What I thought I knew

Among conversations I always somehow get myself involved in is parenting. I would be in conversations like 'What kind of company will you put your child in?', 'Will you home school, private school or public school?', 'what type of sport will you teach your child?'.

Before Mango was born I knew exactly what type of mother I was going to be. I didn't know where my children were going to end up but I certainly knew what lessons I wanted to teach them and how I would teach them. I had heard (to my limited knowledge) everything I thought I needed to know about parenting and how the game works. So, by the time I was pregnant with mango I already knew how things were going to play out and how I would deal with EVERYTHING and anything. I had all the lists numbered down in my USB that I call Brain.  

Typical child

Teaching the word 'no' - check

Think before you speak - check

How to open mouth - check

How to chew - check

Dealing with tantrums - check

Dealing with bad habits - check

Being kind - check

To be loving - check

To be useful - check

How to help/increase vocab - check

How to speak - check

How to crawl - check

How to share - check

To look at someone when they are talking to you - check

To sit quietly - check

and well.... the list goes on. 

Except as you know now that this is not the way things played out. When mango was born all I had to throw the entire USB out the window and start fresh with what pretty much looked like this.

To teach Mango:

1. Teach Mango how to look at Mama and/or follow Mama from side to side - 6 months later.... check! YAY!!

DOING THE HAPPY DANCE

2. Teach him how to open his thumbs - 9 months on.... still getting there BUT when he does, I'll be doing the chicken dance. (no idea why) 

It suddenly isn't about what school I would put him in. It wasn't about what type of atmosphere I wanted him to be involved in (ofcourse I would put him in a good environment but that wasn't/isn't important right now, that time would come just not right now), it wasn't about the type of sport I pictured him playing. It was about would be ever be ABLE to go to school? Would he be able to see? Can he hear? Can he use his limbs? Wait. Hold on. Does he even know he has limbs? Will he one day be like what I had pictured? The worst of all questions I think about that every parents with special needs thinks even if they don't want to is 'How long will my baby live for..' 

I have a son with special needs. I do. He needs me. 24 hours a day 7 days a week right now and maybe for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter. As long as my heart beats I will look after him with what ever I have left. 

I have come to that stage where I can speak out and not feel that lump in my throat that my beautiful son, who is a miracle that he is even with us today is special needs. He is wonderful. He makes my world spin. He makes my day. To you he might just be another boy but to me - he is MY boy. My Mango.

Rabbit teeth

Mango has been teething this past week. His front two rabbit teeth are ripping out of his gums. He is also grinding. Everytime he grinds his teeth together its like someone is scratching their nails against a blackboard. That ear-piercing screech that makes your ears ache and fingers tingle.

You see, theres is a different between knowing (understanding) and knowing (from experience). They are both knowing, except one is limited and one is not. This week I went from knowing the cries of parents of teething children to KNOWING what those cries meant and where they came from. I fed Mango pureed sweet potato and he gripped the spoon with his teeth and wouldn't let me have the spoon back. I was pretty convinced that the half-of-the-spoon that was in his mouth was going to end up in the in a little plastic bag held by a surgeon working in the emergency department of a hospital looking at me in disbelief that he had just taken a half eaten spoon out of my son. Yes, I saw that all happen infront of me before I put my finger in his mouth and yank the spoon out before my finger was also going to be dinner. 

Mango is 9 months. His teeth are here and I happily say that this is probably the only milestone that he has reached on time. Why the teeth? WHY?! Every parent I have spoken to tells me how dreadful the teeth are and I had to get the teeth on time. Eeeehhh. I'll take it anyways. It's better than nothing. 

If I found Mango doing this..... I would not be surprised....

ehh...

I had a few friends over the other night. Put my little munchkin to bed and made sure he was drunk with milk that he couldn't even keep his eyes open to finish the bottle. I ordered a pizza and everyone else made dessert. Sat down all together, let the kids run wild while we sat in at the dinning table (where by the way many great conversations have taken place) and we chatted away till even the mice couldn't stay awake.

Chit. Chat. Chit. Chat and I was telling everyone about my terrible history with the paediatric orthoptist at the hospital when I realised that I was reopening a wound that hadn't even healed yet. It felt like I was scratching at a scab and unfortunately I had successfully peeled that dried layer of blood off and I before I knew it, i had started to bleed. I broke into a million pieces without being warned.

I felt hopeless. That very moment I felt like I couldn't go on. I couldn't do it anymore. It was the last straw that I had to give and someone had taken it from me. I felt like my lungs were being squeezed and my heart was about to come out of my chest any moment. I broke. I broke and all the strength that I used to keep myself together was yelling it. That week I was also suffering from a sore throat and was croaking. So imagine  runny nose, puffed eyes and red face make a nice crying picture... except when you turn the sound on and all you hear is a frog croaking uncontrollably as if cheering for the footy.

After a few minutes of what seemed like a fight to get myself together and stop croaking uncontrollably. I felt like all my armour had been shined although dented everywhere, I was ready to begin again. Which also, brought me to the the thought "hold on. I have no voice. I actually have NO voice. How am I supposed to be my son's voice and be serious when everyone around me was to busy laughing at my croak instead of concentrating on my words." So I did the inevitable.  I drank an asian remedy for a sore throat. Pear, lots of blended ginger and lemon. Hold it! As much as colourful rainbow that might sound, it is really rather-stick-your-finger-in-your-mouth-and-vomit-because-that-taste-is-enough-to-kill disgusting. No lie. Try it if you don't believe me. Before you do though, let me know and I would like to see your face as you do it. =)

The Little Things

*RANT ALERT*

I looked around the room full of people. Mothers and children all around me. Everyone was laughing, children running around and all I could think of was if my baby will one day be able to those things...

Parents take so much for granted, the little things their children can do. I mean, I try and move earth beneath my feet so my son can take that first look at me and follow me. I totally understand that people mean well when they say 'he did it when he was ready' but somehow it still makes my blood boil. It makes me want to scream out that I have invested 24 hours and 7 days into trying to get him to look at me. I didn't spend 10 minutes of play time and suddenly he could look at me and follow me with his eyes. It wasn't that easy. 

Months, weeks, days - who knew how long I sat on our lounge floor talking, singing, playing him all day and night till he went to bed trying to get me to look at me and follow my face as I moved my head side to side. I bought so many toys to try and get him interested. I tried so hard to get him to LOOK at me. To LOOK at ME! 

My sister couldn't understand how I go to OT just so Mango can learn to stretch his thumb out and learn to grab things. One month at OT and I can see improvement,  He actually grabbed a toy today with his whole hand. I don't care if it was by accident or he knew what he was doing but that he opened all five fingers to grab that toy is what I was so happy about. Yes, it was only once but it was enough for me to do a happy dance and thank Allah for helping him do so. 

Who would have thought that opening all five fingers was so tough?...