Miracles, Gratitude and Celebration

We recently celebrated our 3rd year milestone of our Sped center. As usual I gave the welcome remarks. And it went on like this:

"If there are three things that I have learned from the three years that our center has grown into, having seen the kids grow and learn significant life skills, having shared the other parents' joys and growing pains over the triumphs and trials of raising kids on the spectrum, it is this: One, there are no small miracles. Two, to be grateful for everything. And three to always celebrate our children and life in general no matter what."

So many changes have transpired this end of the year. Our two teachers have moved on to another chapter in their lives. And our senior sped teacher will soon be starting a new life too. That leaves me with two new sped teachers and the imminent possibility of me being more hands-on with the training of the teachers and kids, and undergo more trainings in special education. I would have expected myself to be anxious about all these changes transpiring. And yet, all I feel is a sense of calm and peace that everything is happening as it should be. That everything will turn out okay because it is simply time. A season and reason for everything. And coincidentally, I have found an avenue that allowed me to unearth my old buried deep passion for poetry. But then again, having been through everything I've been through, coincidences don't belong in my vocabulary anymore. And for all this, I consider it to be a miracle, I am grateful and I am celebrating it everyday.

But the bulk of my purpose in this life has always been my boys. And of course this post will be about them and the many milestones they have been reaching. I realize it has been quite a long time since I last wrote about them save for intermittent Facebook status updates. But I've never been one to be contented with one-line phrases or one glance readings so here's a lengthy post if only to celebrate my boys yet again. Over and over again. So yeah, the above paragraphs are a mere introduction. Here's the real thing...;-)

Imitation. One very important learning skill, prerequisite to teaching functional communication. A challenge to most if not all children on the spectrum.

“In general, imitation is important because of the developing ability to construct internal representations of the behavior of others and to duplicate them. To imitate physically, the child must be able to perform at least three tasks: turn-taking, attending to the action, and replicating the action’s salient features” (Owens, 1996, 145).
http://www.speechpathologyguru.com/teaching-pre-communication-skills-to-children-with-autism-a119/


My boys face this challenge as well though it has improved over time. One clear although unconventional and perhaps incidental example? Just recently, Morgan has discovered that he can move my desk quite easily near the bed where he'll be able to cross from the desk to the bed in semi-jump. Until the semi-jump became one full-blown, hands in the air, unmistakeable grin-on-his-face jump. Garret then followed suit and in just a few seconds had his own improvisations-- climbing up to the window sill, hanging on to the window frames for balance, turning around and jumping full body on to the mattress not unlike the one you see on the old Nestea commercials. The mattress seemed to be a better choice than the good old trampoline. After which of course, Morgan imitated his big brother. The two of them taking turns unprompted, patiently waiting for one to finish jumping before taking his turn. This has been their nightly ritual, their form of play, their happy place-- still no clear verbal language to each other and yet the understanding that they have with each other is crystal clear and perfect. This morning at the center as the caregiver and during the break, as usual, Garret climbed up the railing of the stairs, both feet on the lower railing, arms outstretched balancing. Yep, this is normal for us. I have long stopped having a mini heart attack when I see this sight. You just get used to it, you know. And what do you know, the Morgan calmly took his place up there too once Garret came down, once again imitating his big brother. I smile now amused at the thought that if my boys would have been neurotypical, it is but natural to scold the older sibling for modeling such "bad behavior" that the younger siblings would ultimately and always follow. But thank God, they're not neurotypical. You ask, "Why thank God? Shouldn't you be wistful and wishing they were?" Well, no, because otherwise I wouldn't have noticed the little itty bitty milestone that some if not most normal parents take for granted-- my boys overcoming the challenge of the simple task of imitation. Oh how they do imitate now!!! Of course, I do realize, this is just one part of the even greater challenge in improving their communication. But this is no less important.

Another thing that strikes me as I watch my boys everyday is how their interaction with each other have grown considerably. Take this for instance, Garret does not like to play in our koi pond turned ordinary mini-swimming pool, alone. He patiently, oh ever so patiently waits for his little brother to wake up from his afternoon nap and when he does, practically pulls Morgan out from the room and out to the pond. And when they do play and frolic in the water, I can see clearly how it's not just parallel play. They have moments where they communicate in their own way. Morgan spontaneously hugs his kuya. And Garret looks at the pink chubby cheeks of Morgan and pinches it smiling. Garret plunging into the water, Morgan observing his big bro and imitates him. Taking turns. Doing it together. Having fun together. It is one of the many things I live for everyday--seeing my boys playing with each other and actually having a language of their own. Their own little world. Their happy place. But most of all, when I see them, all I see love emanating from their souls. The kind you see that's simply untarnished, pure, raw for whatever they comprehend about it and however they show it. Long before they were both born, I had an idea how my life would be fulfilling having both of them. What an understatement that was. Little did I know what I was in for. I was in for one tremendous love that just fills your heart and soul with the kind of raw, overwhelming emotion that breaks and bursts your heart with a force that you think you will literally explode. And as I always say, I'm gonna need a new heart. Despite all my misgivings, heaven help me, the universe have still been merciful to have blessed me with this kind of joy every single day. Every single day, I think to myself I must have done something right in my life.


