REASONS WOMEN CAN DRINK WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE

Because I applauded the CDC's bold recommendation last week I've heard some arguments from women about why the CDC's statement was ridiculous. If you have not heard already, the Center for Disease Control made a recommendation that sexually active women who are of child bearing age and not on birth control, abstain from alcohol. There was public outcry. Social media was abuzz and so few seemed to be standing with the CDC. And then there were so many blog posts making fun of the CDC and calling them condescending for their recommendation. The CDC's recommendation targeted women only. It did not include men. And after all that drama, because I am in support groups of parents who are raising children with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS), I got to see that I was not the only incredulous person online who could not believe that people would argue with the CDC's statement. You see, those of us who know what FAS looks like and see the kinds of lives our children are living cannot fathom anyone drinking while pregnant. My daughter's birth mother could have abstained from alcohol. But she did not. My daughter will pay the price for her whole life. 

Here are a representation of some of the best explanations I have seen this past week that definitely justify the use of alcohol by women of childbearing age who are not on birth control. 

Reasons sexually active women who are not on birth control should be able to drink with a clear conscience:

1. Because men do not have to abstain so it is discriminatory to tell women they should!

Mother Nature is such a chauvinist huh? She only gave wombs to women, not men. It’s about biology, and nothing else girls.

2. This one is really just like the first: If my boyfriend/husband/guy-I-picked-up-at-the-bar gets to drink then so do I!

You cannot find a sex partner who is willing to abstain while you stay sober too? Do you really want to have sex with that guy? If you do, then I got nothing else to say except, “Wow.”

3. Because women have to endure so much for their children (or future children), sobriety should not be added to the list of inconveniences.

I actually have to say it again, “Wow.” You know that baby you may or may not be trying to create? It’s going to do a lot of inconvenient things. And the alcohol you are drinking because you have the right? That alcohol is going to make all those things that kid does that might be inconvenient MUCH more inconvenient. A kid born to a mother who drank will need a whole lot more from her than a kid who is born to a mom who abstained. Kids with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) are exhausting.

4. Because it is not right that, even though I may not even be pregnant or become pregnant, the things I want are still put second to a non-existent baby.

So you are on birth control then? Because if you are not then that non-existent baby is not necessarily non-existent anymore is it? Sex creates babies. Drinking alcohol while pregnant creates babies with FAS.

5. Because I know a kid whose mom drank while she was pregnant and he turned out just fine.

Right. It could happen. There are SOME babies born to drinking mothers who do not appear to have alcohol related disabilities. Fraternal twins can even be affected differently while being exposed to the same amount of alcohol in the womb. Do you really want to take a chance? And those babies who do not appear to be affected just might have been even smarter, even more talented, even more “normal” than they already are if only their mother had abstained completely. Look your kid in the eye a few years from now and let him know he might have been even smarter, even more talented than he is now, but you really wanted to have just a drink or two while he was developing.

6. Because some doctors still say a little alcohol is not harmful to an unborn child.

The best reason/excuse yet! You can find a few doctors and articles that will say moderate drinking is not harmful to a baby. You will find far more doctors and articles written that recommend a mother not drink at all. You really want to take a chance? With your kid?

7. Because not drinking is unrealistic. You would have to be a Quaker to avoid alcohol (or unplanned sex). 

Really? I am no Quaker. It really is possible to have fun without alcohol. It really is possible to put your unborn children (even the unplanned ones) ahead of alcohol. Really. 

I reserve the right to add to this list as I'm quite certain I am about to get a few more reasons from women that they should be able to drink with a clear conscience. 

We are not animals. We are people. We get to plan ahead and make complicated decisions about our future and the future of our children. And yes - even the future of our future children. Is alcohol really that important to you? Really?

I do not imagine I will change the opinion of one woman who is drinking and having sex. And I doubt this will boost my blog page. I will most likely lose a few followers. Why then do I feel compelled to write about such a controversial and hot topic? It is because I have to stand up for the things I believe in. If I lose a thousand followers over this post, so be it. I will not be debating the topic any longer. Last week when this topic was being argued on my Facebook Page, one of my readers came to my defense and asked another why she would come to the page of a mother who is raising a child with FAS to argue that alcohol and unprotected sex are not a big deal. It is such a big deal. 

