Arrested!

That's the crazy thought that went through our minds when we saw Baby Boy's bed in his room at Children's Hospital! I have never been to a children's ward, so I had never seen the cages beds that kids sleep in. I guess we needed some comic relief after our ER scare. I am a slow learner, I still did not figure out the seriousness of my son's illness even after the triage nurse immediately showed us into a room upon arrival, seeing a team of three respiratory technicians, five nurses and three doctors all working on my son and all asking me rapid fire questions. Baby Boy has had more than his fair share of ER visits at our regular hospital (nothing like being on first name basis with the ER staff), but I thought that since this was a Children's hospital, this was protocol having so many people working on your child!

Baby Boy earned himself a four day stay at Children's Hospital and my heart goes out to parents whose children have extended hospitalizations. It is exhausting trying to keep a child from tearing off their IVs, keeping them in their beds when all they want to do is to make a run for it, and entertaining a child who is stuck in bed and who is anxious because he misses his siblings, but they can't visit him because he is under precautionary isolation. But, all things considered, Baby Boy was such a trooper and we did finally see a doctor who is more aggressive in treating asthma. We had seen a pulmonologist a couple of weeks before Baby Boy's hospitalization because I felt we did not have a good treatment plan for Baby Boy's asthma, but the pulmonologist pretty much kept the same treatment plan as Baby Boy's regular pediatrician. Now we have a better treatment plan and a lot less guilt for mommy because I felt like I missing something since I was following all the doctor's orders but Baby Boy was still making too many emergency room visits. 2 of my other kids have garden variety asthma while Baby Boy is a labile asthmatic - fine one minute and within hours his heart rate is racing, low oxygen saturation and really high respirations and needs more help than just his nebulizer.

Baby Boy is now back to his old happy self and he was one happy camper to be back home. We see his developmental pediatrician this week. Little guy needs a break - he is a friendly guy alright, but our heads spin with the medical professionals in his team - pediatrician, speech therapist, occupational therapist, developmental pediatrician, early interventionist and now a pulmonologist. But we are really grateful for access to excellent medical care and understanding work places.

Because I Hate Black People.......

Event: end of kindergarten school year picnic in the park.

One little kindergarten boy asks a little kindergarten girl to please be his partner for a water balloon fight. Little kindergarten girl folds her hands and tells little kindergarten boy she does not want to be his partner. Little innocent kindergarten boy skips off happily to look for some one else who wants to play. When all are paired up, little kindergarten girl does not have a partner. Little kindergarten girl with quivering lips comes to a mommy who was observing the interaction to ask for her assistance in getting a partner. The observing mommy reminds little kindergarten girl that little kindergarten boy had asked to be her partner and she declined. Little kindergarten girl without missing a beat says she did not want to play with him because she hates black people. Observing mommy almost has a heart attack - a full fledged racist kindergartener? Unfortunately (or fortunately because this mommy is not sure of the outcome of the "little talk" she would have had) little kindergarten girl’s mommy is not at the picnic.

So many things that are tragic with this picture – little kindergarten boy who has a really tender heart who through out the school year would finish his work really fast to help little kindergarten girl with her work - some of the other little girls would make fun of little kindergarten girl since she was struggling with kindergarten schoolwork and little kindergarten boy did not want anyone making fun of her. Little kindergarten boy who really wanted to learn how to tie his shoes and though shy, would ask any adult in the class to teach him how. All so that he could teach little kindergarten girl how to tie hers so that same said girls Would stop laughing at her since she did not know how to tie hers. Tragic that little kindergarten girl’s heart has already been corrupted with such hate at such a young age. Even more tragic that little girl peddling racism is Vietnamese and will have to deal with prejudice and racism directed at her. Tragic for innocent little kindergarten boy who will have to overcome enormous challenges to be the boy who God intended him to be – brilliant scientist, kind-hearted, caring and all around one totally decent kid. Oh how my heart breaks for him - it is one thing to deal with prejudice and racism from adults, but having to deal with it from your peers as early as kindergarten? Tragic for the mommy observing this interaction who was too flabbergasted to figure out how to handle the issue – I mean a chat with the parents is probably meaningless – racism is not genetic but taught. And this mommy has to quickly get her act together to get a game plan because her black children are counting on her to protect them against racism, both veiled and not so veiled. And all this happening in an elementary school in a state that calls itself the trail blazer in progressive issues and where diversity is supposedly the fad de jour. Oh what hope is there for our children if fifty years after dogs and fire hoses were unleashed on school children fighting against racism, racism is still so much alive and well?

