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Archive for the ‘Myron’ Category

Our stake president has been encouraging us to share our miracles. I think we forget sometimes just how common miracles can be. In my reading of the Book of Mormon recently, I was struck by the later chapters that talk about denying miracles. The general impression seems to be that miracles fail not because they no longer exist but because people stop believing or paying attention.

Well I’ve seen miracles, and I saw one yesterday.

Myron, as my long-time readers, has an eye problem–one eye has been crossed and, therefore, non-functioning for most of his life. He had his first surgery nearly two years ago and, after that surgery failed, he had a second surgery about a year ago. In between, he spent months with his eyes patched in a desperate attempt to make his eyes work together.

Yesterday the doctor proved that both of his eyes are working. Together. :-)

If that is not a miracle, I don’t know what is. My son could not use his eyes; now he can.

Now, yes, I recognize that some might see that as medicine working its magic. Some might see that as the body just healing from the surgery. And why can’t that be a miracle?

Myron’s eyes are something we’ve prayed for as a family for years. Something we’ve fasted over for years. Something that we’ve worked on for years. It’s a miracle.

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Myron’s a what?!?

The other day, Katherine and I were teasing each other. Here’s what happened:

Me: You’re a moose!

Katherine: You’re a chicken!

Me: You’re a goober!

Katherine: You’re a cow!

Myron: I’m a princess!

[silence]….

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The Joys of Aspergers

Can I just say that more often than not, I hear the “horror stories” of Aspergers. I hear about all the trials and troubles all the time.

It’s kind of depressing….

But what about the joys?

So far, I can honestly say that Aspergers has been a joy for our family. That’s not to say that we haven’t had our trials and troubles, but the joy… the utter joy I find in my son is overwhelming sometimes, and I know that a lot of who he is comes because he has Aspergers.

Just a few examples:

  • The other day I was humming the opening lines from a piece of classical music (Il Donna Mobile, from Giuseppe Verde’sRigoletto). I sang it once. Ever since, Myron has walked around the house repeating the very familiar opening lines. The pitch, not so great with a shrill voice, but it is unmistakeably this piece. Each time he sings it, he looks my way, smiling. I’m not sure if he expects me to join in (I do) or if he wants me to just recognize it and be proud of him (I am).
  • Myron is completely devoted to his family. When we drop him off in Primary, often a very traumatic experience for him with the noise and chaos, he will constantly ask “Where’s [fill in the family member]?” I think it’s his way of gaining control, figuring out that all is normal. I’ll patiently go through each family member, including baby Carolyn and the two of us at least two or three times. Then five minutes later, he’ll do it again just to make sure.
  • When I come home, he is the first person to greet me, often with a shout. I’ve never seen him fail to greet someone he knows without a big smile. Sometimes people talk about Aspergers as being a social deficiency. That’s true in some ways, but when you get to know Myron, there is nothing deficient about his social interaction. He is more open, more willing, and more immediate in his affection than anyone else in our family.
  • And he cuddles. Katherine never did. I don’t think Carolyn will either. But Myron… Myron can still melt into just about any lap. And he loves to do just that. He loves to be held, to be tickled, and to be hugged. Courtney and I really missed the cuddle phase with Katherine. Myron cuddles enough for anyone.
  • Myron is the most gentle person I know. He’s cautious and careful. He plays rough (like any boy) and uses his size roughly (he’s massive), but he is emotionally and spiritually gentle. He likes to hold your hand and just hold it. He likes to touch and just touch. Gently.
  • Myron laughs faster, harder, and more easily than anyone I know. With all but the rarest exception, I can get him to laugh and smile. An honest belly-busting, earth-shaking laugh.

I don’t know that all of this is Aspergers-caused, but it is Myron, and he has Aspergers. And we have our trials (potty training… still coming. Food issues… still trying. Language… he’s right there….), but honestly those all just kind of…

… fade…

… when the focus becomes him instead of his illness. He’s only as sick, troubled, and afflicted as we deem him to be (and that goes for you, too, world). Frankly, I don’t see the Aspergers in him. It’s there, the tests prove it’s there, multiple specialists have confirmed it, and I don’t deny the reality of it. But when it comes to the glue that holds our family together, I think the unspoken consensus is Myron. Yes, Courtney and I provide the foundation and Katherine and Carolyn are wonderful building blocks and additions, but the glue? The mortar? The thing that just kind of ties it all together? Myron.

