This morning I sobbed uncontrollably when a Facebook memory popped up of my son’s birth announcement. He’s four years old today and the last year has been one of the hardest years of my life. I look at that first picture we ever took of him, and I wish so badly that things wouldn’t have panned out to be so hard for him, and for us. But damnit if he hasn’t changed me in one million ways for the better. I am stronger, more resilient, less judgmental, and more fierce than I ever realized I was capable of being.
I feel like for the past year I’ve been going through the stages of grief with my youngest son.
I always knew that there was something different about him. He was strong-willed from practically the beginning. When all he had was a speech delay I wasn’t too concerned because my older son had a speech delay too, so we started early intervention speech therapy when he was one-year-old.
At some point during his second year, my husband and I realized that his tantrums were much much more than just the typical toddler tantrum and we added behavior therapy to his early intervention. He continued to have sensory regulation issues in addition to the speech delays and the tantrums so finally OT became involved as well.
All of this background to say that I was never in complete denial of his struggles, but I was in denial to the degree that I thought they would get better with therapy, and they did not.
I spent most of last fall being angry. Angry that our days were far from how I thought they should be. Angry that I came home almost every single day after preschool drop off and cried my eyes out because it was such a struggle just to get him out the door and into school. Angry that I never knew what kind of mood he was going to be in when he woke up or when I picked him up from school. Angry that my life had come to walking on egg shells around my three-year-old.
I kept repeating in my head “This isn’t normal!“ I kept thinking my friends don’t go through this with their kids. I was frustrated that we were always the last people to leave school pick up because he had to do so many little routines or else he would completely lose his mind.
Throughout the winter and most of the spring, the “this isn’t normal” phrase still frequently repeated in my mind. Only the anger faded and I was shrouded with a feeling of sadness and loneliness and even despair because I’ve finally accepted that no, it’s not normal. But I didn’t know how to help him or what to do to adjust to this new normal. We went through testing and tried behavior therapy for him that ended up being a complete disaster due to the therapists not being the right fit for him. This summer we started outpatient OT and speech therapy with a focus on sensory regulation and integration, and more recently started ABA (behavior therapy) with a new company with wonderful therapists.
Now, this summer, I’ve been slowly moving into the acceptance phase. I’m slowly accepting that we may always be the last ones to leave school pick up because of an inevitable power struggle meltdown. I’m slowly accepting that I will constantly be getting stares and looks of disapproval in public when it appears as if my child is blatantly defying me, when truly he is completely sensory overloaded and his little body is going into fight or flight mode because he doesn’t know what else to do. He is no longer rational. I’m slowly accepting the chances of a public tantrum are strong pretty much every time we go out in public. I’m slowly accepting that this tiny person relies on me for everything and in his altered sensory system has no clue how to orient himself, especially in a society that expects children to listen and be pleasant.
I am his voice. I am his rock. I am his safe space. Of course I have always been these things for him, but I felt completely lost in my own fears and frustrations that I could not help him to the best of my ability. I feel better now. Stronger. More confident. Fully capable. Empowered. Still a little sad sometimes, but also overcome with a feeling that he is going to grow up and do amazing things and NOTHING is going to get in my way of helping him achieve that.
Yes, yes, yes! Thank you for being open about your struggles with your extremely spirited child. Since I’ve recently started following you, you have inspired me to stop mulling behind closed doors about my own spirited child and to tell more people about his situation and to even talk about it on social media. From this I’ve not only gained support and understanding from others who might have judgemental or clueless, but I feel like I’ve become a resource and guide for other parents of spirited children.
So I just want to say thank you for your insights, humor, and all-too relatable stories. Keep up the good fight, not just for your son, but for those of us right there in those exhausting trenches with you!
Thank you so much for your comment! I didn’t talk about my son for quite some time either but I too have found the more I open up about him and my struggles, the more support and understanding I receive.