Post Worthy Emotion

Last week, my very first baby turned six.

You say, "*le gasp!* You cannot be a mother to such a maTOOR child! You look only old enough to have just entered college!"

...stop... you'll make me blush...

But seriously. It's insanity how my kid isn't five anymore. He's entered the first stage of childhood. You know, the one where you start making your own friends and doing things like sleeping in tents all summer and getting ridiculously dirty and trampling in all over the house and getting grounded.

My son is old enough to get grounded. He's old enough to know better than to strip naked outside in the yard in front of the neighbors. Heck, people, he's old enough to pick up his baby sister and carry her to the living room when she's getting into trouble.

He's so grown up to me. Consider my point of view here: three years ago I had a child who was non-verbal. He said a word here or there, but life with Bear was a guessing game. Did he want juice or milk, and if I get the wrong one is he going to spiral out of control because the stress puts his brain on overload? Is today going to be an awesome day or a day where I need to put everything on hold and do his squeezes ad nauseum? Is he not eating spaghetti because he doesn't like the squish or is it that the acid in the tomato sauce burns his mouth? How do I get him nutrition? He doesn't eat. Is he hurt? Is he happy? Does he want to hug his grammie? How do I know when he's stimming or when he's just being three?

Those were daily questions for me. I struggled every day knowing what the right thing was. I couldn't communicate with this beautiful Bear that God had given me and it was because of a neurodevelopmental condition that wasn't ever going to go away.

Fast forward three years.

Today, I had a conversation with Bear about what he did at school. He'd made a card and colored the person on it orange. He'd given the person web shooters. And he wrote "From Elijah" on it. And he made it for me. How did I know that? He told me.

Bear.
Told.
Me.

He tells me what sounds good for dinner. He tells me why he doesn't want to eat tomatoes ("They're squishy, mom") and he tells me that he doesn't like feeling dirty. He tells me that he doesn't want to build legos, he wants to build Baymax instead. He reads words like "avalanche" and "emergency" and knows exactly what they mean. He tells me about his friends at school. And when I pick him up from school, everyone around him tells him "bye, Elijah, see you tomorrow!" His teacher tells me that he makes a lot of friends and is very helpful. His typical education classroom is, developmentally, the perfect place for him.

I never imagined his life this way. To be honest, the "special" mom in me always imagined that he'd require intensive special assistance. I always imagine that adults around him won't understand him and will make him feel excluded. I always imagined his life difficult and beaten down. Don't judge me, because I'm just being totally honest here. I really hoped he would thrive in his life. But I never felt bold enough to expect anything but an uphill battle... for him and for me.

Every year, on his birthday, I think on how much has changed. And every year, at his birthday, I can't make the perfect speech to tell everyone in our lives how much their help and assistance and genuine love of my Bearface Gorgeousbrain means to me. Personally.

So, to those of you who are in our lives: to those of you who have been in our lives for a season and then God put you somewhere else; to the paraprofessionals and professionals who have brought my Bear so far; to those of you who have been, are, and always will be my friends and help me in this daily life; to those of you who are family and are so supportive and have taken time to understand Bear's autism and his personality: I don't know how to thank you. I consider you all part of the woven tapestry God is making out of our journey. You will never know how grateful I am for each and every single one of you.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I bless you in the name of my Savior; may He richly prosper you for the work you have done with us.

I love you all so very, VERY much.

...and so does Bear.

My Big Bear Hero is 6 :)

Happy Birthday, little Boo ❤️

I just want to point out that my gorgeous girl, My Boo, turns one today. 

I don't think I ever wrote about the experience. It's one I treasure. A year ago, I lay on a table and literally split open for this beautiful child. I did it willingly, excitedly, and without regret. 

I was terrified because of my last experience. With Bear, I had a c-section, but it was an emergency. I was literally quaking on the table, so much so they had to have my mom and a nurse hold me down. On top of that, I was terrified. And on top of that, I could feel them cutting into me because they didn't let the drugs sink in well enough. They had to put me all the way out with a general anesthetic in order to make me comfortable and to get me to stop screaming. I don't remember any of the time at all. I am so glad I have pictures of meeting my boy... Because I don't remember anything until the next morning. 

