I’m not the same as I was before.

It’s Mother’s Day 2022.

I have the overwhelming urge to offer a heartfelt hug to every mother struggling to get through the day.

These past few years have been a series of personal and societal gut punches. The global trauma/dumpster fire of COVID turned our collective anxiety and fear up to 11. Offering a hug now without donning a mask and showering in hand sanitizer seems reckless at best.

We’ve been more isolated than usual which is saying something for parents of children with special needs. The unknown is always the worst. The unknown became the new normal. We limped through it doing our best to protect and support our children. Sometimes we succeeded; sometimes we failed miserably in spite of our best efforts every time. Does everyone remember leaving our groceries in the garage for a couple of days because we didn’t know how long they could be contaminated? Was that really a thing? What just happened? I don’t have the distance on these past years to put them into perspective. I hope that happens some time. I’m not holding my breath.

Punch drunk.

That’s what came to mind recently when I was struggling to finish a sentence directed to my older daughter while looking for paperwork I forgot to send to school and wondering if Eliza got all of her morning meds and why did I come into this room? Would someone PLEASE call my phone? No, I can’t find it again. Don’t judge me. Just. Call. It. Why is my pocket ringing?

I’m punch drunk. To clarify, I do not mean a warm fuzzy feeling after sipping two paper cups of pink froth ladled from a glass bowl at the prom.

I mean something similar to this:

https://media1.giphy.com/media/ErBaCACBcgUlPn5UIJ/giphy.gif?cid=82a1493bbk03hbzbo0pge99aflcixkfzwf7tqncx7705at9s&rid=giphy.gif&ct=g

Where am I going with this, you ask? Wasn’t there a hug offered somewhere in this murky stream of consciousness? (I literally just forgot how to spell “consciousness.”)

Fair questions.

This is the moment that inspired my most recent urge to hug mothers everywhere.

I have the good fortune to speak frequently to parents of children, teens, and young adults with disabilities. A few weeks ago, I spoke with a mother of teenager in high school. The mother called asking for guidance on planning her daughter’s summer activities. She had a checklist with a list of questions. She was polite and professional. When I answered a question, she ticked it off of her list and moved to the next one. She had done her homework and then some. To an outsider, we could have been checking a grocery list or comparing car prices. As a fellow parent of a complicated kid, I recognized the depth of love embedded in each carefully written word, in each checkmark.

There were several questions without answers. Her plan wasn’t “perfect”. I honestly didn’t have much more to offer her. I made a few notes for follow up later. As the call ended, I could see she was struggling with some of the open-ended questions.

I know that feeling. The unknown is always the worst. We research. We ask questions. Sometimes the answers are insufficient. Sometimes they are nonexistent. But, we need them. We struggle.

“I need to tell you something,” I began. “You are doing a fantastic job advocating for your daughter.”

She glanced up from her notepad to look at me closely.

I continued, “You’re very thorough. You’re asking the right questions. You’ve clearly thought this through. This is not an easy process. I wish it was easier. Just because it’s difficult does not mean you aren’t doing exactly what you should be doing. I really it was easier for you and for her.”

The mother was very still for a several seconds. I thought I had offended her. What had I just said? Did something come out wrong?

Her face softened. She sniffed. She reached off camera for a tissue. I sat with her in silence while she wiped her eyes.

“I’m not the same as I was before,” she said softly. “I’m not like I used to be.” It was almost a confession. Something hard to reveal to me, to herself.

Her revelation touched me deeply. I recognized this confession. I’m not the same I was before either. In my moments of dark humor (a must-have trait for moms of complicated kids), I say “I am a shadow of the shadow of my former self.”

When this feeling threatens to take me down (again), I look to the mothers who befriend me, inspire me, cheer me on, feed me, listen without judgment, hand me a box of kleenex, and walk a mile with me despite the sudden storm because it’s my daughter’s birthday and I am just angry at the sky and life and go ahead and strike me with lightning, see if I care.

“You aren’t the same as you were before,” I acknowledged. “You can’t be. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve learned a lot. If you were the same, you wouldn’t be able to do what you do for her. You’re more than you were before.”

Sometimes we need to hear what other people see in us.

“You are a tremendous advocate for your girl. You are a fantastic mom.”

She smiled a little and cried a little more. She shared more about her family and all of the things going on in their lives. She thanked me for my kind words. I told her I just call them like I see them. We scheduled another time to talk and said goodbye to continue our separate good fights.

I found myself thinking a lot about our conversation.

“I’m not the same as I was before.” The sentence echoed in my head as I went about my days, looking for my phone and missing appointments. It resonated. Frankly, these words would not leave me alone. I had to find a response.

Here goes: Ok, I’m NOT the same as I was before. How could I be? I’ve stood toe to toe with doctors, therapists, teachers, experts for well over a decade. I’ve lost days (ok, months) of consecutive hours of sleep. I’ve learned medical jargon to keep up with referrals and follow ups and procedures. I’ve done seizures, nearly fatal asthma attacks, therapies, conferences, g-tube feeds, moves, unemployment, mental health challenges, middle of the night ER visits, serious illness, loss of my mother, death by IEP meetings in 5 states, COVID, desperate – sometimes successful – attempts to keep my children mentally healthy during COVID, starting over again and again and AGAIN. It’s a lot and it’s a lot to share with others.

If I had remained the same, it would mean I had not learned anything from these experiences. I know myself. If nothing else, I am a good student.

So today, I offer this to you and, to myself.

Maybe what we can give ourselves and our fellow beloved mothers is the gift of reclaiming these words for what they are.

We are not the same as we were before. This is a badge of honor. Our motto. Our logo. The words of our first (or 12th – no judgement) tattoo. The signature line. The introduction. The epitaph. A signal of how far we have come, how hard we try on a daily basis. A line in the sand before those who do not understand. The source of great pride spoken loudly and freely to whomever will listen and yelled at those who won’t.

