I'll Hold Your Hands & Pray

Sibling bonding is a really unique dynamic when you have one child that is severely disabled and another child that is typical.  While all sibling relationships have  hierarchical and reciprocal elements, that looks a bit differently in a special needs family dynamic.  The attachment theory very much becomes applicable between siblings, and you quickly find that a very emotional and physical development happens that has nothing at all to do with the encouragement and push from either parent for them to love, like and get along.

Although Noah is the older sibling, he has always been the one to seek comfort from Luke.  It's a beautiful kind of role reversal and a flip flop of birth order almost to compensate for the physical challenges that Noah possesses.  Luke has assumed the role of protector, best friends, advisor, entertainer, and caregiver in training.  He has mastered the art of paying close attention to Noah's laughter triggers, his anger responses, his expressions, and his vocal sounds in order to become a fast and accurate interpreter of all of Noah's needs.  Sometimes he's quicker then even I am to just "know" what Noah needs in the moment.

The older he gets the more tenderness and attention to detail I see.  When he thinks I'm busy or needing to tend to making dinner or doing laundry Luke will quietly get on the floor with Noah, thinking I'm completely unaware, and plays with him.  I can catch him whispering secrets into Noah's ear and Noah giggling with delight, he'll repeat phrases that he knows will make Noah laugh, he'll mimic Noah intentionally so that he feels the same and not different.  I can't help but take great pause and watch unnoticed from a distance at this beautiful thing they do together.  It's so pure, innocent and oh so heavenly.

Of course there are still very apparent episodes of sibling rivalry.  Luke will have moments where he is possessive of toys he claims as only his, and likewise Noah does the same.  They exhibit this by purposefully trying to keep each other toys away from the other.   And while those moments don't generally last for a significant amount of time, they intentionally do it to each other in a way as to establish dominance over the other - really like a checks and balance of their relationship.  I rarely intervene as it never escalates to a point of parental involvement and I let the two of them work out their minor disagreements which in the end always winds up with one or the other conceding and extending an invitation of play.

By far one of my most favorite things to watch is when Luke goes over to Noah in his feeding chair before each meal and holds both of his hands together.  And says "Thank you Lord for the food we're about to receive.  Amen."  And then goes and find his place at the table to eat.  To watch a little brother hold his big brother's hands together so he can pray... well that kind of makes a mom's heart reach places that you didn't even know existed.

There is so much grace to sweet moments that happen in our household.  It's an extraordinary relationship that Noah and Luke have, and I hope and pray that their bond will be forever and lasting well into adulthood.  That Noah will never ever be alone and Luke forever and always be there to hold his brother's hands and help him pray.

He's such a great little sidekick for Noah.  Even as I write this, Luke is singing a goodnight song to Noah and telling him not to party too long.

Being a Brother is Better than Being a Superhero. 

Love,
 


Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Where We Are Now

My blog posts on Noah's blog have slowed down a bit over the last few months.  There are a handful of reasons for this.  I've taken on even more guest blogger commitments, I've immersed myself in advocacy endeavors, I'm homeschooling, and sometimes there is so much to say that it's hard to put it all into proper words so I purposefully avoid doing so altogether.  Silence is sometimes comforting.  It offers you no advice, no criticism, no false expectation of support, no artificial forms of caring, or unfulfilled promises or gestures.

The holidays - oh gosh the holiday season.  It sneaks up on me every year even though I start preparing in September and am often in full bloom by the first of October in rescue attempts to aid other special needs parents during the holiday season through various personal projects. I still can't catch my breath no matter how hard I try to prepare for all that it entails.  And Noah's birthday - always a complicated mixture of delight and emotion mixed in.  It's hard to believe we've been celebrating our Miracle eight years this year.  So much has happened in those eight years that I feel like it could have been spread over ten lifetimes.  But for better or for worse it has brought us to where we are now.  

