Confessions

Tomorrow morning I take my son to the doctor. He's 6. And for the past 6 years I have had a nagging voice in my head that won't go away. And tomorrow, I've made up my mind to talk to his doctor about it.

I've told very few people about my doubts. Really close friends and family. I never want to say it because I don't want it to be true. And what do I know anyway. I have my suspicions, but I'm not an expert. But there is one thing I know. I know something isn't right.

I've decided to write about it tonight, because this is why I started doing this, isn't it. As an outlet? But even putting the words down I'm tearing up, I don't know how I can say this out loud to his doctor.

When he was born he never bonded with me. He wasn't anything like the first - he didn't smile, he didn't coo. But it was more than personality. He wouldn't make eye contact with me. He wouldn't stare at me like babies do - taking in their surroundings. I breastfed him, but he would just eat and be done. Very functional. I cried once, telling my husband I felt so used. Isn't that dumb? How dramatic and emotional, I mean babies at that age have no intent like that.

Then we thought he might have a hearing problem. He would just sit rock still and you'd be calling and calling him. His doctor noticed it without us saying and referred him to an audiologist. Turns out his hearing was fine. We put it down to personality - he's just on his own scene. But I had that voice. I knew then what I thought it was.

But friends thought it was amusing that he was anti-social. I saw something different. I saw him playing next to other little kids. And it made me so sad for him, that he didn't make friends. Except if you asked him about it, he'd tell you he had a great time! And that he played with everyone. Well he didn't play with anyone. He played  near them, but never with them.

He would sit for hours lining up anything he could get his hands on. Like his crayons.

crayons with sleeves, sleeves only, crayons only

I'm surprised these aren't lined up exactly with the tile lines

And he'd build his puzzles over and over and over until - I kid you not - he knew them by heart and would turn them over and build them blank-side up. I am talking a 3 year old and 100-piece puzzles.

This is a 24-piece puzzle, but he did the same with larger puzzles

He had difficulty expressing himself. And he was easily frustrated. Only God alone gave me the patience and strength to help him through that and teach him "use your words, baby". If he was frustrated he would go into spells where he would cover his ears, shut his eyes and scream. He was easily over-stimulated, and he did not deal well with change. Minor changes - like the cinema having a rope where there usually wasn't one to cordon off a VIP area -  major meltdown.

In time I knew what to expect, and I would protect him. And try to teach him. I told my husband what I thought, and that I though that patiently teaching him how to use his words and to communicate was helping. Not in any dramatic quick way, but gradually so. And I saw a difference. He really started to blossom in his own way. I could worry less. But his academics...phew. Reading was tough.

He could learn the sounds of the letters. He could not, could not, could not put them together. He could not get the concept of joining those two sounds together. So far less for putting together funny ones like "th" and "sh". But we worked and worked at it. And once he got it. He got it. He's still like that. He may take a while to get something. But you never ever have to worry about that once he has it. He won't forget. And he will always understand math better than you will. It's like he has a number line in his head.

But in order to get him to get it, you had to reach him. I've worked with a lot of kids - taught briefly, tutored for a bit... I didn't know how to get that angle to reach him. No matter what I tried, it was like I couldn't reach inside and understand how his mind worked to be able to frame the idea to make it digestible. He sees the world in a totally different way. I loved to hear his descriptions. He would observe the same thing you did, but   relay a totally new perspective to you. It would be true and right, but it would have never crossed your mind. You saw a car going east. He saw wheels moving together at the same speed with silver rims and whatever other obscure fact you missed, but was totally true. That's not even a good example. I'm talking totally different plane of thought.

I kept him back in preschool a year before letting him go into kindergarten. I wanted him to be ready. And I didn't want anyone
1. Misunderstanding him
2. Labelling him
3. Turning him off of learning

He's come a long long way. He plays with others now. He loves now and is perhaps my most affectionate child (although he only shows that side to us). Although he is still a compulsive perfectionist.

But it's starting to get difficult for me. I'm starting to acknowledge that I need help. I don't know how to help him read and understand the same thing we understand. I don't know how to help him cope with loud sudden noises, or crowds. I don't know how to help him cope with his activities being interrupted (the game crashed on the PC, his brother wants a turn...)

So tomorrow we take the first step in that journey. I just don't want him to be labelled. I don't want anyone thinking he has a handicap - something keeping him back.

Most of all, not himself.


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