Start #1: Gift 541...

541. Finishing here what I started Saturday night.  Lily broke down Saturday night in tears in a complete sensory overload meltdown.  Between sobs Lily said, "It was just a really hard day for me today."  She slept over at Nonna's on Friday night and had a very fun, busy day Saturday.  We counted the stops on Sunday and Lily discovered she went to 10 places all in that day, including 2 restaurants, an indoor soccer field, a shopping trip to Justice to try on clothes, and a shoe store to try on three pairs of shoes.  These are some of Lily's most difficult things to do all on their own.  Add them all up in a day, and that's what happens: overload.

After Lily had some time alone as she can't handle any consoling, no touching, no voices, Andy and I went back in her room.  I said, "Lily, this is the part that nobody sees, the part that nobody understands."  Because she was in the midst of fun with her Nonna, sometimes she doesn't realize the toll that it's taking as one block gets stacked on top of the other, getting closer and closer to toppling.  Other times, she is able to self-check along the way and say when she needs a break.  But, Lily being who she is, will often when with others not say a word because she doesn't want to disappoint anyone.

I suggested that maybe if she talk with Nonna about what she's feeling right now, at this moment at the end of a filled day, that this would help Nonna understand.  She said, "Mom, I don't want to talk to anyone about this.  This is my own personal business, my own secret, and I don't want to tell anybody.  When kids ask me at school sometimes why I'm so nervous, I say, 'It's none of your beeswax.  Some things are hard for some people and other things are hard for other people.' "  This broke my heart.  I asked if she would want to call her Occupational Therapist about this, "Lily, Tonya said you can call her anytime, anytime at all."  Lily replied, "I do Mom, just not right now."

Lily sat in her chair and I started doing the deep joint compression exercises that help calm her system down, bring it back to neutral.  She leaned back with her head resting on the top of the chair and said, "You know Mom, I think I do want to call Nonna."  I tried to stifle the surprise in my voice, "You do?  Are you sure?  You don't have to if you want to, only if you want to."  "I do," she said.

I grabbed the phone and Lily called.  Nonna answered the phone and I could tell they were exchanging the polite check-ins at the beginning of the conversations.  Then Lily said, "Nonna, today was a really hard day for me."  Lily talked a little, I could hear Nonna talk a little, and back and forth this went, very quietly, right before my eyes as I sat on the floor in front of her massaging her arms and legs in long, downwards strokes with her favorite smelly lotion, Coconut Lime Breeze.

Lily said goodnight, I love you, and handed the phone to me.  Rose said, "I feel so bad!"  I said, "Don't feel bad Rose, because she had fun.  And only good has come out of this."  She asked me a few more questions, and said that she told Lily to tell her anytime she is feeling that things are difficult because otherwise, she will never know.  I thanked Rose and said, "You know, you must be pretty special because you're the first person she's talked with about this." We talked for another minute and said goodnight, I love yous.

I sat on Lily's bed facing her where she lay propped up on her pillows.  I looked at her with my eyes just about ready to burst.  "Lily, I am so very proud of you for what you just did, for talking with someone about something that was very difficult for you to talk about!  You are incredible, just so incredible."  I asked, "How did you feel while you were talking with Nonna?"  Lily replied, "Nervous."  I said, "You would have never know that, Lily, by the way your voice sounded.  I'm just so proud of you."  "Mom, you know that stuffed animal...," she changed the subject so quietly and quickly.

I tucked her in after a short story and left her room feeling like I could fly.  For my daughter to be doing this thing now, just two weeks away from seven, that I am just now learning to do.  This thing of asking for what it is we need, for believing that we are important, valued, and loved, loving ourselves enough to let our own voices be heard.