My daughter has Aspergers. It doesn’t matter that we don’t have a slip of paper with the words on it yet, I know.
An official recommendation is made for assessment by an autism team and while I’m coping, it’s all a bit much.
She bounces off the walls, sensory seeking, frantically jumping and leaping and running and falling and laughing too loud and too hard for too long. She avoids my eyes and runs away and hugs me like the world is ending, clinging to my shoulders, trying to scale me like a jungle gym.
I drag her outside to jump on the trampoline and run and swing.
It helps.
For a while.
The sun shines brightly, but the wind is cutting and while she doesn’t feel it, I do and I shiver as I push the swing.
We check for eggs, she races around, she falls over and laughs.
I read about autism and aspergers and remember Amy’s first year, a first year I’ve blocked out for my own sanity. A year of screaming, of arched backs, of refusing to be consoled, to breastfeed, to play.
***
My son screams the scream of a frustrated toddler. He has wants and needs and I’m not meeting them fast enough.
8 hours of tantrums later, a small giggle escapes him as I take time to tickle him.
Two white points pushing through his top gum, two angry swellings on the bottom. Teeth. More of them.
His tantrums continue, interspersed with happy chats on my lap.
My head aches.
***
My partner hurts his back and tries to drive me to an appointment the day afterwards.
Half way to the city, his back seizes and he pulls over, stuck, screaming, in pain.
20 minutes later an ambulance takes him to hospital, leaving me and the children behind, on the side of the road. Stranded; I don’t drive.
My father-in-law and brother-in-law rescue us. I’ve never been so relieved to get home.
My partner makes it home later that night, a prescription of painkillers in his hand.
A week later he still can’t walk much, or move, or help around the house.
***
It’s too much when my daughter bounces and screeches and my son screams and my partner winces and it feels like all the balls are up in the air, waiting to fall in a heap.
It’s too much.
And while I know it will be okay and our families are helping lots, it doesn’t help when I’m on my tenth tantrum and my eighth meltdown and no one can help.
I’m overwhelmed and planning on spending a week in bed when this particular hell ends.
With chocolate.
A lot of chocolate.
The addons :\
Hugs. I hope you get that week with chocolate.
It does get easier, in that we find ways to cope and to adjust rather than someone waving a magic wand and making our kids ‘normal’.
(((hugs)))
*hugs*
Hope Nat starts to heal, fast. You know where I am for a chatter, lady. xxx
It takes a lot of chocolate – I’ve seen very close at hand how coping with a large family, one of which is autistic, can absolutely wreck people emotionally. Chocolate helps. Oh yes.
big hugs
am here if ya need..
Having had a third child diagnosed yesterday – I hear you honey – I hear you loud and clear, you and I need to run away on holiday together me thinks.
Why do all the shit-ball things happen at once? You must be one bloody strong woman V, but know it’s alright if you can’t be. Superhuman wasn’t part of the job description way back when I don’t think. Big hugs and back up the cadbury truck to your front door. x
Chocolate is a very fine idea, i think. You are doing an awesome job. Hang on in there V.
I am sorry everything is so difficult right now, sending you calm thoughts and strength to get through each day … sorry we ate all our chocolate 😉
Hope A gets her assessment earlier too and your partner’s back improves.
Truthfully I don’t know what to say to make a difference. I am here hearing you and willing you on. Learning to drive was an emotional minefield for me. I drive an automatic now and don’t venture far but the doing of it, helped me to feel less dependent, less isolated. Amongst the chaos, find a couple of personal goals so that you don’t get lost amongst it all. Massive, gentle, virtual hug. xoxoxoxxo
Just keep swimming.xxx
I never ever say this (so I don’t say this lightly 😉 but…. darling girl! I feel utterly helpless in terms of reaching out any sort of meaningful, hands-on support. Please know, though, that I am holding you in my thoughts. This is major shiz to deal with for just one person. You are amazing. Just do as Dory and keep on swimming.
It really sounds too much just for anyone. I feel for you Veronica. Your are a strong woman.
You have nice comments here my sweeting.
Sorry to hear about everything you’re going through. I hope you get that week off soon. You deserve it!
Ouch. Veronica, I’d have resorted to more than chocolate by now. I’m glad you have people around who are helping, but I feel a little helpless here. I’ve been where you are (almost exactly).
Like Brenda says – we just keep swimming. I’m thinking of you, for what it’s worth.
Give up on the week in bed, it aint gunna happen. But bathing in chocolate is a really good idea.
MWAH SWEETIE!
Can’t do anything other than listen and be here for you to vent to. Go on and vent. Life isn’t fair, but in it’s unfairness, I hope you find the pools of joys (like a giggling toddler) that others miss on different journeys. and buy that chocolate and a bottle a red to go with it!
Thankyou everyone. The comments coming through here and on Sleepless Nights have helped save my sanity more than you know.
You’re absolutely amazing. That doesn’t help, does it? But you are. Thinking of you. xoxo
Oh no! Moments like these totally and utterly SUCK. Just keep plodding on, and ride out the wave. It never feels like it at the time, but things do pick up eventually.
I was just reading something you wrote earlier and wondered if, like us, you had a child on the spectrum, now I know you do.
There’s good days and bad days, the trick is learning to get through the bad ones any way you can. Before our daughter’s diagnoses, I thought I was a very patient person. What autism has taught me is that there are many different kinds of patience, you wait for first words, you wait to get a hug, you wait for eye contact and sometimes you just wait to get through the day.
There are also good days and these are definitely worth waiting for. Hope all goes well for you.
You deserve the very best chocolate available. xx
Oh Veronica, I don’t know what to say, except to thank you for sharing all this. Reading, and appreciating your honesty, and for this precious insight into your life with your precious family. xo
Comments on this entry are closed.
{ 2 trackbacks }