A bouquet of lovely colorful flowers offered to mothers everywhere from one punch drunk mom in MA

We are more. We are more human and everything that being human entails. (Stronger, wiser, wearier, slightly less hygenic – maybe that’s just me, wildly more attractive, meaner when we have to be…you get the drift.)

You are so much more.

With a full heart, open eyes, and open arms, I wish for you the courage to be proud of yourself and everything you do for others. I wish for you the same kindness for yourself. My virtual hug to you from the interwebs.

Happy Mother’s Day!


Moms on Monday / Jessica’s Highlights from the CVI Symposium 2018

Hello fellow families!  Did you survive Spring Break?  These periodic weeks off of school are very appropriately named aren’t they?

Spring. Break. 

After 3, 4, 5… straight days of my delightful, strong willed, curious, demanding pre-teen who happens to have CVI and other diagnoses, I feel broken.   2 more days.  

Two.

More.

Days.

Spring Break.  I give.  Uncle! You win.  

But I digress.

There is an event on the horizon you may want to know about.

The 5th Annual Perkins CVI Symposium

From Perkins website:  Please join us for a rare opportunity to listen to top experts in the field on Thursday, July 11 and on Friday, July 12.

Engage in collaborative efforts to advance progress related to the challenges and complexities with CVI in the areas of medicine and research, assessment and best practice, as well as parent/family education and advocacy.

Here is a link to find out more about this opportunity to meet researchers, doctors, teachers, advocates, and fellow families – trail blazers all.

http://www.perkinselearning.org/earn-credits/onsite-training/cvi-symposium


 

Perkins continues to lead the charge on raising awareness and training families, educators, and therapists about CVI, the #1 pediatric visual impairment in first world countries.

Perkins is committed to building capacity – teaching education and therapy professionals how to evaluate and to work with children with complex visual processing impairments.

Last year, several CVI Moms and Advocates attended the 4th annual symposium in April.

people at perkins
CVI Moms Jessica, Anna, and Rachel at the 2018 CVI Symposium

Jessica (G’s mom and the very first Mom on Monday) attended last year’s symposium.

She was in good company with several other CVI families who are advocating for better educational outcomes for their children.

And, she has been busy!  Jessica created a podcast to highlight the stories of families of children with CVI.

 

Kaleidoscope: The Cortical Visual Impairment Podcast

Here is a link to this wonderful collection of stories:

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/kaleidoscope-the-cortical-visual-impairment-podcast/id1386780362

Here is Jessica’s reason for advocating and traveling all over the country to learn what she can learn about CVI.

Grace at ipad
Jessica’s daughter Grace learning to read on her Ipad

But I digress.

After attending the 4th Annual CVI Symposium last year, Jessica was kind enough to share some of her impressions of the meeting and the speakers.

—————————————————

Jessica’s Highlights from the 2018 CVI Symposium

The all day symposium was a “rare opportunity to listen to top experts in the field discuss current research and practice related to brain-based visual impairments.”

“The CVI Symposium sustained me.  It is an amazing feeling to walk into a room and feel like you’re with your people.

 

our people
Our people – CVI Families Unite at CVI Symposium 2018

I felt that same way last year at the PCVI conference.  Spending in-person time with other parents of kids with CVI gave me strength and courage.

Hearing from experts on CVI from the medical and education professions energizes me to keep fighting to get Grace everything she needs.”  Perkins…”is a lovely campus full of vision experts who are pioneering for us all.”

 

Presentations

A Parent’s Perspective:  Burju Sari

Burju Sari, a mother of a child with CVI, gave the opening talk.  She is also a TVI in early intervention. She was honest about her journey through denial, anger, acceptance. Her message was one of hope, love, and faith.

“He’s the glitter of our life,”  she said of her son.

Research:  Dr. Lotfi Merabet

Dr. Lotfi Merabet is an optometrist, neuroscientist and the Director of the Laboratory for Visual Neuroplasticity at the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary/ Schepens Eye Research Institute in affiliation with Harvard Medical School.

Dr. Merabet and his team discussed their fascinating research involving brain imaging and virtual reality to better characterize CVI for future research. The research is approached from a number of avenues: functional (task-based), behavioral (assessments), structural (white matter tractography and morphometry – how brain is wired), and connectivity (resting state).

Dr. Merabet said, “There are three things you can count on: death, taxes and neuroplasticity.”

He emphasized the difference in the brain wiring of a kid with CVI versus a kid with typical vision or ocular blindness.

The CVI brain is underconnected.

The CVI visual system is more sensitive and less robust.

There is a fundamental difference in the CVI brain and how we should intervene compared to a brain of someone with an ocular condition.

CVI Range (Roman): Ellen Mazel

From the CVI Teacher, Ellen Mazel –
“We have at this point one assessment for CVI that gives us an idea about functional vision.  The CVI Range gives us what we need as professionals and as parents.”

Best Practices:  Dr. Christine Roman-Lantzy

Dr. Roman-Lantzy presented on best practices.  She explained that  “best practices are a reflection of the times” and provided a brief history of education for the blind.

  • In the 19th century, blindness education included braille instruction
  • In the early 20th century, all visually impaired students were approached from a “sight saving” perspective
  • “Beyond these doors vision will not be used”
  • Children with low vision were blindfolded to “save” vision
  • 1963 – Natalie Barraga’s study on visual efficiency proves that vision is not a fixed capacity to be developed.  Educators now use braille only when the student has not useable vision.  The field of low vision skyrockets with the belief that all children with some degree of vision must be visual users. In essence, the pendulum had swung the other way.  The field had decided it was unethical to teach braille.
  • Result of shifting away from braille was that students with vision impairments fell behind in literacy and other school tasks
  • 1980s – Koenig & Holbrook offered a method to determine primary and secondary learning media (Learning Media Assessment)
  • Learning Media Assessments are now considered to be best practice for students who are identified as visually impaired.

