being a mom Archives - Page 9 of 13

Jan 21, 2009

Dark Nights

These are the nights I hate.

The cries sometimes erupt sharply from her room. Other times they are soft at first, growing to a fever pitch. Heaving sobs come between high-pitched whines. I wonder at first if she’s scared or in pain or both as I rush up to her room.

Tonight it’s sharp cries. I find Cordy on the floor beside her bed, curled in the fetal position with her arm over her head, trying to block out some unseen attack. I ask her what’s wrong, but as usual I get answers that are vague or make no sense.

I ask why she’s upset and she says she doesn’t know. I ask if her belly hurts, and she says it does. I ask if her foot hurts and she says it does. I doubt she really hurts – instead she is letting my questions lead her to find the answer she doesn’t know. Anything I ask she answers yes.

Her eyes are open wide, pupils large and black. She is awake yet most of the time sees right through me. She begins to cry out that she misses her grandma, and I remind her that she’ll see grandma in a few days. She then says she misses mommy, and I look closer into her eyes and tell her I’m right there. I shift my weight slightly and she interprets this as a sign of retreat, begging me to stay because she is scared.

“What are you scared of?” I ask.

“I don’t know…the dark.”

“But your light is on. It’s not dark in here.”

“I’m scared of the dark when I close my eyes.”

As a toddler Cordy suffered from night terrors. She would wake suddenly, screaming and thrashing as if she was being assaulted. We tried to comfort her, but any attempt to interact made her scream even louder. She didn’t recognize us or her surroundings. 15-20 minutes later, she would eventually start to calm and slowly become aware of our presence, dazed and clinging to us for comfort.

We had a long period where there were no nightmares or night terrors. Cordy has never slept through the night since she turned three, but she rarely needs us when she wakes. She usually goes to bed around 7pm (her choice), then wakes sometime between 11pm-1am, spending up to an hour quoting some TV scene to herself over and over, running back and forth in her room, or collecting carpet fuzz in one of her play kitchen pots. She eventually settles down without any intervention from us. Sometimes she has another awake period around 3am, and by 6am she is up for the day.

But over the past few weeks, the night-time crying has come back. She may be four years old, but her comprehension of nightmares is closer to that of a two year old. She can’t comprehend it – she only knows that she’s suddenly awake and scared of something she can’t describe. It’s not a night terror, because she’s awake and aware of us, but she can’t accept our explanations. No matter how we try to explain that it wasn’t real, she doesn’t believe us. Her inner world and the outside world are blurred together in that moment.

It’s very possible that these nightmares are her way of trying to process the outside world that encroaches on her internal world more each day. Her inner world is a predictable place, filled with routine and repetition and patterns. She retreats to it whenever she feels threatened. Our world is chaotic to her, frightening and confusing and filled with new experiences and sensations. When she’s had too much, she retreats inward to her scripts and her repetitive motions.

Cordy has made incredible progress combating autism. She’s brave, she’s strong-willed, and she wants to please us so much. I feel so proud of her accomplishments, and I take some pride in how well we’ve fought to get her to this point. She has her good days and bad days, of course. She talks back to us now, full of attitude that she learned from her classmates, and while it’s frustrating we laugh and remind each other it’s a sign of progress. She’s acting like a “typical” four year old with each huff and foot stomp.

But on these nights, when I cradle my scared, no-longer-small four year old with the wide, vacant eyes and grasp for ways to make her fears go away, unable to promise that the darkness won’t be there when she closes her eyes, I feel just as lost as she does. And I can only hope that the morning sun will vanquish the darkness and bring her some peace, even if only for another day.

Filed Under: Autism, being a mom, Cordy ·

Nov 20, 2008

The Baby Ate My Feedreader. Well, sort of.

By Christina ·

Sure, kids may blame the dog for eating homework, but we parents can blame our kids for stuff that we’ve flaked on, too. Especially when they really are responsible for it.

