Here we go again!

THAT CRAZY I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M GOING THERE THOUGHT

There was this thought, you see.  A thought that wriggled around for months until it finally landed and I was able to see it for what it was.  A dream, for sure.  It sounded a bit ridiculous in the beginning as it was still niggling around not quite believing it was there.  And it didn’t want to let go.  No matter how much I tried to shove it to the back of mind… it was still there, living and breathing and forming a life of its own. 

I’m not quite sure why I let it fester for so long.  Fear was certainly at the forefront.  Fear of dreaming the impossible.  Fear for dreaming up insanity.  Fear for what people would think. Gasp!  And then suddenly those fears started to shrink and eventually evaporate into thin air.  Suddenly I could breathe and it felt so fresh, so alive and so powerful… and I knew in those winter months we were on to something.  Something that could be big.  Something that could be exactly what we were meant to do.

The research began involving letters, emails, walking up to strangers’ doorsteps and talking to trusted friends in the area to make discreet inquiries on our behalf.  After months of searching, we finally had our answer, as if it had been waiting there for us all along. 

THE WHY

If there is one thing I have learned about life over the years, it has been the realization that life is a journey.  Constantly learning and growing and shifting and pivoting to places I could never dream of.  I’m so grateful these types of decisions are being thrown at us now that I’m older and wiser and all that.  I have found that in maturing and learning from our journey along the way, it’s okay to admit to mistakes. 

You may remember that just a few short years ago, my husband and I made a life-changing decision to move back to my husbands’ hometown.  We did it for so many reasons (see blog entitled, When one door closes).  However, at that time as we were leaving the suburbs behind and moving to the “country”, ironically enough, 4-H and livestock wasn’t even a passing thought.  We looked for houses in the school district we desired to no avail.  We looked for land, both via realtor and for sale by owner.  Eventually we came across a lot in a country subdivision that seemed to check all the boxes. We took a leap of faith and went for it, without too much second thought or further consideration.

I don’t regret that decision.  Not one bit.  Even though that decision was a mistake for us, we learned from it.  We had never built a house before, and we learned from it.  We opened up our world to possibilities these past two years, and we learned from it.  We introduced the kids to 4-H and livestock and we learned from it.

So, with all that said… wait for it, wait for it…. We are moving again!  Say what? I am so at peace with our decision that it is no longer an afterthought.  It’s for real and it feels so good.  We’re not moving far.  About 3 miles to be exact.  And why, you may be asking?  Many reasons actually, but the main reason is that we have found property with fewer deed restrictions, including the ability to have livestock.

WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK???

There was a time when I would have been so worried about what people might think.  Thank the Lord, that is no longer the case.  This may sound crazy to some… and that’s perfectly okay.  For our family, it makes perfect sense.  If you read my last blog entry entitled, “I Heart Something” this will make a lot more sense. 

There is something to be said about feeling settled and not feeling settled.  Even though we only moved into our house about a year and half ago, I never quite got that settled feeling.  Probably due to the niggling thoughts that turned out to be much more significant that I originally believed.  There is also something to be said about listening to your gut.  I’m such a big believer in that.  For the longest time, my gut was telling me something wasn’t quite right.  Then came avoidance.  Then came denial.  Then came, “Julie, you are straight up crazy to even be considering moving away from the dream home you just built. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.”  Then came our first 4-H meetings and the adoption of sheep.  Then came the fair in the form of pure magic.  And that’s when I knew.  I wasn’t crazy.  It was okay to dream.  It was okay to start anew.  It was okay to think of all the possibilities. 

THE SEARCH

So, after months and months of researching we finally had our answers. We knew we had to get it right this time so we took our time and made sure to weigh out all the pros and cons.  We’re big list people. It’s amazing how a pro/con list can give perspective.  However, our months of searching for houses with land and searching for land to build a house on where we could have livestock was full of dead ends.  It was literally like trying to find a needle in a haystack.  The ever elusive land opportunities in our part of the world made making a dream happen nearly impossible.  A lot of “no’s” came our way.  Yet, we still continued the search. 