When Love Is Not Enough

Before adopting Baby Boy, we knew he had some developmental delays. But his social worker assured us the delays were nothing that a loving home would not “cure” in a few short months. Well, I am here to say, that a year later, love alone has not “cured” my traumatized child. I totally was uninformed on the issues that a traumatized child can face (not that it would have made any difference whatsoever in our decision), but I am sad that the professionals who should be better informed seemed more clueless than I was. More than a year later, we have loved Baby Boy to pieces, advocated for his needs and made sure he gets early intervention services, speech therapy, sees a developmental pediatrician and we are now adding occupational therapy. Even with all these interventions, the progress is slower than slow. At 28 months, Baby Boy still does not speak volitionally, nor can he use his sign language volitionally – he will repeat words in context and use a sign after you say the word, but he can’t initiate the word or sign enough to communicate. His vocabulary is less than 10 words – less than his one year old sister’s vocabulary. This sometimes leaves a frustrated child – he knows what he wants, but simply can’t communicate his needs because mommy sometimes does not understand the grunts or pointing or babbling. And this leaves a grieving mommy when she looks at a happy, smiling boy who is clueless at the mountains he will have to overcome. I thought I had some parenting issues down pat, like how to potty train in four days. But we got thrown for a loop – how do you potty train a child who will not communicate volitionally that he needs to go? If you ask him if he needs to use the potty, he just smiles and says potty. Baby boy does not understand most two step commands and we are left wondering how to parent twins who are reaching their developmental milestones miles apart? And how do you show empathy for the one, without neglecting the needs of the other? When we were getting an evaluation for occupational therapy, I wanted to bury my head and pretend that the questions that the therapist was asking were not pointing to autism. Of course, she soon removed the wool from my eyes by using the A word! Baby Boy does not have an official diagnosis of autism, and I am stopping myself from doing any research – because I want a few carefree days of blessed ignorance before his next appointment with the developmental pediatrician in a couple of weeks. So we soldier on, trying to prove his social worker right that all he needs is love and he will catch up to his peers.

10/10

Big brother extraordinaire had a spell-a-thon today to raise funds for our school district (pending budget cuts may increase class size from 20 kids to 30 kids next school year). He aced it, but silly bunny did not even realize it! We have been practicing his spelling words along with his 100 sight word challenge for kindergarten and this morning, he was anxious because he thought he may not remember all his spelling words and disappoint his teacher. I so love the innocence of Kindergarteners and how they think the world of their teachers! It is such a magical age!

Congratulations big brother. You continue to amaze me with your love for your siblings, even crying your heart out yesterday when your little sister went for a sleep over, because you missed her so. Thank you for loving me so, even when I expect so much of - you are my right hand guy helping me so much with the little ones. You never complain and a year later, you still happily go get mommy diapers, help clean up toys that you did not even play with, and always remind me that the little ones are just babies when mommy gets a bit impatient sometimes! We rocked your world a year ago, but you took everything in stride and are so secure in our love for you. Thank you for being so funny and goofy and for your love of the sciences and making your humanities leaning mama have to dust up her science knowledge! Though mommy never fulfilled her daddy's dreams for her to become a doctor (she could not stand the sight of blood), you still believe in my abilities to make your boo boos better and you always call me doctor mom! You bless our hearts so much and we are so proud of you!

Does Your Sunday Morning Look Like This?

6:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, I am wide awake (why can’t I do this during the weekdays, when I actually need to be awake at this time so that I can get to work) and I enjoy a few minutes of quiet time day dreaming that today, is the day I just might be able to sleep in.

At 7:00 a.m. big brother bounds up to my room totally awake, full of energy that only a five year old boy can muster and he is ready to take on the world. When I realize pretending to be asleep does not curb his early morning enthusiasm, I remember big brother has not yet discovered that 5 ½ year old Kindergarteners are too cool and no longer watch Sprout and PBS Kids and I feel comfortable sending him downstairs to watch a little T.V. that states it is suitable for preschoolers.