God redeemed it all with Elizabeth by redeeming every last detail: everything was the same, and yet, the second time everything was different. 

This was planned. Stephen was there, and we went into the hospital early. We had the sweetest team of nurses that morning. One woman's name was Nan, and she explained every single thing she was doing and why she was doing it that way. She poked needles in me about ten times, but even so I didn't mind. My doctor came in and chatted with us while we waited for the anesthesiologist to give another lady her epidural, and then we went to the OR, where they were playing classic rock and, basically, having a party.  Nobody rushed anything. Nobody rushed me. When they began the surgery, I couldn't feel anything. All I knew was, that at 9:06 I heard my beautiful baby squeal. The little ball of thunder was here... And I remembered it. Stephen brought her over to me and I couldn't hold her but I saw her... I saw her and I sobbed and I was so happy. They were closing me up while she and Stephen went to the nursery, and I clocked those 54 minutes from when she was out to when I held her in my room. 

God used this entire experience to redeem us. We were in the exact same hospital room as I was when I had Bear. Stephen and I were together this time, not separated by stupidity. Boo was born at the same time, weighed the same, measured the same, and even looked the same as her brother. She ate better, she slept just as well, and she looked adorable, all burritoed up the way you roll a baby into a receiving blanket. We stayed for three days at the hospital, just having our family visit. We had lots of down time with our girl. Seeing Stephen as a dad from the very beginning was such a joy. It was a gift for him, and for me. This was the first baby he ever really got to be part of. He wouldn't say it, but he's been so hurt by both of those experiences. This time... Well, let's just say it makes a memory, heh? 

Oh, Boo... Someday you'll read this and understand how precious you are. On this, your first birthday, I remember laying down and splitting apart for you and I'm reminded that Christ was torn apart, violently, for us, to cover our sins with his blamelessness... without any pain numbing drugs or sweet time afterward. Never forget, baby girl, that you are loved that much by the creator of the universe. So am I... And so is anyone reading this post. 

Happy birthday, my beautiful little love. You are treasured. You are absolutely loved. 

My Stupid Husband

Dear Husband,

            You, my dear, are the worst husband anyone could ever have, because REASONS.

            Don’t worry, sweetie, I will list the reasons for you, just so you really understand where I’m coming from.

            Let me start by saying this: I know you do good things for me. You push me to stay in touch with people I might otherwise lose. You help me make friends and create memories. Not only that, but you know a good deal when you see one and help me make business connections. You’re incredibly supportive when it comes to sharing my life with others.

            But you do - ultimately - SUCK. And here’s why:

1. You, my dear, are SELFISH.

            It’s always about what YOU want to say, how YOU want it to be said, and how YOU think it should or should not impact the lives of others. You rarely think about how what you do makes others feel. When I call you out, you get defensive and tell me to mind my own business. Not only is this how YOU act, but you encourage others to act this way. You can be so inconsiderate, and you don’t even understand this about yourself.

2. Sweetheart, sometimes what you say is TMI.
            “TMI”: TOO. MUCH. INFORMATION. I don’t need to see some of the things you show me or read some of the things you put in front of me. Sometimes they’re vulgar, ignorant, wasteful, or just plain stupid. Sometimes it’s mean. Sometimes, my love, it’s just too much splattering your life as an open book, without regard to others’ sensitivities. It’s just too much.

3. Darlin, you suck so much time away from my family.
            We can’t just have a quick chat, you and me. Anytime you want to tell me what happened with you, it turns into a ten minute conversation that I can’t seem to quit. You’re incredibly interesting, but nothing you say seems to have any lasting value to me. My kids don’t benefit from our time together, and I’m just tired of envisioning you as part of how they see my life. It’s a terrifying notion that they would think you’re an extra appendage of mine. Trust me, our relationship is a drain to my relationship with my kids… and I love them too much to continue it.

4.  Babe, day-to-day interaction with you causes me intense anxiety.
            For all the reasons I’ve listed previously, any time we interact I have a feeling of dread. You aren’t fun anymore, my sweet, and I’m sorry, but when you stopped being fun the good things about you weren’t enough to keep me wanting this relationship. Sorry.