It's all very strange, actually.  We weren’t even looking to move to another subdivision, but rather searching for small lots of acreage along country roads within our current school district.  Then we drove through another neighborhood that had chickens and goats and the like and we realized that livestock were allowed back in this neighborhood.  We got really excited, then realized…. not so fast.  You see, in this neighborhood, it was originally developed several years ago.  The original deed restrictions allowed for livestock.  Then another developer came in a few years later and put in pages and pages of deed restrictions on the neighborhood, including NO livestock.  Noooooooo!  We were so close!

KEEPING THE DREAM ALIVE

And it goes to show, never give up.  When you want something bad enough, you keep trying.  Well, after more research, we figured out that about 10 lots were grandfathered into the original deed restrictions. Nine out of those 10 lots already had houses built on them and none for sale.  And then finally, there it was.  The last lot that was grandfathered into the original deed restrictions that included the approval of livestock.  Approval. Of. Livestock.  With big neon flashing letters.  Somewhere the angels were singing that magical chorus.  Dare we hope that this lot could be sold?  We reached out and by the grace of God, found out that this last lot was bought several years ago and the owner was indeed looking to sell.  Again, with the hallelujah chorus.  And it sounds so pretty.

So much has happened over the past few months.  We got approval from the bank and our house plans are complete.  The kids are excited for what’s to come.  The house will be built over the next 8 months and we will be building a barn next fall to accommodate future 4-H projects.  Dreams really do come true.  And yes, that’s super cheesy.  I know this. But man, when it happens, and it such a way that you know it’s meant to be… that’s something to behold.

At the new lot on closing day, 10.23.18

At the new lot on closing day, 10.23.18

Final drawings of the new house

We will soon be saying good-bye to this house, sometime in late spring/early summer 2019.

I Heart Something

 FINDING JOY

Growing up, I had a lot of passions in life.  I couldn’t just choose a few things, I loved it all.  Sports, singing, dancing, reading… and the list goes on and on.  I found basketball at the age of 3 and I committed by heart and soul to the sport for years to come.  The game brought me such happiness.  No matter what was going on in my life, and let me tell you, my childhood was the definition of dysfunctional… basketball was there for me, through thick and thin.  When I walked onto the court, everything else just fell away.  Whether I was getting ready for a basketball practice, camp or game… the elation I felt before walking out onto the court was indescribable.  It was my escape, sure, but it filled my head, heart and hands with pure joy.

I lead with that story simply as a way to convey what I know to be true.  When you find something that brings you such joy, it can be in a word – life-changing.   All those years ago when I found out I was pregnant and having a boy, my brain went straight to how much fun it would be to raise a son, and sports was just a natural fantasy to my vision.  Oh, how naïve and assuming I was back then. 

Fast-forward ten years and my vision of raising a son has evolved and matured and led me to places I could never dream of.  Raising a boy and girl has given me insight to the striking differences there are between two children.  On one hand, my daughter has many passions – sports, singing, dancing – hmmm, I guess she gets it honestly. All of which give her a true happiness. What a reward to watch and catch glimpses of pure bliss on her face while out on the soccer field or on a stage.

My son, on the other hand, has had so many health challenges thrown his way.  It has been hard to find his “thing”… that thing that fills his heart with joy.  Around the age of 5, Brady tried soccer.  After two line-drives to his g-tube and enduring an immense amount of pain, it was safe to say his soccer days were over.  Next we tried baseball.  He enjoyed the game while it was still coach-pitch, but he wanted nothing to do with kid pitch for fear of getting hit.  Pick and choose your battles, I told myself.  If he was uncomfortable, coupled with whishy-washy feelings on playing the sport, it was time to hang up the baseball bat and glove and move on. 

