Đi về đâu hỡi em?
Khi trong lòng không chút nắng
Giấc mơ đời xa vắng
Bước chân không chờ ai đón
Một đời em mãi lang thang
Lòng lạnh băng giữa đau thương
Em về đâu hỡi em
Hãy lau khô dòng nước mắt
Đời gọi em biết bao lần
Đời gọi em về giữa yêu thương
Để trả em ngày tháng êm đềm
Trả lại nắng trong tim
Trả lại thoáng hương thơm
Em về đâu hỡi em
Có nghe tình yêu lên tiếng
Hãy chôn vào quên lãng
Nỗi đau hay niềm cay đắng
Đời nhẹ nâng bước chân em
Về lại trong phố thênh thang
Bao buồn xưa sẽ quên
Hãy yêu khi đời mang đến
Một cành hoa giữa tâm hồn
Monday, November 15, 2010
My Lanvy
I wish I have time to write about my 2 precious ones everyday. Unfortunately my time is too short. With Lanvy...I often feel guilty not spending enough time with her and easy to raise voice with her than I do with Long. I don't know...my stress seems easy to escalate everytime Hoang is around. When I am home along with Lanvy and Long, I've seldom stress or yell at them...
Lanvy's second day at Newport was not that happy. She cries after I left and is not happy with outdoor playing. Should I continue or keep Lanvy at home with me? I am very concern about Lanvy's socialize too. Maybe my fears are transitions from Long's condition. I want Lanvy has much more confidence and be able to independent just like my personality. The most fear in my life is to depend and to rely on others.
Everytime thinking about my marriage I feel ache in my heart. I don't know my future with Hoang....
Lanvy's second day at Newport was not that happy. She cries after I left and is not happy with outdoor playing. Should I continue or keep Lanvy at home with me? I am very concern about Lanvy's socialize too. Maybe my fears are transitions from Long's condition. I want Lanvy has much more confidence and be able to independent just like my personality. The most fear in my life is to depend and to rely on others.
Everytime thinking about my marriage I feel ache in my heart. I don't know my future with Hoang....
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Post "Toys story 3"
I have one of the most sad nights seeing Andrew was terrify with watching "Toys Story 3". He was shaking, and hiding his look under my arm. Hoang was pushing him to watch it. Of course, I have nothing to say about this. I don't know....My Andrew was doing to good for the last week: talkative, more able with problem solving. My happiness is up and down with Andrew's condition. When Andrew is not doing well my life is so blue and meanless.
Hoang and I, our relationship is no longer the same like it used to be. In fact, he seems HATE me so much. Anything about me he would show very irritable face. I don't want to analyze much about it anymore. If he wants to throw this marriage away, what I can do???? The more I think about it, the deeper it hurts in my heart.....
Hoang and I, our relationship is no longer the same like it used to be. In fact, he seems HATE me so much. Anything about me he would show very irritable face. I don't want to analyze much about it anymore. If he wants to throw this marriage away, what I can do???? The more I think about it, the deeper it hurts in my heart.....
Andrew with his school.
Last week Andrew was pushed out from his chair while playing playdough. I feel so sad and scare for his future and hopeless as well. I don't know what to help my son so he can be more defensive person.
This Monday, Lanvy will start with Newport children's school. Lanvy is such a great and lovely daughter on the universe. I am so lucky and am so blessed to have Lanvy with me. She is cutest girl ever. Talks a lot more. Has so much adorable characters. As happy baby as always. She makes my days and light up my life with so many happiness.
Without Andrew and Lanvy...I don't think whether I have any meaning or any purpose to keep going with this stressful and sad life.
Thanks so much to my greatful son and daughter....
This Monday, Lanvy will start with Newport children's school. Lanvy is such a great and lovely daughter on the universe. I am so lucky and am so blessed to have Lanvy with me. She is cutest girl ever. Talks a lot more. Has so much adorable characters. As happy baby as always. She makes my days and light up my life with so many happiness.
Without Andrew and Lanvy...I don't think whether I have any meaning or any purpose to keep going with this stressful and sad life.
Thanks so much to my greatful son and daughter....
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Mixed feeling....some insights about my son Andrew and my family life.....
I keep reading over and over the essay "Welcome to Holland.". My life with my autism son is not that short and sweet like the poem described. It skips everything. It skipped over all of the agony of having a child with special needs and went right to the happy ending.
The raw, painful, confusing entry into Holland was just glossed over. And considering the fact that this little poem is so often passed along to new-moms-of-kids-with-special-needs, it seems unfair to just hand them a little story about getting new guidebooks and windmills and tulips.
