The Crossroads
We are hitting the cross roads of transition problems and separation anxiety coupled with some control issues. Whew, what a mess. My son has a problem with transitions. He always has but as he has matured he has been better able to handle the normal, every day transitions of school vs. home vs. going out to eat. Most people will read that last statement and think, 'ah, yes, I remember when little johnny wouldn't come out of the McDonalds play area and would scream like a banshee when it was time to go'. Now take that
same thought and put in on a six year old who needs to go to school or a playdate or just to bed. Separation is very hard on my little boy. He is getting much, much better but things like the end and beginning of school are particularly tough for him.
For us, the end result of a transition battle is a separation anxiety problem. I have just thown a HUGE tempertantrum over the end of a playdate and now I need to see my mommy. Not only see her but touch her and hold her and be with her ... only not really... because attachment disorder says that she cannot handle my dispair and I must take care of myself so I must scream and push her away.
Getting the picture yet?
Tonight we had another tornado of transition, separation and control issues. A tornado is my best description because I really cannot figure out where one starts and the other begins. It is just crazy here. It is the end of the school year so I expect this but expecting it is not the same as living through it. I worry that my son will never learn how to control this storm of emotions inside of him. I think we need professional advice again. Luckily, I can still go back to our therapist to get advice. She doesn't have a magic wand but she does have a lot more experience than I do. She has a lot of ideas.
Fingers crossed. We will make it to summer.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Blue Chair
The Blue Chair
Today, we graduated to the blue chair.
Ok, this might not sound exciting to many people but for me it is cause for celebration. My son asked me today 'will you be outside the door or in the blue chair'. I am in the blue chair. See, the blue chair is downstairs, not outside my son's second story bedroom door. The blue chair is in front of the t.v. The blue chair is freedom.
If I am in the blue chair I can talk on the phone without worrying so much that my children are listening. If I'm in the blue chair I can run to the kitchen really fast. If I'm in the blue chair, I am one BIG step further away from my son. I am in the blue chair.
In the past year I have seen my son progress so much. He is working hard on becoming independent. He works on picturing me at home or in the car. He is working on feeling safe and confident. He is doing great.
He is doing great, but the blue chair... the blue chair is amazing.
Today, we graduated to the blue chair.
Ok, this might not sound exciting to many people but for me it is cause for celebration. My son asked me today 'will you be outside the door or in the blue chair'. I am in the blue chair. See, the blue chair is downstairs, not outside my son's second story bedroom door. The blue chair is in front of the t.v. The blue chair is freedom.
If I am in the blue chair I can talk on the phone without worrying so much that my children are listening. If I'm in the blue chair I can run to the kitchen really fast. If I'm in the blue chair, I am one BIG step further away from my son. I am in the blue chair.
In the past year I have seen my son progress so much. He is working hard on becoming independent. He works on picturing me at home or in the car. He is working on feeling safe and confident. He is doing great.
He is doing great, but the blue chair... the blue chair is amazing.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Is it ok to go home to die?
Is it ever ok to send someone home to die?
I have been struggling with this question off and on for months now. My MIL is in stable health. Her medication is again on track. She is mentally present. She is also terribly homesick. Moving to IL was never her idea and honestly we always thought that she would return home when the summer arrived. Well, summer is here and we are unsure what to do.
On one hand she is in decent health for her age. She needs her medication and she needs to have a full-time caregiver but we could get both of these in Indiana. However, since October she has been in the emergency room more than a half a dozen times including two hospital stays. More than one doctor has told us that she cannot live alone. It sounds pretty cut and dry when you read the above. Obviously, she needs to stay in assisted living. The problem is her mental state. MIL is starting to fail due to depression. She is deeply unhappy everytime that I visit. She talks of how much work there is to do at home and how little there is to do here... how bored and unhappy she is... how everyone is always telling her what to do... how much she misses home.
Sending her home is a death sentence. No question about it. I don't think she could survive even with a caregiver. I'm worried that keeping her here is also a death sentence, so the question is, which is more humane? Which is the best decision?
I have no idea.
I have been struggling with this question off and on for months now. My MIL is in stable health. Her medication is again on track. She is mentally present. She is also terribly homesick. Moving to IL was never her idea and honestly we always thought that she would return home when the summer arrived. Well, summer is here and we are unsure what to do.
On one hand she is in decent health for her age. She needs her medication and she needs to have a full-time caregiver but we could get both of these in Indiana. However, since October she has been in the emergency room more than a half a dozen times including two hospital stays. More than one doctor has told us that she cannot live alone. It sounds pretty cut and dry when you read the above. Obviously, she needs to stay in assisted living. The problem is her mental state. MIL is starting to fail due to depression. She is deeply unhappy everytime that I visit. She talks of how much work there is to do at home and how little there is to do here... how bored and unhappy she is... how everyone is always telling her what to do... how much she misses home.
Sending her home is a death sentence. No question about it. I don't think she could survive even with a caregiver. I'm worried that keeping her here is also a death sentence, so the question is, which is more humane? Which is the best decision?
I have no idea.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The Matriarch
The Matriarch
Today it occurred to me that I may be the matriarch of my family. Yep, the matriarch. I may need a stiff shot of whiskey to handle this. When my children were littler and struggling with attachment disorder they would work very hard to play my husband and I against each other. Now, some of this is normal but AD means pushing everything past normal. Fed up with this I told my children that I was 'the head of the family' that I fact 'I owned everything. I own the house, the toys, the food, the children. Everything!'. My son, always searching for the crack in every bit of logic answered 'you don't own daddy'. To which I replied, 'yes, I do. I own everything in the world, including daddy. I am the head of the family.'
Anyone reading this will recognize that I don't own the world and anyone who knows my husband will recogize that I don't own him. We're an obnoxiously equal couple; however, my four year old son did not understand this and howled like the end of the world had arrived at our doorstep. Fights from this point forward centered on me, the head of the family. My husband was often (but not always) given a pass on the screaming and tantrums because the main push was to dethrone the head of the family, me.
Over time this proved to be one of the smartest things I have ever said to my kids. When my son was smaller, he focused all of his rage on me. It wasn't fun but as the mom I was going to get it anyway. Taking some of it away from my husband gave my son someone to turn to when times were rough. After all both he and daddy were under the thumb of a repressive dictator. My daughter quietly examined all of these interactions and then one day announced that she too would be the head of her family. I smiled. Then I
explained to her that whatever parent stayed at home was the head of the family and that there were many responsibilities with the position. She still thinks it's pretty cool.