If our family is a home, Myron is the spirit and light that pours out of it. All while shrilly singing Il Donna Mobile.

Whether that’s the Aspergers or not is irrelevant. I’m just glad he’s here.

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A breakthrough!!!

Oh, this will probably be something I eventually go back and delete when Myron gets older just because of the, uh… personal nature of it all, but for now, this is a HUGE breakthrough.

We got Myron to sit on the toilet this morning.

Something that we’re learning about him and his particular situation is that routines are both very important and difficult to break. That’s not surprising. Aspergers does have a lot to do with scripting, and this is a new script. A new routine.

Lately, however, he’s started to give us signs that he’s becoming more aware of his body functions, which is something we’ve been hoping for for a very long time. He was recently approved to start pre-school next year, including special programs built just for him and his needs, and we’ve worried about him not being potty trained going into that.

This morning after scriptures, Myron announced that he had a “pooh bum,” his given sign that he’s ready for a diaper change. However, I hadn’t smelled anything nor had I noticed any other signs, so on a hunch I gave him a fast check. Sure enough, clean. Then I guessed that he had “pre-announced” the pooh bum, which is a huge step for him. Quickly, we ran into the bathroom and got him on the toilet. He fought the entire time, though not as hard as he normally does. I distracted him with books and talking and telling him how proud I was of him.

He ended up sitting on the toilet for 15 minutes, which is a record for him by about 14 minutes 57 seconds. He HATES that thing.

Afterward, we pulled out a new chart, had Myron put a sticker on it (he loves stickers) for sitting on the potty and all of us, Katherine included, heaped praises upon praises, hugs upon hugs, and kisses upon kisses on him.

No actual results yet, so to speak, but I simply can’t overemphasize how important this is for him and how pleased we are that we are taking these steps. We’ve still got an incredibly long road in front of us, but we are that much closer.

Courtney told me, as I was leaving for work, that she’d keep putting him on the potty every thirty minutes or so to see what happens. We’ll see how long he takes that, but I’m quite hopeful.

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Stomping Bottom Boards

This year, I upgraded all my hives to screened bottom boards. They are a little more expensive of course, but quite worth it. I paid a friend to paint them (I hate painting), and he laid them out to dry the other day. They look great.

When I came home, Myron, who was outside playing in the backyard, ran up to the car, yelled “Hi Daddy!!!,” turned around, and promptly started stomping on the screens in the bottom boards…. sigh….

Apparently they make a great sound as the screens pop and stretch and break out of the wood frames.

So what did I do Wednesday night? Spent the evening carefully repairing the bottom boards so suddenly destroyed by the Godzilla-like feet of my three-year-old. What can I say? The kid’s awesome.

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Protected: Updates on Myron

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Remember this post?

Well, I’m going to tell you now.

But before I do, I want to say a few things first…. Nothing has changed for me in my relationship with my son. I’m not embarrassed. I’m not worried. And I’m especially not afraid for him. The first few days after the preliminary diagnosis, both Courtney and I worried a lot. We cried a lot. Mostly for things that might be beyond him or out of reach, but the more we’ve prayed and learned, the more we recognize this as a blessing and an incredible opportunity for him and for us.

So are you ready to know? :-)

Myron was diagnosed yesterday with Aspergers.

At the risk of being offensive to people and families who experience Aspergers, can I just say I’m happy? The doctor, when telling me the diagnosis yesterday even expressed some concern that I was taking it incorrectly. I was beaming. I was happy. I can even say I’m thrilled. I just am. When the doctor questioned my response, I told him plainly that I get Aspergers. This is an easy one for me (again, no offense to the serious and complicated issues those with Aspergers face). I can do this. Courtney can do this. Most importantly, Myron can do this.

So yes, I’ll smile quite happily for that diagnosis.

So what does it mean? I want to outline this very carefully so that labels aren’t attached. I want people to understand very clearly where I’m coming from so that you understand Myron and also that you understand our response.

