me everyday.  I get the driving you crazy because he does things differently than me bit, because we have that same issue, but I still would rather look up from my incorrectly made lunch and see him across the table.

There was a time when we would languish in each others arms on the sofa for hours, and wake up with our bodies tangled together.  Now there are only brief moments on the couch together, and we never wake up  pressed against each other like two spoons, because some small person is invariably in between us.

We have been through some terrible things, things that split marriages apart for others.  We met at 17 and 19, and married young at barely 20 and 21.  We made it through living well below the poverty line while Kyle finished grad school, we came out the other side after the death of a child, we’ve dealt with stressful family dramas, we overcame an international move (twice), and we continue to persevere while parenting a sparkling boy with Autism, even though we believe very different things about the cause of it, and have had serious head butting issues on how best to treat it, and parent for it.

We’ve taken on each of these challenges as they come, one at at time.  We’ve faced each of them, we use them to strengthen our commitment to each other, and to love regardless of how empty life can seem.   We haven’t allowed the wedge, that can be driven between people, get to deep between us.  It sneaks in some times, and it can be difficult to remove, but we do.  The greatest part is, it’s a joint effort, we pull each other together, each of us, equality.

I know I am loved a great, deep and meaningful love, and that is an immense gift.  I live a, not always so happily ever after, fairytale romance.

Thank you Kyle for loving me, ever flawed, never perfect, but always in love with you.

The post where I ask you for 20 bucks (don’t worry you get something)

The internet is abuzz.  Steve Jobs may have never thought he would change the lives of thousands of autistic kids, but he has.  His devices give voices to many bright, non-verbal kids with Autism, through apps like Proloquo2go and many others.  Parents have been astounded to find that many of their non verbal kids are able to speak eloquently, in full sentences, with proper verb tenses, and correctly using figure of speeches, when given an electronic voice, and those who don’t can learn.  Don’t believe it?  Search #autism into Twitter and I guarantee in less that 5  minutes you find a link to some article about how the i-revolution has helped to improve communication for children with autism.

I have a permanent search for tweets with #autism, and that’s how I found Melissa’s site: The Puzzling Piece. She makes pretty jewelry to promote Autism awareness and support autism charities, and she has this amazing promotion. If I sell 60 necklaces or key-chains she’ll send me an iPad for Elijah, free.  So I emailed her today, I wondered am I even eligible as a Canadian?  Well, that woman must have an iPhone because I got a reply in minutes.  Yes, I could take part, she said.  So then I had to think, do I know 60 people who would buy, so we could get an iPad for Eli?  I don’t know?  But that’s where you come in, you tell me.  I’m giving it a shot.

I know, I know what some of you may be thinking.  Elijah is verbal, aren’t you just being greedy?  What does he need one of these for.  Allow me to tell you why we think an iPad could help Elijah, even though he talks.

Elijah didn’t start really talking until he was three.  He has come a long way with biomedical intervention and therapy.  He has worked hard, and we are fortunate to be a family with a verbal kid on the spectrum.  He still has a lot of catching up to do, but he amazes Kyle and I all the time with the huge progresses he makes.  Currently Elijah works with Kathy-Jo Simmie, a spectacular speech therapist here in Saskatoon.  Speech therapy isn’t covered, so we pay for it out of pocket.  It is expensive, but so worth it.  He loves Kathy Jo,and he works there on pronouncing the letters he has trouble pronouncing, r,s,ch, and l mostly, he works on modulation (that kid has one volume: LOUD and one speed: fast), eye contact, and social interactions such as turn taking, how to have a back and forth conversation etc. etc.  It’s wonderful, but we only go twice a month.  The iPad has an app for that.  There is a speech therapy application that can help with pronunciation, pitch, speaking speed, and modulation.  Kyle and I work with him all the time, but plunk that kid in front of a screen and you have his undivided attention. I think the iPad can help with speech therapy and to help stretch our dollar.