But I believe I might have become 'The Matriarch' today. This is not a position that I sought and frankly, I don't want it but it appears to be mine. With the addition of my MIL to our little family I have stepped up.
Over the last several months I have taken over the bill paying for two households. I am first point of contact for MIL's doctors. I am recognized at our local ER. I am also the one who has to solve the strange problems like... MIL accidently set her microwave on fire and I have to explain to her why she cannot have it back. Or... the conversation with MIL on why she must take a shower.
On the other hand, I think I get this title mostly because I don't want it. When MIL told me that she didn't want to take her medication, I told her to discuss the issue with her doctor and I would back her up 100%. This scared her (something I didn't foresee) and we haven't discussed it again. With my son I explain to him that he is in charge of his asthma issues, his medication, his sensory problems. My job is to help him and to teach him how to handle the problems. My son has grown so much because I know he is old
enough and smart enough to handle this.
I've come to realize that being The Matriarch is the easiest and hardest position in the world. My job is to trust everyone to do their jobs while watching to see that no one drops the ball. It's a lot of stress and a lot of worry and very little action on my part.
Today it occurred to me that I may be the matriarch of my family. Yep, the matriarch. I may need a stiff shot of whiskey to handle this. When my children were littler and struggling with attachment disorder they would work very hard to play my husband and I against each other. Now, some of this is normal but AD means pushing everything past normal. Fed up with this I told my children that I was 'the head of the family' that I fact 'I owned everything. I own the house, the toys, the food, the children. Everything!'. My son, always searching for the crack in every bit of logic answered 'you don't own daddy'. To which I replied, 'yes, I do. I own everything in the world, including daddy. I am the head of the family.'
Anyone reading this will recognize that I don't own the world and anyone who knows my husband will recogize that I don't own him. We're an obnoxiously equal couple; however, my four year old son did not understand this and howled like the end of the world had arrived at our doorstep. Fights from this point forward centered on me, the head of the family. My husband was often (but not always) given a pass on the screaming and tantrums because the main push was to dethrone the head of the family, me.
Over time this proved to be one of the smartest things I have ever said to my kids. When my son was smaller, he focused all of his rage on me. It wasn't fun but as the mom I was going to get it anyway. Taking some of it away from my husband gave my son someone to turn to when times were rough. After all both he and daddy were under the thumb of a repressive dictator. My daughter quietly examined all of these interactions and then one day announced that she too would be the head of her family. I smiled. Then I
explained to her that whatever parent stayed at home was the head of the family and that there were many responsibilities with the position. She still thinks it's pretty cool.
But I believe I might have become 'The Matriarch' today. This is not a position that I sought and frankly, I don't want it but it appears to be mine. With the addition of my MIL to our little family I have stepped up.
Over the last several months I have taken over the bill paying for two households. I am first point of contact for MIL's doctors. I am recognized at our local ER. I am also the one who has to solve the strange problems like... MIL accidently set her microwave on fire and I have to explain to her why she cannot have it back. Or... the conversation with MIL on why she must take a shower.
On the other hand, I think I get this title mostly because I don't want it. When MIL told me that she didn't want to take her medication, I told her to discuss the issue with her doctor and I would back her up 100%. This scared her (something I didn't foresee) and we haven't discussed it again. With my son I explain to him that he is in charge of his asthma issues, his medication, his sensory problems. My job is to help him and to teach him how to handle the problems. My son has grown so much because I know he is old
enough and smart enough to handle this.
I've come to realize that being The Matriarch is the easiest and hardest position in the world. My job is to trust everyone to do their jobs while watching to see that no one drops the ball. It's a lot of stress and a lot of worry and very little action on my part.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Birth Parent Search
The Birth Parent Search
We are currently discussing the birth parent search. This sounds like a simple question. Do I search for the birth parents of my children or not? This seems like a simple question with a simple answer. Of course. Then I have access to medical information and personal information for my children. But the real question is... do I search for the birth parents of my children?
I am finding this to be a tough question in many ways. I would be lying if I said that I don't find this threatening to me as a mom. The birthmom has done nothing wrong in the eyes of my children. She has never said 'no' to unhealthy snacks. She has never enforced bedtime. She has never yelled in anger. She is a saint. While I know she has never spent 4 nights in the hospital when my son was sick or coached my daughter in fractions, these are things easily forgotten by seven year olds. While we talk about the birthmom freely in our house, she is still a mystery and shrouded in fairy tales. If my chilren are the Repunzel equivilent, what am I?
And then there is the birth father. A complete absense in the history of my children. I believe he takes up one line in the report of the birth family. My husband has no competition. I am both envious of my husband and saddened for my children. There is absolutely no way for us to ever find the birth father.
So now what?
Against ever fiber of my mommy-being, I believe that we will have to search for the birth mother. At sometime, my chilren will deserve to know and to make the decision to meet her or not. I can see the heartache in my future, but being a good mother means putting your children first and I believe that my children will need this connection. I am still planning on putting this off for another year and I will not tell my children until they are older, but I will have the information waiting for them when they are ready.
When will they be ready?
Well, actually, I don't know. My kids are already asking a lot of questions about Guatemala. It holds an almost mythical quality to them. They know it is their birthplace and they want to see it. They want to go back. They are seven now and I believe we will take them to latin america before they are ten. I think this will be a tough, emotional trip for them and I want them to take it before they are old enough to pull back from me. I want to be able to be there for them when they have questions.
For our trip to Guatemala, I'm unsure at what age we will actually travel. I am not comfortable in the country right now. I don't believe it is terribly safe. On the other hand (I have many hands) safe or not, we will need to make the trip. Perhaps twelve or thirteen will be the right age.
Some people might wonder why I am thinking so hard about something that is so far away. I have a good reason. I don't want to go. I don't want to do this. They are my children. They are american. I don't want to acknowledge any other family or heritage. By planning now, I will be ready in six years. I will be ready to face the next step growth for my children. My goal is to always be there for them.
We are currently discussing the birth parent search. This sounds like a simple question. Do I search for the birth parents of my children or not? This seems like a simple question with a simple answer. Of course. Then I have access to medical information and personal information for my children. But the real question is... do I search for the birth parents of my children?