Things continue to be challenging obtaining Noah's needs.  He is met with more denials than approvals.  I have four current pending appeals hearings lined up in the new year for Noah.   One: A VocalID denial because the State doesn't think it's necessary that Noah have a personalized voice.  Two: Mygo Leckey Tour Base denial because the State thinks it is a caregiver convenience to convert Noah's feeder chair to a transit ready wheelchair and they suggest I simply ask them for a much more expensive Hoyer Lift instead (which mind you had a completely different purpose).  Three: CarpetSaver denial because Noah's Waiver doesn't know the difference between a floor protective cover product that is machine wash and dry friendly and real actual carpet that is permanently attached to the floor.   Four: A Wedge Pillow from Bed, Bath & Beyond, because his Waiver is certain there is an insurance code for it through EPSDT Medicaid, when no such code exists for a typical item you find a local retail store and has no Medicaid contract or vendor for.  Noah also has other requests in that have gone for weeks and months with no determination or decision and the State says they have no deadline that they can take as much time as they wish.  One has to wonder if I'm supposed to interpret that as years at this rate. 

Yet, families like ours seem to be really at the mercy of a "mother may I system," that is designed largely to conserve funding or pocket it (who really knows without true transparency in the form of public audits) what happens to this money that is supposed to be set aside to help children with disabilities.  It is exhausting however to continually have to pursue benefits that should be covered for Noah in the form of continual appeals through an Administrative Law Judge.  Thankfully, the judicial system is one that I made a career out of prior to Noah's birth and an arena that I'm familiar with.  For most parents they feel defeated and lost before they've even begun.  For them fighting it through an appeal isn't always a realistic option as the process is intimidating, and in most cases fruitless given the State can reverse any ruling by an Administrative Judge with a simple filing of an Exception to Initial Decision which simply renders the appellate process moot.   And if you look back on any December blog post in the last eight years you'll find this time of year is quite popular for denials and appeals in Noah's direction.  End of year funding conservation perhaps?  One always wonders, but there is a curious pattern to my December posts.

This is the first year I'm essentially winging the holiday without a hand up.  Meaning there were no foundations or grants or charities that I haven't trail blazed through the last eight years to carry us into this year's Christmas season.  I look at Noah's Santa stash and think will it all be okay?  Naturally shopping for Noah is complicated when special needs toys cost just as much as a medical equipment these days - and you have to tenderly balance out shopping in newborn to 36 months of age isles at the toy store.  Noah cognitively is eight, even if his body hasn't been physically able to catch up with his mind - he still craves what a typical eight year old does.  His tastes in movies are age appropriate, likewise his desires in toys are the also yearning to be age appropriate.  And making the holiday season work for Noah takes a whole lot of creativity and would require more financial resources than we happen to have at our finger tips.  For most families this can spiral them into a host of various forms of depression and despair at the holiday season.  And I've always known that so I work towards helping others in order to escape perhaps that realization for own set of circumstances.  It's always been my philosophy that if you are so engulfed in helping others that your soul has little time to dwell on such things. 

But as hard as the challenges continue to be, there are still moments of pure bliss and joy that comes along with special needs parenting.  Those moments are also often hard to put into words unless you walk a similar journey.  The things that give me great pause and fill my heart are often the little things that most simply take for granted.  And I eat up those blissful moments as the fuel I need to help Noah in all the ways I can.  He's just simply a magical human being and I continue to feel so blessed to be his mother.

Love,




Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Feeling the Feejays!

As a special needs parent, I occasionally hunt for items that I wish existed.  In my mind I dream up the perfect item that would solve all of Noah's problems.  And sometimes I get lucky and find that it does in fact exist.  It's not a surprise that Noah isn't fond of wearing typical shoes.  While he can tolerate Piedro orthopedic shoes (quoted at nearly $500) while he is using gait trainers and standers, he has difficulties loving shoes while we're out in public.  Winter is coming.  Slippers fall right off of his skinny, small feet.  Socks alone are too thin to keep him toasty, and wool ones make him crazy

I think I was googling Sherpa lining... when I stumbled on Feejays.  Yes, internet searches, while overly time consuming in a special needs parent's day, can prove to be worth while -

Feejays are sweatpants with super cozy, ultra plush, sherpa fabric lined feet!  The feet can also be pulled back if you'd like to set your little toes free and put on shoes to cruise outside.  For children with special needs who aren't a fan of shoes, or like Noah who also have difficulties regulating body temperature and need extra warm clothing Feejays are a must! 

I have been so impressed with them.  They wash and dry beautifully and maintain their softness.  In fact, I'm so envious of Noah's comfort in Feejays that I want a pair for each of us!  I envision us all lounging together in our Feejays sipping hot chocolate as we watch the snow fall this winter.