I had good intentions of cleaning out my Bloglines. With over 800+ posts to catch up on, I spent part of this afternoon plowing through it to whittle down that number to something approaching reasonable. I’ll admit I read too many blogs, but I love keeping up with so many people, even if I don’t always have time to comment.

So at one point Mira was sitting on my lap, when she suddenly took an interest in the laptop that she was sharing the lap with. She loves pushing buttons, and kept reaching for the keyboard in an attempt to appease her addiction.

And then she got frustrated when I kept intercepting her button-pushing fingers. With one quick movement, she slapped the keyboard.

And just like that, my Bloglines went to 0.

Z-e-r-o.

She somehow marked all posts as read.

Over 700 posts, no longer marked for me to catch up on.

Damn.

I suppose she did me a favor by forcing me to start fresh. Still…argh.

Filed Under: being a mom, Mira, random · Tagged: toddler battles

Oct 23, 2008

Visiting The World Of What Could Have Been

By Christina ·

Cordy had her annual check-up with her pediatrician two days ago, and this time it was with the ped that saw her during her entire first year of life. OK, she’s actually a pediatric nurse practitioner, but typing that out every single time will cramp my fingers, so let’s just call her the ped, OK? This particular ped left the practice due to family issues when Cordy was a little over a year old, and just recently came back to work again. I was thrilled to see she was back, so I made sure to schedule Cordy with her.

(I’ll also add how thankful I am that we have a great pediatric group. They’re not covered by the state insurance that the girls now have, but the office worked out a reduced cost visits deal with us so we wouldn’t have to change peds until we have better insurance again.)

Cordy always has a problem with the doctor’s office. But she has matured a little, so I hoped it wouldn’t be as bad this year. When we were called back, things started off very well – she actually took off her shoes and stepped on the scale to get height/weight measurements with only a little prodding. We once again confirmed that she is maintaining her Amazon status: 43 inches tall, 45 pounds. She’s only 5 inches away from riding most adult roller coasters and sitting in the front seat of a car – and she just turned 4!

But when the nurse led us into the tiny examining room, Cordy’s discomfort with the situation began to get to her. The nurse tried to take her blood pressure, but only got as far as wrapping the cuff around her arm before Cordy started to squirm and beg to take it off. The nurse tried to calm her down, but she only got more upset. At this point, the nurse turned to me and asked rather sharply, “Is there some behavioral issue or condition I should know about?”

I was a little taken aback by the wording, and stuttered out, “Well, yeah…uh…she has autism,” and then quickly added, “but is high-functioning and has made a lot of progress.” Like I needed to justify it or something.

The nurse stepped back and took off the blood pressure cuff. “Ah, well, then I won’t bother with this. Did they take her blood pressure last year?”

“Well, no. They were kind of afraid of her at her appointment last year. But you can see she’s doing much better now.”

The nurse nodded, asked a few more questions and then left. Cordy started to get manic in response to the situation, climbing on the exam table, spinning around to rip the paper, and standing up on the table. The minutes it took for the ped to come in felt like days.

It was great to see this ped again. She is gentle spoken and approaches children slowly with an air of friendliness. I absolutely love how she interacts with children. Cordy didn’t appear threatened as she looked at the ped and said, “Hi doctor, I have a boo-boo on my leg. Can you fix it?” (She has a scratch on her leg.)

As the ped looked through Cordy’s records, she asked us questions about Cordy’s autism, when and where we had evaluations done, and what therapy she currently receives. She paused when she got to Cordy’s growth charts, looking carefully at the head circumference chart and flipping back through various doctors’ notes at the same time.

“Were you aware of how big her head was when she was two?” she asked us. “I mean, her head size was already off the charts at 15 and 18 months, but look here.” She showed us the growth chart, which I already knew by heart. “At two years old, her head size makes a dramatic jump, way off the charts. Did the doctor bring it up at that visit?”

“No.” I replied. The truth is, after this ped left, we saw several different doctors and nurse practitioners after her. It seems like every time I tried to schedule a new appointment for Cordy, I was told that her previous doctor was no longer there, so I’d have to see a new one. I didn’t like the lack of a consistent pediatrician, but most of them seemed nice enough.