—————————————————

BUT

There may be a problem for students with CVI.

Most kids is Phase I are identified as potential braille readers because they aren’t using their vision.  This assumption runs counter to what we’re trying to do to get them to improve their vision.  If this is assumed, then vision is not being emphasized during the years of greatest neuroplasticity.
The upcoming Learning Media Assessment for CVI is a book in the works from Dr. Roman and Matt Tietjen, CVI Endorsed TVI)

—————————————————

According to Dr. Roman-Lantzy, the current best practices for children with CVI are the following:

Identification: systematic screening for CVI in close proximity to birth or time of event in order to receive a timely diagnosis within year of occurrence

  • CVI Infant Screening
  • Physicians / pediatricians are beginning to recognize CVI

Assessment: CVI Range with CVI Range Endorsed person

Education

  • CVI-rich IEP
  • CVI Schedule
  • Direct & consult services
  • What’s the Complexity Framework
  • Orientation and Mobility

Dr. Roman also discussed her research at Pediatric VIEW, Phase III and what can go wrong with assessment and intervention for kids with CVI.


Thank you Jessica for these highlights from the 2018 CVI Symposium!

If you want to see last year’s presentations, check out the Perkins E-learning site.

http:/www.perkinselearning.org

Looking forward to the 2019 CVI Symposium:

What new insights into education and advocacy will happen at this year’s CVI symposium?

CVI Mom Rachel Bennett will present on the Family Education and Advocacy Panel!

What will you learn from the “experts”?

What will the “experts” learn from you?

Will you find “your people”?  

 

And,

 

the burning question on everyone’s mind…

 

 

 

Who wants pie?  

 

Okay, that last one may just be me.

Two more days.  Sigh.

See you in July maybe?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up and Moved, Part 1 of ?

Hello Fellow Families of Ridiculously Attractive Children who happen to have been identified with Cortical Visual Impairment!

I have thought about writing a post for so long.  There’s so much to say and so little time to get it right.  I judge myself and it doesn’t get done.  We are in a time of transition.  I keep turning inwards into myself and asking the same questions without new answers.   There is a familiar feeling of despair nagging at me.

I woke up this morning with an idea in my head.  I am going to stop judging myself and get it out there.

I may need some serious help here.  I will get to that eventually.

I spoke to my aunt yesterday and I found myself repeating my mom’s favorite saying, “I always do things the hard way.”  I used to roll my eyes when she said that.

Now, I have come to understand that when you have a child who is one in a million (quite literally) the hard way is often the ONLY way because you are breaking new ground and learning as you go.

But, not always.  My mom could have asked for help more often.  The results may have pleasantly surprised her.

The most important lesson Eliza has taught me is that asking for help can bring you information and support you never thought possible.  And, if it doesn’t, no harm done.  I’m used to doing it the hard way.

—————————————————

Two months ago, we up and moved.  (“Up and moved” is a particularly Southern phrase that implies doing something quickly.  Which is true.)

Our family’s life circumstances had shifted significantly.  My older daughter was about to start high school.  There was nothing keeping us in the state of Virginia.  I had been taking Eliza out of school half days to do private ABA therapies for various reasons.

I could not sustain the schedule of creating and maintaining an educational and behavioral program for her.  It was more than one person could do.  I didn’t feel particularly successful at it.

I am used to this feeling – the need to find someone who understands her better than I do.  Who knows HOW to teach her to communicate and to engage more with the world.  I am used to fighting battles and asking for more than IEP teams think is necessary.

In this instance, I needed to choose my battles and look at the big picture.

Eliza turned 12 this summer.

We needed to think about what we want her life to look like at 22 when she ages out of the school system.

We started entertaining where we would go if we could go anywhere.  Eliza would need to be in a state with good educational opportunities, a strong support network and good transition services for when she becomes an adult.  My older daughter should be able to start and stay in the same high school.  My husband and I would figure out how to make this work.  That’s what parents do.

So, we jumped, er, moved.  From Virginia to a state that rhymes with Smassachusetts.

Two months ago.

My husband, my older daughter and I packed and carried our house out the front door and into two Pods.  We made the trip to Smassachusetts and back to Virginia several times in two weeks.   It is not an exaggeration to say there was a little blood, so much sweat, a few tears, and a recurrence of carpal tunnel syndrome.  We went through several bottles of Aleve.

It has been intense. Some days I HATE our stuff.  Who needs more than 2 towels?  Why do we have so many socks?  ONE pair of shoes should suffice, people!  One pan, one lid.  One fork, one spoon, one plate. Throw the rest away!  (I get that this is a 1st World Problem.  I do.  Forgive me.  Just had to vent a little.)

And, the files – the medical records and educational records from a decade plus.

A little light reading to relax me –

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, wipes eyes and catches breath, AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, sniff. Sigh.

Sorry, I couldn’t write that with a straight face.

It’s necessary to decide where to keep them for quick reference.  There is so much information – maybe I should let some of it go,

but,

there are still many questions with respect to what makes Eliza  Eliza.  

Maybe the answer is in one of the reports and science just hasn’t caught up to her yet.

Maybe someday SOMEONE will be able to help me understand what we’ve lived from a medical perspective.

For that, I keep the records, in bags by the bed for now…like the master of domestic organization I am.

We continue to dig out from boxes and piles of laundry.

It has NOT been an ideal environment for a child with CVI.

moving
NOT a great environment for a child with Cortical Visual Impairment

The first few days she was most content sitting in the laundry room clinging to my legs.  It made sense.  The room is small.  Everything is off white – a clean visual palette.  The vibration of the dryer was comforting. I sat on the floor with her several times those first few days commiserating with her that we had found the only spot in this new place that didn’t look like a tornado had hit.

Looking at the  piles of boxes and clothes and furniture exhausted and irritated me.  I couldn’t exactly understand how frustrating it was for her, however, the way she clung to me like a drowning person gave me a good idea.