Feejays would make an excellent Christmas gift.  Feejays has extended an amazing offer to all of Noah's Miracle readers by offering a discount code through December 10th.  Just use "SMILE", as the discount code at checkout and it will provide 15% off your entire order! 

This is one item you'll be super excited about having under the Christmas tree this year. 
It is one of those gifts that is perfect for everyone.  I can't wait to grow Noah's collection of Feejays!

To place your order click here!


Love,



Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Neighborly Nightmares & Meeting Switch Witch

Noah's 7th Halloween down in the books of special needs family history.   I feel like Noah is my constant teacher.  But instead of just giving me the answers when I'm wrong he forces me to learn via trial and error.  After six years of trying to put Noah in Halloween costumes (minimal at that), Noah just couldn't get past that dreaded sensory gag reflex that led to uncontrollable vomiting.  Year seven - I thought I'm simply torturing this poor little boy all in the name of a silly holiday ritual in which kids gather too much sugar by holding a beggar bag at someone's front door.

This year, we were blessed with a foundation who provided a Rolling Buddy costume for Noah.  A really cool airplane that attached to his wheelchair.  Noah only has one wheelchair with arm rests (because he wraps around his arms - even with arm blockers and hooks himself).  I had a base but no seat on an old model Noah had outgrown.  It took many months but I at least got a seat for an old frame.  Although it has Noah's name embroidered in the back he's acting as if it doesn't belong to him.  I suspect that the harness is not comfortable and is a sensory trigger for him - and the seat came too small - although he fits on it, the seat is make-shift at best.  The chair of Noah's dreams?  I think not.  He rejected it and thereby rejecting the only wheelchair ride he has that could even attempt to accommodate his airplane wheelchair costume.

Yet a certain sadness loomed in Noah's eyes.  An understanding of being left behind.  A look that will tug on every single heart string any mother has.  Chris and I looked at each other trying to figure out a plan.  What do we do?  We risk him gagging and being on sensory overload if we leave the house.  But create a painful childhood memory for him if we were to leave him behind.  So, the decision was made Noah would simply walk around the block with us, without a costume in the wheelchair he is currently most comfortable being in.  We took two Halloween bags, Luke was so on point one would have thought we coached him into making sure Noah was also presented with a piece of candy at each home.  Even if a neighbor thought or assumed perhaps Noah didn't need a treat, Luke was quick to say I need one for Noah.   Perhaps those words coming from an adult may have been perceived as rudeness, but out of the mouth of babes and a devoted little brother - was remarkable.

Noah full of smiles and laughter - perhaps more so as he realized Luke had his back, found his way to being fully capable of handling each time someone opened their door to greet him.  Granted, that was done with generally some significant distance as the homes in our area are full of a multitude of stairs just to get to a front door.  But we still made it work.  Noah was doing so well in fact that we went around the entire block.  The darkness and comfortable temperature likely helped minimize and defuse sensory overloads.  I must admit my neighbors go all out for Halloween - I had no idea I feel like I live in a box and haven't been able to join the masses due to Noah's needs.  One home had a set up that I swear was like watching poltergeists march back and forth in their upstairs bedroom windows.  Cool, freaky and totally effective in giving the oldest of adults goosebumps.  Who knew that such decorations even existed!  I can't say that I wasn't intrigued enough to spend an extra amount of time in their driveway watching their fake spirits pace back and forth. 

I'm not sure what it is with that big bad motion detector spider that jumps out - but that darn thing made me jump; it made Luke tear up; and Noah laugh hysterically at the fact that his little brother almost peed his pants.  Was a typical brotherly moment.

Chris wasn't exempt from his own neighborly nightmare - a man without a face standing in the middle of the street to scare a passerby. His movements so classic horror movie that really it was truly disturbing on every level.  We both wanted a way from it (him/her) quickly.  The boys likely less affected than us - ironically.  But mom and dad got the heebie jebbies.  In fact thinking about it makes me want to crawl under my covers.

The boys came home with generous amounts of candy.  Although Luke can eat candy, Noah watches with tremendous envy.  We scooped up Luke's entire loot and passed him only a mini bag of M&M's and put the rest on top of the refrigerator - out of sight out of mind.  Noah's face showed a sign of relief.  He didn't feel as if he was doing without.  And then the Switch Witch was put on my field of vision... finally like this giant light bulb went off.  The Switch Witch could come and take all the candy away and leave Noah and Luke both mutual non-edible gifts.  That is like special needs parenting perfection.