“And she wasn’t evaulated until she was nearly three?”

“That’s right. I decided to have her evaluated after Aaron and I became concerned with her behavior.”

She shook her head. “They really dropped the ball on this. If I had seen her head size at two years old, I would have immediately looked into screening for autism and ordered a CT scan to make sure everything was OK. A head circumference that large at that age is always seen as a concern. There is a correlation between larger heads and higher intelligence, but children with autism tend to have larger head sizes – and many have high IQs – and it can be an early indicator that can lead to earlier diagnosis and treatment.”

This bit of news only confirmed what I already knew. I remember Cordy’s well-checks when she was younger, and I remember watching her head circumference continue rising further and further away from that 100th percentile line. I was concerned, and I expressed my concerns, but I was waved off with a laugh and a “big head equals big brains, right?” from the peds at that time. No one seemed concerned, and so I continued to believe that her behavior was a result of inheriting her parents’ stubborn and strong-willed natures. Hindsight is 20/20, of course, but I wish one of her doctors would have noticed or said something.

Cordy resisted for much of the physical exam, as expected. We measured her head circumference again, just to see how much it had changed from her two year measurement. They don’t have growth charts that track head size past three years old, but her measurement was very close to her two year measurement. The ped told us that since it’s been two years without much of a change in circumference, and since Cordy has shown progress at school in her behavior, she wouldn’t recommend a CT scan now. But she added that she’s really disappointed that no one else paid attention to the signs earlier.

I’m thankful that Cordy is a healthy child who rarely gets sick. And Mira is much the same way. They both have the occasional cold or stomach bug, but it doesn’t slow them down much. And I’m glad to have Cordy’s old ped back, and I think Mira will start seeing her too. I couldn’t help but notice at Mira’s 15 month well-check that her head circumference has gone up and is now hovering just under the 100th percentile mark, taunting us with the possibility of jumping over that line at the next visit.

I don’t see any signs of autism in Mira, though, and I hope none will develop. However, she is being evaluated in two weeks for a possible speech delay – at nearly 17 months, she still can’t fully say a single word. She tries hard, but words come out as a strange warped version of what she’s trying to say. The musicality of a word is there, but few of the sounds come close to matching. I probably wouldn’t be concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that I remember Cordy talking up a storm and starting to count at this age. I brought up the issue at her last well-check and her ped recommended an evaluation after hearing my worries.

I guess the lesson from all of this is that even pediatricians are fallible. The best advocate for your child is yourself – you know your child better than anyone else. Ask lots of questions, and don’t be afraid to push an issue. If I had pushed the issue two years ago, it’s possible Cordy could have started therapy sooner and be at a higher level of progress than she currently is.

Filed Under: Autism, being a mom, big issues, Cordy, Mira, people who don't suck ·

Oct 4, 2008

Moments We’re Not Proud Of

By Christina ·

Many of you may read Catherine of Her Bad Mother, and you probably know that she’s been having a rough time lately. This parenting gig isn’t always baby giggles and butt wiggles – we often discover some of the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves on this journey, too. Ali recently wrote a post to lend some support to Catherine in an “I’ve been there” kinda way, and I wanted to share my story, too.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve scared myself with my own thoughts. Times when I was pushed beyond the breaking point by a late night crying session that was seemingly endless, or a child who simply wouldn’t do what I needed her to do. I don’t know if that says that I’m not well-suited to being a parent, or simply have a short fuse.

My worst moments were a little over a year ago, before Cordy was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum and when she was at the height of her out-of-body, demonic possession tantrums. I know now that she couldn’t control herself – when she hit that right combination of sensory overload, all higher functions seemed to step out for awhile, leaving the primitive brain in charge for awhile. It was hard to see her like that, but it was also frustrating for me, and inconvenient, and often embarrassing when we were in public.