We made her and her sister’s room first priority to give them a place of respite from the craziness of a move.   She is laying in her room listening to music right now.  And, now she’s shuffling down the hall.

I will pick this thread up again soon.  I would like to tell you what is going on and to see if you have any insight.

From my spot on the distant periphery, I see CVI moms shaking up the status quo and creating real change in their local education and support systems.

It occurred to me this morning that I am not alone anymore.

Until I can share more, I (the master of domestic organization that I am) have a handy dandy tip for families who have just moved.

When you move to a house without a single curtain or window shade and you are in a pinch….

window treatment
Quick and easy window treatment for families who up and move!

….Halloween decorations make GREAT window treatments!  And, in August, they are ALMOST appropriate for the season!

window treatment 2
Hello SMASSACHUSETTS! We are YOUR new neighbors, you lucky ducks!

Moms on Monday #22 / Hope from CT

Good morning fellow families of sparkling children who happen to have a diagnosis of cortical visual impairment!
Today, Hannah’s mom, Hope tells us about her feisty 4-year-old daughter and how she came to be diagnosed with cerebral/cortical visual impairment (CVI).

Hope and her husband, Rob, welcomed their first children, boy-girl twins at 24 weeks, 5 days gestation. When the twins were 18 months old, Hope was inspired to begin taking online classes at UMASS-Boston towards an M.Ed. in Vision Studies. She explains that by becoming a teacher of the visually impaired (TVI) she hoped to learn everything she could to help Hannah’s twin brother, Joseph. Joe was diagnosed with low vision due to retinopathy of prematurity (ROP).

As a student in Ellen Cadigan Mazel’s class on cortical/cerebral vision impairment (CVI), Hope began to suspect some of Hannah’s unusual visual behaviors may have resulted from her complex medical history following birth. Hannah had significant complications following birth as a micro-preemie weighing less than 1 lb 8 ounces including intraventricular hemorrhage (IVH) leading to post-hemorrhagic hydrocephaly (PHH) which required the placement of a shunt (when Hannah was 3 months old) to divert excess cerebral spinal fluid from her brain to her abdomen via a ventricular-peritoneal (VP) shunt.

Ellen Cadigan Mazel, Hope’s CVI class instructor encouraged her to have Hannah formally assessed.

Hope is writing today to encourage parents who suspect their son or daughter may have CVI to seek an expert opinion.

Hope also wants to encourage anyone reading this post to consider a career in vision studies. (Editor’s note:  Yes!  Yes!)

There is a growing need for TVIs, and COMS (Certified Orientation and Mobility Specialists) and there are openings in nearly every state.

Parents in or near New England can learn more about the UMASS-Boston program by visiting the website https://www.nercve.org/.  Also, federal grants are available at some learning institutions to offset the cost of the degree.  Parents could contact their bureau or agency for the blind for advice on finding a vision studies program near them.

Hope is extremely grateful to her son and daughter’s educational consultant from DORS-BESB, Gail Feld, who left a brochure about becoming a TVI for Hannah and Joe’s babysitter. As a result of finding the brochure, Hope found out about the program at UMASS-Boston. Hope also wishes to express her appreciation for Joe and Hannah’s educational teams for their optimism, enthusiasm, and innovative steps they have taken to give her children the access to learning which has brought them this far.

Hope's twins

Image:  Joe (a little boy in a blue t-shirt and jeans)  and Hannah (a little girl in a yellow hat,  pink t-shirt and jeans) take a break by sitting on the rear stairs of one of the vehicles at a Touch-A-Truck event.

What can you tell us about Hannah?

Hannah is a strong, loveable and capable little girl. Complications of premature birth left Hannah with hemiplegia of her left arm and left leg. She has not allowed this to slow her down one bit! She wrestles toys away from her twin brother, Joseph with ease and then gallops away. When Hannah sets her sights on something there is no stopping her. She has a drive to learn and a passion for letters and numbers. Her greatest strength is her memory. Her favorite person is her father, her favorite place is the beach or pool, and her favorite things are books and television.
We came to suspect Hannah might have CVI at around age 3. At a team meeting, her Pre-K teacher related a story about Hannah’s affinity for a yellow spoon (color) which she would reportedly always look for and gaze at for long minutes during free-choice play. At home, color seemed to be an important element for Hannah in objects she was attracted to. She would always try to get her hands on the can of Pam ® cooking spray. Whenever this distinctive yellow and red can was near the edge of the counter, Hannah would try to reach it. Once I learned about the ten characteristics of CVI from Ellen Cadigan Mazel, my professor at UMASS-Boston, I began to suspect there was more to this “quirky” behavior.

I asked Hannah’s TVI, Peggy Palmer, if she thought it might be worth assessing Hannah for CVI. As it turned out—it was! Hannah’s results on Dr. Roman-Lantzy’s CVI Range put her in Phase III. The best outcome as far as Rob and I are concerned is that strategies for supporting children with CVI in the classroom, once implemented, made learning available to Hannah even before she was formally diagnosed, at age 4, with CVI by her ophthalmologist, Dr. Tara Cronin.
The diagnosis of CVI gave our family and the educational team a rich context for understanding how color could be an anchor for Hannah and why complexity inhibited her learning. For me, I finally began to understand my daughter’s unexplained behaviors. For example, when we brought Hannah to the toy store or library to pick out something “new”, she would consistently gravitate toward books and toys she already had (novelty). Her preschool teacher came to understand Hannah could attend to the activities of circle time ONLY if she were provided with hands-on materials to ground her in the activities of the meeting. Hannah’s physical therapist came to see Hannah learns best when verbal directions are given first, BEFORE actions are modeled with NO talking (complexity).

Now that Hannah is approaching kindergarten age, the biggest hurdles she needs to overcome are social. Hannah struggles to name classmates accurately UNLESS she is provided with auditory or other clues as to their identities (prosopagnosia).

What lessons has motherhood taught you?