5. I need to reconnect with people.

            I feel isolated when I rely on you. There isn’t enough touch; there isn’t enough laughter. There isn’t enough of truly knowing anybody. I need real people – real faces. And though you show me enough to fill a book, it just isn’t enough anymore. I need a *real* book of faces – one that I can really know. If that makes my world smaller, I’m ok with that. It will be more real this way.

Goodbye forever.

You may think that I’m writing this about my actual husband. Ha! Joke’s on you – NO. Stephen is the BEST husband anyone could ever have, and I love him because he makes life better and bearable and worth something.

The husband I’m talking about here is – you guessed it – the Facebook. I am married to the stupid thing. We are bedmates. We share a life. We are one flesh. I am my facebook and my facebook is me. 

GROSS. 

So I'm divorcing it. Me and Zuckerberg are through because REASONS:

1. I don’t want to be SELFISH anymore.

I am choosing to step away from the arguments, propaganda, and hurtful things people talk about and share on Facebook. I am just as guilty as the next person of this. I am so guilty, in fact, that I had to write the words “LOVE ONE ANOTHER” across the top of my computer screen to remember to filter my words with love.
            …it didn’t work. I can’t be trusted.

            I’m just too drawn to debate. Facebook is an incredible tool, but it doesn’t work to even debate in a private message. (Trust me, I tried.) The (internet) written word leaves no room for inflection or emphasis, and I don’t like being misunderstood. I just can’t deal with it anymore.

2. I give TMI: TOO. MUCH. INFORMATION.
            If anyone has ever seen the documentary Terms and Conditions May Apply, you’ll understand a deeper meaning of too much information. And, while I can’t get back the data I’ve already uploaded to cyberspace, I can cease giving new information. You’ll notice that I haven’t posted any pictures on Facebook since 2014.

I intend to keep it that way. I keep imagining when my kids are old enough to have a facebook – are they going to have to look at their entire lives on my facebook, or can we sit an reminisce over a scrapbook or photo album and talk about all the pictures? I don’t want it to matter how many likes a post or photo has. I don’t want it to matter if I show a picture of baby buns. I want my kids to have real nostalgia – something you don’t get on a computer screen.

3. I have an extra appendage – my cell phone.
            My facebook time (on my phone) sucks time away from my kids. I go to check one notification and get sucked into a “Answers.com – Celebs!” article about “which celebrities [I] won’t believe have love-children”.
            I wish I was kidding… or at least exaggerating.

            I think Elizabeth might think that my phone is an actual part of my hand – or that Harlow might think Facebook is the only reason to make a photograph. That’s tragic to me. I don’t want my baby to think the apple logo means she has to smile or do something cute. I don’t want Harlow to think that the only reason I take photos of her is so I can show my Facebook friends. Neither of those things are real life. And real life is so much more important than anything else.
            I won’t even get started about the problems Facebook has caused with my husband. Or our families. Long story short (very, very short): Facebook simply is not worth it anymore.

4. Anxiety? YES.           

            No, it’s not a stretch. I have this problem: I care too much about words. I’ve already said that I’m much too drawn to debate. Facebook is a vapid debate MAGNET. Not only that, there is much too much temptation for me to be caring about other peoples’ business or to take up their offenses.
            Yep, I’m admitting my own guilt in this. And now you all know. I’ve judged you at least once, I’ve heard things about you more times than that, and I’ve either friended or unfriended at least that many people because of something I’ve heard or something I’ve assumed.
            I’m sorry if that hurt you. I’m sorry if it was my intention to hurt you. I’m sorry if it wasn’t and you just felt that way. I’m not perfect. I’m so far from perfect you don’t even know.

5. I need to reconnect with people.
            I am not quitting life. I’m not quitting relationships. I will give my phone number to anyone who asks for it. I will give my email to anyone who wants to be pen pals. You can even have my address. (In fact, I want YOUR personal info so I can send invitations to you for parties and game nights!)
            I need real faces that smile and understand.

            I need real hearts and real prayers and real hands laid on me for blessings.
            I need real people to share life with.
            I need real listeners.
            I need to really learn to listen.
            I need to really learn to share my family.

            I need to learn to intentionally share my kids with everyone who wants them.
            I need to learn who really wants to be a part of our story.

So, dear ones… you are officially served your notice.

You have – ALL OF YOU – been deleted.

