On the wings of angels

Last night heaven gained a beautiful angel.

My friend, Sarah was very active on Twitter, Facebook, and was an amazing photograher and blogger on both her personal blog and amongst the group of writers from Mothers With Cancer.

Sarah was a doting wife and loving mother of three young daughters.  She was the kind of woman you could meet one time and walk away feeling like you had known her all your life.

I know because that is exactly how I felt after I met her.

It was a busy day at the hospital and she was sitting with her husband having her weekly chemo infusion.  I was at the hospital meeting with the breast surgeon Sarah had referred me to after I had found a couple lumps in one of my breasts.  I knew that no matter what the outcome was of that appointment I needed to stop by and say hello and thank her for being such a bright light of information and support during the very dark and scary two weeks between finding the lumps and going to my appointment.

I remember thinking she didn't look anything like a cancer patient.  She looked beautiful, strong, and when I gave her a pack of gummy bears (her favorite kind) she gave me the sweetest smile.

Sarah was always a beacon to those around her.  Even to those who never met her in real life.  To the hundreds (if not thousands) of people she inspired and supported on Twitter her loss will be felt just as deeply as those who had the blessing of spending time with her.  Because time with Sarah was sweet no matter how it was spent.

I will miss seeing her pop up on my Twitter feed everyday.  I loved the sweet comments she would leave whenever I posted a picture of my boys on Facebook and through those she shared of her family, her beloved dogs, the many goats she raised, and the delectable mouth-watering pies she would bake.

Sarah was my friend.  She made me laugh.  More often than not she made me consider driving 30 miles to her home so I could snatch a pie off her kitchen counter.  She may not have lived long (by a longshot) but I do believe she loved hard.


Godspeed sweet Sarah.  I will see you again!

I'm sick of talking about poop.

My boys are 8 and 6 years old and they are both still in diapers.

Sam has made good strides in the past year and most days I can catch his physical cues indicating he needs to have a bowel movement and get him to the potty in time. However, I have hit a rock wall in teaching him the steps needed to toilet independently.  To me it seems like there is a miscommunication between his body and his brain.  The body may be feeling the need to go to the bathroom but the brain isn't getting the message in time and therefore isn't able to send it to whatever part of the brain starts the process of taking care of business.

Its certainly frustrating having an eight year old still wearing diapers but I am comforted at least by the fact that he is not afraid of using the toilet once I get him there.

Which brings us to my six year old son, Noah.

Noah has numerous issues with toileting.  He has a medical condition called encopresis which means he tries not to poop.  Ever.  In a perfect world Noah's poop would magically disappear from his colon and never touch his body, diaper, or a toilet. 

Actually, I think we'd all like that to be the case.  Imagine the number of diapers new dads would change if they never had to be met with a catastrophic ass-plosion of monumental proportions?!  It would be life changing!

But I digress.

Noah first developed this issue when he was three.  I have blogged about it on quite a number of occasions and each time I was hopeful that that would be the last year we'd be dealing with it.

Only its not.

Noah takes twice the adult dose of Miralax every day to keep his stools soft enough that he can't hold them in.  Any stool even somewhat formed and he will clamp down on his colon like a vice grip and writhe in pain for days. 

The GI specialist and behavioral psychologist advised stopping the Miralax and switching to suppositories but Noah will writhe and kick so hard it takes more than 2 people to hold him down to insert it.  Which actually makes a lot of sense to me.  We're dealing with a six year old with severe autism who is in pain, doesn't understand what is happening, and doesn't know that what we are doing is trying to make him feel better.  So, he fights with all that is in him to prevent it.

Its no wonder I have stuck with the Miralax treatment for so long.

But today, three years into the encopresis diagnosis, I am really at my wits end with the whole situation.  I've tried picture schedules, social stories, reading books about going potty, and even modeling (don't ask!).  It seems nothing I do can help Noah understand what is happening inside his body and that it doesn't have to be painful or scary.

Which is why I am writing about poop again.

I know that many of you have had similar struggles teaching a child with autism how to use the potty independently.  Some of you have indicated to me in the past that your child has even overcome encopresis. 

I need your help. 

I need your advice. 

I need to know that I'm not the only parent out there who has kids like mine who still wear swim diapers.  Who are teased by their peers about still wearing pull-ups.  Who struggle to keep their big mouth shut when kids younger than ours ask their parents (LOUDLY) if our child is a baby?

Its just getting to me and we're coming into summer and I'm realizing I'm due for another season of swim diapers, strange looks, and hurtful comments.  And I don't want to care but I do.

So, if you can tell me how you helped your child overcome their fear of the potty, or a diagnosis of encopresis, or how you explain to children why our kids still wear pull-ups it would mean a lot to me.

Because I really am sick of blogging about poop.