Soccer days

Last season of soccer

T-ball days

Coach-pitch days

The more activities we tried, the more frustrating it became to see Brady not loving something.  I so badly wanted him to experience a love for something like I did in my youth.  He hasn’t been that motivated to try new things, but all that changed in the summer of 2017 when we went out to the county fair to visit the livestock barns.  As we went through each barn, Brady was fascinated by what he saw. Cows and goats and pigs and horses!  But it was the sheep that spoke to him the most and a seed was firmly planted.  A seed that would come to life when open houses were announced to join 4-H the following winter. 

I’m not exactly sure why or how – but something told me that we needed to pursue this idea of 4-H with the potential of raising sheep for the fair.  I have to think it was a total God thing.  Plain and simple.  There were so many obstacles that could have gotten in our way.  Lack of knowledge and insecurities of diving into something completely foreign -- to finding a place to board the sheep (our neighborhood has strict deed restrictions regarding livestock).  So many things running through my head – yet I didn’t let a one of ‘em detour me from finding out more.

We went to a 4-H club open house in January and were quickly overcome by the kindness shown by all of the advisors and families.  We felt so welcomed and even though we had no idea what we were doing, I knew deep down the club members around us wouldn’t let us fail or falter. Going off gut instinct, we went full steam ahead and moved forward with buying sheep.  We were able to find a kind farmer down the road who was willing and able to let us board our sheep in his barn… and suddenly the impossible became possible.

BECOMING A SHEPHERD

On April 8, we bought 2 lambs.  Brady being a huge history buff and Star Wars fan, aptly named the sheep, “Abe Lincoln” and “Yoda”.  From the very start, Brady absolutely loved having sheep.  Finally!  That thing that brought him joy!  He never complained about driving over to the farm twice a day to feed the lambs.  

At the sheep sale, April 8, 2018

April 8, 2018

Our first month as sheep owners didn’t go by without a hitch though.  The unseasonably cold spring weather was tough on the young livestock.  Almost 4 weeks after bringing the lambs to their new home, “Yoda” died, most likely from pneumonia.  In a word, it was devastating on our young shepherd.  Brady has never really had to experience death or grief.  The day "Yoda" died, we sat down with Brady and told him the news. He cried and cried ... and my heart broke for him. 

The sheep breeder we bought our lambs off of could not have been more supportive through the whole process, despite the breeders’ son going through his own medical health crisis.  We adopted “Yoda 2.0” the very day “Yoda” died to help with the transition.  Although Brady was sad, he surprised me with how adept he was with handling his own grief while moving forward and onward.  We ended up adopting one more sheep that day that our daughter named, “Eileen”.  So, now we had 3 sheep to take care of and Brady was ecstatic.

Reading to the lambs in the first few weeks

Reading to the lambs in the first few weeks

Walking the lambs in early spring

Walking the lambs in early summer

Walking the lambs in early summer

The weeks went by fast.  I wondered if the honeymoon phase would wear off eventually.  I thought Brady would start begrudging the daily trips to feed and walk the lambs.  That never happened. In fact, Brady showed so much maturity and responsibility through the entire process that it took me by such delighted surprise by how much this kid was getting out of his 4-H project.  The days became much warmer, yet the motivation to feed and walk never wavered. It was in those days leading up to the fair that it hit me – we were on to something special. 

Getting lessons from his mentor on how to show market lambs at the fair

Getting lessons on how to show market lambs at the fair

Getting lessons on how to show market lambs at the fair

THE GIFT

Finally, fair time was here!  So much hard work and anticipation for fair week and finally the time had come!  We moved our sheep in on a Saturday and it was a complete whirlwind. The very next day was show day and Brady could not have been more excited to go out into the arena.  After watching his sister at countless games and events, it was his turn to shine in this brave new world.

Move-in day at the fair

Move-in day at the fair
Brady with Mr. Roger (the farmer who boarded our sheep)

Move-in day at the fair
Brady and Sydney with Mr. Roger (the farmer who boarded our sheep)

What happened on that Sunday was magical.  I was overcome with so much emotion as I watched my son flourish and shine in a way that I never thought could be possible.  In the arena, it didn’t matter that he was a kid suffering from a rare disease.  It didn’t matter that he had a feeding tube that has held him back in so many ways.  It didn’t matter he was small for his age.  No, in this arena, Brady could be Brady.  And the crowd embraced that.  He smiled. And smiled. And smiled.  He fell down a few times. Yet, he smiled.  THIS!  This moment was the moment I had been waiting for for 10 long years. The moment when my son could experience such joy in happiness in an arena where he was accepted and encouraged and loved. 