7:10 a.m., I jump out of bed when I get visions of big brother trying to make breakfast for the family – he has a servant’s heart and is always trying to make life easier for mommy – but microwave, stove and 5 ½ old boy are just not a good combination! Okay so much for sleeping in. We enjoy some time together, make breakfast and I watch the millionth episode of Barney & Friends.

8:00 a.m. dh leaves to teach Sunday school, whistling as he goes - I think he is totally clueless that getting four kids five and under ready in the morning when you have places to go is not as easy as pie or maybe he knows (though not from experience) and he is glad he has an escape. Otherwise, he would not be so cheerful on Sunday mornings.

9:00 a.m. the three youngest have made it perfectly clear that it is time for me to get up those stairs and meet their needs. Four baths later with uncooperative munchkins who compete on who will flood the bathroom the most, who will get mommy the wettest, and who will run off the most times sans clothes, giving mommy a major work out chasing toddlers who think this is the funniest game ever. Somehow, I manage to get the two year olds and the one year old dressed. As for the five year old, he is on his own - I just hope he remembered to tuck in his shirt and clip on his tie.

9:45 a.m. Start working on two diva’s hairs - I must be an eternal optimist because I am always hopeful that the hairstyles I work on so hard on Saturday night will stay put for Sunday. However, the girls have other ideas – every Sunday morning when I go to get them out of bed, they gleefully point at their handiwork in the form of all the hair bands and barrettes lying on the floor.

10:00 a.m. Breakfast time. Try feeding three kiddos who love their food at the same time and then add big brother who decides that of all the mornings, this is the morning when he needs mommy’s help to eat his waffle! We avoid disaster, most of the food does not land on their clothes and mommy puts up the gates and prays that big brother does not take it upon himself to get all three over the gate so that they can all go upstairs to surprise mommy!

10:25 a.m. hit the shower and try to break the record of the quickest shower ever. Pretend that my clothes don’t look like a cow has been chewing on them, avoid the mirror, and hope for the best.

10:40 a.m. one of the munchkins decides mommy’s breakfast did not meet their standards and decides their Sunday finest is the best place to regurgitate their meal. Mommy quickly decides she has no time to cry, magically wipes down said child and changes their clothes all in less than two minutes, while hoping that the throw up smell is only in the air and not coming from said child. Ignore the other suspicious smell that suggests that another one or two children might need a diaper change. 10 shoes later, I have to decide whether to ignore some miscellaneous barrettes on the floor and let people think I am a bad mommy who can’t fix her daughters’ hair or if it more important to get to church on time.

10:50 a.m. load up said munchkins into the car – some are trying to wander off and pick flowers. Never thought loading up kids could lead to such a work out – I hope that the deodorant does what the advertisers say it does and also hope that the make up is water proof – oh yeah, skip that, have not had time for make up in a year. All is good. Exercise is overrated – can’t seem to break a sweat on the treadmill, but I am guaranteed to every Sunday, just loading up kids and diaper bags. Thank goodness church is just five minutes away and I make it in the nick of time – and once again promise that next Sunday, I will be one of the families that stroll in 15 minutes before service starts. And the morning is not yet over – there is still the church service, but that is for another post.

One More Orphan :(

On Wednesday night April 7, 2010, my innocent little 3 year old self fit the UN definition of an orphan and became part of the 147 million orphan statistic. While grown ups may squabble about the UN’s definition of an orphan - a child 0-17 whose mother (maternal orphans) or father (paternal orphans) or both (double orphans) are dead – they can not squabble over the fact that on that tragic day, I became a fatherless child.

On that Wednesday night, I ceased to be defined as the happy, spunky, gregarious, talkative, carefree girly girl who could tumble and wrestle with the best of them, or as the kid who astounded everyone when she could speak fluently at 1 ½ years old and who by 2 years old was already fluently bi-lingual and at 3 was working on being fluent in her third language. Before that Wednesday night, my only cares were loving my dolls, playing with my toy kitchen, having long extended tea parties and keeping everyone laughing because they say I talk a mile a minute and always say the darndest things. Instead, from that fateful night last week, everyone looks at me with pity and sorrow as I try and figure out why everyone is so sad and what it means when I ask for my daddy and everyone tells me that he is in heaven. Now, I am defined as the poor little girl who does not have a daddy.

