another heart warming story...

A father writes about his family and the challenges they face on a daily basis.

My name is Henry Watson. I live in Boulder, Colorado, with my wife, Ginger, and our six children, who range in age from three on up to seventeen. We also have a two dogs, a Pomeranian named "Skippy" and a Golden Labrador Retriever named "Tyler" ("Tyler" belongs to our son, Tommy; he's more his dog, not ours).

Our children aren't like most: that is, suffice to say, they are all children who happen to have special needs. Their disabilities range from autism to learning disabilities, blindness to cerebral palsy, and mental disabilties; yet they are our children first and foremost.We have three boys and three girls. They are also adopted. Three came to us from China, the other three from Korea, Mexico, and the Ukraine. Our children are named from the oldest to the youngest: Timberly Ryanne (17), Ivan Michael (14), Georg Macario (11), Hyun Mi Grace (9), Thomas ("Tommy") Patrick (6), and the "baby" of the bunch, three-year-old Piper Franklin.

We adopted the teenagers when they were small, so they've been with us for a while; the younger set came to us only about three years ago--or sooner.Now, some (like Timberly, Tommy, and Piper) are quite disabled.

Piper has cerebral palsy and is blind/deaf; he is nonverbal, and he can't do much for himself, but he is a beautiful little boy who can smile readily; when he does, his grin lights up the room.

Timberly is mentally retarded (Down's); she may be 17, but she has the mindset of a five-year-old, and she is a delightful child with a giggle guaranteed to brng a smile to all who meet her.

As for Tommy, he is blind, but he gets around with the aid of a cane or a guide dog, a golden Lab he has named "Tyler".Ivan has autism, but he does pretty well, most of the time. He has a mild form, but if there are any disruptions to his routine, he will lose it and go wild on us; thankfully, though, that is few and far between. Most of the time he is a gentle child who loves to make us laugh. He is our resident comedian.

Georg has learning disabilities; he is in a special ed class at his school. He cannot read or write; someone has to read to him or write for him; he just doesn't have the cognitive skills to be able to do these things. He is hyperactive, and we are wondering if he has some autism in him somewhere because there are times where he zones out and retreats to his own world.

As for our Gracie, she has a childhood form of arthritis; she can't walk without help, and she is often in severe pain. We found out she had it before we adopted her, and it hurts us to see her crying in pain during inclimate weather or when she has "flares", where her disease is active. Her fingers and knees (as well as her elbows) are horribly swollen a lot of the time, and she walks with the aid of crutches (or uses a wheelchair if she is hurting more than usual, which is usually the case).

So there you have it. Our kids. They are our world, and we'd do anything to make their lives easier for them.As for my wife, Ginger, she is a homemaker, which is the hardest job of all. She loves being with the children, and she also homeschools the littler ones. (The older kids go to public school, but we are thinking of pulling them out after the school year has ended. They will start homeschool in the fall, along with their younger brothers and sisters.)We didn't think we'd adopt, but we heard that many kids older than the age of two or kids who are disabled or of a different race often get overlooked.

We have always wanted kids, and adoption seemed like the perfect opportunity to make a difference in some deserving kids' lives. That was what we did.We haven't looked back since. We are now a happy family, and we are loving life. Yes, life is often fraught with challenges or strife, but we try to make the best of it, go through the motions, try to be the best parents to our kids, try to be there for them when they are going through difficulties.

Our life is nothing but a grand adventure, and I dare anyone who says we can't be good parents to our kids just because they are disabled. Well, we have proved them wrong, and our kids are living, breathing testimonies to the Miracle of faith, perserverance, and most of all, love, guidance, and support.

Our kids have passed all expectations, even our more seriously disabled ones, and they are constantly surprising us with new skills, new words, new accomlishments that we didn't think were possible. They are the ones who are teaching us; we aren't the only teachers for them.Now we are members of an online adoption community run by a lady in Tennessee, and we have already made many friends. We get together twice a year for picnics or seminars, and we always have a good time. The kids enjoy meeting other kids from around the country, and we enjoy the fellowship and making new friends who are in the same situation as we are. We don't feel so alone, and we find out that parenting kids with special needs can be a rich, rewarding, thrilling experience.

No, not everyone can do what we do, but isn't it nice to know that there are people who care for kids who might otherwise never have a chance in life??

