Showing posts with label autism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autism. Show all posts

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Number 2

Yep - thats right. We're pregnant again! We are finally here now, Officially calling it a pregnancy and not a 'if this is a pregnancy'. YAY!! Three cheers to us!! Mango is going to be a big brother! 

When we first found out, it was quite weird. Me and hubby had already discussed that we were going to do testing to check out in this bub have a chromosome abnormality or not. So, when we did find out - We knew what direction to go in.

At 7 weeks we were booked in for an ultrasound to determine how far along in the pregnancy I was, so we could book a date for a CVS (Chorionic Villus Sampling). In English - It means to take a piece of the placenta, test it and culture it so all the chromosomes can grow and test that again. Don't worry. you don't need to feel stupid. You should have seen the look on my face when the genetics councillor said CVS. I didn't know which question to ask first. What is a CVS? Who is a CVS? Let's not get started on what a fool I made myself out to be.
At 13 weeks, our CVS was performed. I had done a tiny bit of research about what a CVS was and it seemed like a very basic procedure. All the 'experiences' I had read were very good ones saying that it didn't really hurt and that they went back to normal routine within a few days. LIIIIIEEEESSS!!!!
ALL LIIIEESSS I TELL YOU!!

I didn't mean to be that dramatic.

It was a painful procedure. I have to admit that. The needle sticking inside my belly and pushing and pulling to suck up a bit of placenta. Gross and painful. I remember the Doctor telling me to try and not tense. How do I NOT tense my body when a needle is stuck in a belly and keeps poking away at my placenta. Please tell me. Thats right. You can't. You just stay as still as you can and hope that you survive the next few minutes without wrenching that needles out yourself. The End.


The waiting period was definitely like waiting a thousand years. We waited and we waited. Every time a private number would call, I practically screamed hello as I picked up the phone. Probably, wasn't even fast enough picking up the phone and Im pretty sure most of what they heard was the end of hello 'OO O O O oo' .
When 2 weeks and 1 day finally arrived. I couldn't wait any longer and called our geneticist. Receptionist told us that results weren't in. The sound of my despair probably made her feel bad so she told me she would get the geneticist to call the lab and call me by the afternoon.

Afternoon came and I received a call from our geneticist. For some reason My heart dropped as I picked up the phone call. 'GOOD NEWS' she announced. I don't know why I was thrilled by this point but all I could say was 'which part of it is good news?'. Im very pessimistic aren't I. I think I see that now. But all of it was good news and I didn't know how to feel. I still don't. We are very excited to have a new edition to the family. Giving Mango a sibling will also hopefully help him in his development. No longer a new couple with a baby. Somehow 4 feels like a family.


*few tears of joy*

Thank you for sharing this happy time with us.


Please keep us in your prayers!

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Dear Shopper

Someone shared this with me... It's so sad but so true. Once upon a time I was the shopped (sad to say) but now I'm in different shoes too. 

It is written by a mother who has an autistic son. April is the month of Autism Awareness. Please support them by clicking on the link below. Bringing 'typical' children together with children who have special needs teaches our children to be aware. Involve them in helping. Teach them. Don't be afraid of the unknown. 

http://www.autismawareness.com.au/get_involved

It is these lessons that will define who our children will be in life. To have an open mind and most probably have more knowledge than many other people will. It's lessons of kindness, love, affection and so much more by getting them involved in something so simple. We just have to reach out towards it.