Thank you for the good times. I love you so much.

You can still find me on instagram [username @kaelaaah], and I’ll stay here at the blog. I’ll post updates pretty frequently, so those of us who don’t get to talk a lot can still connect (albeit a little more deeply).

I may be done with status updates and Facebook albums, but I’ll call you, text you, and show you my family photo albums anytime.

For I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:13)

I have no idea how I have made it through the last couple of months. The Lord has been good to me, I believe. Really, he's been faithful to my family and loving to my heart. My friends and family have been heavenly vessels and have spoken much to my heart these past five weeks.

Here's an update about what's happened.

While I was in California, my mom got a call from Children's Hospital, Seattle, from the Speech Therapy Department. Because we've been worried about Elijah having Autism for quite some time, I got a referral from our PCP and then waited for that call. Of course it would come while I was in California! :P Blessedly, my mother got the call and set the appointment for the 14th of July. WOW! That date was a blessing in and of itself because when I called them to put Elijah on the appointment waiting list, they told me it would be at least 6-9 months before we even got an appointment.

So the 13th rolls around, and I'm still loving being home with Elijah. Some days, I thought he did have Autism. The obvious signs, like inattention, routine playtime, lack of eye contact, and most of all his lack of communicative and general language were HUGE signs to me. But some days, he was just a happy, healthy, playful and talkative little man. He would look into my eyes, play with me, bring me books to read to him, and sing while we were swinging on the playset. So I couldn't decide whether or not I was sold on the idea of of my son having a developmental disorder such as Autism. The information I had was too conflicted.

You know, you pray for your kids when you have them. First and foremost you pray that they will grow to love Jesus. Also, you pray that they will have good friends and fun lives. You pray that they have every opportunity to grow, to thrive, to love and to learn. You pray that their lives will be as normal as they could possibly be. You don't, however, pray for them to never need you. You pray that not only will their lives be full, but that they know that you are there for them no matter what. At least, I pray these things for my son all the time.




Molly, Stephen and I spent three hours in Anita Wright, Speech & Language Pathologist's, office. We detailed his regular, daily home life and then she spent almost two hours playing directly with him, giving him all sorts of tests. Imaginary play tests, language tests, eye gazing and motor skills tests. None of them were invasive and Elijah was genuinely playing with the Ms. Wright. She was loving it, and he wasn't getting bored or impatient. Elijah, I felt, did really well. But as any parent knows, watching a doctor make marks on a piece of paper is extremely unnerving.

However, it is just as unnerving to hear a clinical speech diagnostician say that, based on the tests and parent reports, Elijah measures on the Autism Spectrum Disorder scale as a highly functioning autistic child. Even thinking about it makes me want to cry.

It seemed as if everything I ever prayed for my son to have was going to be washed away by this diagnosis.



It has only been two weeks since this diagnosis, and I'm still struggling with it. I look at pictures of my son before it, and a picture of him after it, and wonder... is Elijah truly a different boy? Or is the label affecting my view of him? Is it affecting anyone else, or is it just me?

Does he look different to you?

Before Diagnosis                              After Diagnosis          

All I know is that this is a learning curve for all of us here on the homefront. No one is truly prepared for a diagnosis of Autism. Fear of the unknown and the "not normal" is, in fact, normal. But there is one thing I do know. Those pictures of my beautiful boy are no different. He is amazing. My Elijah is a wonderful creation by God and I wouldn't have him any other way because I'm afraid for him. No, my Elijah is a stunning example of the Lord's generosity and love. And He gave Elijah to me because I would be the best mom for him. Yes, it's scary. Yes, it's unknown.

But we can conquer fear. We have strength. My Lindsey Michelle said to me, "God never gives us more than we can handle," and I disagree strongly with that statement. I cannot handle Elijah's autism if left to my own devices. It would ruin me and my marriage if I was let to run rampant across my son's training and tutoring and upbringing by myself. But GOD KNOWS ME, and KNOWS that the Stephen Straub family will have to LEAN ON HIM. That's the only way we're going to conquer the battles that lie ahead - by relying on the strength of the Almighty to do what we can't do on our own.

And that's everything I know so far.