So many things have not been easy for Brady.  But this?  It just did.  Something came alive last week that I’m going to hold on to for years to come.  Keeping an open mind and being brave and curious are just a few lessons I have learned through our 4-H experience.  We could have easily said that going the livestock route had too many obstacles.  And if we had, I shudder to think on all the moments my son would have missed.  

And that’s just it.  My son had a moment last week at the fair.  It’s hard to explain everything this kid has already gotten out of this 4-H club, after only being a member for 7 short months.  This experience has reminded me there is nothing Brady can’t do when he puts his mind to something.  Brady has gained confidence and made new friends and has found something that he can truly make his own.  What a win!  And although Brady didn’t bring home a coveted blue ribbon, he placed high in all of his shows.  What a confidence-builder that was!  And he is already hungry for next year and can’t wait until the sheep sale next April to do this all over again.

Show Day

Show Day

Show Day

Show Day

Show Day

Show Day

Show Day, being congratulated by his mentor, Kaleb

Show ribbons

Skillathon Day

Sale Day

FINDING OUR TRIBE

I know Brady has learned so many lessons this past week… What it means to work hard for something.  What it means to help a fellow neighbor/club member out.  What it means to love and nurture an animal and how to say that emotional good-bye at the end.  He learned what it means to encourage others.  What it means to be accepted by others.  What it means to have people in your corner.  And perhaps, most importantly, what it feels like when you have finally found your tribe. 

This 4-H experience has done just that.  We have found our tribe.  It’s amazing what happens when you find yourself surrounded by family and new-found friends that give acceptance. Show understanding. And provide support.  It does so much for the soul.  I know my heart is full.

To our newfound tribe, a thank you doesn’t seem enough.  I can’t find the right words for the gratitude I feel with the gifts you have given our family.  It’s almost as if I have experienced an awakening and a genuine hopefulness that I didn’t even know was missing. 

For now, our family will relish in the finding of our tribe and their gift of love as we anticipate the coming of another year in 4-H.

4‑H Pledge

I pledge my head to clearer thinking,

My heart to greater loyalty,

My hands to larger service,

and my health to better living,

for my club, my community, my country, and my world.

Let your light shine, my boy.  Let your light shine.

When one door closes

Hello again!

Okay, so that was a long hiatus from the blog.  I haven’t posted in quite some time.  Life happens, you know?  It’s been quite a year.  Life-changing decisions leading to chaos and calm all at the same time.  Last summer, my husband and I decided something didn’t feel right.  It was a conversation we casually discussed off and on for a few years.  Then a moment of clarity came in the form of vacation last June… the space and the time for deep conversations on what we really wanted for our family was granted.  And our conclusion was thankfully the same, we needed to move.  It certainly wasn’t an easy decision and not one we made lightly.  Moving meant taking our kids out of the only school district they’ve ever known, leaving friendships behind and leading us toward uncertain change in the future. 

It was simply a leap of faith.  Pure faith in knowing that what we were doing was the right decision for our children and for our family.  The fit wasn’t right where we were at and we were looking for something different that came in the form of family support and good old fashioned small town values.  So much had changed in the past seven years since moving to our previous home.  Brady was diagnosed with Eosinophilic Esophagitus (EoE) over six years ago.  Brady then had his feeding tube inserted over five years ago.  Our lives changed so drastically in a blink of an eye. Suddenly life was complicated.  We were complicated.  Everything about our lives became complicated from the way we ate meals to the way we interacted with family and friends to how we found daycare for our children.  We couldn’t just put our kids into any daycare due to Brady’s feeding tube.  From there, it became obvious we were going to have to rely on family in a very big way. 