I am finding this to be a tough question in many ways. I would be lying if I said that I don't find this threatening to me as a mom. The birthmom has done nothing wrong in the eyes of my children. She has never said 'no' to unhealthy snacks. She has never enforced bedtime. She has never yelled in anger. She is a saint. While I know she has never spent 4 nights in the hospital when my son was sick or coached my daughter in fractions, these are things easily forgotten by seven year olds. While we talk about the birthmom freely in our house, she is still a mystery and shrouded in fairy tales. If my chilren are the Repunzel equivilent, what am I?
And then there is the birth father. A complete absense in the history of my children. I believe he takes up one line in the report of the birth family. My husband has no competition. I am both envious of my husband and saddened for my children. There is absolutely no way for us to ever find the birth father.
So now what?
Against ever fiber of my mommy-being, I believe that we will have to search for the birth mother. At sometime, my chilren will deserve to know and to make the decision to meet her or not. I can see the heartache in my future, but being a good mother means putting your children first and I believe that my children will need this connection. I am still planning on putting this off for another year and I will not tell my children until they are older, but I will have the information waiting for them when they are ready.
When will they be ready?
Well, actually, I don't know. My kids are already asking a lot of questions about Guatemala. It holds an almost mythical quality to them. They know it is their birthplace and they want to see it. They want to go back. They are seven now and I believe we will take them to latin america before they are ten. I think this will be a tough, emotional trip for them and I want them to take it before they are old enough to pull back from me. I want to be able to be there for them when they have questions.
For our trip to Guatemala, I'm unsure at what age we will actually travel. I am not comfortable in the country right now. I don't believe it is terribly safe. On the other hand (I have many hands) safe or not, we will need to make the trip. Perhaps twelve or thirteen will be the right age.
Some people might wonder why I am thinking so hard about something that is so far away. I have a good reason. I don't want to go. I don't want to do this. They are my children. They are american. I don't want to acknowledge any other family or heritage. By planning now, I will be ready in six years. I will be ready to face the next step growth for my children. My goal is to always be there for them.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sarah
Tonight I'm thinking about my friend, Sarah. Sarah is in her first year of marriage and is in labor with her first child at a measly 23 weeks. She also has medical problems of her own. I'm worried about both of them.
All of her friends are waiting to hear any news. Waiting to see if there is anything we can do to help. Waiting sucks.
During a wait like this, it seems that all of us are reflecting on our own lives and our own choices. I remember the two years of trying to conceive. The stress every month with the pregnacy test came back negative. I remember wondering what I had done wrong. Was it the glass of wine? Was it because I was too stress out? I'll never know. My husband and I fall into the 2% of couples who have no medical reason for not getting pregnant. We just don't.
I also remember the two years of waiting for my children to arrive. We had brief passes with domestic adoption. There was the friend of a friend who changed her mind. There was the girl who was diagnosed with an immediate terminal illness. Internationally, there were closed countries everywhere we went. There was a lot of waiting. Then, there were my twins.
As I talk to my girlfriends, each of us is thinking along these same lines. We are thanking our lucky stars for the children we have regardless of how difficult the road was. We're looking back at past pregnacies and past adoptions and past difficulties. We're remembering how lucky we are to have the families that we do.
Ironically, we're also reflecting on the children we wanted and never had. It's surprising how much grief is also tied up with families. A young girlfriend of mine is trying to decide if she will be able to have a second child after a difficult delivery with her first. A second girlfriend is remembering her many miscarriages. I still wish for our third child, an adoption we could not afford.
I often think that this is the hidden life of women. The life or the part of us that men are not a part of. Don't get me wrong, my husband held my hand through every up and down, but it is different for him. This is something that binds all women together.
Tonight, my thoughts and prayers are with Sarah and her unborn baby. I am praying for the best for them both.
All of her friends are waiting to hear any news. Waiting to see if there is anything we can do to help. Waiting sucks.
During a wait like this, it seems that all of us are reflecting on our own lives and our own choices. I remember the two years of trying to conceive. The stress every month with the pregnacy test came back negative. I remember wondering what I had done wrong. Was it the glass of wine? Was it because I was too stress out? I'll never know. My husband and I fall into the 2% of couples who have no medical reason for not getting pregnant. We just don't.
I also remember the two years of waiting for my children to arrive. We had brief passes with domestic adoption. There was the friend of a friend who changed her mind. There was the girl who was diagnosed with an immediate terminal illness. Internationally, there were closed countries everywhere we went. There was a lot of waiting. Then, there were my twins.
As I talk to my girlfriends, each of us is thinking along these same lines. We are thanking our lucky stars for the children we have regardless of how difficult the road was. We're looking back at past pregnacies and past adoptions and past difficulties. We're remembering how lucky we are to have the families that we do.
Ironically, we're also reflecting on the children we wanted and never had. It's surprising how much grief is also tied up with families. A young girlfriend of mine is trying to decide if she will be able to have a second child after a difficult delivery with her first. A second girlfriend is remembering her many miscarriages. I still wish for our third child, an adoption we could not afford.
I often think that this is the hidden life of women. The life or the part of us that men are not a part of. Don't get me wrong, my husband held my hand through every up and down, but it is different for him. This is something that binds all women together.
Tonight, my thoughts and prayers are with Sarah and her unborn baby. I am praying for the best for them both.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
MIL Ill again
Tonight, I'd planned on telling you one of my funny stories. Heaven knows that my family has a ton of them. Instead, tonight I'm concerned about my MIL.
A couple of months ago we went through a round of ER visits, hospital stays and general panic. You see, when MIL goes to the ER, she usually stays in the hospital for a few days. While this sounds good, it isn't. In the hospital she gets very, very confused. So confused that the first time this happened, we thought she must have had a stroke. Luckily, not so. However, she was not rational either. She cannot distinguish between the assisted living facility and the hospital. Between the ER and the assisted living facility, yes; but not between a hospital room and the assisted living apartment.
For the first hospital stay she was scared and angry. Anger has been one of the hardest things for us to handle because it took us so long to realize that anger is just fear with a mask on. That she really isn't trying to be difficult but she doesn't understand the situation. We reassured her that no one had stolen her room and that no one had taken her things. Luckily, she believed us.
Fast forward through several more trips to the ER in a very short amount of time. The family started discussing a nursing home instead of the assisted living facility. This was tough on all of us. The idea was for MIL to get better, not worse. Luckily, the doctor happened to be at the AL facility during a new attack that would have sent MIL back to the ER yet again (and would have sealed her fate for the nursing home). After seeing her exact difficulties the doctor was able to adjust her medications to get her condition back under control.