Some of you know Elijah, so it goes without saying that he isn’t always the most easy going.  If we make a change of plans or take him somewhere where he’s never been, he doesn’t always know how to deal with it.  Often that means melt downs, tantrums, inappropriate behavior, and that famous high pitched, awful scream he has.  One of the ways we help with new situations (and old ones where that are difficult) is to write a social story for him.  Essentially, a social story is a “this is what’s going to happen and this is how you behave” type of story.  We personalize it to him using pictures from the internet and we write Elijah’s story. Then we print it out and laminate it.  We pull out the stories we need when we need them.  Here is an example of a social story for Going to Art Class.   It would be magic to have all those lovely stories tucked away in an iPad so that we could “pull” out the ones we need at any given moment.  Elijah’s and my stress would be greatly reduced when I have to to make an unexpected stop at the grocery store.  He could read “What I can Do When Plans Change” on the way and “Grocery Shopping” in the cart.  There’s an app for this!

In Occupational therapy, Eli is the obstacle course star.  That kid can climb/swing from/wiggle through anything.  Elijah may be super at gross motor skills, but his fine motor skills, particularly handwriting, is bad (even for a boy:)) Getting him to sit and practice printing goes one of two ways, he endures it reluctantly to get to the next task, or he refuses, by throwing his pencil, writhing on the floor, or hyperventilating.  But, put a touch screen in front of him and he will trace paths or letters with his fingers willingly, without knowing that he’s working on a problem area.  We know this from the little tracing some of his DS games require, and from a couple of games on Kyle’s iPhone.  The iPad’s larger screen means that he can start tracing big images that continually get smaller as his skill progresses.  And yup,  you guessed it, there’s an app for that!

There are also apps aplenty that will help with our homeschooling curriculum, math, social, reading, etc, and there are also apps that help kids, like Eli, who don’t understand social norms.  Like: where we need to keep our voices down, why we need to look at someone when we talk to them, how to say hello and goodbye, how to ask other kids to play, and how to politely tell other kids when he needs some space to be alone.  Elijah has learned thousands of things from Kyle and I and his sisters, and we continue to find real world ways to teach, and interact with him.  I think that balance is crucial, but I also know that when Elijah figures it out for himself the lesson is more lasting than when I drill it in a million times.  He practically taught himself to read from Starfall, Key Skills and PBS kids games.  Oh sure, I work with him at the kitchen table, but he is far beyond Petra’s reading level, and that is a testament to his brightness, and his own quest to learn at his own speed on the computer.

All of that being said let’s not overlook the obvious entertainment factor.  Because it’s full colour, and has a large screen it makes the perfect picture book e-reader, we can download Lego building instructions and he can independently play for hours (he loves Lego), he can watch movies, and play games on it, perfect for when the line up at the store is too long for him to endure.  One iPad in the house means learning how to share, and take turns with his sisters (I’m not sure if there’s a app for that).

These are the reasons I can think of to impress upon you why an iPad could be beneficial, even to our verbal guy.  I’m sure I’ll think of more later but these are the big ones.

So here’s where you come in.  You knew I had to be getting to this from the title, and that fact that I told you if I sell 60 of these:

From the website: NECKLACE This unique handmade, one of a kind puzzle piece is made from diachronic glass and measures 1 1/2 x 1 x 1/4". It comes on a 16" or 18" rubber cord, attached by a lobster clasp. All necklaces arrive individually packaged in a powder blue gift pouch. This necklace was made with lots of love and passion. My wish is that you enjoy wearing it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

or these:

From the website: KEY CHAIN Made of alloy and weighing 1.8 oz., this double barrel clasp key chain is worth its weight. It is a sophisticated key chain that does not require words to communicate its cause. For all the men who love a child with autism this one is for you.

We get an iPad for free.

If neither of these are your particular style or taste, but you would like to help, you can purchase a necklace or key-chain and I (you) will donate any unwanted jewelry to Autism services in Saskatoon where they will either give them to Moms or Dads who would love something like this, or sell it as a silent auction piece.  You can indicate if you want to give it away, or have it auctioned if you’d like.  Or you can keep it and give it away as a gift to someone you know. 1 in 110 children are affected by autism and that means you likely know another family with someone on the spectrum who would love it.  If you run a business the key chain would be perfect for tacking up on a corkboard, or to have displayed as a plant charm to show your customers that you are  business that supports autism awareness.  Furthermore if you would like to purchase jewelry under your business name, I would be happy to write a small blurb about how your business helped Elijah earn a free iPad that you can put in your blog or newsletter.

