Chromosome 18 (Distal 18q-) - PART TWO

Please read "Chromosome 18 (Distal 18q-) - PART ONE" before reading this post if you haven't already done so....

Facial Features:
Facial features do not affect a person's health or development. People with chromosomal anomalies may look a little different from their family members and people with similar chromosomal anomalies may also look very similar to each other.
People with chromosome 18q- may look like they have a flat/squashed face. The space between their eyes might be a bit wide. They may have an extra fold of skin covering the corner of their eye. Their ears might be lower and look a little bit different from an 'average' persons ear. 
Just because someone has an 18q- deletion and they may present all these facial features, it is important to remember that they may also look very much alike to family members.

When Mango was born, I'm pretty sure what alerted the doctors in the beginning were his facial features. Thus, the beginning of our roller coaster ride. 
His faced looked very round and flat. His eyes were set wider apart than what I had seen on 'typical' babies and his ears were low. I noticed this because his ears were not in-line with his eyes. They were lower. 
We had originally thought that he looked very much like his dad. I think Papa Bear and I both felt in our hearts that something was a little bit off but we just couldn't put our fingers on it. Until ofcourse the geneticist came to see us in our hospital room. Even he didn't think anything was wrong but still a doubtful feeling lingered in the air urging us to look deeper. So we did. Thank God. 

Immunology:
It isn't that common to have low levels of IgA but some people with distal 18q- may have this. IgA is a protein that helps fight off infections. People who have a low level os IgA are more likely to get infections and colds. This can be managed by treating the infection, allergy or asthma early.

It was only recently that I started to wonder if Mango had an immune problem. He was always getting sick and if he is near someone who is even the slightest sick, he usually gets a worse case and it stays with him for a good few weeks to month. The blood test result that we had done, came back normal. So I'm still floating around in the air wondering what I should do now. There has to be an explanation for him getting sick all the time.

Lifespan:
When someone is diagnosed with 18q-, the family's first question is often 'What does this mean for my child's lifespan?". Speaking generally if the person is in good health, there is no reason that they shouldn't live till adulthood. 


NOTE: The information on this blog is just something I have learnt in my time as a mother of a child with a genetic disorder. I am not a qualified doctor or therapist, etc and do not claim that I have the knowledge to be. The information is merely for my family members, close friends and other parents with similar issues looking for other families and their experiences.

He is Perfect

Perfect. 


Or

Perfection.


What does it mean? What is perfect? What is it that you see before the word perfection leaves your mouth? What makes you believe that something is perfect? 

I don't even know how to begin to start to explain this lump in my throat. This throb in my heart that makes me feel as if I'm about to explode into a million and one pieces. I want to curl up with my children and protect them from everyone that could hurt them. 
Right now. This very moment, I would trade anything for this feeling to go. 

How do we as parents of such fragile children protect them from people. Protect them from the world that threatens to take more away everyday. How do we protect our children who have special-need siblings that they have not come into a life of hardship, but into a life full of life and appreciation without exposing them to ignorant people that crush their views and make them question otherwise. 

Since Mango got his NG tube, I've had more and more people come to me and ask what is wrong with him. Which doesn't bother me as much if they look like they really care. Some people just stop and stare until we are out of view. Some have the nerve to to blame me, as if I made him that way. Some openly quote that he isn't perfect. All this I can usually take in with a smile and kindly explain to them that Mango has chromosome abnormality and that this is just one of our little obstacles that we need to face but he is otherwise as healthy as he can be. 

Except today. Today. I can't seem to stand and smile while you allow the ignorant words flow out of your mouth and cut deep into my heart, while I nod and smile. Today, I will not justify their words to protect my heart. Because today, my heart is giving in to all the hurt and pain. 


Dear person that stop me in my tracks to ask about my Mango. You didn't just stop to ask about Mango's NG. You didn't just ask about why he is the way he is. You didn't just tell me that my baby wasn't perfect. You didn't just ask me what I did to him to turn out this way. You even dared to say that you felt sorry for Plum, that he has a sibling with special needs. You did all of the above within two minutes of you standing in front of me. 

Mango is perfection. His NG tube, hearing aids, eye patch and all. He, as a whole, is entirely perfect. Everything you see in my kid that you define as not perfect is what makes me think he is so perfectly perfect. 

We are all perfect. Just the way we are.

