Finding Help is Different than Getting Help.

So my daughter has agression issues.  You can read this post here for some insight.

Or listen to this show on the Coffee Klatch here.

 

I’m so grateful to have friends and family who are always on the lookout for autism related news for me.  Recently, a friend sent me an article about a place that opened in Kalamazoo,MI (Yes there really is a Kalamazoo!).  

So I called The Great Lakes Center for Autism Treatment and Research

 

This facility was built SPECIFICALLY for autistic children with “problem” behaviors like mine.  I CAN NOT EVEN express the relief I felt in speaking with someone who understood what was happening to me, our family, and specifically our daughter.

Did I mention that GLCATR is ONLY 3 hours from home?!?!  Honestly, it’s times like this that I believe God makes miracles.

I cautiously asked, “How long is the waiting list to get in?”  The answer, “There is only one child here now.  We have open beds, and not only that, but your child will never receive better care from a full staff!

I drove down to Kalamazoo THE NEXT DAY!

 

The facility was amazing.  Brand new, cutting edge, full of bright and shining staff.  I impressed and humbled.  

Help at last!

They wanted to meet Issy so back to Kalamazoo we went! 

 

My husband got to see the facility and we had more time with one of the directors.  They separated us from Issy so they could get to know her. 

Predictably, she showed some of her agressive behavior.

So we left there knowing that GLCATR can and would help her! 

 

That feeling.  You know, when you’ve accomplished something so hard.  Crossing a finish line, getting a diploma, summiting a mountain.  That feeling.

Too good to be true right?

Yes

I’m learning that GLCATR is NOT covered by insurance.

Nor is my CMH required to pay for treatment.

 

It’s been 2 months since our visit to Kalamazoo.  Her agression continues to escalate.  10 days ago she beat me unconscious. My younger daughter used her phone to call for help.  I was hospitalized as a level 2 trauma.

We notified CMH of this new incident.  And still, they won’t pay for treatment.

We have met/consulted with

1.) The state psychologist Price Pullins

2.) Child Psychiatrist Shelia Marcus  and Behavior specialist Judith A. Coucouvanis

3.) High level Department of Children with Developmental Disabilities representative Lori Irish

 

They each know our story.  The horrific nature of Issy’s agression.  Yet, there is no treatment coming.

 

An interesting fact.  If Issy were on medicaid, she would have treatment. 

So if I divorce Matt, she may get treatment.

If Matt lost his job, she would get treatment.

If Matt died, she would get treatment.

If I die, nothing changes, she still won’t qualify for treatment.

If we relinquish parental rights, she would get treatment.

 

I honestly can’t even wrap my head around the fact that in the 21st century this little girl can’t get help.

 

We can’t give up on her.  We just can’t.  She is our little girl…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you doing with the second half of your life? AKA Your Second life?

I ordinarily wrote this for the Museum of Motherhood‘s MamaBlogger365 project

I know I’m not the only one who likes to stroll through a cemetery on a nice day. There is one by my house that is on rolling hills and partially in the woods. The monuments are old, and the buildings have iron doors with big hinges. It feels very historical and lovely. Let me pause to just tell you that I am in NO way “sensitive” to spirits. I never have and DO NOT see dead people. For me, it’s just a lovely place to ponder those who have passed.

Photo Credit

On one of the first warm days of spring last year, I was walking through the cemetery with my friend Tiffany. She was pointing out all of the people who had died in their thirties and forties. I suppose that wasn’t entirely uncommon at the turn of the century (last century, that is).

She then mentioned that she thinks of her age (30+) as her second life because so many of these people only had one life and it ended early.

WOW!

She is exactly right. Historically it’s been rare for someone to live to be 100 years old. Just before 1900, the life expectancy was just under forty for both men and women.

Okay, so I’m living MY second life.