Both children on equal ground, both children get workable gifts, mom even maybe avoids an unnecessary trip to the dentist... dad scores because he can donate the candy to his work - it's like a win win for everyone!  I just might give the Switch Witch as much of an even playing field as the Tooth Fairy. 

I'm just glad we made it work.  I'm glad that after all these years that Noah didn't get sick or have to suffer through a Halloween.  That perhaps allowing Noah to be just who he is - all 365 days of the year is what he needs - and that's okay.  There is nothing saying that our Halloweens have to resemble anything "typical."  Being the norm is over-rated anyway.

-A bit of special needs unpredictability - now that's how we roll.

Looking for other creative candy donation options to dispose of candy for your non-oral eater?  Check out Candy for Heroes


Love,



Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Follow Your Own Recipe

Noah's specialized diet results in time consuming endeavors in the kitchen.  Nearly eight years later Noah still cannot eat anything else other than purees, puddings, cheesecakes and meltables.  And because of his high tone and athetoid movements Noah is on the move all day - burning lots of calories.  He's on his own individualized exercise program!

Noah's treating providers have always encouraged high calorie foods, healthy fats, no preservatives, no artificial dyes, and organic to give his brain optimal opportunity to keep his mind and body as healthy as possible.  So my chef skills are sometimes on hyper-drive and I'm always looking for yummy things that Noah would enjoy.

Now that we're into fall, all those warm and cozy meals are on my field of vision.  One day I woke up wanting a culinary challenge - (really because I don't have enough challenges to my day right?) In hindsight I was likely looking for a diversion to the outside stress that comes along with special needs parenting.

What's something that I could master?  Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon came to mind.  So I googled it.  I spent way too much time peeling pearled onions and braising beef... but I did it anyway.   It was okay, I mean I followed the recipe - it turned out - but it wasn't like the choir of angels I thought I'd hear singing when I took my first bite.  Noah ate it, he liked it just fine, but I could tell by his expression that it was just mediocre in his world.  Luke did his best to fish out the mushrooms and anything that could be remotely identifiable as a vegetable.  Chris - easy to please had seconds because he's just that kind of cool guy. 

Yet, even though I did everything right in the recipe I expected so much more, and I felt in some way incredibly let down by Ms. Julia Child. 

I decided to give it a second go.  But this time I decided to follow my own recipe.  I took elements from Julia's recipe.  I still braised my beef, I ditched those time consuming pearled onions, and instead I added celery, homegrown gold beets from our garden, garlic, less carrots, garlic, only 2 sliced mushrooms, I kept the bacon but changed Julia's ratio of organic red wine to beef broth, increased Julia's recommendation of flour and threw in a bay leaf and said you're all mine! 

And then angels sang at the dinner table. 

Now you're all probably out there thinking why on earth have I followed along about Noah's mommy discussing her attempts at Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon?  But really I do have a point here, I promise. 

Sometimes we're always itching to follow in someone else's "personal best" that we fail to consider that we each have our own personal best within us.  Why isn't it okay for us to follow our own recipes in life?  And have them be the best for us?  The same lessons carry over onto much of the special needs parenting journey.

Why must we measure our children against another child's personal best?  Against the recipe of milestone timelines that therapists dish out?  Compete for the same success one family found doing a particular therapy or treatment?  Allow others to tell us how our recipe should look like? I swear if I have another therapist tell how they think I should be putting my typical child in public school to offer him the experiences of a "normal" childhood implying because he has a severely disabled older brother that we've somehow short-changed his life - or insinuate that because I don't take Noah to a all day camp where they push him for 8 hours a day, cause him to cry and be in pain all in the name of "therapy" I'm libel to explode in verbal direction that I'm sure they won't appreciate.   

Our recipe can look like our own.  And that's so awesome.  In fact it's more than awesome, because we're being authentically true to ourselves and to our own children's needs.  Our form of preferred therapy for Noah can look different from traditional forms or methods, or philosophies about parenting or teaching both a typical child and a profoundly disabled child alongside each other can look different than sending our children off to public school. My recipe and your recipe can look similar or different, but the fact that they aren't exact is a wonderful and beautiful thing.  