Aspergers falls in the Autism Spectrum Disorder in the DSM IV. You could accurately say that Aspergers is a kind of Autism, though it is distinct from what you would commonly call Autism. Aspergers is often characterized by issues with social interaction and repetitive and restrictive behavior patterns. Aspergers is also characterized by heightened language and cognitive abilities. I’ve often heard Aspergers described as someone who skipped the “Social” line in Heaven in favor of picking up more stuff from the “Intelligent” line. That’s a simplistic view, but if it helps you understand….

Aspergers is largely treated using Behavioral Therapy. As a psychologist friend of mine put it, the treatment for Aspergers is good parenting. Courtney and I are not many things, but one thing we are are good parents. And we are constantly striving to be better. As the person ages, Aspergers often matures as well. In fact, some claim that Aspergers becomes more of a difference rather than a disability.

People with Aspergers often live full, engaging lives. They are typically fully functional in modern society with, as I mentioned, a few notable differences.

Specific to Myron, he tends to fall towards mildly extroverted Aspergers. What this means is that he is open and sociable with people he knows, shy around those he doesn’t (pretty normal for a kid). The primary difference is that he doesn’t necessarily understand proper social norms, such as personal space and familiar greetings. His life is scripted and he exists happily within the script. Unscripted changes are difficult to deal with, though he can be taught how to deal with that.

The doctor carefully explained that Aspergers is as much an Anxiety disorder as anything else. The unscriptedness of a new situation creates anxiety, and the level of anxiety and response to that anxiety helps define the disorder. Myron is likely going to end up as one that responds either by shutting down or by being silly. Either is outside the social norm, but not so far outside of the norm as to cause serious problems. Both are treatable.

Can I wax spiritual for a moment? Could you stop me if you wanted to? :-)

Hindsight is 20/20, right? Can I just point out how clearly the Lord has directed Courtney and I over the last several YEARS on this issue? Even before Myron was born, we were already being guided, prompted, and directed to specific parenting skills and educational resources. Both of us are what I would consider highly educated on matters of mental illness. Both of us have written, spoken, taught, and learned a substantial amount of information on the subject.

A few years ago, I felt deeply prompted to take a class on Psychology. I took two. The first was an indepth discussion of abnormal psychology, including Aspergers. The second was more of a survey course to the workings of the brain and psychology in general. Both have served me and prepared me well for facing this. Courtney has been deeply prompted to study parenting, especially logically working with children, providing scripts, and role playing. These activities often form the foundation of working with Aspergers children.

Both Courtney and I recognize the placement of friends and many people who are knowledgeable, accepting, and supporting of us and our children. We have many psychologist friends. We have a speech therapist friend. We have more than a dozen friends that just get it. They won’t let a label become a person. We have family that feels the same way and already deals with Aspergers.

Is it any wonder when the doctor said that Myron had Aspergers that all I could do was smile? All I could do was feel a near overwhelming sense of gratitude and excitement? I don’t deny that the future is going to be hard for Myron. It was going to be hard anyway! I don’t deny that we have a big learning curve. We were going to have one anyway!

Instead of fretting about the bad stuff, I am looking forward to the successes, the opportunities. I said in that post I linked to at the top that the experiences of life are uniquely and specifically designed to save us. They are designed to give us the abilities to become perfected. What an incredible blessing it is that we have a Father who sees enough potential in us that He gives us the opportunity to expand, to stretch, and to grow and especially that He gives us the ability to do so.

Sigh… No, I’m not afraid for my son. No, I’m not afraid for his future. No, I’m not afraid for Aspergers. I’m excited. I’m happy. I’m eager to take on this incredible challenge, and I’m especially interested to see how this blesses the life of my son, the lives of my daughters, my family, and those around us.

What a privilege and honor it is to experience that first hand!

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Thinking of Myron

Sorry world, but I have favorite people. People who make me smile whenever I see them. People I simply love to be with, be near. People who make me better because they are better.

One of my most favorite people in the world is Myron, my son.

He is the gentlest person I know. He is the most playful person I know. No one laughs quite like he laughs. No one smiles quite like he smiles. No one loves quite like he loves.