Fantastic news, right? Sort of.
The doctor warned us that we had reached 'the kitchen sink'. Starting from that day he was giving her everything he could for her condition. If (when?) she worsened again, there is no additional medication, no more rabbits from a hat. Hmm. Ok, not such good news.
It's been somewhere between a month and six weeks since we received this diagnosis. Everytime she has a bad day, I mentally hold my breath. Each time, she has pulled through. All is good. Today, I'm not so certain. I am again holding my breath.
This time MIL has two issues. First is a wound that has gotten infected. If you look at my MIL's legs harshly the skin will break so you can imagine what happens when she actually bumps into something. The wound had been healing well for a few days but then it started to hurt and now the infection. The doctor has put her on an antibodic which will hopefully clear this up.
In addition to the wound she is having breathing problems today. Breathing problems are a double edged sword for MIL. First, she is tired and does not want to take her nebulizer. Second, she cannot breath when taking the nebulizer. Huh? See she is short of breath and the oxygen comes in through a tube under her nose. She cannot breath better unless she takes a 20 minute breathing treatment through her mouth. See the problem? She needs every breath through her nose to maintain but must have the medicine through her mouth. Today I managed to coax her into taking about half of her medicine, then I looked away to do something. When I turned back she had dumped the rest on the floor. Nebulizer over.
Since she takes the nebulizer several times a day I'm hopeful that the next one will be taken in full but just in case I notified the nurse on staff to have someone watch her take her medicine.
Tonight I am worried about her but I have been worried, much more worried before. Hopefully there will be no 2:00am phone call.
Hopefully tomorrow she will be filled full of mischief again and driving me nuts. I hope so.
A couple of months ago we went through a round of ER visits, hospital stays and general panic. You see, when MIL goes to the ER, she usually stays in the hospital for a few days. While this sounds good, it isn't. In the hospital she gets very, very confused. So confused that the first time this happened, we thought she must have had a stroke. Luckily, not so. However, she was not rational either. She cannot distinguish between the assisted living facility and the hospital. Between the ER and the assisted living facility, yes; but not between a hospital room and the assisted living apartment.
For the first hospital stay she was scared and angry. Anger has been one of the hardest things for us to handle because it took us so long to realize that anger is just fear with a mask on. That she really isn't trying to be difficult but she doesn't understand the situation. We reassured her that no one had stolen her room and that no one had taken her things. Luckily, she believed us.
Fast forward through several more trips to the ER in a very short amount of time. The family started discussing a nursing home instead of the assisted living facility. This was tough on all of us. The idea was for MIL to get better, not worse. Luckily, the doctor happened to be at the AL facility during a new attack that would have sent MIL back to the ER yet again (and would have sealed her fate for the nursing home). After seeing her exact difficulties the doctor was able to adjust her medications to get her condition back under control.
Fantastic news, right? Sort of.
The doctor warned us that we had reached 'the kitchen sink'. Starting from that day he was giving her everything he could for her condition. If (when?) she worsened again, there is no additional medication, no more rabbits from a hat. Hmm. Ok, not such good news.
It's been somewhere between a month and six weeks since we received this diagnosis. Everytime she has a bad day, I mentally hold my breath. Each time, she has pulled through. All is good. Today, I'm not so certain. I am again holding my breath.
This time MIL has two issues. First is a wound that has gotten infected. If you look at my MIL's legs harshly the skin will break so you can imagine what happens when she actually bumps into something. The wound had been healing well for a few days but then it started to hurt and now the infection. The doctor has put her on an antibodic which will hopefully clear this up.
In addition to the wound she is having breathing problems today. Breathing problems are a double edged sword for MIL. First, she is tired and does not want to take her nebulizer. Second, she cannot breath when taking the nebulizer. Huh? See she is short of breath and the oxygen comes in through a tube under her nose. She cannot breath better unless she takes a 20 minute breathing treatment through her mouth. See the problem? She needs every breath through her nose to maintain but must have the medicine through her mouth. Today I managed to coax her into taking about half of her medicine, then I looked away to do something. When I turned back she had dumped the rest on the floor. Nebulizer over.
Since she takes the nebulizer several times a day I'm hopeful that the next one will be taken in full but just in case I notified the nurse on staff to have someone watch her take her medicine.
Tonight I am worried about her but I have been worried, much more worried before. Hopefully there will be no 2:00am phone call.
Hopefully tomorrow she will be filled full of mischief again and driving me nuts. I hope so.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Asthma Attacks
Asthma Attacks
We've had so many good days that I had planned to give up my blog, but then we had some bad days, and then MIL was sick and not sick and the blog got lost. As things even out in our life this blog will have to change and evolve but I'm going to try to keep it going. It's been really fun to write.
Anyway, spring has sprung... sort of. I know that I should be grateful for the lack of tornados in our area but would a ray of sunshine really hurt? Just the other day I joked that we would be building an ark soon. Of course, we'll have to get another dog as we only have one, but I have two kids and two hermit crabs so after I get the second dog I'll be set to float away.
Spring for us always means allergies for both my husband and my son. My son started on Clartin more than a month ago when pollen levels started to rise. We monitor his peak flow (the amount of oxygen he breathes out) and just his general sniffles. Mostly all has been good... until last week. Hubby came home from work with a simple cold which progressed to a chest cough which immediately jumped to my son. Crap.
As you may know in the past a cold equaled a massive asthma attack and trip to the ER. As my son has gotten older and bigger and as we have become more educated on asthma we have been able to catch several attacks before they happened. So, in typical fashion we increased Flovent to twice a day and started my son on Albuterol twice a day. Now, due to an insurance change, we have to get all of our medications mail order. Of course I have not ordered new puffers of albuterol so I put my child on the nebulizer.
My son always has side effects. Actually, I think everyone always has some side effects. We had the racing heart beat and the all over shaky boy. I didn't think much of it. After 3 days of our standard medication our symptoms went crazy. First I noticed that his heart beat was WAY too fast. We sat together, watched tv and waited it out. Later at dinner he was visibly shaking, fork swinging in the air. I watched.