Because on that Wednesday night you decided it was no big deal to drive drunk on a suspended license while serving probation for a previous drunken-driving conviction. And you also decided it was not worth your time to stop and check on my daddy as he lay trapped under the wheels of your pickup truck – it was more important to leave the scene so that the police would not know that you were driving drunk. Thank goodness that this is not the final image I will know about the last minutes of my daddy’s life – your brother was decent enough to remain at the scene and lead police to your home where your cowardly drunk self was hiding. And even more decent were all the people who had just spent Wednesday night at bible study with my daddy and who had just watched him don on his helmet, get on his motorcycle and wave goodbye, but who a minute later were trying to administer CPR and were praying like crazy that God would let my daddy live. As you sit in jail, you will never know just how much my daddy loved me and what a wonderful and dedicated father he was. Nor will you ever know all the sacrifices he made to be the world’s greatest father. You will never know that my daddy was an all round decent man who not only cared for me, but he so deeply cared for others, was in an elite urban search and rescue team and was training to be a firefighter so that he could continue to put his life on the line to help save lives. On Wednesday night, the brave firefighters were the first on the scene to try and help save my daddy’s life – thanks to you, he will not be joining them on the big red fire truck. The only tangible reminder of the hero that my daddy was, will be the flag given to me by a representative from our Governor's office as a thank you from the people of my state for my daddy sacrifices. On Wednesday night, his elite group of 103 men from around my state became one man short.

Today, perhaps you are reflecting on whether the buzz you felt after your drinks and getting behind the wheel was worth taking a life, while my mommy shops for the dress I will wear at my daddy’s funeral. As I walk through life without my daddy I pray that the memories we built together for the last three years will not grow dim. After a short stint in jail, you may forget that you took a life, and perhaps get behind the wheel drunk yet again. But this little girl will not have the luxury of forgetting – because she will never hear her daddy’s voice, get her daddy’s hugs again, or see the million dollar smile that her daddy gave everyone he met, but the biggest smile of all that just lit up his whole face, he saved for his little princess. This little girl will not have her daddy to cheer her on when she graduates from college and she will not have her proud daddy walking her down the aisle.


Elizabeth, we love you so very much and we who knew your daddy will make sure that your memory of him does not grow dim and we will always make sure that you always know that you were one loved and cherished daddy’s little girl.

Happy Birthday Ms. Happy!

Baby Girl 2 is just all sunshine. She is the easiest baby the world has ever known - she has always bubbled, smiled and cooed and has very predictable needs. She smiles and laughs and is just simply delightful! We really should have named her Joy - the name totally fits her (darn those profiles which simply did not even begin to describe my baby girl's personality, hence us not choosing this name). She loves her food and though silly bunny can't chew solids yet - she still loves her pureed food. She thinks she is in heaven now that she is drinking cow's milk, absolutely adores her oldest brother and shows a lot of grace to the twins who try and force feed her her bottle! She can say mommy, daddy, bye bye, hi, up, goodnight, no (which she hears often), as well as call her brothers by name. She also "helps" her big brother learn his kindergarten sight words by calling out "up" everytime I show him a new flash card (up is one of his sight words). She is one smart cookie! She loves to play peekaboo and loves to talk on the phone! She has two little teeth trying to break through and just took a couple of steps yesterday. She stands for the longest and is so proud of herself that she just stands clapping for herself that she forgets to take a step! Baby girl is just pure joy! She is a bit mischievous and is forever trying to get into her daddy's music all the while looking to see if anyone sees her. If she notices someone watching her - she crawls a marathon - I have never seen a faster crawler! Baby girl is just pure joy and oh how everyone loves her! Happy first birthday baby girl - what a joy you are to parent and oh how my heart is filled with love for you!

Oh, Those Poor Africans....

Partial picture of Nairobi - picture lifted from http://www.nairaland.com/nigeria/topic-51356.0.html.

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia through the eyes of most adoptive parents of Ethiopian kids – wonderful and descriptive descriptions of heavily laden donkeys on the city streets, beggars everywhere happily taking candy handed out by the adoptive parents, the colors of the famous gates of the various orphanages and transitional houses, the wonderful nannies at the orphanages, the dogs barking at all hours of the night, the beautiful children left behind that the adoptive parents just want to scoop up and bring home, those poor people at the leper colony, the obligatory coffee ceremony and of course the beautiful people of Ethiopia. All of which forever changes the describer of these travels.