Note: Before I get dozens of comments saying it is not so much WHAT the CDC said as the WAY they said it, I would only respond that it might have been said just a little more eloquently. Perhaps the issue of men and how alcohol damages sperm should have been addressed. But I still stand with the CDC on this one. 

Plastic and Stuffing and Love

Misfortune struck our home this morning. If you are fond of Sydney let me warn you: This is a sad story. You’ll need to grab a box of tissues and sit back. 

If you’ve followed our Facebook page long at all you will know who Riley is and probably even remember Liberty from stories long ago. But just in case you need the background: Sydney has had a doll since she was toddler. Her name is Liberty, named after one of Sydney’s friends from preschool. Liberty has been pulled for miles in wagons, ridden on the back of bikes, swung for hours on a tire swing, pushed in strollers up and down the driveway, and gone on many family road trips. She has been carried, dragged, hugged and loved a lot over the years. I have washed her, repaired her, Febreezed her, and detangled her hair many times. Liberty has become quite unsightly, a raggedy mess in fact. But looks do not matter to Sydney. Others recoil at Liberty’s appearance but Sydney still loves her. I had many times tried to get Sydney to transfer her affection to a newer or more attractive doll. Sydney has several nicer dolls but none meant nearly as much to her as Liberty…. until she met Riley. A year ago in March Sydney and I were shopping. Sydney had some money to spend. She usually spends her money on farm toys like tractors and plastic animals. But this day Sydney saw a 20” baby doll she just knew she could not live without. Riley was named before she was even removed from the packaging. It was love. And for the past ten months Riley and Sydney have been nearly inseparable. (Liberty is still loved too but she mostly hangs out at home these days.) The only place Sydney goes without Riley is to school but if it was allowed then Riley would be sitting right beside Sydney every day at a desk of her own there too. Riley has not just become a part of our family, our friends have grown fond of her. Riley almost never misses a worship service and Sydney often asks one of the ladies from our congregation to hold Riley and tend to her while Sydney goes to Bible class. The ladies have played along so often and talked with Sydney about her doll on so many occasions they notice if Riley is not in attendance. Sydney loves the attention the ladies give her through Riley and the ladies love to give Sydney that. 

Liberty, after years of being loved

Sydney with Riley out to dinner

A road trip with Sydney and Riley

Riley rarely misses a church service

Birthday gifts!

Now, for the real story: Got those tissues? Yesterday was Sydney’s birthday. After school Sydney and Riley jumped on the trampoline, swung for a while, and then took the stroller for a walk. Shawn got home from work and Sydney ran to greet him, leaving Riley unsupervised. A few minutes later, Sydney’s older sister drove in. Sydney’s excitement was intense. It was time to start our birthday celebration! And in all the excitement of our family birthday dinner, cake, candles, phone calls from siblings who live in other states, opening gifts, and putting together a couple of new little toys, Riley was forgotten. Even at bedtime she was not missed and Sydney had a sort of campout in her sister’s room. This morning Sydney could not find Riley. I helped her look. Her brothers helped her look. Sydney told me more than once, “This is making me nervous.” and I reassured her that Riley was fine, just under a blanket somewhere or behind something. We looked in the car. Twice. 

I asked Sydney if she could have left Riley outside, thinking back to the last time I remembered seeing Riley the afternoon before. And I started feeling slightly ill as I began to imagine the worst. I asked Shawn to go outside to look around the yard. I could hear Sydney upstairs calling Riley’s name, looking again. I looked out the front window as Shawn bent over to pick something up. He was way out at the edge of the yard and I could not quite see what he had. Then he bent over to pick something else up. And although I could not see clearly, I knew. I knew our two puppies had found Riley. I knew how badly Sydney was going to feel and I knew there was nothing I could do to shield her little heart from the hurt it was about to experience. As Shawn got closer to the house I could see he held pieces of the doll. There would be no washing, repairs or patching I could do. I frantically tried to think of something I could do or something I could say that would protect Sydney from the truth. And then Sydney came down the stairs telling me Riley had not yet been found. I stepped between Sydney and the window. Sydney looked at my face. I saw fear in her eyes. I told her there was bad news and Riley was not okay. And then my little girl, who almost never cries, even when in pain, began to sob and choke out, “But I love her” over and over. I picked Sydney up and went to the rocking chair where we bawled and rocked together for a long while. This fifty-two year old, rational, somewhat cynical, experienced mother cried like a baby. I kept telling myself I was being silly, crying over a ruined toy. But I was not really crying over a ruined toy. I was crying over my little girl’s anguish. I could not take it away from her. So I shared in it.