This morning with Morgan in my arms mouth slightly open, softly snoring. Yes, the kind of cuteness that just breaks your heart again and again. I hold his right hand stroking his palm and fingers, breathing in the smell of my king. And as I breathed, my chest just warmed involuntarily with the sudden thought, this right here, my boys, this is my joy. And I could not and should not ask for anything more. Garret snores softly as well in the other bed with his papa. Everything was quiet save for the mayas announcing the break of day outside. In the early hours of the day, my mind is quiet as well, save for my prayer, my declaration, an admission of humility--


Every day is a miracle day. And for this I am grateful. And for this I celebrate my boys. I celebrate my purpose in this life. I celebrate my life.

Dayo

Displaced
Lost
in translation
If you will
The language here
is indecipherable
There is only fear
And the eternal
question
What would you
do if you knew
You would not fail?
Sometimes I just
Want to pack
My bags and
Take my boys
And run away
Some place safe
Where they are free
Where their roads
Will be paved
without pride
or prejudice
But where is that
world?
Where on earth?
And these times
If only
I could take them
back to my womb
Turn back time
But there is only
The here and now
What must be faced
Must be faced, confronted
Even those who refuse
confrontation
Refusal or fear
Same difference really
So how do I make
Sense of all of this?
I don't.
I let it be.
Because I am not
In control
Nobody ever is
And I dig hard
Dig deep
Where there is joy
Find that joy
The air that I breathe
The life that remains,
pulsates
Through my veins
And perhaps I'll find
even peace
And this joy and
this peace will
Burn out all
the pain.

The Best Teacher

It was several months ago that I accepted the project handed over to me by my sister-in-law. My mindset back then was, "Sure, why not. It's still in January, anyway and I'll still have more time to prepare. I think I can do it." And then the month of the project came. And I was up to my neck with activities for the entire month, activities for the Autism Society and the daily grind for my two boys. And now I was thinking, "What the heck was I thinking?" But at the back of my mind I was excited at the prospect of doing what I actually enjoy and love doing, again after almost a decade of a hiatus. And by some amazing miracle despite a myriad of challenges two weeks prior the scheduled "project", it just all came through.

Shortly after graduating from college, I worked at my Alma mater as a guidance counselor and taught part-time basic Psychology subjects while "trying" to squeeze in units for a master's degree, of which I really had no intention of finishing. And then my aunt who was then the dean of a certain college in Samar admonished me to pursue further studies citing how my students were only a page behind me in terms of knowledge base and current learning. It was based on fact, of course. Sensible. Made simple common sense. So I didn't argue at that time. I was 21. What did I know about the world except that at that time, it was my oyster, mine for the taking, mine for the choosing, mine to control.

Fast forward to now, 12 years later, I'm married to a wonderful man and have two beautiful boys. Garret and Morgan have special needs. They have autism. As of now they are non-verbal. They are under a special program that qualifies for their education. I am no longer a guidance counselor since 3 years ago, my last experience of training students was in 2006 and my work load has been whittled down to coordinating activities at our sped center, collaborating with the teachers and parents. The term "further studies" seem to remain just that--further. My top priority are my two boys. My Garret and Morgan. No text books required. No written or oral exams to undergo. Not even constant parent training available by a certified professional. Just the hard, raw, challenging, hands-on, dirt-in-your-face, poo-in-your-hands, decoding their needs that may include emotional or physical bruises every single day parenting stuff. Every day I learn new things. Everyday I expand my understanding, my emotions, my ability to look at life in a certain manner, my perspective, my beliefs, my hopes, my dreams, my faith. I know more about the world more now than 12 years ago. And the world, as I look at it now in different-colored lenses, and as I have realized, is not my oyster anymore. Rather, I have discovered that the world is an endless ocean of unfathomable possibilities, where personal decision and determination is just but a fragment of a billion  outside forces that shape one's experiences.