Love,




Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

A Fall From Nowhere

A little more than forty-eight hours ago, Chris and I went downstairs to try to troubleshoot a new storage plan for Noah's adaptive equipment.  Cumbersome and bulky there is no really easy way to just tuck in a corner until it is needed in Noah's day.  After less than a five minute conversation about it, we turned around to see this little grey spot on our blond tiled floor.  As we approached it was pretty evident what it was - a baby mouse only days old, with fur but it's eyes still closed.  I thought for sure it was deceased - it wasn't moving, still and quiet it just laid there.  Until I got closer and realized it was breathing. 

My heart sank.  What on earth was I going to do with an infant abandoned mouse?  And I knew where there is one there is usually more. A thousand things ran through my mind.  Mice can carry viruses  - and what do I do with a breathing baby mouse?  In the moment I asked Chris to get a Tupperware dish and poke holes in it.  Deep down knew I only had one real option for someone like me - I had to try to save it. 

There was absolutely no trace of any other mice in the basement.  Because Noah is so medically fragile our home is pretty spotless - or at least I break my back trying to make it that way for him.  There were no droppings - no signs of anything.  It was as if he fell from the middle of nowhere - and so he did.  Upon dragging out a ladder and evaluating the top of the wall, we found a small hole in a gas line that led to the fireplace, a likely source of entry and another deceased litter mate on the ledge.  This little mouse had fallen eight feet to the hard tiled ground and survived against all odds.  A miracle in itself - I convinced myself that was a sign that this mouse had a bigger destiny - and that without a doubt it was meant to survive.

A rodent - but one with a purpose. 

Is there such a thing?  My mind said there was.

A tremendous detour in my day I rushed to the pet store, quickly threw down $25 that we needed for weekly groceries, for a critter keeper, puppy formula and paint brushes for feeding, I came home to save the day and accepted the adoption of the orphaned mouse challenge.  I figured the first twenty-four hours were critical.  If I could make it past that, then he'd be home free.  My goal:  To nurse it to independence and set it free.   I could do this.  After all I'm an expert caregiver.  Internet research said feed it every two hours, use a paint brush dipped in formula, rub its belly with a q-tip for digestion... not too bad.  And I can't deny it - I added extra tender loving strokes so it didn't feel lonely and knew that it was in some way cared about.

Although I was slightly worried as I thought maybe it might have a bloody nose, I decided it had just scratched itself accidentally and was minor.  It was very active, healthy, thriving and strong.  A fighter.  Feeds were going really well, and I faithfully woke up in the middle of the night - even in between Noah's needs in the night, which further contributed to my level of already existing sleep deprivation - just for the mouse.   Last night the mouse seemed a little bit more lethargic - but I assumed it was tired and sleeping, still active but slightly more time to get it excited.  The morning still active I gave it breakfast and then without warning it started to gasp, and have labored breathing.  Immediately I was fearful that I had done something wrong - had it aspirated while feeding? And then it just passed away in my hands - just like that.  It was over.

And then this incredibly crushing feeling of failure.  And an immediate question of purpose.  If the mouse had survived falling eight feet, only to pass away two days later, then why did God allow him to survive the fall in the first place?  I told it's little lifeless body how sorry I was.  I ached for it to come back to life. A silly mouse - that I would never want for a pet - yet I was mourning the loss or trying to foster and care for this tiny little life - less than an inch big.  his head no bigger than a fingernail.  A small helpless, blind life.  Gone.

So what is the lesson in all this?  Besides outing me as an overly sensitive and compassionate, if the end result was that it didn't make it - then why did it survive that fall anyway? 

I'm still guarding Luke and Noah's childhood.  As they both inherited their mother's sensitive nature and the overwhelming feelings of the disclosure of death is too much for either of them to process at this age for who they are.  And if I can spare their childhood just a pinch longer from true understanding of it all, then I've bought them a little more time of not to have to worry about thinking about mortality.  That lesson comes all too fast for all of us anyway.  The mouse went to be with it's family is how I explained why it suddenly disappeared from the top of the refrigerator.  A completely acceptable thing for Luke.  He only asked once and it was fine - out of sight out of mind.   Noah looked a few times for it, and then that was fine too.  And as fast as the mouse came into the picture, he left. 