I know. I know. A doll is just plastic and stuffing and this is ridiculous, blown way out of proportion. But if you can think back to your childhood and the most prized possession you owned all those years ago, then you might get an inkling of how important Riley has been to Sydney. 

As the tears subsided this morning I asked Sydney if she would like to go shopping to try to find another doll. I remembered the store where we’d found Riley and knew it was likely we could find an exact match there. I knew I might also have luck online. It took a while for Sydney to warm up to the idea of a replacement. I suggested we could even pretend the second doll was the same doll and this day had never happened. Sydney did not think that would be possible. But as the day progressed I could see the pain lessen. 

We did go shopping. And we were able to find a doll that is an exact match. And although Sydney insisted we choose a different name (because this was NOT Riley) before our day was through we had all accidently referred to the new doll as “Riley,” several times, Sydney included. The new doll was named Kennedy initially but now we are told she is actually Kennedy Riley and will be going by Riley mostly.

I am reminded of the Disney movie Inside Out as I look back at the day we just had. Ironically the character in that movie was also named Riley. The movie’s message was: We cannot always protect the ones we love from sadness. Sadness is an important part of life and we all need to experience it to grow. Without sadness would we really even know what true happiness feels like?

Steve and Murphy

Tate sent out a text message today to spread the news about Riley. I thought nothing about our tragic morning was worthy of a smile until I read Tate’s words. And before you ask: No. There will not be a funeral, flowers, Cheetos, or Pretzels. 

This was not our first tragedy. We've had broken hearts before. Breaking Bad News

Redirecting the Stim: I'd Do It Again

My fourteen-year-old son Tate has autism and my eleven-year-old adopted daughter has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS). I blog about them, the things we have done that have helped and the things that have not helped: the lessons we have learned, their siblings, classmates, teachers, IEPs, and many other things that have come with the experience of raising these special children. I do this for many reasons. I hope to help those who do not live with autism or FAS to understand a little bit better what these disabilities look like. I also try to help those who are coming after us so they can draw from some of our experiences, perhaps making their own lives just a little bit easier.

I do not claim to know everything and I often remind people that I am just a mom. I am not a doctor, an educator, or a therapist, and I am not formally trained to help anyone. I just know what autism looks like in my son and what FAS has done to my little girl. I have years of experience to share. The ideas and methods we used are not something I believe must be followed to achieve success. I know sometimes there is more than one solution to each problem we encounter and I know the individuality of a child and their family should be considered. There. This paragraph is my disclaimer. So please no messages about how I’m doing it all wrong or that I'm judging you for doing it differently...

Tate, around the time of his diagnosis

There are some things I would do exactly the same if I were doing things over again. All the early intervention we did with Tate and the Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) was absolutely invaluable. All the money we borrowed was worth it. I have been told by a few other bloggers that ABA did nothing for their child with autism but for us it was life changing. The advocate we take with us to Tate’s IEP meetings is something else I would point to as absolutely necessary. Tate has had services I would have never obtained without her help. So far no one has steam coming out their ears, right? But wait for it. Some of you will not like what I have to say about stereotypic behavior.

I have often heard, “Every behavior has a purpose.” ABA therapy revolves around this and I do not disagree. ABA also says that the stereotypic behavior serves a purpose of some kind but that behavior can be replaced with one that will serve the same purpose. In other words, "If you eliminate one stim then it will be replaced with another." I found this to be true. Tate still stims but his stims are subtle and they do not keep himself or those around him from learning or engaging in activities or with other people. It took a lot of hard work to eliminate some of Tate’s former stereotypic behaviors but I am not sorry we did it. In my opinion the hand flapping was not in Tate’s best interest.