Five years ago we had to take our kids out of daycare to accommodate Brady’s needs.  That led to three grandparents all taking turns watching our kids 5 days a week.  It was such a blessing.  And with that blessing came the guilt of all the needs our family now had and how much we had come to rely on family members to help us.   We started to have the conversation a few years ago that perhaps we should look at making it easier on the grandparents who had so generously given up their time to commute to our house during super early morning hours to watch our kids or get our kids on and off the bus while my husband and I were at work. 

When one door closes…

Suddenly the answer was so clear… it was time to move closer to home.  To a place where our kids could get much of the same upbringing that we had as kids.  To a place where small town values were still alive and well.  To a place where family would be just a few short miles away.  So, up went the “for sale” sign and one month later the “sold” sign followed.  Last summer was nothing short of a whirlwind with countless house showings and hard decisions on where we would live next. 

We closed a seven-year chapter full of hope and excitement of buying our dream home in the beginning that led to a different chapter altogether.  One full of pain, sorrow, and frustration on our road to diagnosis for Brady.  Living through his first year with a feeding tube also made a hard impact.  It was a chapter that through twists and turns led us to pure survival mode with a few bumps and bruises along the way. 

It’s funny how things can come full circle.  In August 2016, we began a new chapter in our lives full of hope and excitement once again.  This chapter started with the dream of building our own home.  This new beginning also included the start of a new school year in a new school system.  This chapter marked the beginning of new friendships formed and new family traditions started.  This chapter could easily be entitled, “Validation”.  All those concerns my husband and I had over the past several years slowly began to dissipate and what filled that space was full of the realization that the hard decisions we had made in the past year were absolutely the right decisions for our family.  What we have found in our move is a place that truly feels like home.  A place where new friendships have already been formed that I know will be deep and lasting.  A place full of support and love.

The day our house officially went on the market, July 2016.

Another door opens…

During the building of our new home, these past several months have been… well, shall I say interesting.  After we sold our home, we moved to our new town and had planned to stay in an apartment during the duration of the build.  Unfortunately, that very apartment fell through at the very last minute due to health concerns for Brady.  We decided it wasn’t worth risking his health, so we went with Plan B… moving in with my husband’s parents.  We were there from August to May and endured the painstakingly slow process of our home being built. 

Plan B certainly had its’ challenges.  For one, we were completely out of sync and out of our routine.  And unfortunately, I’ll admit that Brady suffered the brunt of that.  Feeding therapy took a back seat as we tried to conform to new house rules and traditions.  We didn’t make much progress at all with Brady eating and trying new foods. It simply felt like it was too much to take on in the middle of the chaos.   

Our feeding therapist told us that was okay at our session in December. I decided that our therapist was absolutely right.  I needed to stop with the guilt that Brady wasn’t getting the time and attention he needed with therapy.  I needed to be okay with the fact that when we moved into our new home, things would be changing.  We would be able to get back into a routine; a routine that will be challenging as we find our way back.  That routine will allow us the time and space to truly get back to the road that will help Brady get better.

I can safely say we are now ready to open the door to a new chapter.  

New game plan

And so we start our new game plan and I can’t wait to share the next part of our journey.  We have ramped up Brady’s feeding therapy this summer.  Brady’s feeding therapist has full confidence that my husband and I will get there.  That we can absolutely get Brady to a new, healthy place with eating and trying new foods.  To a place in far, far away land where a feeding tube is no longer needed. 

At last, it’s time to pack our bags and be on our way.

Moving company at the storage unit, May 2017

      

Move in day, at last! May, 2017.

Something's Gotta Give

That moment when it sinks in.  That moment when the unavoidable is staring you straight in the face.  That moment you realize you are being truly tested.  That your belief system is being truly tested.  That moment you realize your faith and optimism is at risk.  That moment when you finally realize that something’s gotta give.