The next day after the morning treatment things came to a head. After running crazy through the house in a bad way, (unless your the mom, you cannot distinguish bad running around from good running around) my son melted down yelling about brushing his teeth... still not outside of our range of normal. We hit wierd when I walked into the bathroom to scold my child and he cowered in the corner and said 'mommy, please don't kill me'.
I stopped.
I looked at my son and whispered 'why would you say that?'. He answered, 'not you, daddy'. I answered, 'daddy left before you got up, just like every other morning.' My son started to sob and say 'I don't know, I just don't know.' At this point, I crossed the floor to him and held him.
That day I took him off all medications. All of them.
My allergist was available to see us 4 days later (perhaps it is time for a new allergist), and could not come up with any real reason for this strange reaction. According to him, the nebuilizer dispenses more medication that the normal puffer so perhaps this caused the reaction. My allergist, who I think is very good most of the time, doesn't like to consider a child who may have additional issues like SPD. How exactly do you figure that into the equation? Even I'm not sure. In addition, he can't decide if I'm a crazy mom or one who is on top of it. You have to admit, both types of mom's look similar.
We've adjust my son's medication to Singular instead of flovent and claritin in hopes that this combination will help prevent attacks better. Albuterol is still our back up medication based on our success in the past but I am concerned about our next attack. Will the albuterol work in a more sustained fashion or will we be faced with another breakdown like before?
Only time will tell.
We've had so many good days that I had planned to give up my blog, but then we had some bad days, and then MIL was sick and not sick and the blog got lost. As things even out in our life this blog will have to change and evolve but I'm going to try to keep it going. It's been really fun to write.
Anyway, spring has sprung... sort of. I know that I should be grateful for the lack of tornados in our area but would a ray of sunshine really hurt? Just the other day I joked that we would be building an ark soon. Of course, we'll have to get another dog as we only have one, but I have two kids and two hermit crabs so after I get the second dog I'll be set to float away.
Spring for us always means allergies for both my husband and my son. My son started on Clartin more than a month ago when pollen levels started to rise. We monitor his peak flow (the amount of oxygen he breathes out) and just his general sniffles. Mostly all has been good... until last week. Hubby came home from work with a simple cold which progressed to a chest cough which immediately jumped to my son. Crap.
As you may know in the past a cold equaled a massive asthma attack and trip to the ER. As my son has gotten older and bigger and as we have become more educated on asthma we have been able to catch several attacks before they happened. So, in typical fashion we increased Flovent to twice a day and started my son on Albuterol twice a day. Now, due to an insurance change, we have to get all of our medications mail order. Of course I have not ordered new puffers of albuterol so I put my child on the nebulizer.
My son always has side effects. Actually, I think everyone always has some side effects. We had the racing heart beat and the all over shaky boy. I didn't think much of it. After 3 days of our standard medication our symptoms went crazy. First I noticed that his heart beat was WAY too fast. We sat together, watched tv and waited it out. Later at dinner he was visibly shaking, fork swinging in the air. I watched.
The next day after the morning treatment things came to a head. After running crazy through the house in a bad way, (unless your the mom, you cannot distinguish bad running around from good running around) my son melted down yelling about brushing his teeth... still not outside of our range of normal. We hit wierd when I walked into the bathroom to scold my child and he cowered in the corner and said 'mommy, please don't kill me'.
I stopped.
I looked at my son and whispered 'why would you say that?'. He answered, 'not you, daddy'. I answered, 'daddy left before you got up, just like every other morning.' My son started to sob and say 'I don't know, I just don't know.' At this point, I crossed the floor to him and held him.
That day I took him off all medications. All of them.
My allergist was available to see us 4 days later (perhaps it is time for a new allergist), and could not come up with any real reason for this strange reaction. According to him, the nebuilizer dispenses more medication that the normal puffer so perhaps this caused the reaction. My allergist, who I think is very good most of the time, doesn't like to consider a child who may have additional issues like SPD. How exactly do you figure that into the equation? Even I'm not sure. In addition, he can't decide if I'm a crazy mom or one who is on top of it. You have to admit, both types of mom's look similar.
We've adjust my son's medication to Singular instead of flovent and claritin in hopes that this combination will help prevent attacks better. Albuterol is still our back up medication based on our success in the past but I am concerned about our next attack. Will the albuterol work in a more sustained fashion or will we be faced with another breakdown like before?
Only time will tell.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Oh, What a Normal Night
Oh, what a normal night!
I don't often feel like I get to write about normal nights. Today wasn't totally uneventful. After going to bed late last night, my children got up at midnight to celebrate the new year. My husband was in charge of this event and all three of them had a great time watching fireworks in the sky and saying “hi” to neighbors. Our little poppers were just the icing on the cake.
The kids did a good job sleeping in this morning but today was a day packed full of places for us to be. Not always the best for us even when we've had sleep. An hour long drive to the city netted a nap for my daughter but my son was having none of it. We had a very successful visit and lunch out. All still good.
On our way home we picked up grandma for a visit to our house. The noise level definitely took a step up with the kids jumping off of the bunk beds on the second floor but all was well.
Then, grandma left. *sigh*
Homework was ok, which is really the best it ever is in our house. But somehow mom cooked the pasta wrong and 9+4 really is 14 if only mom would wake up and realize it. What a meltdown... only, you know what? It was a normal meltdown. It was the meltdown of a sleepy, sleepy child who could not be made happy. My baby was just so tired that nothing was right in the world. After 15 minutes of tantrum we corrected our homework and accepted mom's terrible pasta for dinner.
I can't tell you how happy I am. I know it sounds strange but my son has never thrown a normal tantrum before. Can he really be growing out of so many of his problems? Heavens, I hope so.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Separation Anxiety Gone Wild
Separation Anxiety Gone Wild
Separation anxiety is an ongoing issue in our household. When the school year started my son had a terrible time separating from me and attending school. It didn't help that we had moved and were in a new school. 6 weeks into the school year, my son started to settle down.
To help with his transition I supplied many photos of myself. Ironically, the one he liked the best was the one where I was wearing sweat pants with crazy hair and washing dishes. Ok, I don't think any modeling agencies will be contacting me soon.
None of the above really surprised me as it seemed to fit nicely into our normal craziness. Separation anxiety is nothing new for us. What surprised me was the follow up from my therapist. She told me, “when mom disappears, all of mom's rules disappear too”.
Huh?
Wow, what a powerful statement. When I disappear, ie am out of sight, then all of my rules and training are also up for grabs? Wow. I'm almost speechless. No wonder my son has so many problems remembering to share, to use nice words, to follow the rules. What rules? There are none if I'm gone.