Hannah and her twin brother, Joseph have taught me I need to be a strong and confident leader—even on those days when I do not feel strong or confident. While it is important to listen to what medical and educational professionals have to say, at the end of the day you need to trust your instincts. You alone are the true expert when it comes to your child and no one has a greater interest than you in his or her wellbeing.

Hope and butterfly twins
Image: Hannah (a little girl in ponytails holding a green stuffed animal), Hope, and Joe (a little boy in a blue baseball cap and glasses) on his mother’s lap.  They are relaxing on a butterfly shaped bench at Magic Wings in Dearfield, Massachusetts.

Another thing Joe and Hannah have taught me is that all children can—and do—learn. Behavior is the result of learning. If a child has behavior—whether it is functional or not—it is the result of learning. As our children’s first teachers, and later as their educational advocates, we need to make sure there is a match between our child’s availability to learn (attention) and the appropriateness of his or her environment for learning (access).

What advice would you give the parents of a child newly diagnosed with CVI?

Be the “help” you think your family needs. I am proud of the parent I have become as a result of all the challenges my family and I have overcome together. I have grown into a question-asking, action-taking, resistance-battling parent. While I do my best to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, I seek my own answers and have—by becoming a TVI—gone to great lengths to become more capable of understanding my children’s visual diagnoses.

No degree is required to stay abreast of best practices in the education of students with visual impairment. Family Connect provides a host of free resources for parents of children with visual impairment and blindness.   Organizations like NAPVI and NFB’s POBC offer opportunities for families to network. Rob and I are most appreciative of our families, friends and co-workers who supported the four of us through the past few challenging-but-transformational years.

It has truly taken a village to raise our two resilient and amazing children.

Hope sesame place

Image:  Joe, Hope, Hannah, and Rob visiting Cookie Monster at Sesame Place

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Another piece of advice I have is this:  Believe in resilience.

One neonatologist, Dr. Gruen, assured us that despite their extensive brain bleeds (intraventricular hemorrhages) and ROP (retinopathy of prematurity) our children would go on to have remarkably good outcomes. He knew this, he said, because Hannah and Joe had caring, educated parents who were involved in their day-to-day care. He assured us that between early intervention services and lots of love, our twins would have “everything they needed”. And he was right!
It seemed, in those early days, that what the twins needed was something only “expert” others could provide. Day and night, nurses and doctors intubated, extubated, and re-intubated the babies who seemed to be in a constant struggle to survive. It was two weeks before their skin was deemed “intact enough” that we could safely reach a hand into their incubators and touch our own children. For ten precious minutes at a time, I held my hand flat on the back of one or another sleeping baby. Under that hand was a little person who found themselves in a world an entire trimester too soon. But they were here, and we would do our best to keep them here.

Before their eyes were even open, and before we were ever able to hold Joe or Hannah, Rob and I read to them through an open “port-hole” in each incubator. The host of readers grew to include grandparents and friends. As a result of all this TLC, Joe and Hannah have developed a deep love of books. On more than one occasion, each child has insisted on carrying a book into bed with them as one might a favorite stuffed toy or a blanket.

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If I could go back in time and give advice to my former self, it would be this:

1) Ask plenty of questions.

2) Accept resistance as a lack of understanding (of CVI).

3) Place trust in those who have earned it.

To this I would add: trust yourself above all others because—and believe me on this—no one cares more about helping your child achieve his or her best educational and medical outcomes than you and your family do.

—————————

On Asking Questions

From the time they began to open their eyes in the NNICU, I was filled with questions about Joe and Hannah’s unusual visual behaviors which I did not ask. I was busy asking lots of other questions. I wanted to understand the implications of their high and low (blood) lab values, I would ask how long the treatment for NEC (necrotizing enterocolitis) would last and how long it might be before Joe and Hannah would be well enough for us to do skin-to-skin care.
Soon, I started to observe some unusual visual behaviors almost from the time their eyes were no longer covered with light-therapy sleep-shades. One twin was staring up at the lights while the other seemed photo-phobic. I had questions. I did not ask all of them. Why not?
First, I had the feeling I should accept my children’s unusual visual behaviors. I suspected that any vision differences were a consequence of their premature birth and were to-be-expected. When our children were born 16 weeks early, we were told each baby had a 50/50 chance of survival. They were fighting for their very lives, not striving towards the next developmental milestone. Three months had gone by and Joe and Hannah’s “age-typical” peers were still in-utero; there were no “age typical” peers to compare them to.
Second, I held back from asking all the questions I had because of a sense that I (or we) had already asked enough questions. I had the irrational belief that if I exceeded some perceived “quota” of parent questions it would in some way slow down the progress of the care-team. The meetings ran close to an hour as it was, and, after all, weren’t we lucky to even be permitted a seat at the table?

What does Hannah like to do? What are her favorite activities? What do you like to do as a family?

Hannah loves to laugh. She has the most infectious laugh and almost anything silly will make her giggle. She especially likes when grown-ups make mistakes, such as mixing her up with her brother, Joe and calling them by the “wrong” names. As a family we enjoy swimming and going to the beach to build sandcastles.

Hope and Hannah at Science Center

Image:  Hope and Hannah pose with Splash (a large colorful fish sculpture) on a recent trip to the Connecticut Science Center.

What do you hope to do as a TVI you were not able to do as a parent?

I look forward to working with children with CVI and other visual issues because I know I can direct them toward resources I know from first-hand experience to have been helpful. Not everyone is ready to “join” a parent organization but I want my clients to know they are not alone. Other people are going through the same or similar experiences. It is my hope to support those individuals who are ready by helping families find each other, network, and come to consensus about what needs to change at a systems level.

What do you worry about?  What changes do you feel are needed?