If most of us can see this. Why can't you?

Bitter - sweet

We all have those times and moments in our lives that we call a bitter-sweet moment. Just lately it happens to be surrounding me constantly. My heart feels joy and pain at the same time causing myself to be confused about my emotions. 

Like the sweet moment when I held Plum in my arms for the first time and the bitter moment I realised that it would never be Mango and I ever again. Bitter-sweet.

The sweet feeling of finally being able to get results from a vision assessment we have been waiting so long for and then the bitter moment that we found out Mango was 'legally blind'.

The sweet moment I saw Mango closed his eyes after breathing in the gas that would put him to sleep knowing how long we had been waiting to find out what his hearing was like and then the bitter moment that our thoughts were confirmed that Mango had a hearing loss and would need hearing aids.

The wonderfully sweet moment when Plum first lifted his head on the second day of life and the bitter moment of realisation that it took Mango 5 months to lift his head for 5 seconds. 

The sweet moment when I look at Plum sleeping in his cot knowing that every second he is growing and learning something new but then I am crushed by a bitter feeling of knowing that one day Plum will out grow his big brother, while Mango struggles to put on a few inches and gain a few grams. 

I wake everyday to the morning sun shinning on my face and wonder what the day has in store for me and my family. How we will all cope and deal with the things that are brought to us. Everyday I tell myself that things will always be ok as long as our family stick together. Except today.
Today I feel hopeless and overwhelmed with guilt. Hopeless for Mango, who struggles and fights so much. Yet he is so naive to understand what is going on around him. Not realising that everything is a struggle and everything will always be 100 times harder for him, now, later and forever. He will never know the feeling of easiness to hold a spoon, point a finger or control his body.
The guilt that tries to pick at my heart strings everyday reminding me that Plum will never have a proper childhood just like his brother. Bringing him along to every therapy appointment and hospital stays. Being brought up knowing that his normal will always be with a brother that has a disability and will always require extra help. Just like his brother, his first friends may be his brothers therapist and doctors. Not because he needs it but because he hasn't had a choice to be able to choose friends because he hasn't been open to that type of environment. Where is the time? The guilt of not having enough time for the both of them to show love and affection like they deserve every minute of their lives. 

I feel as a mother/ full time carer, I want the best for my children. The best anyone in this world could ever have. I'm told all the time that I shouldn't be too hard on myself because what I give them is everything I have. Yes, this is true. But what I give is still less than what a 'normal' family can give. What I can give are only a few minutes or hours in between appointments and feeding and changing nappies is a small amount of play time and love. Reminding them constantly that I love them and that I am giving my all. My all may not be enough but it's everything I have to give. I would give anything to see smiles on their faces. 

While they crave to want the best, I also crave to give them the best. 

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!

Year 10 class

I was in my year 10 art class sitting down when there was a knock on our classroom door. A lady popped her head in, smiled at my art teacher and walked in with a young special needs girl holding her hand. All my years of being alive and I had JUST realised that special needs children can go to 'normal' school and that they have a lady following them around class to help them with work. I still don't know these people who help are called. Anyone?

Except all I remember that it was at that particular moment that I realised that I wanted a future with special needs. Whether it be working with the elderly, or playing with children or something along the lines of that. I knew that I wanted my future to be a part of something unique and special. I was always one of those kids that would be walking in a shopping centre and see a child in a wheelchair and STARE like I had never seen someone in a wheelchair before. But heres the thing, I know that my staring probably looked so rude as if I wasn't brought up with manners and I understand that if I was in that parents position I would want to slap me on the face. In my head though, it was a whole different story. In my head (I remember this very clearly so some reason I don't know why) I was thinking that if I stared at this kid with a worried face as my expression, I would kind of show that person that I was caring and that the parents would understand I actually wanted to be friends with this kid and help this kid and not the other way around. I don't know why that made sense to me at the time. Sounds twisted doesn't it? I know. I have no explanation for the way my brain works. It scares me sometimes.

However, I never pursued that goal and only god knew why. Now years after, I understand that my life was written out for me and even though at the time all I could see was my goal, The Lord had a much higher and more rewarding goal for me in my future. It was probably from when I was a child and I used to stare at special needs kids that it was just the beginning of my journey to become a the mother I am today of a child with a disability. I sit back and I realised yet again how great Allah is and how he prepared me for such a rewarding role in life.  

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