Sunday night, I had another very long conversation with the Lord. I couldn’t sleep again, and I found myself pondering Myron, his life, and the many concerns I have for him. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve long suspected… wrong word… known something was wrong. I knew from when we were expecting him that something was wrong. I even knew what it was.

And I ignored that thinking that it wouldn’t happen to me and to my family and especially not my son.

Those doubts and suspicions persisted throughout his first year, and when we found his crossed eye, I talked myself into believing that that was it. That was what I felt. But I knew that was wrong as well. I’ve always known there was more.

In my conversation with the Lord Sunday night, I expressed my fears and my worries for this beloved son, this person who makes me smile. I talked with Heavenly Father about how much I loved him and how much I wanted him to be happy. I talked about the dreams I had for him as a parent, about the hopes I had for his future. A mission perhaps. A marriage. A family of his own.

Monday morning, I woke with a conviction to see the problem identified, although I’ve always known what it was. Courtney just left the doctor’s office, and yes, I was right. It is as I’ve feared and as I’ve known.

And no… I’m not going to tell you.

It’s not a matter of hiding it or shame or embarrassment. I could never hide, never feel shame for, or never be embarrassed by someone so incredibly wonderful as Myron. He is, even now, one of my favorite people. Someone I love to hold.

Rather, it is a matter of not yet having a full understanding, a full diagnosis, and a full expectation and knowledge of what is to come. When the time is right, I will tell. Now is not the time.

At the end of my last long talk with the Lord, I came away with a testimony that our trials prove us and strengthen us. I came away with a recognition that the Lord sees fit to bless us with trials so that we might be fully proven, fully grown, and fully prepared to accept both the sacrifice of His Son and also the marvelous blessings that await us if we remain faithful. Simply put, I know that the Lord has a personal plan for me. I know that all that He has put in my life is designed to lift me. Perfect me.

As I look at my own son, I know that what the Lord has seen fit to bless my son with has been carefully crafted and selected for his salvation. I believe that with all my heart.

In the coming months and years, it is that believe that will sustain and lift all of us through this trial and the next. And when I go home today, it is not this new confirmed knowledge of what my son will face that will color my interpretation of him; it is the truth that he is now, always has been, and always will be someone who makes me smile.

I love you, my son.

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Kissing the Table

Now that is the call you never want to get at work. Screaming kid in the back ground, spouse frantically trying to explain things, and the obvious urgency to rush home. Worse yet, knowing you can’t.

Myron, in his little boy exuberance, decided that life was too boring this afternoon, and he kissed the table. Eight stitches to put his bottom lip back together and another four to put the top one back. Pretty nasty. And oh the blood. And the screams. And the tears.

I gave him a blessing tonight, and he fell right to sleep, which is unusual. We were worried because just prior to that, he had managed to rub his face on the couch and pop all his scabs. It was like a repeat of the afternoon (blood, screaming, tears) except without the ER.

He’s a good kid, and I’m especially grateful tonight for a priesthood blessing that promised easy dreams, soft sleep, and fast healing.

Just a question for all you dad’s out there: If you don’t have the priesthood, you are working to get it, right? Don’t pass up the chance to have this power in your home.

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Myron has gotten into the asking stage. Maybe calling it the “demanding” stage is more appropriate. What he’ll do is say the think he wants (drink) and follow that with a very stern “me!” So you end up with phrases like “Drink me!” and “Snack me!”

The worst one is that during supper, he likes to have a fork, so naturally he screams “Fork me!” No problem, right? Wrong. He misses the “r” every single time. Supper time at our house is well beyond being a rated-R event because of the two-year-old.

***

Katherine wanted eggs for breakfast this morning, and she asked me to make them. My reply? “Well, you have to pay me.”

Katherine: How, daddy?

Me: I need a kiss.

Katherine: GRROOOAAAAANNNNN!

***

I’ve been going to a chiropractor for my neck and back problems recently, and it’s become a common request in our family prayers that my neck will feel better. Here’s how Katherine prayed this morning:

“Please bless daddy’s neck to feel better so he’ll stop whining so much.”

Wow… My family sure does love me.

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