Minds in Motion

Eye contact. I realized today that I never have eye contact with my son. Sure, he looks at me, but it's in this quick, frantic, dodging kind of way.

We started private Occupational Therapy two weeks ago. We've wanted to find a place for a while, but even therapists who said they had experience knew quite a lot less than we did about Jonah's special needs. The school therapists haven't known what to do, the pediatrician is clueless, and it feels like everyone just turns to us for answers. Most days I just look at God and say, "Help." I certainly don't know what to do.

But I have some hope. Through web research and a series of phone calls, we discovered a place called Minds in Motion. I sat in the waiting room last week before our evaluation and just felt relief. My child fit in there. My child was understood. I was understood.

Most meetings we've had with teachers/therapists/etc. have been a long discussion where we share about Jonah and they take notes. If we were "lucky," they'd demonstrate some knowledge by giving me advice: Do you listen to classical music to calm him down? How about a swing? Make sure he doesn't watch TV before going to bed. They were all conversations that annoyed the heck out of me and gave me no hope.

At Minds in Motion we were called back to the "play area" with Miss Kim, and I didn't have to tell her ANYTHING. She talked to me about the center while observing Jonah out of the corner of her eye. I had tears in my eyes as she explained Jonah to a "T" within the first five minutes of our meeting.

We're driving over an hour (one way), but I'm very confident that we'll see results from his time with Miss Kim. He has to complete an obstacle course two times a day for his homework this week to work on his "pinging." (That's how Miss Kim described it-- his focus pings, his eyes ping, his body pings, etc.) The course involves a mini-trampoline, a sit-&-spin, a balance beam, a swing, jumping on a series of carpet squares, etc. The purpose of the course is that he'll be purposeful with what he's asked to accomplish. If he falls off the balance beam, then he needs to start it over again. If he doesn't keep his feet together while jumping across the carpet squares, then he needs to do it over again. When he's done with an activity, he needs to look me in the eye and say, "I'm going to the sit-&-spin next" or "I'm going to the swing next."

If you know Jonah, then I think you can see what a valuable tool this could be. He's had to be so focused and deliberate with the obstacle course that I'm overwhelmed with pride when I see him complete a task. He's proud of himself too. Sometimes it takes six tries for him to look me in the eye while he says what he's going to do next, but HE'S TRYING. I think it actually feels good for him to have eye contact with me.

Tonight before bed, Grammy (we're visiting my parents this week) had him look me in the eyes and say, "I love you." He smiled. I smiled too.