The "project" that I am referring to finally took place three days ago. An 8-hour Team building workshop to young professionals about to embark on a 30-day journey to a foreign country for the sole purpose of learning. Training. This was my main job a decade ago. Oh how I loved it! Facilitating the structured learning activities, prodding the participants' insights and learning and formulating it into one amazing reflection of themselves and the goals they have mapped out for their near or far future. And I discovered that at the end of the day with my feet dead tired, propped up on the backseat of the car going home to my boys--- oh how I still loved training and how I missed it terribly.

As I watched the houses of Barangay Bantigue roll by, I reflected how in the days prior to the training, I was very anxious, thoughts replaying in my mind how I was so out of the game for quite some time already, whether I would still have the spark that would ignite the participant's interest for starters and in the end, not just elicit learning, but long-lasting, practical insights. My body was already screaming to lie in bed as I did not get more than two hours of sleep the night before. This emotional roller coaster I had to go through, I now realize, and still trying to fulfill my mama and wife duties, was certainly an awakening experience. As I said, the project pulled through. I did it. And I think based on informal feedback, I did it with high marks, flying colors, whatever metaphor you want to call it. The bottom line was I. Did. It. Can you see my wide grin on my face?

On my way home from the venue, not only did I realize how much I still loved training and how I missed it terribly, but I realized how I have somehow become miraculously a better trainer than I ever was before. Why? I didn't have to guess for a long time, because my answer or answers rather, greeted me when I entered our gate when I reached home-- my boys, Andro, Garret and Morgan.

My life with my three boys. Yes, I call my husband, my "kamagwangan" with a touch of endearment and a little "pasakalye" of course. My life with them, my beautiful, amazing, exciting, not-a-dull moment life with them, raising Garret and Morgan, living with autism, thriving despite and in spite of it, has shaped me into a better person, a better wife, mother and woman all rolled into one. Being a better trainer is  just an added bonus, in fact. And hands down, no amount of further studies, masters or doctoral studies could ever compete with the experience, learning, grace and wisdom that my family life has endowed and blessed me with. And I am sure even my dean-aunt would not even try to argue with me on this.

Experience come in all forms, shapes and sizes. Maturity in mind and body, likewise. Wisdom certainly comes with experience. What's that eternal question that every now and then we ask ourselves? Oh yes, here it is, "If I were given a chance to go back and change the past, would I?" Here's my answer:

A simple and resolute "No."

The night before the training, a friend asked me what I was studying about and I just couldn't reveal what it was because I was too afraid that the training might be a flop and I wouldn't measure up to their standards or worse, my own. And with the response that came next, it revealed what I couldn't even articulate myself because of the anxiety and fear I felt. It came along the lines of, "It must be so important and special to you for you not to tell me or anyone." And all I could say was, "Thank you for getting it." The project was indeed important and special to me because if I accomplished it well, then that would prove that somehow in the deep recesses of my cognition, perception and ability, I am still worth it, of value, and significant. That I am still a positive and significant contribution. It would prove that I still have it. By "it", I mean growth, learning, improvement, evolving, changing, bettering, maturing with grace, sublime with age and experience. And if I didn't even pass according to whatever standards, well, I'll have to deal with it some way or another.

At the beginning of the training I practically begged my participants not to call me a speaker. I did not fit into that mold. I jokingly told them, a speaker is somebody mature, older in years and with a lot more experience than I have. Besides, I'm still young. I stopped counting my years when I reached 25. To which, thankfully they got my humor, my first clue that the training was starting on the right foot.

So yes, the best teacher is experience. The best "further studies" is experience. And I am so abundantly blessed with teachers in my life.

Thank you Ate Anna, for trusting me enough to entrust me with this project.

Thank you Ate Polly, my cousin, who helped me enormously with the training modules. I hope someday we can work together. Then I can learn even more from you.

Thank you Sandra, for your belief and faith in my abilities.

Thank you Lyra, Carmi and Diane, my three beautiful assistants during the training who seemed to anticipate my every need even before I knew what they were. I look forward to working with you again.

Thank you friends and family for getting it. Your affirmation and validation is important to me.

To my wonderful, wonderful, wonderful participants-- Lito, John, Clare, Sandra, Wesley and Team leader Ma'am Cathy, what more can I say? You made it easy for me that fateful day. Training you was the best decision I made in a very long time. Good luck to your journey in that foreign country.

To my primary teachers in my life-- Andro, Garret and Morgan, thank you my boys, thank you. I truly must have done something right in my life to have been given the miracle that is all three of you...