Anytime I write about this I get objections from a few parents who do not understand why I stopped Tate from hand flapping when he was a preschooler. I hear: “It’s not hurting anyone.” And then there is: “I would never ask my child to stop doing something that was calming/comforting/pleasurable/satisfying to him/her.” Really? Are those statements even valid? What if your child were pulling his sibling’s hair? It is a behavior that he finds satisfying, right? Of course you would stop him from doing that because it hurts another person. Would you do your best to stop your child from smearing his feces? You would? Okay. You would want to stop him from doing something that was unhealthy. How about head banging? If he were banging his head on the floor over and over then would you stop him from doing that? You’d block him. You’d put a helmet on him. Is it because it is harmful to him? So there are SOME things you would try to redirect but not others. Hand flapping. Hand flapping is acceptable to you because it is not hurting your child. It is not filthy. It is not hurting a sibling. Perhaps your child can learn while he is hand flapping. Mine could not. When Tate hand flapped it did hurt him. It consumed him. It kept him from learning. Our goal was to make every minute of his day a learning experience. He could hand flap, fan the pages of a book, wave his cloth diaper in front of his face, stare at his reflection, or run “without purpose” for thirty minutes to an hour at a time. The more Tate stimmed, the more he wanted to stim. The stereotypic behavior itself was reinforcing. It was a habit. The more Tate engaged in stereotypic behaviors the less opportunities he had to engage with his peers. His peers saw the hand flapping and some of the behaviors as odd and they approached Tate less because of it. The stereotypic behaviors were sabotaging so much of Tate’s social and academic education. As difficult as it was to get four and five year olds to look past the stereotypic behaviors, I imagined it would be infinitely harder to get peers in Junior High to be understanding of it. Perhaps Tate would have just "outgrown" the behaviors like hand flapping. Some children do. But some do not. I was not willing to risk it and have to look back and wish I had tried to eliminate them. We replaced the more obvious stims with much less obvious ones that still serve the purpose he needed them for. 

Sydney, age one

Sydney came to us with stims too and I worked hard to eliminate those. Being neglected for the first ten and a half months of her life she spent much of her day rocking. The rocking had a purpose. Children who are neglected find ways to stimulate, and occupy themselves, and comfort themselves. After we got Sydney home and I knew she was provided with all the things she needed to thrive I worked constantly at gently stopping her when she rocked. It did not take very many weeks to stop the rocking. I am so thankful I did what I did as I have seen another adopted child older than Sydney who still rocks. The advice that child’s parents got was to allow the rocking because it fulfilled a need. I feel the need could have been fulfilled in other ways. I could be wrong. I'm not an expert. But in my experience with my children: the longer a behavior goes on the harder it will be to stop.

Some might think I was mean or intolerant. Some might call what I did "tough love." Once a mom who was upset with me for a blog post I wrote implied she loved her child more than I loved mine because she embraced his stimming. She said, "I love my child enough to let him stim." I wish I had said, "I loved mine enough to help him to stop." but I am never good at witty comebacks. There is no doubt in my mind that we all love our children immensely regardless of our position on this subject and others. It does not mean you are a better parent if you let your child hand flap or rock. It does not mean I am a better parent if I stop mine from doing it. We all want what is best for our children. I drew the line before some others would I am sure. Some might draw it before head banging or hair pulling but I drew it before hand flapping and rocking. And I do not regret it. I cannot go back and do it another way to try and see which way worked best. I am glad I do not have to. It was hard work. It would have been much easier in the short term to let Tate spend his days tossing his cloth diaper around and hand flapping. It would have been so much easier in the short term to let Sydney sit in her playpen and rock. But would I have kids as high functioning as I have now? What do you think?

There are a few things I have changed my opinion about and wish I had done differently. I will have a post up about that soon. I had originally thought I would talk about those things in this post too but I am told a post more than 1000 words is too long. So stay tuned…

I dash dreams now to avoid heartache later.