GIVE UP THE FUNK

I haven’t posted in quite some time.  I kept waiting for inspiration.  I waited for improvement to report on.  I looked for signs of progress.  I sat back trying to take it all in and when I looked down from 30,000 feet above trying to see the big picture… I didn’t like what I saw.  Such little movement within the past year.  Baby steps, sure.  But giant leaps were nowhere to be found.  Brady had tried a few more foods... by taking the teeniest, tiniest bites possible.  We had added popsicles, donuts, coconut milk ice cream, and coconut milk yogurt.  And when I say we added these foods, I mean that Brady would now eat one or two bites in one sitting.  Certainly not enough to come close to a meal.  Hence, the need for 90% of his nutrition to come from his specialized formula through his g-tube.

I began to question.  Is this how it will always be?  Is this as far as we can go?  Is this all we get for the hard work and dedication and persistence?  I suppose with the lack of progress came lack of inspiration.  Just muddling through and trying to get from one day to the next.  The funk was here and settling in quite nicely.  I wanted to tell the funk exactly where it could go, but I simply didn’t have the strength… or the time. 

If I'm to be completely honest, last year was nothing short of overwhelming.  Brady started kindergarten and I quickly found out that kindergarten was no joke, especially considering Brady's developmental delays and recent diagnosis of ADD.   For some kids, school comes naturally.  For Brady, not so much.  Brady's first year was full of challenges, both EoE and non-EoE related.  Keeping up with it all was tough... and at times frustrating, frightening and depressing.  I felt that there was never enough time.  So many times I crashed at the end of the day, exhausted to the core with all the exertion that our daily life required.

So many days I thought to myself, this wasn't part of the plan!  This wasn't the life I envisioned for my child.  I was reminded in church this past Sunday that all of our well intentioned "Plan A's" are not within our control.  The message was a simple one, God is all about "Plan B's".  I'm still learning to be okay with and accepting of that.

THE AWAKENING

The awakening occurred shortly after Brady’s 7^th birthday in March 2015.  We had just arrived to Brady’s weekly feeding therapy session when his therapist came out with a blue gift bag for Brady.  Brady greedily tore into the bag to reveal his gift… a toy car.  His therapist was excited to celebrate his birthday and casually mentioned, “To Brady, my longest-standing client.”  And that’s when it hit me.  Bam.  Out of nowhere I was hit with the sudden realization that Brady was getting nowhere quick.  “Longest-standing client” is a title I never sought out for my son.  It didn’t feel like an honor.  It felt more like a failure because clearly we were doing something wrong. 

I started to question the little progress we had made.  The funk was beginning to lift and I was startled at how much time had passed with so little to report on.  Then the panic started to set in as I realized that Brady was about to finish kindergarten in a few short months and would be starting 1^st grade in the very near future.  Brady was attending a part time kindergarten program at the time and the thought of him starting school five full days a week scared the living crap out of me.  My biggest concern was just how very little Brady was still eating by mouth.  In March 2015, my only comfort was knowing that Brady was only away at school 2-3 days a week, allowing me and my husband time to play catch up with calories the other days of the week.  Brady still gets most of his nutrition through his g-tube and eats next to nothing for lunch at school.  The only real nutrition Brady gets during the school day is from a lunch bolus feed given to him by his school nurse to sustain him all day while at school.

I tried to remember to just breathe.  But I couldn’t.  All I could see was this precious window of time rapidly closing in to work with my son on feeding therapy.   In between trying to breathe, I started to question our lack of progress.  Why weren't we further along with eating?  When would Brady start trying new foods?  When would Goldfish finally stop being the only staple food in his daily diet?  When, when, when???  I was so very tired of not seeing progress.  Frustrated with the baby steps.  And most of all, wondering…. What was it going to take to get Brady in a better place with eating?

CRUCIAL CONVERSATION

A week after finding out Brady’s new title of “longest-standing client”, I went back to his therapist and asked the all-important question, “Why?”  Why had we earned that title?  What were we doing wrong?  What did we need to do to make more progress?  Her answer was simple.  We needed more time.  In her opinion, Brady is a tough case.  She said that in her experience, intensive feeding therapy works better when one parent is able to stay home full or part time.  Well, there you have it.  Her answer shouldn’t have surprised me.  But once she said it, all the puzzle pieces fell into place. 