Right now, I think there is a need for more information about CVI to be made available to education professionals starting with TVIs. The UMASS Boston program made a course on CVI a requirement for all TVI candidates. Other programs need to follow suit. Personally, I would be happy to speak to pre-service teachers—special educators especially—to provide some training on the characteristics of CVI. As a parent of a child with CVI and a newly minted TVI I feel I could provide an overview of this public health crisis and its causes. My goal would be to introduce them to some modifications and accommodations which can be of help to all students but especially to kids with CVI. I plan to start by reaching out to colleges and universities close to where I live in Connecticut.

As a TVI and a parent I worry about children with CVI who need appropriate services but for whatever reason are not receiving them. Also, I worry about the state-by-state criteria for low vision services. I believe every child whose CVI impacts their access to the general curriculum should be eligible for low vision services regardless of the results of their visual acuity test. Some parents are hesitant to bring their children with CVI for a low-vision exam. They are fearful a near-normal visual acuity result could cause their needful children to be identified as NVI (Not Visually Impaired) when, in fact, they are impaired.

Big and little changes are needed.

The time is NOW and the power is US.

Thank you, Hope!  I absolutely agree.  I have learned so much from your story and your dedicated efforts to become an expert for your children. 

There is a national shortage of teachers of the visually impaired and certified orientation and mobility specialists.  This is part of the reason it can be so difficult to find educators trained in working with children with CVI.  With parent advocates/TVI like Hope, the time IS now.  

 

Moms on Monday #21 / Jennifer from PA

Good morning fellow families of radiant children who happen to have a diagnosis of cortical visual impairment.

Today, Rheanon’s mom, Jennifer tells us about her curious, joyful, 10-year-old daughter.  She also shares her frustration in her attempts to get Rheanon access to her educational environment.

Rheanon and brotherImage: Rheanon, a smiling girl standing behind her brother draped over a reverse stander.
Rheanon and famImage:  A smiling family (Mom/Jennifer, Dad/Greg, brother/Chase and Rheanon) in their Sunday best standing outside in front of a fountain on a green lawn.

What does Rheanon like to do? What makes her laugh? What are her favorite activities? What do you like to do as a family?

Rheanon is a happy go lucky little girl! She loves to take care of her babies (all 15 of them) and she absolutely loves when she gets to hold a real baby! She likes to snuggle with and talk to both me and her father. She likes to watch Daniel Tiger on PBS as well as play with her Daniel Tiger characters. Her favorite episode is “The Baby is Here”. She can recite the words and sing the songs.

She has the most infectious laugh and most anything silly will make her laugh. She especially likes when we say the wrong thing, such as mixing up Aunt and Uncle. We tease her about loving hot dogs and opening her own hot-dog restaurant because she does not like them at all, she is also not a fan of white socks or my favorite local pizza shop.

We like to spend time together as a family, playing games such as Zingo and Sequence, reading stories, & visiting family. In the summer, Rheanon loves to go for walks. Her favorite thing is to go to the local amusement park, Knoebels. She likes the spinning, fast moving, belly tickling rides.

Rheanon and t-shirt
Image:  Rheanon and her brother, Chase.  She is wearing a Start Seeing CVI t-shirt.

When did you learn about CVI? How were you given the diagnosis?

We learned that Rheanon had CVI when she was 1 year old, but we didn’t get a diagnosis until she was 2 years old.

We knew that she wasn’t ‘seeing’ when we brought her home from the hospital but the doctors in the NICU said it was because of her prematurity.  In time, we were told, she would be fine.

After a few weeks at home, I learned of the Infantsee program. I took her to our optometrist who said the said the same thing, “Delayed Visual Maturation”.

When she was 6 months, she was diagnosed with Infantile Spasms. All of our energy went to stopping the seizures. With an aggressive neurologist, special diets, and heavy duty medications, she had her last seizure 5 months later.

At this point, we were working with Early Intervention and had an in-home PT and Teacher. Early Intervention referred us to Blind and Visual Services. BVS then got us an appointment with an Optometrist in State College. It was there that Rheanon was diagnosed with CVI.

But, we needed a diagnosis from an ophthalmologist.

The first ophthalmologist gave no credit to the optometrist or the diagnosis.  He said we should, “take her to the mall to look around.”

We went to Will’s Eye in Philadelphia for tests to rule out everything else.

My child, who we adopted, who we weaned off of drugs, who just got done having steroids and hormone injections to stop her seizures, had to be sedated so they could hold her eyes open and rule out all other diagnoses when an optometrist diagnosed her correctly (and immediately) months before.

They ultimately gave her the CVI diagnosis.

We got a TVI after that, though very few CVI strategies were ever put into place. I didn’t understand it and her team didn’t understand it and there was not a push or a requirement for them to do so.

I took her to the Overbrook School for the Blind for an outreach program. Overbrook staff told us how smart she was and how much she would be able to learn.

I took her to Altoona where a team of teachers and therapists from the Western Pennsylvania School for the Blind met us to evaluate her. Most of her Early Intervention team came along – PT, OT, TVI, O&M, Teacher and EI director. We learned some strategies, but once we returned home, no one knew how to continue.

We had 2 assessments by Dr. Roman at WPSB and then 2 more assessments by a TVI after Dr. Roman moved on from that program. I would bring the assessments back home to the team but nothing ever came of them.

Rheanon is a smart girl.

Dr. Roman said at one meeting, “She is making you think she can see more than she can.”

———————-

Rheanon is now 10.  She attends her neighborhood elementary school and is in the third grade.

Her recent assessment with Dr. Roman puts her at phase 2 on the CVI Range.

I think that the members of her team are excellent teachers and therapists.

However, I do not think that they are knowledgeable in CVI, therefore I do not think that she is being supported properly.

I feel like I keep bringing things to the table to help and they keep getting pushed aside.

I feel like they are squashing her potential.

I feel like they don’t think CVI is affecting her.

I feel like our team has fallen apart.

I feel completely alone in the fight for her.

I am fighting for her right to learn. Her right to learn in the way she needs to learn.

And I don’t understand why this is so difficult.

