Care mapping as reflection and celebration

Since all the publicity around Gabe’s Care Map in Lisa Belkin’s Huffington Post article in January, I’ve heard from many familes who created their own Care Map. Today’s post comes from Elizabeth Cummings of Montana, mom to Charlie and Max, about how she created her own and what it meant to her. I love how she used the process to support her sense of capacity and celebration, or as I’ve often expressed it, going from “Why me?” to “Lucky me!” My grateful thanks to Elizabeth for being willing to share her reflections! 

As a parent of a child with autism, it can feel as though I’m always in a hurry. Between juggling therapy sessions, medical appointments, school carpool, and trying to find those few precious moments to myself, sometimes there simply aren’t enough hours in the day.  When it comes to managing my time online, I’m ruthlessly efficient, but when a family member posted Gabe’s “care map” to my Facebook page recently, I paused. The graphic drew me in because it so beautifully illustrated what I could rarely find enough words to express. I looked closer. And then I clicked “share.”

When I saw Cristin’s work, I felt exhilarated and validated. Without even knowing me, it was as though someone had drawn a picture of my life. To me, the model’s strength lies in its simplicity. Finally, a clear and effective way to communicate the working parts of a daily life very foreign to most outside the special needs community. I knew the care map concept was important, especially in helping practitioners understand the many aspects of care parents of children with autism find themselves managing. I also knew that I had to try making one myself.

At the center of our care map is my son, Charlie, a loving and intelligent six-year-old with ASD. He is surrounded by a large and caring family—his first level of support. From there branch the many specialists, educators, community members, and policy makers who contribute to his care and development. Charged with coordination is the parent of a diagnosed child—armed with little more than love, large three-ring binders, and a laptop—doing her (or his) best to navigate this complicated world of autism.

Creating my map helped me reconsider my own role in my son’s care plan.  I have come to see myself as the central facilitator between many separate agencies. With this awareness, I’ve been able to better communicate with my son’s practitioners and more actively embrace the myriad tasks of care management.  The exercise allowed me to step back and view Charlie’s system of care with new perspective.  I found comfort in all these little circles, each representing a different system working to support my son and our family.

When these support pieces are each in place, all adequately funded and working in partnership, then families become empowered and the image of autism can start to change.  The picture facing the millions of parents struggling with an ASD diagnosis in 2013 doesn’t have to be solely one of loss and heartache.  It can also be the look on my face when, at age 3, my son first recovered the word “mama” in therapy.  It can be the sound in his teacher’s voice when she excitedly tells me about a conversation he has had with a friend in kindergarten.  It is the new perspective these children impart, and the special joys and blessings they share with those who love them.

Thanks Elizabeth! If any other folks out there would like to share their care mapping story, let me know!