These days we've stepped up the separation anxiety work. I often ask my son where I'll be when he is at school. If he can mentally place me somewhere then there is no separation … or at least a weak link to me. If he can place me, than my rules stay in place.
To help strengthen this skill we continue to play “peek a boo” at random times. A little bit at bath time with the towel, a little bit at coat time with a coat, maybe a hat. These little reinforcers throughout the day make more impact than a big exercise.
As my son continues to adjust to first grade this year, I feel like I am learning as much as he is. When he struggles with rules at school I realize how much I have to reinforce at home. When he struggles to complete a task, I realize how weak his motor planning skills are. When he struggles, I struggle.
We continue, we continue, we continue. I know there is an end to this one day but for now, we continue.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Not Quite Calm
Not Quite Calm
With the holidays and the lack of schedule it has been surprisingly calm at my house. No major meltdowns until just the other day. Sometimes I forget about the post-Christmas letdown. It's like buyers remorse. It doesn't matter how fantastic of a deal you got, after you still feel letdown. The couple of days after Christmas is like this for my children.
Our morning started out mostly typical but my son had been getting up a little earlier each day. For us this is a sign of bad things. We always monitor his sleeping closely. During the week of Christmas I also had some visits from my son in the middle of the night. Hmm. Not enough for us to have to put a solution in place but enough for us to monitor closely.
Regardless, our morning started out mostly normal with the exception of my son getting up at 5:45am instead of 6:30. Yes, 6:30am is as late as it gets in my house. My son also woke with a cough. Coughs are huge worries for us as they can quickly escalate into asthma emergencies. Time for t.v. and a double shot of medication. We take all nebulizer treatments while watching tv because they bother my child so much and they take so long. A double shot (technically two medications given at the same time) usually takes about 30 minutes to administer.
My son almost immediately starts reacting to the medication. He is pulling my hand, squeezing, fidgeting and unhappy. He is having a tough time. If I were to get up and leave the couch, my son would dump his medication onto the floor. (Something I discovered the hard way.) I don't understand why it is so hard for him or why so many children with sensory issues or mental issues have so many problems with this medication. With some screaming, we make it through the medication. Whew!
Next comes the herculean task of breakfast. I make that ever nutritious selection, Eggos. (Ok, not nutritious. Go away food police.) Somehow there is another meltdown. The waffle was overcooked, undercooked or simply present. I'm unsure what the offending waffle did but it was unforgivable. Meltdown.
Onto the stairs my son goes while my daughter eats all of the cooked waffles. (Damn it, I was hungry.) We calm down and ramp up. Calm down and ramp up... over and over. We cannot stabilize or maintain. When we escalate to screaming and hitting the walls I give the melatonin. Thirty minutes later I have an upset but in control child. One I can talk to and reason with. We have cooked new, inoffensive Eggos and the world is ok if not stellar. I monitor my son all day but he is fine.
What a crazy day.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sensory Games for Everyone
Happy Holidays – Some sensory games for everyone!
With the holidays come two blissful weeks of vacation from school for my children as well as candy, pie, family events and of course, Santa. While we always look forward to this exciting time, two weeks off and lots of excitement can be challenging for both of my children. We have survived pretty well up until now, but suddenly the presents are open, the pie is gone and there is still a week of free time left. What will we do?
To help take the sensory edge off of my children, we tried a few new things this season. First we have a sensory bucket. In past winters I would make a “sandbox” of sorts for my children. I purchased an amazingly large plastic container with a good lid, bought 5 lbs of rice and 5 lbs of beans (added any small pasta or such I had around the house) and wa-la, and instant sand box to hide toys in. Well, last year my kids refused to play with it (and let's face it, it's pretty big). This year, I have a small bucket (previously a canister for sugar) and it contains a much smaller amount of the same things listed above. I've hidden several very small toys like miniature Star Wars figures or Zoobles and the children must find 6 – 10 items before they can have whatever treat they have asked for. They also must hide the items for the next child. I find this to be small, easy and fast. A great way to get some minor sensory interaction for my kids.
I also convinced my hubby to cut a carpet square for me. Turned upside down, the kids can use this to scoot and slide across the laminate floor. Since the carpet part is face down, there is no damage to the floor.
Other ways I get some activity into my kids is to leave the house. Sounds simple, I know, but it's harder that you'd think. When my son needs sensory input the most is when he desperately wants to stay home. I will create some errand or task and send the kids to put on their boots and coats. Fighting ALWAYS breaks out and they are sent to the garage to wait for me. What is in the garage? A scooter and some balls. Magically, it takes me a long time to get out there. In the meantime my kids will play while waiting for me. (BTW, this works before school too. My kids always want to sled when it's time to go to school but not if we have an extra 10 minutes in the morning. I just plan in extra time now.)
Some additional ideas that have worked for me in the past:
- freeze small toys in ice. You will need paper cups. Fill 1/3 with water and freeze. Add toy and 1/3 of water. Freeze. Add last 1/3 and freeze. Then give your child a plastic bin and a wooden spoon and let the beat the toy out of the ice.
- Make cookie pies. I give my children cookies or graham crackers and some of the squirt icing from the store and let them make houses or just play in the mess. I always do this on a cookie sheet so that it is easy to clean up.
- Measuring stuff. Ok, this one is messy. I will give the kids either water or dry goods like oatmeal and corn meal (don't mix wet and dry unless your crazy). Then I give them bowls, spoons and measuring everything. This is an incredible mess but can keep the kids busy for hours. Sometimes it's worth the mess.
Good luck everyone, and Happy Holidays!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Needing a Clue Card
Needing a Clue Card
November 13, 2010
Yes, I am needing a clue card right now. My son is... well, not right. He is not melting down. He is not raging. He is going to school and playing with friends. Why am I not happy? Why? Because, he is not right.
My son is having trouble focusing. He is talking out of turn at school. He is touching and handling everything. It's like his sensory problems are running crazy but muted. What the hell is going on?
Ok, it's driving me crazy. I'm an expert at my children, particularly my son and his many issues, but this one has me confused. He is unfocused which is pretty unusual for my child. His senses are out of whack but not wildly out of whack. He continues to sleep without the help of melatonin. His asthma is in control.
