I have learned to follow my gut instinct over the last five years and
it’s never failed me yet. Over the last 15 months my gut has been
telling me that my 2 year old may not be as high maintenance as I thought, and
that it runs a lot deeper than just being a sensitive soul. Maybe my gut
has been telling me a lot longer than that, but I was in denial.
That’s the thing about the term ‘special needs’ – you are accepting
of everybody else’s children under that definition, as long as it’s not
your own children. I guess you don’t want to accept that life is never
going to be normal by society’s standards and normal milestones
standards. It’s hard to embrace it.
Having a child with additional needs, with or without a diagnosis, is
a hard pill to swallow. Not many people will admit that. But it’s true.You think of everything that cannot
be done, the places you can’t go, the milestones that may never be
reached. You worry about bullies and stigma. You fret about the future. We allow our thinking
to pave the future in our subconscious. We make excuses in public. We
feel awkward. We apologise, a lot.
I admit I struggled when I realised my child may have Sensory
Processing Disorder (SPD). My child? No, not my
child; yet she ticked every box! Things started to make sense. She wasn’t
just sensitive, she was overloaded and couldn’t cope. They weren’t
tantrums 40 times a day, she wasn't wanting to bite, hit, punch, scream, screech, jump out of my arms, they were meltdowns from sensory overload. She wasn’t being awkward about her clothes
being just right. She wasn’t being naughty when she had a screaming fit
because she couldn't have that food, or didn't want that food, she wasn't throwing a fit just because she is hungry, her senses aren't getting to the right places so her hunger is coming across as angry to her. She wasn’t just sensitive when sounds made her cry. She was
overloaded. Her senses are literally in control (or out of control) of
her every thought. Her brain was having a traffic jam with her senses not getting to the right places. This breaks my heart. I cannot fix it. Her momma
cannot fix it.
How as a momma did I not know something was wrong? I’d have done
things so differently. I would have been more patient. I wouldn’t have
made her have time-out for every meltdown that occurred. I wouldn’t have
yelled when she wouldn’t try a new recipe. I wouldn’t tell her she was
rude when she wouldn’t acknowledge people or say goodbye. I could kick
myself now looking back. How did I not know?! But life is too short for
regrets.
This is the life we have, my baby has. She’s not defined by a
label. Her brain may be wired a little differently to the average
person, but that doesn’t make her weird or less of a person.
I felt like my heart was being torn in two. I think it was part shock and part relief. Shock that my baby,
my sweet innocent girl had something wrong, and relief that finally we
didn’t have to plod along and struggle our way through each day alone
anymore.
After researching SPD I understood more and more about the challenges
my baby was facing, and I became prouder by the second for her
accomplishments. Daily life is overwhelming for her sometimes, but she
tries so hard. Even simple tasks such as getting dressed are a big
accomplishment. I find myself begging the Sock God to be kind and not
make the seams irritating today, I hold my breath when labels meet skin. I
am constantly holding my breath waiting for the next reaction armed
with calming words and cuddles.
I try and be as patient as possible. That is a key factor with SPD.
Anxiety levels are already on the edge daily, and an impatient momma
will not help. I’d like to say I have perfected this, but that would be
lying. Some days I yell. Some days I cry. Some days I feel mentally
exhausted. Some days I am a crap mom.
There is not a second goes by that I am not planning the next moves
around the sensory needs of my child. It is a never-ending job and my
mission is to avoid meltdowns at all costs. Sometimes that means staying
home all day, or spending days speaking about upcoming plans, or
swapping housework for an afternoon of cuddles. I am never ever too busy
for cuddles, ever.
I fret about going to the mall, to parties, to peoples houses, to new
places, but it never stops me going. I do not want my girl growing up
feeling ashamed or lonely. I want her to know it’s OK to feel how she
does, and that people understand. I want to teach her healthy strategies
to cope with her issues.
I want the best for her. And the best is not me denying there is an
issue. The best is not me wallowing in self-pity and feeling sorry for
her and her future. The best is instilling self worth into her every
single day.
I need to remember that she is highly sensitive to the world around
her, and that even on calm days she probably feels like a tornado has
just buzzed around her.
SPD wares you out as a momma, but imagine how much more it wears out the child who has it?
If you are wanting to know more details about SPD
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