Here are some thoughts:
Parents of “normal” kids who are friends with parents of kids with special needs often say things like “Wow! How do you do it? I wouldn’t be able to handle everything---you guys are amazing!” (Well, thank you very much.) But there’s no special manual, no magical positive attitude serum, no guide to embodying strength and serenity . . . people just do what they have to do. You rise to the occasion, and embrace your sense of humor (or grow a new one). You come to love your life, and it’s hard to imagine it a different way (although when you try, it may sting a little). But things weren’t always like this . . . at first, you ricocheted around the stages of grief, and it was hard to see the sun through the clouds. And forget the damn tulips or windmills. In the beginning you’re stuck in Amsterdam International Airport. And no one ever talks about how much it sucks.
You briskly walk off of the plane into the airport thinking “There-must-be-a-way-to-fix-this-please-please-don’t-make-me-have-to-stay-here-THIS-ISN’T-WHAT-I-WANTED-please-just-take-it-back”. The airport is covered with signs in Dutch that don’t help, and several well-meaning airport professionals try to calm you into realizing that you are here (oh, and since they’re shutting down the airport today, you can never leave. Never never. This is your new reality.). Their tone and smiles are reassuring, and for a moment you feel a little bit more calm . . . but the pit in your stomach doesn’t leave and a new wave of panic isn’t far off.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this will become a pattern. You will often come to a place of almost acceptance, only to quickly re-become devastated or infuriated about this goddamned unfair deviation to Holland. At first this will happen several times a day, but it will taper to several times a week, and then only occasionally.)
A flash of realization---your family and friends are waiting. Some in Italy, some back home . . . all wanting to hear about your arrival in Rome. Now what is there to say? And how do you say it? You settle on leaving an outgoing voicemail that says “We’ve arrived, the flight was fine, more news to come” because really, what else can you say? You’re not even sure what to tell yourself about Holland, let alone your loved ones.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this will become a pattern. How can you talk to people about Holland? If they sweetly offer reassurances, it’s hard to find comfort in them . . . they’ve never been to Holland, after all.
And their attempts at sympathy? While genuine, you don’t need their pity . . . their pity says “Wow, things must really suck for you” . . . and when you’re just trying to hold yourself together, that doesn’t help. When you hear someone else say that things are bad, it’s hard to maintain your denial, to keep up your everything-is-just-fine-thank-you-very-much outer shell. Pity hits too close to home, and you can’t admit to yourself how terrible it feels to be stuck in Holland, because then you will undoubtedly collapse into a pile of raw, wailing agony. So you have to deflect and hold yourself together . . . deflect and hold yourself together.)
You sneak sideways glances at your travel companion, who also was ready for Italy. You have no idea how (s)he’s handling this massive change in plans, and can’t bring yourself to ask. You think “Please, please don’t leave me here. Stay with me. We can find the right things to say to each other, I think. Maybe we can have a good life here.” But the terror of a mutual breakdown, of admitting that you’re deep in a pit of raw misery, of saying it out loud and thereby making it reality, is too strong. So you say nothing.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this may become a pattern. It will get easier with practice, but it will always be difficult to talk with your partner about your residency in Holland. Your emotions won’t often line up---you’ll be accepting things and trying to build a home just as he starts clamoring for appointments with more diplomats who may be able to “fix” it all. And then you’ll switch, you moving into anger and him into acceptance. You will be afraid of sharing your depression, because it might be contagious---how can you share all of the things you hate about Holland without worrying that you’re just showing your partner all of the reasons that he should sink into depression, too?)
And what you keep thinking but can’t bring yourself to say aloud is that you would give anything to go back in time a few months. You wish you never bought the tickets. It seems that no traveler is ever supposed to say “I wish I never even got on the plane. I just want to be back at home.” But it’s true, and it makes you feel terrible about yourself, which is just fantastic . . . a giant dose of guilt is just what a terrified lonely lost tourist needs.
Although you don’t know it yet, this is the part that will fade. After you’re ready, and get out of the airport, you will get to know Holland and you won’t regret the fact that you have traveled. Oh, you will long for Italy from time to time, and want to rage against the unfairness from time to time, but you will get past the little voice that once said “Take this back from me. I don’t want this trip at all.”
Each traveler has to find their own way out of the airport. Some people navigate through the corridors in a pretty direct path (the corridors can lead right in a row: Denial to Anger to Bargaining to Depression to Acceptance). More commonly, you shuffle and wind around . . . leaving the Depression hallway to find yourself somehow back in Anger again. You may be here for months.
I am hoping and I won't give up my hopes. I hope that somedays I/we/our family will leave the airport. I believe that I will.......
