Attachment vs Asperger's Part 2

Attachment                                             Asperger's

• antisocial behavior                                antisocial behavior
• repetitive behaviors                               repetitive behaviors
• sensory processing issues                     sensory processing issues
• motor delays                                         motor delays

This comparison is by no means an exhaustive list of symptoms from Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) or Asperger's Syndrome.  It is also not an expert's list.  I just wanted to show why these two are so difficult to distinguish.  Many of the signs and symptoms seem to mimic one another, and each expert's book seems to tell you something different. We have also visited many a therapist who all share the same thoughts... it must be one or the other.  They also always have their reasons, but there are no two alike.
After years of dealing with the questioning, my mother found an therapist who "specialized" in Asperger's.  By this time (earlier this fall) I had almost made up my mind that we were dealing with RAD.  Each time, however, I knew without a doubt, Bubba would do something to make me question my decision.  With years of reading and therapy visiting in my backpack, I walked into this man's office completely alone (well...not exactly.  I had just had LJ so she was in tow).  I was ready to hear the same 'ole thing. 
He asked me TONS of questions about how Bubba reacts to certain situations, what he enjoyed, how he handled being disciplined, what I believed were his biggest issues, his anxiety level, his history, etc.  I did this for two sessions.
Finally on session three, before he had even met my child, he said " I get the feeling you believe he must have either Asperger's OR attachment.  Is that correct?"
"Well yes..." I began confidently.  Remember, I've been to this movie before.
"Has anyone ever told you he could have both?" he questioned.
"Excuse me?  Both what?" I stammered.  Wait...hold the phone. 
"Asperger's and RAD?  I believe he could have both.  I of course won't know until I meet with him several times, but both is definitely feasible from what you are telling me." He answered.
"Are you serious?  He can have both?  Well that makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything I have EVER heard in years!" I exclaimed, half wanting to jump up and squeeze this frail man (who may have been on the spectrum himself) and half wanting to sit on that couch and cry.
After several months of therapy with him, Bubba is now on consult only, and we now treat him as if he has both.  The Asperger's makes the RAD so much more difficult to handle, but we take one day at a time, and I believe we are making progress.  There are days when I feel he may like me just a little, and there are days when he manipulates every situation to push every emotional button I have.  The good days are glorious and the bad days suck more than you can imagine.

Best's Disease

The lights are so bright you feel as if you may be interrogated at any moment, and the walls have always been gray...the sort of gray you find on a faded newspaper that's been on your counter for a few weeks.  I carefully ease down in my faux leather chair as I take in the sights.  I'm immediately aware of the chill in the air.  From what I can see, they probably keep it so cold to keep the smell of death at bay or the relentless germs from overpopulating and causing destruction. 
"Momma!  How much longer?" exclaims Peach as she jumps into the chair beside me.  We have just been seated in the waiting room of the retina specialist for barely a minute, but it is too much for her.  "It's FREEZING in here!"  she yells.
I couldn't agree more, but judging by the waiting room population, I'm not certain they feel it.  Every single person in there is a good 75 years older than my little girl, yet she is forced to sit and wait just as they are.  And just like that I hear "Ms. Gregory?" It was Peach's turn!
I sit anxiously as the specialist looks through my daughter's beautiful eyes, praying through clenched teeth that he finds nothing.  "Please God, not 2...Please God, not 2."  I'm interrupted by the doctor's poor excuse at humor, which means I have to force a smile.  I even manage some sort of sound, which I suppose could sound like a 1/2 laugh if you don't know me.
Suddenly I am in awe of Peach's stillness.  She looks almost lifeless as she sits SO very still, allowing him to tilt her head back and forth, shine lights in, scan her eyes and take films.  Her sister had warned her in advance of this requirement, but she is also still a rambunctious 3-year-old.
"Well..." he began.
Here it comes...Please God...Please God...Please God...
"She definitely has all the signs of Best's disease." he continues.
And there come the anvil over the head.
I'm really not sure of what else was said, because I deemed it unnecessary to listen.  I now have 2 daughters with Best's disease... 2 daughters who may lose a good deal of their vision...2 daughters who don't deserve this.
But... I was also reminded as I looked into Peach's precious face that I have 2 amazing daughters,..2 beautifully intelligent daughters...2 daughters who, for right now, have excellent vision.

The Chart

"I've made a chart!"  This was the announcement I made about 15 minutes before the older 3 were heading to bed.  It's that time of day where they can smell bedtime coming like a lion can sniff out an injured gazelle.  They sense my tempered excitement that, in moments, I will have a rare opportunity to sit down on the couch and possibly finish off the last of their grocery store candy.  Because of this, the children undoubtedly loose the last bit of sanity they have been holding onto since they emerged from their warm baths.
I have announced these four words often.  "The chart" always keeps baby in line because of her innate competitive nature, and appears to work on Bubba for approximately 10 days before the attachment issues kick in and he begins to claim we no longer love him when he doesn't get a sticker.  Peach is new to the chart system and has such a strong will that I'm not sure God Himself could hold her to it, but we are at our limit.  For the past month, our children have run around like maniacs when put to bed.  They come to us for water, imaginary injuries, band-aids for said imaginary injuries, to alert us they may need to pee, or the room is too warm/cold.
I briefly explain what "going to bed" means at this house and what it would take to "receive" the almighty smiley face.  I sensed Baby's competitive juices flowing and I was completely exhausted, so I upped the ante.  "If you get 3 smiley faces (out of 5) you will get a prize, BUT if you get 5 smiley faces you will get a SUPER prize."  That was all I had to say...the thought of the super prize was too much for their little minds to imagine.  What would it be?  A new pet, a video game, tons of Barbies, a sucker?  Who knows but it couldn't be lost.
The older two were in bed and asleep in under 10 minutes.  Peach, however, began screaming at the top of her lungs for me.  I calmly went up to announce the loss of the smiley face... AND she lost it.  Our neighbors probably thought someone was in imminent danger, but it was just my sweet Peach screaming from her bed.  I quietly closed the door as she continued to scream.  There would be no couch time tonight, no candy, and no sanity.  She would loudly cry herself to sleep, only to wake up, run downstairs and exclaim "DID I GET MY SMILEY FACE?"

We're baaaccck!

Warm, slow tears drip down my face as I look back on this blog and its contents.  The memories, the heartache, the stress, the joys, the laughes and the love it holds still stirs many emotions in me.  The photos of tiny faces are priceless, and the reality of many of the situations I typed about I do not want to relive, but it is like the car crash on the side of the road.  You know you shouldn't stare but you can't turn away.
 I originally began this blog many years ago so my family and close friends could keep up with Bubba's (our oldest child) ever-evolving progress and Baby's (she is hardly that now, but she is our oldest girl) medical issues.  I stopped this blog 1 year and 1 month after Peach (our second girl) was born.  My life with 3 babies riddled with issues became too much for me to continue, but I desperately wanted to.
Writing is my therapy.  It's a love of mine that I have had for many, many years.  It provides me the ability to vent my frustration, share my happiness, and tell my weaknesses without having to hear someone's unthoughtout response.  So... after much prodding from family and friends, we are back. 
My goal is one post a week for now.  If you have never read the blog, feel free to go back and read previous posts.  Also know this is my place.  I will be 100% honest and will hold back very little.  Feel free to comment but if you are offended by something...I don't want to know.  This is me...like it or leave it.