I’m living a life that many of those good people in the cemetery may have wished they had the opportunity to live. I was literally awake an entire night pondering this. Not just for me, but for all of us. Those who are my age-ish are all working on their second lives. So what does that mean? Here are some of my thoughts…

• You may be an entirely different person in your second life than you were in your first life.
• You’re first life relationships may be incompatible with your second life.
• Your second life may bring a career change.
• Your second life may bring a change in your marriage status.
• Your second life may be defined by new goals.
• You may want to start a new family.
• You may want to take on new educational endeavors.
• You may want to sell all of your earthly possessions and sail the world.
• Second life is an opportunity to be more altruistic, generous, and awesome.
• Your second life is a gift.

So let me talk about parenting for a minute. For the most part, parenting is a first-life endeavor. It also is a brief one. Brief in the terms that it’s only eighteen years-ish of real ‘hands-on’ work. I wish the older, wiser, second-life me could go back and help first-life me but in all honesty, first-life me did a pretty good job.

I’ve learned a few parenting lessons along the way. My daughter is disabled by autism. I will continue to care for her through my second life but maybe I can offer some support to the first-life mothers who are struggling with autism.

Second-life me is going to be an awesome grandparent. With expectations of good health, I hope to help my children with their children. And I should! “Parent” is one title that transfers over to second life.

I hope this resonates with some of you. If it does, please comment and let me know your thoughts. Best Wishes!

Kelli Stapleton

Little Things in Little Ways

I wrote this piece a while back to help benefit the Museum of Motherhood (MOM).  I’m a huge fan of Joy Rose and proudly call her a bff.  Please be sure to check out the MOM’s website and visit this amazing place the next time you are in NYC!

Little Things in Little Ways

My youngest daughter is 10 and I have yet to complete a scrapbook. I don’t blog so I have no record of accomplishments from any of my kids. I could go on and on about how busy I am. The truth is however, I have the same 24 hours everyone else has. But honestly, I feel like life is passing by far too quickly. So for the last few years I’ve been working on documenting some little things, in little ways.

I started writing in books. The books I read to the kids and the books they read to themselves. I make comments on the inside covers and in the margins. When the kids outgrow a book, I add it to a shelf of books I intend to keep forever and ever. I picture their kids reading these books some day. Won’t that be fun for them to read the books and all of the little messages inside?

I write in cookbooks. I tweak recipes in them. But better than that, I write about how my family members feel about the dishes I make. I write a few sentences and sometimes add drawings. It doesn’t take any time. I enjoy it. And in the decades to come, I will have a great record of how horribly I cook and how ungrateful my kids are.

I write on artwork, sort of. I have original art, prints, and crap posters adorning the walls of my house. I don’t have art just for aesthetics. I have it because it means something to me. So I write why I own it on the back of the frame. I add the facts about the acquisition (gallery, gift or garage sale), why I like it, and anything else relevant.

Recently, I started writing on appliances. I know, I’m getting out of control, but this is quickly becoming my favorite thing. I have a sharpie on my dryer and write the items I find. Here is a partial list: coins, safety pin, guitar pick, barrette, ChapStick, money, poop, sunglasses, teeth (after a trip to the dentist), rocks, keys, and string cheese.

I have a journal book that floats around the kitchen and dining room. My husband and I leave notes to each other in it. The notes are sweet, angsty, amorous, antagonistic. You name it. But it’s a great record of little moments.

And finally, I keep a calendar like everyone does. I started adding a little more to it. It’s not much really. Not like a diary filled with reflections. But it’s about the best I can do for now.

Bio: Kelli Stapleton graduated from Kalamazoo College in 1995, and went on to work as a scientist/molecular biologist in both academia and industry. She gave up her short term genetics projects to work exclusively on three long term projects. They are her children McEwen, Isabelle, and Ainsley.

In her free time, Kelli is the producer and host of the wildly popular Birth Stories on Demand internet radio show. She is also the author of the Birth Stories on Demand Presents series of books written to entertain and inform women about childbirth. She manages the BSOD website and spends far too much time on social media.

Kelli is also aspiring to take over the planet!