Okay, do I seem slimy sales-pitchy?  I’ll stop now.  I contemplated whether this was worth doing, if asking for this was going to make me seem selfish? greedy? I’m not sure of the word I’m looking for here.  I also wondered if I should even bother to see if I could sell 60 of theses, because in April I’m going to campaign for funds for Autism Service’s big Gala in Saskatoon.  They have been so good to us, and they deserve generous financial support, and so I will be asking for your money again then.  On the plus side, since our kids aren’t in public school you won’t ever have to buy chocolate covered almonds or wrapping paper from me, and this iPad fundraiser benefits our family solely.  Ask and ye shall receive they say.  If I don’t make 60, I don’t make 60.

Both pieces cost 20 dollars USD each, and are well worth it.  If you would like to order one please send me an email, make a comment in the comment box,  tell me personally, or send a letter to Erron Anderson, Box 841, Dundurn SK, S0K 1K0. I will collect cheques that you send me and place the order when there are 60, or once it seems that I reached the peak amount of interest to buy if there are fewer.  I will absolutely keep you posted here on this blog. I know it’s likely the worst time to be campaigning to get people to spend money, but maybe you have some extra Christmas cash burning a hole in your pocket?  And if it’s not in your budget, I get that, it’s okay.  If  it’s not in your budget, but you would like to help make this happen for us,  you can to pay this link forward via email, write your own blog entry or copy this one to your blog, post it to your facebook page, or Twitter account, and I’m grateful.

We are not rich, and we are not poor, but an iPad, though we’ve thought about it, seems a fairly large expense, and so we’ve decided it is too far down the list to think about getting one.  I think it’s wonderful that Melissa and The Puzzling Piece are going to make iPads happen for families who will benefit from them, even if we don’t end up being one of them. Kudos to you!!

Editing again to change payment info:

Previously I had to take the order from you, by cheque, paypal or e transfer.  Now the easiest way is to purchase directly from The Puzzling Piece! PLEASE don’t forget to add in the notes that you are purchasing for Erron Anderson’s Fundraiser for Elijah Anderson.  This way the item is shipped directly to you, not me, and then to you, and we still get credit.  For those of you who have already ordered, I’m sorry this option was not available to you at the time.

Here is the letter Melissa sent me on how to order (if you do order will you please comment or send me an email, so I can track our number of orders?):

Hello to all the iPad Challengers-

I have made a decision to try and help you all out.  In order for me to do this, I am really going to need you support!  Your friends, family and donors can now place their order for the necklace or key chains by going to www.thepuzzlingpiece.com.  Many of you have been asking for this to happen so I have conceded!  The only way this can work is if your supporters put your full name in the notes at checkout.  There is a spot on the pay pal checkout page where they can leave a note.  I will have no way to track your sales unless your supporters do this.  Please, Please, Please make sure your people do this.

We are proud to announce we have had 4 people complete the challenge.  Keep up the hard work and we are really excited to send your children a brand new iPad.

Please have anyone who writes you check to have it written to The Puzzling Piece.  Just so you don’t have to ask how many have been sold for you we will send an update on the 15th and the 30th of every month.  If there has been no change we will not update.  We will update any winners the day the goal is met.  Also just remind your supporters the challenge only includes the glass necklace and key chain.

This Challenge has been going so well we just don’t want to waste time!  Good luck to everyone.

All the best,

Melissa Winter

President-Mom

The Puzzling Piece

201-602-0547

www.thepuzzlingpiece.com

Death and Christmas

I’ve been thinking about this post again, I could write something similar and new, but it would just be regurgitation.  This is the first Christmas without my Babby, and while I likely feel the loss less than many in my family, I miss her.  There will be no cheery Christmas phone call this year.  It makes me very sad that we were here in Saskatchewan last year and didn’t go for Christmas.  Why?  We weren’t invited, I didn’t want to be imposing house guests, my Babby was worn out and my kids are BUSY.  There are a million excuses and none of them really answer the question, because they are all full of their own type of holes.  We can’t change the past.