Kigali, Rwanda, the newest destination for International Adoptions – wonderful descriptions of the green country, the land of a thousand hills, the nice hotel with the beautiful gardens, the wonderful POAs, the traditional dancers, learning how to strap a child on the back Rwandan style and of course the genocide memorial.

Nairobi, Kenya – transit point for a lot of adoptive parents of Rwandan children: pictures of a day safari, perhaps some pictures of the kids feeding giraffes at the giraffe centre, pictures outside the clinic where you have to wait for hours for the U.S. Embassy required medical exams needed for the children’s visas and oh sometimes a description of the traffic nightmare that is downtown Nairobi.

Perspective: most parents stay in five star hotels – most in a lot nicer hotels than I have stayed in the U.S (at least true for vast majority of the five star hotels that dot Nairobi, Kenya), the opportunity to be chauffeur driven and have the driver be at your beck and call all day (when was the last time you had a taxi driver in the U.S that was at your beck and call), access to clean bottled water, excellent customer service (shhh, don’t tell anyone, but Americans around the world are thought to be some of the most generous tippers – the British – not so much, hence Americans generally get preferential treatment). On inconvenient facts that may destroy some of the stereotype of Africa? Deafening silence. I mean, how much can you appreciate my sacrifice if I tell you of the fact that there are cities in Africa have modern buildings, modern amenities, some world class hotels and restaurant, and yes, even paved streets? I mean, I have to keep with the American stereotype of the perpetually malnourished African child, with the runny nose, huge belly, ribs sticking out with flies all over their body. And the African woman who has had 10 children too many, with a child strapped to their back begging in the streets of Addis Ababa and grateful for candy from the American philanthropist who is guilty they did not bring more candy. The ramshackle kiosks where those desperately poor men are trying to eke out a living? Now these are the perfect backdrops for good pictures to show back home. Because really, could you really appreciate that I have been to Africa without these? Never mind that there are a million images in the western world that perpetuate these stereotypes, thank you very much. And the fact that it annoys most Africans to be thus depicted – as the objects of our pity, instead of someone, anyone telling of the progress made towards westernization? We never get to know that they get offended, because seriously, after numerous squeezes of the hand sanitizer after an African shakes our hands, and as we take these obligatory pictures, it never leaves room for real relationships with the citizens of these countries to really ever know. And this, my friends is the lopsided perspective we give our children adopted from Africa of their countries of origin. Because even if we tell them the reality of their countries of origin, they will still be surrounded by our families and friends who still fondly hold on to these stereotypes (thanks to those countless pictures we took).

Happy Birthday Babyboy!

Oh, babyboy, babyboy! You smile can melt a glacier and you love, love, love, cuddles. You laugh and dance and play, play, play! You give millions of wet, slobbery kisses and all the ladies want to steal you and take you home! You want to be just like your big brother and have taken to carrying around your blankie just like him! You bring out the mommy bear in me and together for the last five months we have taken on the big bad guys and there is victory in sight! Between your killer smile and mommy's vow to advocate for you, you will get speech therapy and be able to tell mommy all the adorable things that make your eyes twinkle! You work so hard at sign language and keep mommy on her toes learning sign. You are so gentle with everyone and especially with your baby sister (unless one of your siblings takes your food)! You fool us all the time - being shy around strangers most of the time and then on your birthday being Mr. Personality and flirting with all the girls, dancing with ChuckeE and having a blast playing all the machines! Hard to believe you have been ours only ten months - it feels like you have always been a part of our family. So thankful that God entrusted you in our care. We love you bunches!

Happy Birthday BabyGirl

We love you Ms. Sunshine! You fill our home with tons of joy and laughter. You are our resident tom-boy, but at the same time all girly. You oh so patiently let mommy fix your hair and always reward my efforts by running to the mirror and saying pretty! You are a social butterfly and love mothering your siblings. You don't sit still long enough for lots of cuddles, but you make sure everyone gets their kiss and hug for the day. You love your doll and toy stroller and you are a girl after your mother's heart - you love books. You love cleaning and helping and you never miss anything around you! I wish I understood some of your animated stories that you love to tell complete with dramatization, dancing and singing! You turned two but you insist to everyone who will listen that you are six! Don't grow up too fast babygirl! Oh how I love you my baby doll.

