Tag Archives: Scott
During the next two weeks, we only ever talked to nurses in the NICU. We never saw the doctor. He never talked to us. He was present in the NICU, but wouldn’t come around when the parents were in the rooms. I thought that was very funny. But, we talked to the nurses all the time. My stoicness had returned, and I got to know the nurses caring for our little 3-pounder as if sitting next to them in a coffee shop. I wasn’t the panicked mom who needed reassurance. I was the calm mom who needed information as plainly as possible so that I could process it. They got that. They never condescended to me. They ever made me feel like I should be something or some way that I wasn’t. They just loved on Scott like nothing you’ve ever seen. Continue reading
So, the first time I watched the first two episodes of of the show Parenthood, the overwhelming emotion that had me sobbing into my couch pillow really surprised me.
Really surprised me. Continue reading
As they wheeled my bed from my room to Labor & Delivery, we passed a waiting room. I looked over and saw 15 of my friends and church family on their knees holding a prayer vigil for me.
I already felt at peace, but the sight of that flooded me with the most serene calm. Continue reading
In my blog post An Open Letter to the Waitress at Steak N Shake, I talked about my son Scott’s obsession with the movie Inside Out. I have been noticing lately that when he feels a certain emotion he will seem to take on the persona of the emotions in the movie this movie. For instance, when he feels sadness, he personifies the character Sadness from the movie. Continue readingPin It
I always think I’m steeled against what I’m going to read when I get paperwork back from teachers and professionals, but sometimes, the words are actually painful. Continue reading
When we ordered a hotdog for our autistic 9-year-old son, Scott, and explained that the mustard must be made in a squiggly line on top of the hot dog — much like one would see on any picture of any hotdog in any children’s book — you never even batted an eye. You had no idea that if he’d received a hotdog without mustard or with the mustard NOT in a squiggling line in such a loud, cold, visually stimulating environment, it would have likely caused a meltdown for which there may have been no immediate recovering. You just nodded, smiled, said you understood, and brought us a PERFECT hotdog. You made sure the milkshake had a cherry, and brought him a salad as a side to his kids’ meal even though that isn’t the norm. Continue readingPin It