I refuse to let her down, so we push forward.   We may lose old friends but we gain new ones.

—————-

Rheanon doesn’t always interpret things correctly, most often its people that she misinterprets. White haired ladies are grandma, tall men with deep voices are our neighbor Howard…

She knows her sight words well, but she struggles to read sentences.

Rhe on IPad
Image: Rheanon’s brother, Chase, leans over an IPad and traces sight words for his sister.

Her memory though –  Holy Cow –  I may never have to buy another planner.

I joke that she can work for the CIA someday because her questioning is persistent and she will find the hole in your plan.

Rheanon smile

Image:  Rheanon, a smiling girl with short hair in a red sweatshirt.

I won’t look back again with regret that we didn’t do everything we could.

 

And, Jennifer is changing the way Pennsylvania serves its children with cortical visual impairment.   She knows a thing or two about advocacy;  She works for the Arc of Pennsylvania.  (If you have never heard of the ARC, look it up.  There should be a local office near you.  They are there to educate, support and fight for you and your child with special needs.)

Jennifer has also paired up with another mom to offer presentations about how to work with children with Cortical Visual Impairment to local early interventionists. Can’t wait to hear how those presentations are received!

Thank you, Jennifer, for sharing your family and your clever and tenacious girl with us!

 

 

Hope has work for us to do

About 8 years ago, I attended a conference at a School for the Blind I will not name to learn about the options for transitioning visually impaired toddlers to preschool.

During a panel presentation of expert educators at the school, a grandmother sitting down the aisle from me raised her hand. She stood and asked about the diagnosis her grandbaby had just received, “It’s called cortical visual impairment. I’d like to know what we can do to help her.”
At that point, my daughter was going on 3 years old.  I had been researching CVI and how to modify our home environment for Eliza for a couple of years.  We had seen Dr. Roman-Lantzy a couple of times.   I was waiting to hear the experts recommend her book or mention that vision can improve with accommodations – with education. I wanted to hear what this panel had to say – maybe they knew something I didn’t.
Then, one of the experts told the grandmother and the whole auditorium of parents from all over the state that there was nothing she could do.  CVI might  improve. It might not. At her granddaughter’s young age, she would just have to wait and see and hope her vision improved.

Wait and see and hope.

Wait

&

See

&

Hope

?

If that is the most passive piece of advice you’ve ever received, then raise your hand – or wait – Don’t raise your hand:  Stare at your hand and wait for it to raise itself.

Yes, there are times when a situation is beyond your control and the only thing to do is to wait and see and hope.   I am familiar with these times.

There are also times when you create hope through your actions.

It’s important to be able to tell which is which.

The experts went on to the next question. The grandma sat down and folded her hands in her lap.  My jaw fell open. I wanted her to ask a follow up question.  I wanted her to ask why they thought there was nothing that could be done for an infant with CVI.

I wanted to stand up and tell them they were dead wrong.  Neuroplasticity makes an infant’s brain open to learning: It makes new pathways for functional vision possible.  The time to begin working with her granddaughter was yesterday.

I wanted to reach across the aisle – across the other families separating us – so I could pat her hand and tell her that she had not been given the right information.

 

I didn’t.

I sat in my seat and stewed. I didn’t feel as though I knew enough to raise my hand in front of a crowd to contradict the very people who were hosting the conference.  It was frustrating and surprising that a school could be giving wrong information to families.

I regret that silence.

I regret not sharing my story with that grandmother.

I regret not asking her for her story.

My silence did not serve anyone that day.  Because I stayed silent, that woman remained alone. Sitting down the aisle from her, I remained isolated from her. We left and went our separate ways.

I hope she went home and continued researching.  I hope she found the support she needed.  I wish it didn’t have to be so difficult to sort out accurate information about cortical visual information and how to support children with it.
I have thought about silence a lot over the years.

How silence keeps people separated.  How silence allows incorrect information to stand uncontested.

I have thought a lot about hope.

Being hopeful can be a very vulnerable place to live.  For every one person who agrees with you, there are twenty who look at you funny and wait for your high expectations to come crashing down.  For every one person who offers a hand, there are twenty who are quick to step back with a snide comment or a sigh.

Cynicism is easy.  It requires no effort at all. It is dull and lifeless.  Cynicism is fueled by fear – fear of exposure, fear of failure, fear of judgment.

Hope can be hard.  Hope requires energy.  Hope is fueled by love.  Thankfully, love is the easy part.  We have an abundance of it.


Sometimes, if you are lucky, you find words artfully put together that capture a feeling you carry around with you.  Finding them makes you feel less alone.  Sharing them makes your heart happy as though the words could stretch out to embrace someone the way they embraced you.

Recently I was lucky enough to stumble upon words that described my favorite kind of hope.   The hope I know what to do with.


“Though hope may sometimes seem like a luxury – frivolous, groundless, insubstantial – it is precisely the opposite.

Hope is elemental. It is made of some of the strongest stuff in the universe.

It endures.

Hope does not depend on our mood, our disposition, our desire.

Hope does not wait until we are ready for it, until we have prepared ourselves for its arrival.

It doesn’t hold itself apart from us until we have worked through the worst of our sorrow, our anger, our fear.

This is precisely where hope seeks us out, standing with us in the midst of what most weighs us down.

Hope has work for us to do.

It asks us to resist going numb when the world within us or beyond us is falling apart.

In the height of despair, in the deepest darkness, hope calls us to open our hearts, our eyes, our hands, that we might engage the world when it breaks our hearts.

Hope goes with us, step by step, providing the sustenance we most need.”

– Jan Richardson, The Cure for Sorrow

 

This is what is rattling around in my busy head these days, fellow families.  Some days, some years are like that I suppose.  Most days I do my very best to listen to what hope tells me to do.  There is work to be done.

Every day, I know that cynicism is a luxury I cannot afford.  I know that.