The Starfish Story

As the old man walked the beach at dawn,
he noticed a boy ahead of him, picking up starfish
and flinging them into the sea.
Finally catching up with the boy, he asked why he was doing this.
The answer was that the stranded starfish would die if
left until the morning sun.
"But the beach goes on for miles and there are millions of starfish,"
said the old man.
"How can your effort make any difference?"
The boy looked at the starfish in his hand
and then threw it safely into the waves.
"It makes a difference to this one,"he said.

give them the opportunity

If the children and youth of a nation are afforded the opportunity to develop their capacities to the fullest, if they are given the knowledge to understand the world and the wisdom to change it, then the prospects for the future are bright. In contrast, a society which neglects its children, however well it may function in other respects, risks eventual disorganization and demise.

- Urie Bronfenbrenner (1977)

My Son is Alive

A woman shares her story about her now six-year-old son, Camryn, who was born with serious special medical needs.

My son, Camryn Damon, is six years old. He is a living, breathing medical miracle.

Camryn was born at five months, weighing just 14 ounces at birth. He was not expected to survive. He was born with a whole host of medical problems, some, of which, still affect his life today. He cannot walk (he has always used a wheelchair) or talk, he is ventilator-dependent, he has very low muscle tone, and he has brain damage that's left him with the mind of an infant. Camryn needs 24-hour medical care; he's been in and out of the hospital too many times to count.

Yet even with all his medical problems, my little boy brings me more joy than you can imagine. He smiles/laughs often, he loves people, and he loves looking at his reflection in the mirror that hangs above his hospital bed. He loves playing with his toys, and he loves being with us, his family.

Whenever we take Camryn out in public, people are sad to see how sick he really is, but we are determined to give him a good life. We believe he deserves to have fun, have a chance to do things like take him to concerts, movies, or out to eat at restaurants, or to festivals, where he absolutely loves to people-watch.

Whenever Camryn ends up in the hospital, Alan, I, or our older children (Carissa-12, Calliope-13, and Carsyn-15) are there, praying over him, holding vigil at his bedside, wishing for the best, praying for a miracle that he makes it through yet another crisis. We are determined to be there for him, even in times of medical crisis.

If it were not for the constant care (or the compassion of concerned doctors and nurses), Camryn would have not lived to the age of six. He is a regular fixture in our lives--and in the lives of others. I only wish people who do not know our son can see just how happy of a child he really is and see the beauty in him, even in light of all his medical concerns.

*THE END*

Heartwarming :)

Success Stories from specialchild.com

My daughter, Aimee, is autistic. She didn’t talk and would not give me any eye contact. I had traveled to visit my mother, and before I left, I had purchased pull-ups for nighttime, but I forgot to bring them.

It was evening and Aimee had some orange juice. She gave me the sign language for more. I then said (more or less to myself rather than her), "Oh, I forgot the pull-ups. I’m afraid if you have too much to drink you’ll wet the bed. I should’ve brought them." She continued to sign "more." I continued to mutter. Finally, she looked me in the eyes, and fervently said, "I," pointing to herself, "want more," giving sign for more, "or-ange juice, please." Needless to say she got her juice! - L.T., Hamilton, NJ

***

I am not a parent, but a proud older sister of a 15-year-old brother who is blind and autistic. As a child, Meir would constantly get upset when something would bother him. Getting upset included screaming uncontrollably and getting completely out of hand. With the loving and constant guidance of my parents, Meir (even though he has a long way to go), expresses himself way better than before. - S.S., Brooklyn, NY

***

My youngest son, Brayden, was born three months premature with heart and brain defects. He is now 4 ?years old. He is multi-handicapable. When he was young, the doctors told us he probably wouldn't survive, much less ever sit, walk, talk, or eat. He began eating orally a year and a half ago. He began talking one year ago, and is now nearly age appropriate in expressive communication! The most exciting accomplishment, however, is his walking. He had a bilateral tendon release on his hamstrings and gastrocs last November. Since recovering from the surgery, he began pulling to stand, cruising furniture, and could take up to 6 independent steps, even without his walker! Only other parents of children with special needs can understand the intense emotion that surrounds such feats!

Now, he is walking around the house with little assistance and now able to squat to pick something up and stand up again without help!! I cannot wait for the day that he can walk up to those nay-saying doctors and show them who is really in charge!! - J.B., Bartlesville, OK

'JIEJIE'

Eugene who only know how to pronounce 'papa',
who should be saying 200words by now,

called me 'jiejie' on Sunday, 10th June 2007!!!!

:D

he has improved alot cos he went to visit speech therapist:)

can you feel the joy?