Most of the time I don’t think about the things Sydney cannot do. Most of the time I am just thankful for the things she can do. As a matter of fact, I do not think Sydney regularly thinks about the things she cannot do either, but is also content about the things she is good at. But sometimes….. Sometimes it becomes quite evident that she is unable to do things her peers easily master and she sees it. She sees it and it hurts her. When it happens there is often nothing I can do or say to make it less painful.  

There was a time when Sydney was in preschool, struggling to learn colors and simple skills her peers had long since mastered. Back then I wondered if she would ever read or be able to do simple math. She has come so very far. I try to be grateful for what she is achieving and not disappointed about what she is not. It’s a fine line I walk though because I do not want to stop challenging Sydney and become complacent. I have to remember she would NOT have learned to read or do simple math had I stopped trying to teach her. And so I try to challenge her without making the goals loftier than she can achieve.

Last year Sydney was in the fourth grade. Fourth graders in our district spend a lot of their music class learning to play the recorder. I am sure using the recorder is beneficial for lots of reasons. The students learned how to read music. They were taught about rhythm and how to count measures. It was a lot of fun for them. The first song they tackled was Hot Cross Buns. And they went on to learn many more. And then there was a concert. They played some of the songs they knew that night. When I say “they” and “them” above I mean all the fourth graders…. EXCEPT Sydney. Sydney had finally mastered the first song Hot Cross Buns in time for the concert but that was all. She just held her recorder and pretended to play the rest of them while her classmates whistled away. And she knew. She knew she was the only one on the stage holding a recorder who could not play the songs. No matter how hard she had tried and how much she wanted it she was unable to memorize the fingerings or the order of the notes. Part of the time, even throughout the song she did know, she was not able to keep the holes completely covered well with her fingers so the recorder made shrill squeaking noises instead of the tones it should. During the time leading up to the concert Sydney would often tell me her classmates asked her why she could not yet play the easy song. They did not understand why the things that came easy to them did not come easy to Sydney. I think it is all about the thing called executive function I've mentioned before. Playing music on an instrument takes planning and reading ahead and remembering what comes next. Those things do not come easy to Sydney. How can I explain that to her classmates? How can I ask them to stop asking Sydney, "Why can't you do this? Everyone else in the class can do it." 

The whole experience with the recorder was pretty humbling for us and I was so glad it was over. But I knew it was not REALLY over. Because the recorder is used to prepare the students for band. In the fifth grade, the kids decide if they want to be in the band and what instrument they will play. This summer I touched on the subject several times. I casually mentioned to Sydney that SOME fifth graders would be in band and some would not. I told her she would be one of the ones who were not in the band. I did not make it sound like she would be missing out on anything great, just doing something different. She did not argue. Then school started. The music teacher began talking about instruments and introducing the students to them and allowing them to touch them. And the excited fifth graders all began chattering about band and instruments and Sydney came home telling me of their excitement. I reminded her she would not be taking band class. I gently reminded her how hard it was for her to learn just one song on the recorder. She remembered. But oh how she wants to try again. This time with a much harder instrument. We’ve had several conversations about it together each time her conceding seeming to understand she will be doing something “different” than band. On the way home from school today she once again got into the car chattering about how great it would be to be in the band. She announced. “I know just what trumpet I want to play in the band! It is the flute!” Of course I smiled at her gaffe but was saddened by her unrealistic expectation. Her sisters immediately jumped in with things like, “Band isn’t that fun!” and “Singing in the choir at school is more fun than band.”

Even if I pacified Sydney by allowing her to join the band and I bought her a flute or a trumpet or even a drum, it would only be a short-lived happiness. As the other kids picked up the notes and fingerings and learned what the band teacher wanted from them, she would fall behind. The other kids would notice. Sydney would notice. So, gently telling her that band is not for her may be painful now it is much easier on everyone involved than setting her up for failure. That is what I have to keep telling myself. I dash dreams now to avoid heartache later. 

Note: Sydney's disability is Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. For more about that click here: The F in FAS does not stand for Fun