And I strongly believe that as I learn more about Holland, and see how much it has to offer, I will grow to love it. I hope every single parents with autism kids will be the same.....
And it will change who you are, for the better.
The raw, painful, confusing entry into Holland was just glossed over. And considering the fact that this little poem is so often passed along to new-moms-of-kids-with-special-needs, it seems unfair to just hand them a little story about getting new guidebooks and windmills and tulips.
Here are some thoughts:
Parents of “normal” kids who are friends with parents of kids with special needs often say things like “Wow! How do you do it? I wouldn’t be able to handle everything---you guys are amazing!” (Well, thank you very much.) But there’s no special manual, no magical positive attitude serum, no guide to embodying strength and serenity . . . people just do what they have to do. You rise to the occasion, and embrace your sense of humor (or grow a new one). You come to love your life, and it’s hard to imagine it a different way (although when you try, it may sting a little). But things weren’t always like this . . . at first, you ricocheted around the stages of grief, and it was hard to see the sun through the clouds. And forget the damn tulips or windmills. In the beginning you’re stuck in Amsterdam International Airport. And no one ever talks about how much it sucks.
You briskly walk off of the plane into the airport thinking “There-must-be-a-way-to-fix-this-please-please-don’t-make-me-have-to-stay-here-THIS-ISN’T-WHAT-I-WANTED-please-just-take-it-back”. The airport is covered with signs in Dutch that don’t help, and several well-meaning airport professionals try to calm you into realizing that you are here (oh, and since they’re shutting down the airport today, you can never leave. Never never. This is your new reality.). Their tone and smiles are reassuring, and for a moment you feel a little bit more calm . . . but the pit in your stomach doesn’t leave and a new wave of panic isn’t far off.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this will become a pattern. You will often come to a place of almost acceptance, only to quickly re-become devastated or infuriated about this goddamned unfair deviation to Holland. At first this will happen several times a day, but it will taper to several times a week, and then only occasionally.)
A flash of realization---your family and friends are waiting. Some in Italy, some back home . . . all wanting to hear about your arrival in Rome. Now what is there to say? And how do you say it? You settle on leaving an outgoing voicemail that says “We’ve arrived, the flight was fine, more news to come” because really, what else can you say? You’re not even sure what to tell yourself about Holland, let alone your loved ones.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this will become a pattern. How can you talk to people about Holland? If they sweetly offer reassurances, it’s hard to find comfort in them . . . they’ve never been to Holland, after all.
And their attempts at sympathy? While genuine, you don’t need their pity . . . their pity says “Wow, things must really suck for you” . . . and when you’re just trying to hold yourself together, that doesn’t help. When you hear someone else say that things are bad, it’s hard to maintain your denial, to keep up your everything-is-just-fine-thank-you-very-much outer shell. Pity hits too close to home, and you can’t admit to yourself how terrible it feels to be stuck in Holland, because then you will undoubtedly collapse into a pile of raw, wailing agony. So you have to deflect and hold yourself together . . . deflect and hold yourself together.)
You sneak sideways glances at your travel companion, who also was ready for Italy. You have no idea how (s)he’s handling this massive change in plans, and can’t bring yourself to ask. You think “Please, please don’t leave me here. Stay with me. We can find the right things to say to each other, I think. Maybe we can have a good life here.” But the terror of a mutual breakdown, of admitting that you’re deep in a pit of raw misery, of saying it out loud and thereby making it reality, is too strong. So you say nothing.
(Although you don’t know it yet, this may become a pattern. It will get easier with practice, but it will always be difficult to talk with your partner about your residency in Holland. Your emotions won’t often line up---you’ll be accepting things and trying to build a home just as he starts clamoring for appointments with more diplomats who may be able to “fix” it all. And then you’ll switch, you moving into anger and him into acceptance. You will be afraid of sharing your depression, because it might be contagious---how can you share all of the things you hate about Holland without worrying that you’re just showing your partner all of the reasons that he should sink into depression, too?)
And what you keep thinking but can’t bring yourself to say aloud is that you would give anything to go back in time a few months. You wish you never bought the tickets. It seems that no traveler is ever supposed to say “I wish I never even got on the plane. I just want to be back at home.” But it’s true, and it makes you feel terrible about yourself, which is just fantastic . . . a giant dose of guilt is just what a terrified lonely lost tourist needs.
Although you don’t know it yet, this is the part that will fade. After you’re ready, and get out of the airport, you will get to know Holland and you won’t regret the fact that you have traveled. Oh, you will long for Italy from time to time, and want to rage against the unfairness from time to time, but you will get past the little voice that once said “Take this back from me. I don’t want this trip at all.”