Baby Boy

Nothing cheers up a dreary waiting room in a speech, physical and occupational therapy practice like a joyous child with a million dollar smile who totally flirts with all the ladies, playing peek a boo, smiling, and running off laughing in glee as soon as they come near him! This was the best waiting room experience I have ever had – Baby boy left everyone smiling and gave everyone some Christmas cheer! This is major progress for baby boy because for the first few months home, he was very reserved and had a lot of anxiety around strangers. Baby boy got his second speech therapy evaluation which just reaffirms the conclusions of his first one in August – he has delays in his expressive and receptive language and needs speech therapy. Now if we can only find a slot for him – the practice his health insurance contracts with to provide the services has a 1 – 2 year waiting list and they cannot know for sure how long he will need to wait since it all depends on the length of time their current patients require therapy. But, I am grateful for a possible workaround – if we can get a letter stating that there is a long waiting list, the regional center can provide services until a slot opens up. Now, if we can only get that ever elusive letter!

Baby boy also had his appointment with the developmental pediatrician and it was worth the wait to be able to get in. We got 3 ½ hours totally devoted to my son - testing by a child psychologist, time with a pediatric nurse and then an hour with the developmental pediatrician. I can’t tell you just how wonderful of a practice this is – everyone is so focused on your child and they make you feel like they have all day just for your child. They view your child as a person and really work hard to know your child. They are all playful and the pediatrician did not mind at all that my son wanted to sit on her lap so that he could play with her necklace. She actually let him sit on her lap for a long time and cuddled and rocked him to sleep while she talked to us! The best part is that they will advocate for your child! They were aghast at how difficult it has been to get my son speech therapy and told me they would contact all the responsible parties. They also wanted to know what baby boy's lawyer that the good people of our state are paying had done to ensure that baby boy is getting all the services he needs. The doctor even called me the following day with a possible workaround – referring my son to a day program where they provide early intervention services which would include speech therapy. We will have to think this one through though – it is a mental health program and the children they serve seem to have significant mental health issues. My husband is worried about our son getting labeled and we would really love to keep our son at home during the day instead of in a program. The bonding with him has been great and we do not want to jeopardize this – plus we would be separating the twins and he may get anxious about this. We feel very hopeful about something working out soon with speech therapy. This visit was very good and it laid some of my fears to rest – auditory processing and/or neural development issues and/or autism. The doctor felt the speech delays were simply a result of less than ideal environments both in utero and the first 8 months of baby boy’s life. A huge sigh of relief and a lot of gratefulness for extraordinary medical professionals who go the extra mile. Also can't fail to thank the extra ordinary public health nurse who coordinates baby boy’s medical care. She has a caseload of 400 kids, but yet she treats each one like they are her only patient. She shows real empathy, does a lot of outside the box thinking looking for resources outside the “government plan” and really advocates for “her” kids. She totally makes up for all the apathetic government employees and works hard to redeem our reputation! Baby boy also has had three emergency room visits related to his asthma. The care there has been extraordinary, the nurses and doctors are not only warm and caring to the patient, but also offer mom and dad warm blankets and drinks during the wait and keep us informed about what is going on! The last time we got quite the royal treatment – 9 medical personnel within 3 minutes of our arrival were working on baby boy and several had their phones out calling for more personnel – we were clueless and just thought it was a slow night! Turns out his O2 saturation was 70% per a faulty triage nurse’s pulse oxitometer. Once he was hooked up to a different machine and the all clear was given, our local sheriff’s department showed what real heroes are made of - they protected our delicate sensiblities by sternly warning a patient against using foul language as a child and lady were within hearing distance! Chivalry is still alive and well! So thankful to live in a country with great medical care where we have the luxury to complain about the time it takes to see countless medical experts whereas many mothers around the world don’t have access to even basic immunizations for their children.

All in all baby boy is doing great and he just can not resist the temptation to play with the ornaments on the Christmas tree. We have gates everywhere, but he seems to find just that perfect moment when we let our guard down. It has been awhile since we have had little hands not able to resist the temptation of taking down the ornaments and it is really just such a blessed feeling. I love me this baby boy and oh how baby boy loves his momma. He screams with pure joy as soon as I come through the door and he sure knows how to brighten up my day. Even when he gets into trouble, he still smiles at mommy through the tears and will hug me to make everything okay.