Disorder VS Delay

The order in which children learn speech sounds and language forms is fairly predictable. Most children follow the same pattern of development. When a child is developing skills in this order but is doing it more slowly, he/she has a speech/language delay. Sometimes child does not have the same speech or language skills as other children his/her age and is not just slow in developing. They have gaps in development - they may have some skills that are age-appropriate but are missing some that should have been learned when they were younger. They may say use some sounds or forms that are unusual and never used by any child at any age. This is considered a disorder.

high expectations for children with special needs?

'Setting high, but realistic expectations, is a sign of respect for our children. Just because they have special needs does not mean that they cannot be expected to do anything.'

extracted from Raising Sebastien, Realising the Potential of your Autistic Child by Choo Kah Ying

The Miracle of Jay-Jay

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age. - Jeanne Moreau

"He doesn't look like the other boys," Grandpa said as he viewed the blanketed bundle I held in my arms. He was right. James Ryan, whom we called Jay-Jay, with his skinny little legs, almost bald head, and tiny, slanted eyes, bore little resemblance to my other chubby babies with their full heads of hair. But I knew the comment went far beyond looks. Grandpa couldn't accept the fact that Jay-Jay had Down syndrome and had mental retardation.

On subsequent visits, Pa-Pa, the name the other children used for their grandpa, ignored Jay-Jay. He picked him up once at a family reunion when it seemed to be expected for a family picture. Other than that, he never touched him, and looked upon him with something between pity and displeasure.

Then, one day, a miracle began. We were once again at a family reunion, and Jay-Jay, being the outgoing little boy he was at three years old, walked over to his grandpa and crawled onto his lap. Pa-Pa was a little shocked, but what could he do in front of all these people? This was his grandson. How could they understand that he hardly knew Jay-Jay?

Jay-Jay took his grandpa's glasses out of his shirt pocket and placed them on his own face, upside-down, precariously perched on his short, pudgy nose. He looked at Pa-Pa and giggled, making Pa-Pa laugh, too. Soon, they were walking around the room, Jay-Jay leading Pa-Pa, a little smile on the older one's face.

Their next encounter came months later when Pa-Pa decided to visit. Jay-Jay played the clown, making his grandpa laugh, and pick him up and throw him into the air.

Pa-Pa turned to my husband and said, "Why, he's just like any other kid."

We had tried to tell him, but Pa-Pa's preconceived ideas and fears of the disabled had kept him out of his grandson's life. But Jay-Jay, being an effervescent little boy, would not let him remain in darkness. With his love and actions, he showed Pa-Pa and others that they were missing out on some of God's greatest blessings by not loving and caring for him.

After that day, a strong bond began to form. Pa-Pa found that Jay-Jay loved balloons and would have one waiting for him each time we came to visit--visits he now welcomed. Then he discovered that Jay-Jay was not only sweet, but ornery, and he loved pillow fights. So each visit would end up with pillows flying across the room. I never figured out which of the two enjoyed it most. Soon Pa-Pa began to telephone--supposedly to talk to my husband, who was now glowing in the new relationship between his father and son--but always insisting on speaking to his youngest grandson.

Although Jay-Jay has a severe speech articulation disorder, he can understand most of what is said to him. Yet he finds it difficult to form the words he wants to say, making communication difficult. Nevertheless, Pa-Pa always wanted to speak to him by phone, and Jay-Jay would laugh and talk in words that neither his dad nor I understood. Pa-Pa swore he understood every word.

The phone chats became a weekly ritual. Every Saturday morning, Jay-Jay knew it was the day to talk to Pa-Pa. Since it was long distance, they took turns calling. One week, Pa-Pa would call. The next week, all excited, Jay-Jay would make the call and talk until we made him hang up.

Through the years, Jay, as he is called today, and Pa-Pa continued those weekly phone calls, along with letters, cards, fishing trips, and frequent trips to Wal-Mart. They became "best buddies."

When Jay was nineteen, his beloved Pa-Pa died unexpectedly. One of the hardest days of my life was watching Jay stand at his Pa-Pa's graveside as he was presented the American flag that draped the casket. But one of the things I cherish most is knowing that Jay's unconditional love built a bridge to his grandfather's heart and changed both of their worlds forever.

Story Author Louise Tucker Jones

Louise Tucker Jones is a vibrant speaker and award-winning author of Extraordinary Kids (co-author, Cheri Fuller). Her son, Jay has participated in Special Olympics Art for most of his 31 years and has won numerous ribbons and trophies for his photography. Louise resides in Edmond, Oklahoma with her husband, Carl and son, Jay, the youngest of their four children. Contact Louise at LouiseTJ@cox.net or www.LouiseTuckerJones.com.

-Story from the Chicken Soup for the soul- Children with Special Needs.
Soon to be released