We are still determined to have a super fun, packed-with-swimming-and-frolicking summer. There's a picture of the frolicking we've already done at the end of the post. So far, I've already harvested my rhubarb plant and made a pie, we've seen our family, been camping for an afternoon, been to the playground, and made some new friends. Everything in our lives is going full-speed-ahead, as always. Yes, there are times when it slows down to accommodate the hiccups. But I rest in the knowledge that God's Got It.

Amen.

All for now.

Love,
Kaela

The Case of the Spilled Milk

I've been a stay-at-home-mom for... let's see... one, two, three... three and a half days now. I have failed every single day at being awesome, or even just being good!




Quick recap:

Sunday, I lose patience with my son multiple times, he keeps running away, and Elijah wouldn't go to bed until nearly ten p.m. Like any self-respecting mother with a wedding project to do, I gave him to his father and said, "You handle it, Steve," and worked with Lindsey on the thing we had to do (which I'll tell you about after next weekend because it's a surprise for our Allisha P.). RESPONSIBILITY FAIL.

Monday wasn't so bad, except I lost the work deposit from Saturday and let my baby spill Strawberry Extreme all over himself and now I have lots of laundry which needs soaking in simple green. LAUNDRY FAIL.

And today, Tuesday, it's not even noon! I'm making Stephen some lunch to take to work and Elijah pulls down the entire OPEN jug of milk from the counter. ELIJAH (bless his little heart) SPILLS THE WHOLE THING. I did not react very well to that... mostly because I know there's a gap between the edge of the flooring and the dishwasher. Underneath that gap is floor padding and empty space. If milk was trapped there and went bad... I don't even want to think about it! My reaction to this caused my son to cry, my husband to worry, and caused me to use a roll of paper towels to clean the entire mess up. Needless to say, I grumbled the whole time - at least, until it was clean. 

While apologizing to my husband for losing it, he said "You don't need to apologize to me."
I'm reminded of my friends, the Tademas, and how Elijah Tadema (we call him Big Elijah) once praised his wife for apologizing to his son after she raised her voice to him. What a beautiful example of Godly motherhood!
 
Let me put it this way: How many times have I failed in the last three days? (Don't tell me, I already know.) And how many times has God "lost it" with me? Now that is some perspective.

I try to be always mindful of the sacrifice Jesus made for me. He loves me so much he died for me. If I spilled the milk, even if I did know not to grab from the counter, would he fly off the handle at me or would he make sure I was okay and clean it up graciously in order to be a servant?

Didn't he wash his disciples' feet?

Needless to say, I went into the living room, picked up my son and kissed his beautiful little face. I love that little boy so much, and I know we have a lot of learning to do together. We'll make it work with a little bit of effort, some encouragement, and a God of the Universe who loves us inexplicably.

 
All for now.

Love, Kaela

...and now you're reading about Kaela!

I live in the same town where I was born, and have lived here all my life. I don't ever want to live anywhere else.

I have a 5 year old son who has high-functioning autism. To me, this doesn't mean our family is less. I see it this way: my bear has a learning disability, so I just need to work twice as hard to teach him and figure out exactly the best methods with which to do so.

I am married to my middle school sweetheart. It was a bumpy ride, but we are rolling along smoothly now!

I love eating, so I eat a lot. My sweet tooth is the prevalent one. Though I enjoy vegetables on their own merit, I am - by no means - a vegetarian.

I am a crafter, a photographer, a singer, a writer, a designer, and a baker. I basically love to create everything, and if I could create for the rest of my life I would be so okay with that.

I love my family. I serve them the best I can daily.

I am opinionated, but I can be reasoned with and debated with. I am the first person willing to admit wrongdoing or wrong-thinking, but I have to be shown reasonably that I am so. I don't take it lying down - so if I'm wrong, someone better be really on top of it to tell me so and give me concrete evidence. (I'm not stubborn... just really... well... proud sometimes...)

Mostly, most importantly, I love Jesus. If there's one thing I want anyone to read here it's that I love Jesus, my Savior, my God, the One who came to seek and save the lost (like me!). If there's anything anyone reads here, I want it to be how GOOD He is, and how much He loves not just me, but you! Because He does... He loves us so much that He died for us. So I choose to love Him back and be called according to His purpose... because it's so much better than my own!