Because of the circumstances I didn't have time for a proper burial - yes I did actually think about it.  I think I felt sorry for myself for most of the day in fact - that looming sense of failure - and because I really put in the effort and thought I'd be able to save it and release it.  Although in reality I worried about that too wondering how it would find shelter in time before it snowed... and perhaps I wouldn't have been able to let go of something so easily that I essentially raised... till let's say spring of next year... who am I really kidding?

I kept peeking in on it kind of hoping that death was not a final diagnosis, wishing for a resurrection - a chance for me to try again - a chance for me to do better.   Issues that I know still haunt me from Noah's birth - a redo - if only I can go back in time I tell myself - it would all be so different.  I could have saved Noah from this fate and birthed at a different hospital, insisted he not go over his due date, insist on an instant c-section not just a 13 hour, natural delivery delay, without a notarized birth plan for hospital staff to hide behind as an excuse for not meeting the standard of care - and the mouse perhaps I could have too also influenced the final outcome. 

But that's the recipe to how we carry guilt.  We carry guilt because we convince ourselves we are somehow to blame for an adverse outcome.  Even when we had nothing at all to do with the end result and it was ultimately out of our hands.

Love,




Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Speechless: More Than a One Hit Wonder

Many of those in the special needs community (although were already rooting for Speechless) were waiting to see if the show would have ongoing and amazing content after the much anticipated first episode aired.  I must say I was as pleased with the second episode as I was the first.  Maybe even more so, as there are a variety of subjects, situations and discussions that are centered around a special needs family dynamic. 

In episode two, the viewer got a preview into what I like to call the "special needs mom push back," caregiver topics such as toileting assistance, financial strain homestead issues, and the independent thinking and personality that many assume who are non-verbal don't have, and the hardest one - trying to let go - "when he is your entire world."

The classic mom push back was hilarious to watch.  While most of us are not privileged enough to have the opportunity to lecture the school principal on how the "push back" actually works, the scene provide a sense of authenticity to the real show down that really exists and occurs quite frequently when you are advocating for your child with a disability.  The dad, whom viewers may think is along for the ride, with his head flipping backwards and arms crossed, simply signals that he knows that his wife's inner bitch has been unleashed and he just stands back to watch the show  - a show he fully supports. 

Two parts although still light-hearted in their presentation still had a way of pulling on those familiar heartstrings.  When JJ's new aide, Kenneth, is about to embark on a solo journey for the day with him, and his mother is having a hard time trusting and letting go.  (And not without undue concern as the aide temporarily drives off without him) - and knowing that you at some point have to trust another stranger and human being with the most precious and protected person - that sweet child that has indeed become your entire world.  Certainly as Noah gets older, my mind has not gone there a time or two.  For the most part I don't go there often because those feelings of ever being able to trust someone else to care for Noah with the same safety, tenderness and care that I do - feels unlikely and impossible at the moment.  But, that doesn't mean that I don't remain open for the right person to walk into his life one day who might come close to fitting my long list of caregiver requirements.

An equally touching yet complicated moment was when JJ's mother, Maya, walked in on a conversation between JJ and his aide in the bathroom.  A moment that gave her some hope - not total trust - but a glimmer of hope that perhaps she indeed had made a good decision for her son.  A patient and understanding aide, Kenneth, does a superior job of reassuring JJ that he can assist with his toileting needs and would be there to help him. Fair to say that pretty much is on every special needs parent's wishlist - someone that will be there for their child who genuinely wants to assist them and give them every possible feeling of dignity that they can with what is required in 24/7 daily living needs, personal hygiene and care.

Perhaps one of the most comical parts were when the DiMeo family approached their neighbors with a realistic picture of how they'd be voted least likely to keep up with their property.   While that part of the episode may have come across snooty, careless, or unconcerned, to the average viewer - to a special needs family it's representative of the financial constraints that really limit a family to have the resources to keep up with home repairs, remodels, and time constraints like household tasks like mowing the lawn, gardening, and snow shoveling.  And in the end the perception is from neighbors is that we are stupid, lazy, or in the words of JJ's little sister, Dylan, "idiots."

Speechless hit another second episode home run - one in which has scored the show an entire season pick-up by the network.  And special needs families everywhere are celebrating.   What disability topic would you most like Speechless to cover this season?

Love,



Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.