Gregory Circus

Just as we jumped on the autism bandwagon, we are now ringleaders of the attachment circus. This comes complete with juggling emotions, walking the tightrope between positive feedback and angry outbursts, and clowning around to encourage interaction.

Each day we manage emotions, his and ours. With every incident we respond with "It makes me feel ____ when you ___". We have to be very careful to state the behavior and not the child. We have to explain our feelings without necessarily showing them.

In our house you will often hear "you are making poor choices" or "I love you even when you __". We are trying to teach Bubba that he has a choice in his behavior and his actions affect others.

Over the past week I have been playing games with him to encourage interaction. By games I don't mean Monopoly! We have played things like peek-a-boo, patty cake, and row your boat. While these may seem infantile, their purpose is not for developmental growth but social interaction.

Believe it or not, we have started to see progress. He has begun to express his emotions more with words than actions and he has seemed to open up a little more. He is now speaking in paragraphs (just at home) and behaves more appropriately in some social settings. While we still have far to go, I an encouraged by how far he has come. We may have found the missing piece to our puzzle.

A Whole New World

While having breakfast with friends, I began trying to explain attachment parenting. I attempted to address the issues, the loving phrases used, the expression of emotion in a caring way, and the focus on the child not the behavior. It is since then that I have realized something. Attachment parenting isn't just taking a closer look at my child and his behaviors, but it is also an examination of myself as an individual and parent.

In order for this new style of parenting to be effective, I have to change everything I've ever known. I have to delete 10 years of classroom management, 7 years of babysitting, and 4 years of behavior management as a mom. I have to forget all the things I learned watching my older sister parent her children (not that you were wrong) and all the things that common sense tells me to do. I have to dismiss those negative consequences that pop into my head, and I have to lengthen my reaction time, so I don't just react but actually decipher a thoughtful response and choice.

While eating breakfast I realized that attachment parenting is about finding myself, not just the child behind the behavior. It is about being confident in my own emotions, so that I may share them with others. It is about determining the parent I want to be, not what society wants me to be.

Attachment vs Asperger's

Misdiagnosed... The word hit my brain like a mallet hits a gong. The sound of the word seemed to reverberate off every nerve-ending in my entire body. I immediately conjured the spirit of Jenny McCarthy, and instantly remembered reading in her book that many doctors believe her son was misdiagnosed because, as our psychiatrist put it, "you cannot recover from Autism". I would hear this term not once but three separate times over the next two weeks.
The first time I heard "misdiagnosed" was at our first appointment with a new therapist. She believes he actually may have an Attachment Disorder which, believe it or not, actually mirrors Asperger's symptoms (with a few exceptions). The more she spoke, the more it began to make sense. Attachment disorder is often found in adopted children who have experienced some "trauma" in their lives.
While we do not know much about Bubba's start in life, we do know that he was moved to a new foster home at three months of age due to "unhealthy conditions", and we also know that the back of his head is as flat as a piece of plywood. It is very possible that he experienced trauma in the very early stages of his life. An argument could also be made that the simple movement from one foster home to our home was a traumatic experience for him.
As I began to let the information soak in, I ordered books so I could learn more about how to deal with and treat "our" new disorder. A few days later we had an appointment with the psychiatrist.
I giggled as she began, "While you cannot recover from Autism, you can be..."
"Misdiagnosed!" I chimed in. Through my chuckles I continued, "our therapist believes it is attachment disorder. What do you think?"
"I believe that is very possible!"
Seriously! Seriously! For four years I have assumed that my son has had an incurable disorder. For four years I have read every article, book, and magazine I could get my hands on. For four years I have researched therapies, changed diets, created supplement cocktails, and sought out every field expert. For FOUR YEARS...
One week later Bubba had his four year old checkup. As the pediatrician entered the room, she noted how well behaved Bubba was. We spoke for a moment about his progress, and then I brought up the monkey on my back who had been with me for a week, pulling my hair and biting my ears.
"What do you think about attachment disorder?" I asked.
"If he has Aspergers, he is the highest functioning Aspergers kid I've ever seen! It's very likely he was misdiagnosed!"
Again I have to say... Seriously! Has everyone just been going along with this diagnosis because it sounded good? Is Autism a more "accepted" diagnosis than RAD? Seriously?
What is the correct diagnosis? I do not know. Does it even matter? Again, I do not know. What I DO know is that the treatment for Aspergers and RAD is essentially the same, so everything we have done thus far has been good, despite the diagnosis. We have also begun attachment parenting, in which we let Bubba know that we love and accept him despite his behavior and emotion. There can be no time-outs or time in your room. There can be no yelling or negative consequences of any kind. Since beginning this, we have seen some progress. I do not know where we go from here or what to expect, but I will continue to research and experiment. I will continue to help my child, despite the diagnosis.

Party Time

What is that red thing? What is it for? What does it do? What does it sound like? These are the questions I hear each time Bubba sees a fire alarm, smoke detector, overhead sprinkler system, or any other device related to fire. Ever since the fireman visited his classroom, he has had an obsession and border-line fear of all things fire. So...where do I decide to hold his party?

The fire station, of course!! Some may think it is unhealthy to play into his obsession, but I figured at least it was something different from Cars (his other obsession). We had Sweet Frenzy (http://www.sweetfrenzy.com/) make the fabulous cake and Bubba invited a few friends. Overall, I think it was a great party. It was probably the best party we have had...to date. Thanks everyone for coming and partying with the firemen!

Back to Basics

How easily you forget how things used to be. You think you have it hard until you realize how hard it actually was. That is me...today! Bubba has been off his medication for 17 hours now, and all the symptoms I forgot existed are slowly creeping back in. (To our credit... Evander and I are not testing out some cruel experiment, but Bubba must be off his medication for 7 days in order to have accurate allergy testing performed on Tuesday.)