Dear Shopper,
Yes, I know. I’m well aware that my child is screaming. Not just a regular scream, but an ear-piercing, sanity-shattering screech. Even if I wasn’t seeing and hearing it, I would know by the expression on your face.
Clearly, you have raised your children better than me.
That is what you were wanting to say, right? There certainly can’t be any other purpose to you stopping in your tracks to stare or elbow your companion or better yet — give knowing looks to other shoppers passing by.
I have no doubt that you have wonderful, well-behaved children. Grown, tax-paying, law-abiding citizens who would never have dreamed of screaming like this in public when they were children. Judging by your expression and utter exasperation, you’ve never hesitated to let them know who was boss.
And I know that you did your best with your children, that you loved them, and want all children to have a solid upbringing in which to start their lives. You are, in all probability, a good person. You probably don’t mean any harm.
This is what complicates what I want to say to you. Because, despite my anger towards you, I happen to have been raised well too. I don’t want to be ugly, even though right now I feel like it.
Because I know some of that anger is misdirected. It is misdirected because I, too, have stood in judgment of someone like me. I, along with almost everyone, have stood in public and watched a scene like this one play out and thought to myself, “Clearly she has no control over her children. When I have children, mine will never behave like that.” I, like most people, wasn’t quite as obvious about it as you. I didn’t stare or make comments that could be heard. But I was every bit as decided. So, some of my anger is really directed toward Human Nature, who refuses to be put in its place.
The nice thing about human nature, however, is that it can be overridden. And all it takes is but a single experience, a single human interaction, to the contrary of your own strongly held convictions. Then presto whammo — you are a new and hopefully improved person.
Let me introduce you to my child. Like you, I marveled at the miracle of life upon becoming his mother. Like you, I rocked, burped, and inhaled his sweet baby scent and thanked God over and over for the gift of him. Like you, I had certain dreams for my child. There your path and my path diverged somewhat.
My precious child is autistic. Yes, I’ve seen Rain Man, and, no, my son is not likely going to be a great card counter. The truth about autism is that it encompasses a wide spectrum of abilities. And, like you and me, every autistic child who has it is different from the next. Yet they do often share some similar traits – sensory overload and meltdowns are one of them.
Every person on the planet has what I think of as an internal alarm system. Most of us have ours in good working order. But some people with autism have what I like to call a hair-trigger alarm system. Theirs can go off with what seems to average folks like little to no provocation. There IS always provocation. Non-autistic people simply aren’t as sensitive to seeing and hearing the triggers, and that’s when the alarm goes off. And when it does, it’s loud. Everyone in the vicinity wants nothing more than to have it turned off, including the people who love them. When you see me “placating” my child and “giving in” to his tantrum, I’m really just desperately looking around for the alarm key or trying to remember the right code to turn off that blaring alarm. It isn’t his fault. And, no matter how upsetting it is for you, let me assure you it is that much more upsetting for him.
I’m sorry that you haven’t had quite as pleasant of a shopping trip as you had anticipated. It hasn’t been so pleasant for me either. Problem is — I have to feed my family, pick up prescriptions, etc. just like you do. And, unfortunately, no one arrived at my house today to watch my child so that his autistic behavior wouldn’t upset anyone in public. I have to leave the house and so does my child. Because I have to teach him about the world. I have to let him practice controlling his alarm system. So that he, too, can possibly be a productive citizen making come true all those dreams I had for him when he was so small.
With so many advances in early detection and therapy, many of us will be able to see most of those dreams come true for our unique children. And for some of us, our dreams will have to change for our children. We may need to re-define happiness and success. For life is like that. We constantly have to reevaluate our expectations of ourselves, others –and, sometimes, even the grocery store.
I’m hoping that your single human interaction with me has given you an opportunity to be a better person. For, with 1 in 91 children being diagnosed with autism now, you are going to have a lot more opportunities to make a positive impact in the life of someone like me. All it would take would be a smile, a pat on the back, or a “Bless your heart, honey, hang in there” to refill a stressed out parent’s reserve of patience and calm. You could be the bright spot in our day. And, then, if you want, you are welcome to ask all the questions you want. Your curiosity doesn’t offend me in the least. Most of us aren’t the least bit upset to talk about our kids – any more than you are. If anything, it is an opportunity to educate and dispel myths.
And, maybe, just maybe, you will be standing there when the alarm gets turned off. Maybe you will get to see what every mother wants the world to see – the wonderful personality of her child, in our case hidden behind a mask of fear, anger and frustration.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to see the one hidden behind yours. ♥

By Flappiness Is