Each traveler has to find their own way out of the airport. Some people navigate through the corridors in a pretty direct path (the corridors can lead right in a row: Denial to Anger to Bargaining to Depression to Acceptance). More commonly, you shuffle and wind around . . . leaving the Depression hallway to find yourself somehow back in Anger again. You may be here for months.
I am hoping and I won't give up my hopes. I hope that somedays I/we/our family will leave the airport. I believe that I will.......
And I strongly believe that as I learn more about Holland, and see how much it has to offer, I will grow to love it. I hope every single parents with autism kids will be the same.....
And it will change who you are, for the better.
Over the plateau phase for now
It has been last few days, Andrew have been doing so good. Andrew talks a lots more in completed sentences, has more sense of humor, much energetic, high motivated, well group playing with ba me and Lanvy. We play marching band almost everyday for last few days. Andrew loves to be a drum player. We take turn with drum and moraco. Lanvy participates with high energy as well.
Momy wishes to have time every night to write journey for you. Recently Andrew said so many cute and surprised things that I feel so happy and is so blessed. Here are the somes that momy can save for you to read in the fulture:
1) Andrew and mom ride a bike to the jungle (that what we called) by the neigbor. Andrew paddles really well now. We got to the "jungle" to pick some black berries. Andrew is so thrilled to eat the back berries right from bushes. We sat under the big tree. The wind comes Andrew is so happy seeing yellow leaves falling down. Andrew then pretends to be the wind to blow more yellow leaves down for momy to catch
"Mama (I love it when you call mom like this) I have a idea. How about I will be a wind to blow the leave so they can fall down. We don't need to wait for the wind". Said Andrew.
We both blew and blew all of our energy out, then Andrew sat down with the cute face and said "I wish I have a long trunk like HEPHALUP (elephan)". We ride back home, made a trip to the pond to look for taples. We play in the park for a while. My life light up with Andrew's innocent laughing. We had one of the greatest days in my life with my kids.
2) One morning Andrew woke up from the good night of sleep and told me "mama I think I have the best sleep ever"
3) Andrew came home and told me "I am a cool pirate today. Alisa is princess, Issac is a train with choooo sound, and William is a robot". I am amazed that Andrew can tell me that much from his class. This is the very first time I've heard much from Andrew about his school.
I just hope that my Andrew is truly passing the pleateau time and it's one of the leap jump for him.
Momy wishes to have time every night to write journey for you. Recently Andrew said so many cute and surprised things that I feel so happy and is so blessed. Here are the somes that momy can save for you to read in the fulture:
1) Andrew and mom ride a bike to the jungle (that what we called) by the neigbor. Andrew paddles really well now. We got to the "jungle" to pick some black berries. Andrew is so thrilled to eat the back berries right from bushes. We sat under the big tree. The wind comes Andrew is so happy seeing yellow leaves falling down. Andrew then pretends to be the wind to blow more yellow leaves down for momy to catch
"Mama (I love it when you call mom like this) I have a idea. How about I will be a wind to blow the leave so they can fall down. We don't need to wait for the wind". Said Andrew.
We both blew and blew all of our energy out, then Andrew sat down with the cute face and said "I wish I have a long trunk like HEPHALUP (elephan)". We ride back home, made a trip to the pond to look for taples. We play in the park for a while. My life light up with Andrew's innocent laughing. We had one of the greatest days in my life with my kids.
2) One morning Andrew woke up from the good night of sleep and told me "mama I think I have the best sleep ever"
3) Andrew came home and told me "I am a cool pirate today. Alisa is princess, Issac is a train with choooo sound, and William is a robot". I am amazed that Andrew can tell me that much from his class. This is the very first time I've heard much from Andrew about his school.
I just hope that my Andrew is truly passing the pleateau time and it's one of the leap jump for him.
Monday, October 25, 2010
It's just an "OK" day for Andrew
Andrew did not feeling well yesterday. We all went to Gymboree for Sport class. Andrew didn't want to play much with running nose and tired look...It seems like the sinus problem affects his day. It really brings my happiness down and depress my spirit when Andrew didn't have a good day. I would trade my whole life for Andrew's health and fulture...I feel discourage and am scare thinking about his fulture again.
On the other hand, I feel very blessed and grateful to have Lanvy who is so much entertained and fills my heart with love, laugh, and happiness...I hope I have given Lanvy "adequate" attention and cares. I often feel guilty not having much time with Lanvy.
On the other hand, I feel very blessed and grateful to have Lanvy who is so much entertained and fills my heart with love, laugh, and happiness...I hope I have given Lanvy "adequate" attention and cares. I often feel guilty not having much time with Lanvy.
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.
Emily Perl Kingsley.
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