As we live on the holidays will likely continue to have more people we miss.  That’s part of the inevitability of life, we all die.  Some before they should, some after a long life, some after injury, sickness or disease where death itself is a small mercy, but they all leave an emptiness behind.

I hope your Christmas is merry, and happy, ours this year promises to be.  Petra checks the calendar everyday and announces how many more days.  Elijah keeps telling us “Don’t forget to buy me a present”.  We have treasured family coming to visit, and there are presents a plenty for under the tree.  This year the girls are getting Princess American Girl type dolls.  Aurora for Tal, and Ariel for Petra (or maybe Tiana she keeps changing her mind, we have both for her, but one is going back), and there’s another Tiana doll in the closet for Kate.  Every year we buy something that we would have bought for her this Christmas and give it to charity.  It’s a nice way to include her in our buying, and it will make some little girl very happy, but the sorrow in thinking about the joy three princesses would have brought pokes through sometimes.   Still our kids have more than they need, and giving to a family with less is a great lesson for them, and that friends, is one more way Katie has blessed our family.

Merry Christmas to you!

————————————————————————————————————————————–

First Posted Dec 18th 2009

Katie’s Christmas Legacy

Seems a few people I know are experiencing grief in a big way this season, it’s the first holiday after the death of their loved one.  I wish there was some way for me to bear it for them, because it really is so hard.  The world is happy, full of mirth, joy, and thanksgiving.  People are down right jolly.  When the one you love isn’t here, the contrasting darkness of your life feels so bleak, and almost shameful.  People still ask “Are you having a good Christmas?”  “Has Santa been good to you?”  “Did you get what you want this year?”  And the answer to all these questions is no.  Yes, even in sadness and in the mist of grief there are moments of light and joy, but they are breaks in the darkness, not lasting light.  A good Christmas would be with all those we love, that they would be alive, and celebrating with us.  That first Christmas after death  can be downright awkward.  Stuff your feelings, pretend to be happy, so you don’t bring others down.  Perhaps what those of us who can feel the joy in the season should be doing is lifting others up, not in a “Come onnn, cheer up!!” sort of way, but in an understanding ” I know this must be hard for you, but I love you” sort of way

This is our fifth Christmas without Katie, and still it’s hard.  Yesterday she was on my mind in a big way.  It’s not the same debilitating I can’t get off the couch, or why don’t we have more Kleenex sort of day anymore.  Having other kids now helps tremendously, they make you find joy.  But there was an emptiness in our house yesterday that doesn’t usually permeate the forefront of my thought.  I think knowing that the Christmas service in Edmonton for parents who have lost a baby was yesterday, didn’t help.  I had hoped that in being close I would make it there this year.  It really is a nice way to remember, how much is lost to some parents each year.  Kyle has been witting his exam, counseling students, and attending meetings about some ridiculous work bureaucracy, plus we had just made a trip to Edmonton last week, and therefore we just couldn’t swing it.

Witnessing, or knowing about new grief among my friends this season is hard.  It gets better, but constantly being told that that future is what we should hold on to, sucks, because the right now is miserable.  I think you have a right to be miserable if you need to, a big hole has been ripped open in your life, and pretending it’s not there does nothing to help repair it.  I wish I could find the quote, but I once read a quote that said essentially this.  God could mend your heart quickly with large lose stitches, but it would just tear open again, so instead He works slowly with small tight stitches, it hurts more and takes longer, but when He is finished it is lasting work.  You’ll always bear a scar, but your heart will hold love, hope and joy again.

So my friends, Lauren and Rob, Janine, and Jenn, and those of you who have lost someone you love this year, go ahead and have a hard Christmas, be lonely for the ones you love, cherish the breaks of light and feel joy where you can, but be true to how you feel, so that your stitches may be lasting too.  This scared heart is praying for you, and perhaps part of Katie’s legacy is understanding that sometimes you just need to grieve.