On the other hand, my son will run around and stick his hands in raw hamburger. (So far I've caught him everytime before he has stuck his hand in his mouth.) He touches everything on the kitchen counter. On the other hand (yes, I have three hands) he uses his words to get gum or chewy stuff to cut down on issues. The babytalk has not reappeared. I'm lost.
I suspect others have been in the same situation that I am. You know that something is not quite right with your child but you don't know what. I feel like my son might have the beginnings of the flu or ADD or … I don't know, a tapeworm, SOMETHING. We're at the beginning of something, I just don't know what. Maybe I'll never know. Maybe my mommy-spidey senses will conquer this problem and it will just disappear.
In the meantime, we are playing sensory games. Gum has become a daily item in our house. I purchased the old fashioned, tough bubble gum today. According to my therapist it counts as heavy work. I also picked up Starburst and Carmels. Both are very chewy for my kid. In addition, I used spray icing, graham crackers and plastic plates for dessert tonight. Both my kids thought it was “so cool” to get icing to both play with and to eat. The graham crackers were just extra. My son didn't eat a lot of the icing but he did play with it. Maybe this new texture will help him integrate.
My detective work continues...
Thursday, November 11, 2010
MIL - again
November 11, 2010
It has been so many days since I've written. My MIL who recently moved to the area has not been doing well. On Friday, I was at her place for several hours because she was having a lot of difficulty breathing. We discussed going to the ER repeatedly but the doctor kept telling us that as long as her oxygen numbers were above a certain level that we should wait. For 6 hours we waited. Finally the medication took hold and her breathing eased. Everything was starting to look ok.
Saturday was the birthday party for my twins. I checked in frequently but my MIL continued to do ok.
Now, Monday. *sigh* At 8:30am I get a call from the Assisted Living place. “Are we taking MIL out? Is she going home on this day?” Why would she go home? “MIL has explained that she has to get home. She has many household things that need her attention.”
9:00am Monday. A call from MIL left on the answering machine. “I have to leave the Assisted Living place. (note the “have to”) Can you bring something for me to pack in? I'm planning to stay with you until you can take me home.”
9:45am Monday. I arrive at the A.L. After dropping my kids at school. I unpack her while explaining that she does not “have” to go home... but it's ok, she explains because she needs to go home anyway. Mmm, no. I reply, “ but you need to be healthy for more than 2 days before you can go home. Just Friday you asked to go to the ER because you were having problems.”
“I was having problems? I think your confused. I didn't ask to go to the ER!” At this point I stopped and looked at her... really, really looked and there was not a bit of guile in her face. She didn't remember the problems from Friday or the calls to the doctor or the decisions to go to the ER vs. not go. She didn't remember. Wow.
We've known for a bit now that my MIL suffers from mild dementia but nothing serious. Well, surprise, serious has just entered the building. With her breathing problems and difficulty maintaining her weight (she is too skinny) her dementia can spiral out of control in just a few seconds.
Moving forward to yesterday and today. Breathing problems come and go with MIL but progressed to pneumonia in one lung yesterday. Today, it took over the second lung. By 8:00am I was on the phone again talking to the A.L. place and leaving messages for the doctor. By 9:00am I was again thinking ER. By 10:00am medicine had kicked in and things were getting better.
By 11:00am, I was exhausted.
I would like to say that I have some words of wisdom. Something to share with others who might be in this same situation, but right now I am just getting through from day to day. I'm hopeful that tomorrow will not bring another 8:00am call. I'm hopeful that I can sit in my pj's and catch up on the laundry. Someday I will have the time to ponder how I've spent my life but right now I just want to drink my glass of wine and go to bed.
Ah, what will tomorrow bring?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The Birthday Weekend
The Birthday Weekend
Nov 7, 2010
Sorry for the multi-day disappearing act. It was a crazy weekend.
Saturday we held the birthday parties for my twins. Girls went to Monkey Joes and boys went to Chuck E Cheese. Now, I have to take a minute to plug CEC. Wow, what a fantastic job they did! We tried for very small birthday celebrations this year and wound up with 5 children per party including the birthday child. CEC quoted us a per child price, regardless of party size. It included tokens and pizza and a balloon and crown for the birthday boy. It came to a killer $65 bucks. A fantastic deal.
Monkey Joes didn't have parties for under 8 children and they started at $200. If I wanted, I could add pizza to that. Seriously? We didn't throw the official party at MJ's, just went to play. In all, my daughters party still cost more and was less cool. She didn't notice, but I did. That'll be our last party there.
Back to the crazy life that is ours. Perhaps you notice this with your children too. My son woke up disregulated. After all, it was a party day and the excitement of the party day almost ruins my kid. In my house, we have the classic signs: walking on tip-toes, baby voice and touching everything... and I mean everything. I have to keep raw meat off the counter while I'm cooking because my boy will come to touch it.
The parties didn't start until 2:30 and I have to say, I was impressed with my kid holding it together. Well, mostly holding it together. Pooping our pants is a sure sign of stress in our house. It's also just disgusting. By noon we had pottied and gotten cleaned up. All ok. By 2:00 we were out the door with daddy for our birthday party.
I have to say, the party couldn't have gone better. My son love the ticket chasing machine (I don't know what it's called!) He caught so many tickets he started shoving them in his mouth. How I'm sorry I missed this one! Games were played and pizza was had. A great day.
Meanwhile, at my daughters party we had a parody of “Heathers'. I swear I've never seen so much drama in my life and she's only 7. With 5 girls there is an odd number and always a fight brewing. We braved 3 fights in the 2 hours and lived to tell the tale. Over the next few days I'll spin this story so that my daughter had the best birthday. It helps that they are 7 and very trusting.
Anyway, the evening was not as good as the day. My husband and I both recognized that my son could not calm down. He could not sit or focus. He could not be still. Not good for bedtime. An hour before sleep I gave him 1 mg of melatonin. Our first in quite a while and started the bedtime routine.
Nope. Not happening.
I got my daughter into pjs and bed while my son melted down. Screaming, screaming, screaming. Possibly more screaming, I lost track.
Good news? I wasn't surprised. I was prepared. I knew my kid had too much in him. I know my kid needs to scream. I let him.
This might sound strange to some people and I have to tell you that I sent my husband on a fools errand so that he wouldn't be home for this because he hates the screaming, but I knew my son needed to scream. I put him in bed and laid on him.
Yep. Laid on him.