Her primal screaming, kicking, biting, and resisting me tested all of my limits of tolerance and patience. Many times I’d partially lose control, yelling at her and handling her roughly just to drag her out of the house or force her into her car seat. But more than once I can clearly remember snapping, suddenly noticing my hand up in the air, poised and ready to strike. I was shocked at my own in-the-moment instinct: the desire to hurt her – to beat her – was there, and it scared me more than any tantrum she has ever thrown.

I’m thankful that I was able to recognize the line and step away before crossing it and doing something I might forever regret. Those moments still bother me – I often torture myself for even thinking such things. What kind of a mom thinks of beating her child?

The truth is, many parents have these thoughts, and we shouldn’t judge ourselves or others for thinking them. Thoughts and actions are two very different things, and even though I might have been angry enough to carry out my irresponsible wishes, I didn’t do it. A different kind of instinct took over at that point – mother’s instinct.

And while I laugh about those long nights when Cordy was a baby, when Aaron and I discussed driving out to a cornfield and leaving her there, I also acknowledge that there were moments where I scared myself with violent thoughts. Recognizing where that escalation beyond frustration into violence begins, though, has helped me from reaching that point again. I’m not a great mother, but I do know I’m a pretty good mom, doing the best I can each day.

Although I still threaten to leave them in a cornfield.

What are your darkest moments of parenting? Write a post about it, leave a comment here, or e-mail Ali if you want to do it anonymously (details at her post here). And be sure to visit Catherine and lend her your support as well.

Filed Under: being a mom, Cordy · Tagged: toddler battles

Sep 20, 2008

Memories of Dark, Sleepy Nights

By Christina ·

As we approach Cordelia’s fourth birthday, my mind often drifts back to when she was a baby. I can’t say she was the easiest baby, because she wasn’t. But slowly a lot of those hard times are being erased from my memory due to the effects of time. However, many of those good memories are slipping away, too, and I’m trying to hold tight to the ones I do still remember.

This weekend there is a virtual baby shower being held for Kristen and Rebecca to celebrate the upcoming births of their third and second child, respectively. (Amalah is also getting a virtual shower, too, with details here.) The hostesses asked for all those participating to share some of the good memories we have from those hazy infant days, and while they may be getting fuzzy, I do have one strong memory in mind.

Cordy co-slept until four months, at which point I was back to work and all attempts at breastfeeding had been completely abandoned. She woke generally one or two times a night, which wasn’t bad for a four month old. Being a first time mom, each night I jumped up at the first grumbles heard on the monitor and prepared her bottle.

I’d go into her room, dimly lit by her Beatrix Potter nightlight, and lift her out of her crib. We’d settle in together in my glider, and I’d give her a bottle while rocking her gently. Half of the time, she fell into a half-asleep state immediately (me too), only awake enough to eat and then fall into a deep slumber as soon as the bottle was finished.

But the other half of the time, she was still awake at the end of the bottle, looking up at me with wide eyes in the darkness. And it was on these occasions that I lifted her up to my shoulder, with her head nuzzled in the crook of my neck, and rock her to sleep.

Cordy was never a cuddly baby. She tolerated being held, but most attempts to snuggle her were met with protests. The only time I got to really cuddle my baby girl was when she needed a little help falling asleep after the bottle. This was our time together – in the stillness of the night, just the two of us rocking together to the sounds of the nighttime CD playing and her noisy breathing with the occasional contented sigh.

Sure, I wanted to get back to bed. I was still working full-time at that point, and knew I was facing a long day when the sun came up. That special moment of me holding her against me as we rocked, however, was worth more to me than the extra sleep. Even when I knew she was fully asleep, I’d often stay an extra ten minutes or more, just to enjoy the moment.

I specifically remember telling myself, “You must remember this. Of all the memories of her growing up, you must remember this moment when she is this small, asleep on your shoulder.” And I did. I burned the memory into my mind, making sure that time and age would not take it from me.

If you want to join in on the virtual baby shower, visit the shower post for the details. (Hint: there are prizes, too!) Good luck to Kristen, Rebecca and Amy – I wish you all easy births and babies who don’t have explosive poop or colic.