When something is just not right…

I think that every mother worries about the health of her child throughout her pregnancy.  Every mother that has ever read, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” probably worries a little more.  I had the usual worries as well about congenital birth defects, abnormalities, and having a child born with special needs.  I didn’t let these worries consume me, I just kept them tucked aside in a little corner of my mind and instead focused on the fun thoughts, was it a boy or a girl?  would they look like me or my husband?  would they have brown hair, or blonde hair?  I decided that whatever came after this baby arrived, I would love and cherish them no matter what.

I had no idea that this would ever be tested.  I knew so little.

The moment Tristan was born I looked down at him and beamed.  Here was my son!  My beautiful son!  I instantly deemed him perfect in every way and felt that bond that only a mother can understand.  My husband and I spent hours just marvelling at this little person we had created, what a gift!

Looking back now I can see Tristan was always different right from the start.  Not that all babies don’t have their quirks, but I suppose in retrospect I can see that the volume of quirks with Tristan was not the same as other children.  When he was an infant Tristan would not last seconds in a wet diaper without letting out the shrillest, most demanding scream, until he was safely in a clean diaper and onesie.  This might not seem out of the ordinary, but 30 diapers a day can really wear a new parent out!  He was a good nurser, but little did I know that nursing for 2 hours at a time is not exactly considered normal.  He had a definite preference for certain textures right from the start – soft fleece blankets were good, worn flannel receiving blankets were definitely bad.  Being held upright was good, being carried in a cradle hold would usually inspire more screaming.

Tristan held his head up days after birth, rolled over at a month old, by 3 months old rolling was the preferred mode of transport and he would roll for hours on end.  At 6 months Tristan began crawling, and didn’t even realize what sitting was until then, who wanted to stay still?  At 7 months he was cruising, and by 10 months walking.  His milestones were early, but not abnormal by any stretch.

When Tristan was 10 months old I became pregnant with his younger brother, Gabe.  I was so thrilled!  Tristan was great, so obviously another baby would be great too.  How blessed we were!  I didn’t know all of the fun that would be instore…

I guess for a long time I really just believed, “Boys will be boys.”  People always told me that boys were busy, boys were loud, boys got into things.  Somehow though as a mother you know when that has crossed the line.  While I was pregnant I was quite ill during my first trimester and really started to feel the strain of parenting an active toddler while trying to get the R&R I so desperately needed so I could function.  Tristan did not let up, did not give me a break…. he would come and pull my hair and pound on my back while I hugged the toilet.  At the time I assumed he was just upset about the lack of attention, maybe not…

I had a midwife appointment to hear the babies heartbeat and see how everything was progressing.  I assumed that Tristan would be fine, it was just a quick routine appointment, he could just play with toys on the floor, no big deal.  It started once my midwife took my blood pressure – he panicked, screamed, tried to rip the blood pressure cuff off.  It baffled me, what on earth was he so upset about?  Then when it came time for me to lie down on the table, all hell broke loose.  Tristan desperately clawed at me, hit my midwife, just totally lost control.  I picked Tristan up and set him down next to me, giving him a big bear hug – he calmed after a few minutes like this.  Then my midwife put the doppler to my belly to hear the babies heartbeat.  I suppose I had a lot of expectations, I wanted this perfect moment where I told Tristan, “That’s your baby brother or sister’s heart beating!”  And then of course he would have this moment of recognition and be completely fascinated and bonded with this new baby, um – yeah right!  He was in sheer terror, he screamed as loudly as he could, grabbed the doppler and threw it, and scratched frantically at my belly.  Poor babies heart rate shot up to 180!  My midwife said that she had never seen anything like it.  I found it upsetting, but I kind of brushed it aside.  What else was I supposed to do?

Over the rest of my pregnancy Tristan was his usual challenging self – he had a battery that never ran out, woke frequently with nightmares, screamed, threw food.  This was normal toddler stuff right?  What never quite sat right with me though was that he would hit my belly, push it, claw it.  There was a very rare time he would kiss it, but for the most part his behaviour was usually agressive.  I started to notice him being more agressive at playgroups and out in public.  A lot of little boys hit and push occasionally though, and when I brought it up with people, no one ever seemed concerned.  I certainly didn’t want to be some parnanoid mom, so just thought, “Alright, it’s normal, he’ll grow out of it.”

When Gabe was born life got a whole lot more challenging!  At first Tristan chose to go the route of ignoring this new addition, perhaps hoping he would just go away and life would go on.  When I took him out to playgroups he would be as good as gold, I assumed he was just happy to get out of the house where life was boring and revolved around this tiny, crying infant who nursed and slept a lot.

The ignoring continued for quite awhile, it bothered me since I often got the question, “What does Tristan think of his little brother?”  How do you politely answer, “I think he would rather not have one.”  I vividly remember ordering pizza when Gabe was about a month old – the delivery girl asked Tristan if that was his little brother, and Tristan said “Yes”.  She said, “Do you like your little brother?”  “NO!” he shouted back.  “Oh, okay then, can I have him?” she jokingly asked.  Of course Tristan got excited and said, “Uh huh!”  We laughed, but it kind of broke my heart.  So much for brotherly love!

Tristan continued to grow more agressive with us, his peers and his little brother.  He also had other quirks – loud noises terrified him, even a plane flying overhead would have him running for cover in fear.  He loved trains yet the sound of a train whistle would cause him a huge deal of stress.  Taking him to see fireworks at Canada Day was an awful experience for everyone, and I felt like if he could have crawled back inside me that day, he would have.  He started to develop strange fears of the swimming pool, heights, small spaces – fears that just come and go but when they are there are very intense.

Intense is probably the best way to describe Tristan.  He hits, he screams, he throws things… but he also gives big bear hugs and kisses.  He is obsessive about his Thomas trains, cars, trucks, tractors (he has a passion for anything with wheels), and at only 27 months can name over 30 Thomas characters just by pointing to the pictures.  Diaper changes have almost become impossible, my legs are black and blue from being kicked as he tantrums each and every time (it used to be only sometimes, now it is every time).  Some days showers are okay, other days they are torture.  He is very particular about his clothing, and getting dressed in the morning is a challenge which usually results in a 20 minutes temper tantrum/wrestling session, sometimes it can stretch to an hour if he’s feeling particularly feisty.  Trying to discipline Tristan is near impossible – he will not look at you, will not listen, and is just openly defiant.  He goes through phases with food – usually crunchy and smooth are good, chunky may or may not be, apple sauce usually doesn’t go over well, all these things just depend on the day and on his mood.  His “blankie” is carried absolutely everywhere with us and is sometimes (coupled with sucking his thumb) the only thing that can remotely calm him down.

These are the challenges we face every day.  And the biggest challenge is that I do not know what’s wrong!  ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder/ Integration Dysfunction, Aspergers… the list goes on.  I’m searching for answers admist the barage of family saying “He’s fine, just leave him alone”, and the strangers pointing in public asking “What’s wrong with that child, can’t his mother control him?”

It is a challenge to diagnose a toddler with any kind of behaviour/emotional disorder.  Most doctors prefer to wait until the child is in school.  I think that this is too late and is a huge disservice to our children if we allow it to be that way!  I want to work through this with Tristan and be able to show the world what an amazing little boy he truly is underneath all of the challenges.  Because he really is an amazing boy – mischievous and charming, loving, extremely smart and creative – I am truly proud to be his mother, and man, has he taught me a lot already!

Follow along, this is our story and our path to getting some answers, help, and hopefully some more sanity back in our lives.