Last night, after removing his normal dose, I said casually, "It isn't that bad. He acts like this anyway!" By 9:00 am I was on the phone with Our Children's House begging for an occupational therapy appointment. He was, and is, literally bouncing off the walls. He is banging his head on the wall, eating cardboard, and screaming in the highest pitch my ears have ever heard. In a way, I wish I had my pediatrician's home number because I know she would be fascinated by the immediate return of certain behaviors but not others.

For instance, while he is climbing on top of our headboard and free falling onto the bed, he is completely verbal. As he fills his mouth so full of turkey he looks like a squirrel hoarding food for the winter, he is sitting quietly, making sure to use his napkin. After he spins in circles for minutes at a time, he politely asks to watch his favorite show. Why do some behaviors return and others do not? What tells his brain to flap his hands and use his words?

I'm not so sure why but I do know that we have returned to basics. after coming home from therapy I scooped Bubba up and slammed him on the bed over and over and over again. He was then rolled up like a taco and tickled. Next was wrestling and jumping. To many this may sound like child abuse, but to those who know, it is sensory therapy. His senses are overloaded with the sights, sounds, and smells around him. He needs the hard impact play to feel and understand where he is in space.

Autism spectrum disorders are immensely fascinating to me, and, if I had the time, I would love to study all about them. Why does it pick some children and leave others healthy? Why are some children severe and others lightly touched? The answers to these questions I may never know, but I do know that we are one of the lucky ones. He is verbal and relatively independent. He is incredibly intelligent and full of energy.

3 instead of 2

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2."

My day began at 3:48 am as Peach begins to stir. I fumble for a pacifier but it doesn't satisfy her, so I sit up and reach for a bottle. After a rough night, I can barely hold my eyes open as I feed her. After eating, she is restless just as she has been all night. Tossing and turning, fussing and kicking. At about 5 am, she settles down and I begin to doze off when I hear the bells jingle. No... it isn't Santa Claus but it is Bubba. I waken Evander to head off Bubba before he can pounce on the still-sleeping Baby, safely tucked away in her bed, but he is too late.

I, then, hear the growing whine of a newly woken Baby, which instantly turns into a high-pitched scream, "MMMMMOOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY!" Before I know it, she is standing at my side, explaining that Bubba woke her up and asking for me to put her back to bed. "I can't, Baby, because I'm holding Peach and she JUST went to sleep. Daddy will put you back!" "NNOOOO! I WANT YOU TO!" Evander comes in and scoops her up to put her in bed as she screams all the way back down the hallway.

I force myself to emerge from the toasty warm bed to begin getting ready for the day. In between yelling at Bubba to leave Peach alone, Evander and I manage to take showers and get dressed. Next is time to get Bubba dressed, which is like watching a turtle cross the road. You know he will get there, but you have no idea just how long it may take. Finally, Bubba has managed to put on his shirt and underwear when Baby is back again, jumping on the bed and waking Peach up. Somehow, amidst screaming, whining, and crying we manage to get all three children dressed and fed in time to be out the door by 7:30 for our 8 am ARD meeting at Bubba's school.

In order to make Bubba think it is a normal day, Evander drops him off at school and circles back into the parking lot to meet Baby, Peach and I. While waiting to be called back for our meeting, I schedule an appointment with the pediatrician for Peach. I had a feeling our bad night was due to an ear infection. Just as I hang up, the diagnostician calls us into the meeting room. In the meeting Evander and I advocate for appropriate goals for our son while juggling Baby, who hasn't stopped asking questions since she awoke, and Peach, who now has a fever and green snotty nose. As the meeting ends, I tell Bubba's teacher, "I'm going to need to get him now, so if you could just bring him up that would be great." Yes... he has only been at school an hour but Peach has a Dr appointment in an hour and the possibility that I won't be home in time to get Bubba off the bus doesn't sit well with me.

After running home to change a dirty diaper and grab another bottle, we are in the pediatrician's waiting room, where Bubba has created his own obstacle course (over the coffee table, under the chair, over the arm rests, and jump over the garbage can). The pediatrician's office always reminds me of what it must be like to be a dog catcher. I am constantly running after someone and catching them, only for them to get loose and run like hell all over again.

After learning that Peach indeed has her second ear infection, we drop off her prescription at Walgreen's, speed through the McDonald's drive through (where I yell "If you want to eat lunch today, you better do it now!"), and park at gymnastics. I quickly jump out of my seat as if I was launched and clean the smeared food from their faces as they hop out of the car. We are running into gymnastics when I realize that Bubba has NO shoes on. Oh well... he doesn't need any for gymnastics anyway. I push Bubba through the door, plop down into a chair, and extract a screaming and very hungry Peach from her seat.

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2. I wouldn't change a thing!"

Speech

Six months ago, our speech therapist told me that his minor delays were now age appropriate. Six months ago, she said that he no longer had feeding issues. Six months ago, Bubba graduated from speech and feeding therapy. Two weeks ago...we began again.
After our pediatric ENT and pediatrician suggested that Bubba receive ANOTHER speech evaluation, he qualified for speech... AGAIN. I do agree that he needs the therapy, but I don't like that we were told his speech was "age appropriate" only a few months ago. He has many articulation issues, as well as a lack of ability to answer questions that do not have a concrete answer. He also still exhibits feeding difficulty, but Evander and I had come to the conclusion that those issues were just going to be part of life.
This go-round, I requested a specific therapist who is working closely with us. She sends him out with homework and makes him work hard for his end-of-therapy sticker. My hope is that he can finally get the attention he needs.