On the days, I can’t listen to the “to-do list” hope has for me, I am comforted by the fact that there are others who will listen for me until I can engage the world again with a broken and fierce heart.

This is me waving from my little corner of chaos to yours with affection and flowers of particularly popular colors I’m sure you can appreciate.

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Moms and Dads on Monday / Early Connections Conference 2018

 

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After a full day of presentations on a wide variety of topics and fun activities, parents of young children with vision loss came together in the school auditorium.  Before they left, I asked them to share something they were going to take away from this experience by writing it on a post it note and placing it on a whiteboard near the stage. Some folks wrote a single word.  Some wrote more.  Each sentiment is the beginning of a story only they can write.  A story with an ending they can control.

Maybe, a story they can share when they speak at the Perkins 50th annual Early Connections Conference.  Or 75th…. who knows?

post-its.png

Here are the words of the parents.

Hope

I hope every parent can be brave to fight their children

The kid with special needs was born to show us WE ARE STRONGER THAN WE THOUGHT

Support each other

I want to bring this amazing inspiration to my home, family, work, city, and country – all countries!

Stay strong.

We are all on a journey looking for answers and connections.  #FeedtheHope

If a 3-year-old understands this, then I need to up my game. #FeedtheHope

Be motivated by love, not fear.

Community

It’s okay to be sad.  It is okay to cry.  I got your back.

Inspiration

Be an involved dad!

Feed the good wolf

Be positive.  Life is good.

Medical imaging will not define what my child can do.

Don’t stop dreaming.

You’re a great Mom!  Congratulations Perkins

A future together

I’m not alone anymore

Inspired and thankful

Every parent has a story.

SO MUCH INFORMATION!  (I learned a lot.)

Expect miracles

Belief statement about your child

Knowledge

Advocate

Unconditional love

Balance is important.  Remember to stay connected.

Treasure the special moments

Rainbows always come after the rain

Every family has their own story about their amazing kids!

JOY!  To find it whatever situation – family, friends, church, work, community

Perspective

Faith in action!

Every day my life is inspired and strengthened by moments of joy.

It will get better.

There is a nice way to ask for commitment to follow IDEA.

Doctors needs sensitivity training.  Listen to your gut.

It’s OK.

Just keep swimming but know where you are swimming to!

Keep going!

Family connection is essential.

Be your child’s advocate.  The experts don’t always know what’s best.

Families are powerful, knowledgeable, and resilient.

You are not alone.  You are an amazing parent.  Don’t ever think otherwise.

I will choose how the story ends.

Teamwork

Faith

Never feel alone again.

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Image: An illustration of the words “We’ve Got This” held up by a group of women.  A baby sits on top of the words holding a rattle in the air.  Illustration doodled  by Ian Christy  (https://www.instagram.com/i.christy/)

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Image:  Ron Benham , Danielle Bangs on the left.  Teri Turgeon standing on the right of a whiteboard.  On the whiteboard is written “Happy 35th Perkins School!”  The whiteboard is covered in colorful post it notes.  

At the end of the conference, Perkins recognized the achievements of Ron Benham, who is retiring from his position as Bureau Director at the Massachusetts Department of Public Health.  Ron was one of the people in Massachusetts who understood the importance of early intervention and helped to build (and find funding) for the service system over 30 years ago.   Families of children with special needs benefit today from the decades of work of dedicated professionals like Ron Benham.

Bravo Ron!  Bravo Teri and Ed and Danielle and everyone at Perkins!  Bravo fellow families!  We are in this together!

CVI Teleconference Call

Did you know that there is a weekly teleconference call for families of children with CVI on Tuesday nights?

This weekly call has been a source of knowledge and comfort for families like ours.  The moderator of this call is a kind and wise woman named Judith Millman.

I asked Judith about the history of this teleconference call that has been a lifeline to families across America for 11 years.

Why did the call come about?
The original idea for the Telephone Support Groups came from Dr. Alan Morse, the President of the Jewish Guild for the Blind (now LighthouseGuild). He felt that there were parents of children with visual impairment all over, particularly in rural parts of the country, who were isolated with no support systems in place and that the Guild had the resources and contacts to play a constructive role in their lives. About ten different vision conditions were targeted but CVI, being the single largest cause of children’s visual impairment became one of the first groups that was started (in 2007). It continues to be the largest telesupport group (by far) that LighthouseGuild sponsors.

How did you get involved? What is your background?
I am a social worker by training and worked most of my career in vision services. I started at the Lighthouse in Westchester Co. (White Plains, NY) as a social worker. By the end of my 30 year career there, I was the VP for the Lighthouse in the Hudson Valley, overseeing services for consumers in 7 counties. When I was about to retire, a colleague of mine, Dan Callahan, who was hired by the Guild to start the telesupport program, recruited me to facilitate the CVI group which was just about to be launched.

What are some common questions?
How can I get appropriate services for my child? The school district doesn’t seem to know much about CVI. Can you recommend an ophthalmologist who knows about CVI–mine doesn’t and told me that my child is blind. Where can I find a TVI and an O&M who really understand CVI? How can I help my child learn to use his/her vision? What strategies are helpful?

Have questions changed over the years?
I’m afraid that the questions haven’t really changed over the years. A positive factor is that more information is available via the literature, websites, distance learning courses, etc.

What are common themes in CVI that you don’t see going away – or that are increasing?
The tremendous role that parents have to take on to advocate for appropriate services–even more difficult in light of shortages in the field of TVIs and O&Ms.

What would you want parents of children with CVI to know?
You’re not alone.

CVI is the leading cause of visual impairment of children in the US. There are resources available, including a telesupport group, distance learning courses through Perkins School for the Blind, Dr. Roman’s book, webinars, etc.


If you are interested in joining the CVI teleconference call, email judithmillman@aol.com.

Thank you to Dr. Alan Morse for a wonderful way for families to create community across the miles.

Thank you Lighthouse Guild for sponsoring this call!