It’s confirmed, I’m a stalker. Slap me in handcuffs and drag me away. So help me G*d, I couldn’t help it. No it’s not The Hand that Rocks the Cradle, but a little guy called Noah who has parents that would put all of us to shame. Srsly, they put the ‘Pro’ in Pro-fessional as far as workin’ this kid with early intervention, therapies and loads of good old fashioned luuuuuuurve. Noah is one seriously lucky dude and will no doubt do well in life.
Noah’s Dad states “There has never been a better time for a baby to be born with Down syndrome”. Agreed. 100%. Medical technology, social acceptance, early intervention programs, informed doctors, you name it.
But from high on my horse as mother of TDQ, would I go back there? Hell, no! Here's why....
Big plans last Monday involved meeting at 4:00 pm (Me from work ... Dad, TDQ & Firecracker from a day of swimming lessons, lunching and library ... Golden Boy from a full-on day at soccer camp) to celebrate Dad’s birthday with bowling, half-price pizza and cake (so I forgot the cake and had to stop off at the grocery store. Sue me.) As any parent knows, going from a busy day to an action-packed evening = recipe for disaster and my trusty children proved to be no exception to this rule. Hot, tired, whiny, me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me.
Zoom in to the scene at about 4:45 p.m. Cue music of shower scene from Psycho.
GoldenBoy is moping around because he can’t get a strike and the Firecracker (7 years younger) is beating his score. Oh boy. Firecracker herself is frenzied, wild-eyed from hours in the pool and the lights and noise of the arcade that the bowling alley just had to install to torment parents.
What was TDQ doing? Bless her heart, she was sitting on the bench seat like an angel, waiting her turn. Get up, bowl, politely cheer for self, sit down. Albeit, rolling her eyes and making the odd snarky comment about children who behave poorly in public. Personally, I blame the parents.
She was the only redeeming feature of that little expedition. If I can count on anyone to be mature, patient and act appropriately in public, it’s my lovely TDQ. At 15, she is truly perfect, in her own dramatic way.
The early days of having a child with Down syndrome are filled with doubt and uncertainty. Why us, why me, why her (note, these feelings might be misguided but feelings are feelings, right? I try to be kind to the person I was then) Will we make this milestone (and what the heck do we do if not??) Should we empty our wallets for this or that new therapy? Are we making the right decisions? Should we have moved to another city or country where there are better opportunities? What do other people really think when they see this kid? Is she acting appropriately? It’s a terrifying, long and winding path with no particular end in sight.
But I’m there... the end. And the view is fa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-abulous!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
911
9:30 at night Golden Boy hands me the phone with nothing more than “They wanted to know how old I was and said that they needed to talk to you”. Wow, the possibilities are endless on that one...
Long story short, it’s the 911 dispatcher who, naturally, wanted to talk to a responsible person in the house. As my mum wasn’t available I figured there was no way to dodge the call and took the phone. Turns out, TDQ had called in a panic and given the performance of her life as Taylor Swift in Tear Drops on my Guitar (slowly sinking while leaning against the wall, mascara smudged... can’t breathe....)
Oh the drama!
The real problem, as it turns out, is fear of pain or perhaps more accurately fear of the unknown. TDQ has very real and intense period pain for about the first four hours of every visit from the silent red ninja (thank you NDM). We found early on that a quick dose of over-the-counter medication will ensure a smooth transition to ninja-dom. Miss the timing and all hell breaks loose – cramps, vomiting, sweats, Taylor Swift, you name it.
Having led a (thankfully) relatively pain free life I’ve been trying to get my head around the anxiety of knowing that pain is coming and being helpless to stop it. I think back to childbirth, wisdom teeth removal, the odd 3 day stomach flu when you know that the brief respite from hurling is just your body’s way of fooling you while preparing for the next wave. It’s truly a scary feeling to know that something is coming, a Mac truck of pain hurtling down the highway on a collision course for YOU.
Late on a Friday night after a week of summer action, with rowdy kids and my mind on 100 things at once, I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention. I did break out the Advil, warm up the comforting hot-pack and remind TDQ of the protocol (change out of the shorty-shorts, babe) but I think she is genuinely scared of what’s coming. The waves of pain which can, for her, get so high it’s hard to see over top. It’s hard to put myself in TDQ’s brain and see the world as she does – is her perception different to mine? It’s probably about as easy to analyze as whether you and I see colours the same – who can really tell? Blue is, well, blue. And red is (don’t get me started....)
Of course, while I mock the TDW mercilessly I also try to understand what’s going on and help her through it. She has had some terrible experiences both at home and school when she didn’t speak up soon enough. She sees the ninja approaching and knows that she’s in big trouble... what else to do but call 911?
Period pain is truly a pain in the arse. Fact.
Long story short, it’s the 911 dispatcher who, naturally, wanted to talk to a responsible person in the house. As my mum wasn’t available I figured there was no way to dodge the call and took the phone. Turns out, TDQ had called in a panic and given the performance of her life as Taylor Swift in Tear Drops on my Guitar (slowly sinking while leaning against the wall, mascara smudged... can’t breathe....)
Oh the drama!
The real problem, as it turns out, is fear of pain or perhaps more accurately fear of the unknown. TDQ has very real and intense period pain for about the first four hours of every visit from the silent red ninja (thank you NDM). We found early on that a quick dose of over-the-counter medication will ensure a smooth transition to ninja-dom. Miss the timing and all hell breaks loose – cramps, vomiting, sweats, Taylor Swift, you name it.
Having led a (thankfully) relatively pain free life I’ve been trying to get my head around the anxiety of knowing that pain is coming and being helpless to stop it. I think back to childbirth, wisdom teeth removal, the odd 3 day stomach flu when you know that the brief respite from hurling is just your body’s way of fooling you while preparing for the next wave. It’s truly a scary feeling to know that something is coming, a Mac truck of pain hurtling down the highway on a collision course for YOU.
Late on a Friday night after a week of summer action, with rowdy kids and my mind on 100 things at once, I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention. I did break out the Advil, warm up the comforting hot-pack and remind TDQ of the protocol (change out of the shorty-shorts, babe) but I think she is genuinely scared of what’s coming. The waves of pain which can, for her, get so high it’s hard to see over top. It’s hard to put myself in TDQ’s brain and see the world as she does – is her perception different to mine? It’s probably about as easy to analyze as whether you and I see colours the same – who can really tell? Blue is, well, blue. And red is (don’t get me started....)
Of course, while I mock the TDW mercilessly I also try to understand what’s going on and help her through it. She has had some terrible experiences both at home and school when she didn’t speak up soon enough. She sees the ninja approaching and knows that she’s in big trouble... what else to do but call 911?
Period pain is truly a pain in the arse. Fact.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)