I had a therapist tell me this was a good idea. I was astonished. For me, this is a bit of a last resort. This is when my kid is so out of control that I have to hold him down but I know he needs me near him. How is this a good idea? My substitute therapist said “You are using your body to calm your child. Your child needs your physical presence to calm. This is a great thing.” Damn, I'm smart and didn't even know it!
Back to my son. After about 5 minutes he calmed. He was screaming at me... well, several unpleasant things, but it eventually ended in ...'and I'm hungry'. Poor baby, I'm sure he was hungry. CEC pizza was at 4:30. It was now 8:00.
A glass of milk and some Ritz crackers got us through the rest of the night and the birthday really was great. Whatever will next year hold?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Comfort
November 1, 2010
Comfort
I've figured out that part of the reason that my son is sleeping better at night is because he can hear me typing on the computer outside of his bedroom door. I have no idea how he can hear it over all of the fans and the humidifier, but I've got money that says he can.
It's strange sometimes what brings comfort to our children. My daughter is currently struggling with her place in the world. As I mentioned before, this is a new thing for her. Every night for the last couple of weeks she has asked me to tell her about the time when she was a baby. Every night I try to come up with a new story. Multiple stories each night are more than I can handle.
She also has the first baby toy that we gave her. Actually, she has a copy of it. The foster mom did not return any of the toys we sent or take pictures with the disposable cameras for us. Our foster mom was a business woman who fostered 6 children instead of the legally allowed 2 children. She was also the facilitator. While the logical side of me can understand the business arrangement and probably the need for money, the mom in me still has some resentment.
For my son the most important thing that we have is an old baby blanket. It wasn't the first or the last blanket. It wasn't a toy or a special piece of clothing. It was this blanket. I remember picking it up in the store and handing it to my daughter. (It's a pastel blanket.) My son felt it once and grabbed it and wrapped himself up. I don't know why, but this was his blanket. We still keep it in a special drawer.
When my children are having problems, I try to remember these simple, little things that seem to help them so much... a special something that only we do together. Over the next few weeks of upset (by which I mean holidays, birthdays and timechanges) these special moments will be the glue that holds my children together. It will be what gives them the confidence to take on the world.
On my to-do list this week is to find our videos from with the kids were babies. I can only imagine the fascination these will hold now that they are so much older; to plan special cookie baking days for us and probably a movie night. Kids don't need exciting or hard to create things. They need the comfort of home and the hug that only mom and dad can provide.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Basketball Begins
Oct 30, 2010
Basketball Begins
Today was the first day of basketball for both of my children. Neither of them has ever played before so their dribbling skills are a little rusty, but there they were at 9:00am ready to go with the rest of the group. It was a fantastic hour of play.
The morning before practice could have gone a little better. My son has been having a lot of trouble off and on for the last few weeks and I think I've finally figured out what it is. It's new stuff. Today he was so excited to go to basketball but I knew before the meltdowns began that something was wrong. We coasted through the morning until it was time to get dressed. Enter meltdown city. What was the catastrophic event? What to wear, sweatpants or shorts. Yes, that was the big question of the day. The underlying problem was that if the wrong pants were chosen, someone would make fun of him.
It's so hard to explain to a 6 yr old that pants vs. shorts just doesn't matter when they view it as the most important event in the world. Finally, I tossed my child to the floor, put pants and socks on him and carried him to the minivan screaming.
Does this sound familiar to anyone? At age 2 my son started crying because he didn't want to go to McDonalds for lunch. When I said we wouldn't go, he started crying because I wouldn't take him. At age 6, we sometimes repeat this loop.
I have been cautioned and reminded by our therapist to not confuse son's chronological age with his emotional age but I so rarely see such a good example. I guess this week, my son will sometimes be emotionally 2 years old. While this isn't ideal, it's ok. I remember when he was emotionally 1 year old and this is better.
What happened after we entered the minivan screaming, you might ask? The same thing that happened when he was 2. When the decision was taken out of his hands, he adjusted and had a great day. It's strange how all kids sometimes need parents to just step and take over. While my children don't always like me making the decisions for them, they gain a massive sense of security that I can and will make the decisions if necessary.
The rest of the day was... fantastic.
Friday, October 29, 2010
It Will Get Better
If you have a child with SPD, this is a great post to read.
Take a look.
http://www.mamapedia.com/voices/it-will-get-better-sensory-processing-disorder
Take a look.
http://www.mamapedia.com/voices/it-will-get-better-sensory-processing-disorder
My Child Is Like An Onion
Oct 29, 2010
My Child Is Like An Onion
Sure, everyone has layers, but my kid has LAYERS! At the ripe age of 4 he was diagnosed with Attachment Disorder. We had all of the classic symptoms: no eye contact, shopping for a new mommy, rages, etc. We started a regime of Theraplay. (I cannot recommend Theraplay enough.) As we got started on the basics of therapy, my therapist kept asking, 'are you sure your son doesn't have SPD?' No, was always my response. See, I had read 'The Out of Sync Child' and my son didn't fit. In reality, I simply didn't understand what I was reading.
We took a simple test and my son scored off the charts for sensory seeking. Hmm, another therapy to integrate. Now this is when the interesting part happened. As Theraplay got underway and progress was made, my son's SPD ramped up. He was touching and mouthing everything. Rages actually increased while we made progress with Theraplay. What???
Enter occupational therapy. Into the therapy room went my bouncy, bumpy little boy who was looking forward to swinging and climbing and everything else. Out came a toddler who needed his mommy. Who needed to held and hugged and snuggled. Who needed quiet and very little sensory input. WHAT??
How in the word did attachment therapy send my kid into rages and O.T. turned him into a toddler? And were these reactions consistent? Of course not, what a silly question. This was when I first learned that my child was like an onion. When his senses were out of whack, none of the attachment activities could penetrate his storm of senses. He couldn't feel my love or concern. He couldn't attach.
Also, when his attachment was out of whack it created more of an internal storm which fueled his SPD. The more you don't love me, the more rage I feel, the more dis-regulated I am, the more I spin out of control.
Wow.
After 4 weeks I started to get a feel for the pattern that I would be facing with my child. After about 6 months the different therapies finally began to integrate. The mood swings were not as wide as before. We were getting somewhere.
Three years later (aka, today) the swings are still present. The mood swings look different and are evolving with my son, but they are always there. Someday, I hope everything will integrate for my child, but for now we handle the swings and the progress that they bring us.
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