This is the look of most of Brady's feeding therapy sessions.  A plate full of good intentions in the beginning of the session.  Then 45 minutes spent trying to get Brady to take a few bites.  By the end, most of the food on the plate ends up being thrown in the trash.  On a bright note, here is a picture of Brady trying coconut chocolate milk.  He will drink 1-2 ounces on occasion.

NO WONDER

No wonder we haven’t made much progress.  No wonder Brady wasn’t getting any better.  No wonder there was frustration.  Our current situation was not ideal.  Here we were with two full-time working parents and three grandparents desperately trying to fill the void and help during our work days.  The five days a week my husband and I are at work, we have three different grandparents watching our kids.  They do an amazing job taking care of our kids, but they simply do not know feeding therapy.  Nor should they.  They want to be “Mee Maw” and “Grammy” and “Grandpa”… not the feeding therapist.  Having a child with a feeding tube limits our childcare options and we were simply making due with the family support that was offered and desperately needed. 

It was time to make some hard decisions.  Brady needed more attention.  He needed a more consistent effort with following through on feeding therapy.  The truth of the matter was, there just wasn’t enough time in a day.  Five days a week my husband and I were both out the door by 7AM.  Therefore, no breakfast feeding therapy.  We returned back home early evening, therefore no lunch feeding therapy.  Five days a week, we were left with a small window to do feeding therapy during dinner and two full days during the weekend to focus on feeding efforts.  That all sounds good in theory until you add in the whirlwind of life.  The whirlwind of activities – soccer, dance, t-ball, piano, homework, trips, church, etc.  Adding that into the equation oftentimes made feeding therapy and techniques inconsistent... even on our best days.

GUILT TRIP

Then the inevitable guilt set in.  Where had I been?  Why hadn’t I done something sooner?  Why had I let so much time go by with so little progress?  Why hadn’t I asked the question sooner – what more could we do to help Brady?  Never mind that.  I try so hard not to second-guess.  We are in the here and now… so what were we going to do about it?

It was clear that I needed to cut back on my work hours to focus more on Brady.  He was simply getting lost in the shuffle.  It was time to officially get our priorities straight.  So, I did some research to see how I could reduce my hours to better meet Brady’s needs.  Next, came the big ask.  I was sick with fear making the request.  I prayed and hoped I would find understanding since my request the year before was denied.  After working through some options, I was able to reduce my work schedule a few hours per week.  Not much, but at least it’s something.  It’s a start.  A start that I hope will lead to more progress, to some sense of normalcy, to lead us to a healthier place where Brady learns to enjoy food.  A place where Brady starts to truly thrive, without the help of his feeding tube, to grow without the help of formula, to safely land on the growth chart all on his very own.

AND SO WE BEGIN

We begin this concentrated effort.  We begin to be more consistent with feeding therapy.  We put faith in "Plan B".  We hope.  We dream.  We curse.  We shout.  We celebrate.  We believe.

I am a parent of a child with special needs.  My superpower is the ability to hope beyond what the eye can see and faith that through love all things are possible.  I have what it takes: the presence of mind to do what I do best – love with all my heart and BELIEVE.  HOPELights






A FEW BRIGHT MOMENTS FROM THE PAST YEAR...

Trying popped sorghum (Brady has always loved the smell of popcorn). Since Brady is allergic to corn, this is a safe alternative.  He will only eat a few kernels whenever we pop it.
The dream is for him to eventually eat a single serving.

Adding coconut milk yogurt to his dinner on occasion.

Brady celebrating his "50 Pound Party" with a few buddies.  Brady hit 50 pounds (huge milestone!) in late spring 2015. Brady was able to add donuts to his diet in fall 2014 (hurrah!). The boys celebrated with safe chocolate frosted donuts. These are moments I have to hold on to.

This picture hung in Brady's kindergarten classroom last year.  Such an amazing concept for those kindergarten minds...
as well as for their parents.  :)