Falling Through The Cracks..........

When we made the decision to adopt, I made a promise to my children to be their biggest advocate. And by golly, do I try. I research, I ask questions, I seek out professionals and follow their recommendations to a t. But, it seems like the professionals never got my memo about advocating for my children! It has taken me three months to get a letter stating that my son’s health insurance does not cover speech therapy so that the Regional Center that provides speech, occupational and physical therapy services for children 0-3 yrs can start providing services. My son’s state funded health insurance plan advised speech therapy was not a covered benefit, but it was not their policy to provide such a letter – but the Regional Center could not provide the services without said letter. I called the big guns to break the impasse – my son’s social worker, who sought the assistance of her supervisor, the children’s case manager at the Regional Center and the county’s public health nurse. I even offered to draft the letter and have them just copy it to their letterhead, but on no – that was too outside the box thinking for a government employee (I have license to make fun of govt employees seeing I am one of them). When I implored the top dog – the manager of the “customer service” unit of the health plan to help with said letter and I told her about the 10 different calls in two months to get it, she huffily said my son was just one of 65,000 members the plan served and it was not like he had had a stroke and needed speech therapy! Obvious why the customer service skills of her underlings is less than stellar! Wonder what she would say if she headed the customer service unit of my private health insurance which covers more than a million members in my state alone! For all our efforts, I finally got a letter stating that yes indeed – the insurance plan did cover speech therapy, but my son would have to re-evaluated by their speech therapist! Back to HOME. Three months after the battle begun, baby boy has another evaluation this week, but wait – we were warned to temper any high hopes that speech therapy would commence soon – the agency they contract with for speech therapy advised that they have a long waiting list and sometimes it can take two to three years for a slot to open up!!!! A far cry from the Regional Center where the Speech therapist only had one other client and we pretty much had our choice of time slots. Okay, one step at a time......

Speech therapy aside, baby boy also needs to see a developmental pediatrician. This is obvious from observations by this advocating mama and scary confirmations by his early intervention specialist. I about checked myself into a psychiatric ward after calling his pediatrician’s office weekly for a month trying to speak to the pediatrician to see if our concerns were warranted and if they were, for advise on our next course of action. The pediatrician’s “gatekeeper” would always insist that I had never called with this concern and that it was the first time she was hearing about it! I thought I was losing my mind – it is one thing to hear voices, but to actually be having conversations and vividly remember them, but the other person insists that you have never had such conversations??? Scary. Anyway, I started journaling the date, time and who I spoke with and reading my notes back to her during my once a week follow-up call before the “gatekeeper’s” memory was jogged. Phew! After two months, I never got to see or speak to the pediatrician –the gatekeeper said he is a very busy doctor (which I believe since he had to be woken up from a deep sleep last week when we went in as my son was having an asthma attack). But, the pediatrician had a good solution – I could write a letter with my observations and the observations of the early intervention specialist and he would read the letter in between patients! And I thought pen-pals was so yesterday. Anyway, I asked if he could review the notes that his “gatekeeper” had written down and give me his feedback and would you not know it – we immediately got a referral to the children’s hospital for baby boy to see a developmental pediatrician! But have no fear mama, baby boy will settle the scores for you. Last week when we had a medical emergency, my super sweet, gentle, cuddly baby boy who can never hurt a fly turned into Hercules and pummeled his pediatrician when he was trying to examine him! I know baby boy is attached to his mama, but putting the pediatrician in a headlock, knocking him in the eye and trying to jump off the exam table so that he can go into mama’s arms? He must have sensed mama’s displeasure at how hard it has been to get him the help he needs. Now if only the developmental pediatrician’s office can figure out which clinic we need to see her at – she practices at two different clinics at the same children’s hospital - one is a high risk follow-up clinic due to baby boy’s pre-maturity or a developmental clinic (neural, auditory, and processing concerns). They called me last week and told me they would call me back this week once they figure it out! Maybe we can toss a coin? I mean, it is at the same hospital and the same doctor? We are even willing to meet in the middle-on the hallways between both clinics – please just help baby boy!

Even with all the hours I have spent trying to advocate for him, we are still not getting the services he needs. How easy is would it be for foster care parents to give up when trying to deal with an unwieldly system that puts bureaucracy over the needs of the children?