Me Too.

If you had told me, 7 years ago, that this would be our lives I would have laughed.  I would have told you that you were crazy. I know what your thinking... “Me Too!” right? We ALL think that as Mom’s sometimes.

I gave birth to the worlds most beautiful little baby.  I was in love with her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I would just sit, and hold her, and stare at her and let that love grow and consume me. I know what your thinking again... “Me Too!”  There is nothing like a mother’s love.

When we took her home and she kept me up late nights and barely slept and other Mom's also told me "Me Too".   We were all tired.  Lots of people had advice for the hard months that were to come. The early months are the shortest but the longest.  Purple Crying.   Sleep Training.  Cry It out.   We tried it all.  Nothing seemed to soothe her in those long hours.  Sometimes not even nursing.  "Me Too"    What I didn’t know here was, “me too” didn’t necessarily mean for 6-8 hours with little to no break and sometimes for days on end.

This was the life before we knew about sensory kids and sensory processing disorder.  Before we knew about food sensitivities and allergies.  There were times she cried for hours before we knew anything about sensory processing or sensitives.  I became a google expert on sleep associations, acid reflex, colic, teething..... and running the vacuum in the same room to get her to sleep.  "Me Too".  Yep. We all did those things.

She was a baby that could go from extremely happy to upset in a flash for no apparent reason.  She was healthy.  She laughed.  She developed skills on schedule.  I was so Tired.  "Me Too"

She started to have tantrums at 8 months.  I still have a video that I often reflect back on. I don't remember anything happening to make her upset other than she wouldn't accept comfort but she wouldn't let me leave her either.  She was inconsolable.  I would go on an emotional rollercoaster that would take me from feeling empathy, to frustration to having emotional upset along with her and longing for the day she would be old enough to just tell me what was wrong.  "Being a Mom is so hard." I would say holding back tears at baby group.  "Me Too" They would all say.  And It was hard.  For all of us.  I do get that.

She didn't like physical comfort.  She didn't like to be touched.  She was so little and it broke my heart that she wouldn't cuddle with me.  I remember asking my mom once when she would start to give me hugs. 

We went through terrible two's.  “Me Too"   And the horrible threes and the "F*@*% Fours".  "Me Too. 

Her speech and language were amazing.  So many people could not believe her ability to put together sentences at such a young age. One lady once told me her eyes looked like she has an old soul.   (I also googled that too hoping that this would be the answer to the restlessness that she seemed to have all the time.)   She had a temper.  Even at 2 years old we had what I would call "Mommy Battles" and I would lay the groundwork for the house rules (like no throwing toys or food) that sometimes would end up causing fits that would last hours.   Hold mommy's hand when we are crossing the road. The rule at the store was you either ride in the cart of you hold my hand - you may not run off on your own.   We sang clean up songs. Once a pattern was established I would never have to teach her that rule again.  She was a creature of habit.  I just needed to wait out her stubbornness sometimes to get to that point.    We created set in stone bedtime routines. One time when she was 15 months old she hit me across the face and bit me and screamed right in my face because I told her NO.  "Me Too"

She never attached to anything for comfort.  Nothing soothed her.  She was two and a half.  I created a blanket attachment for her by putting the blanket between us every time I nursed for months  before even trying to wean. It took me 3 months and HOURS of laying with her while she cried to sleep to wean her from nursing to sleep.  She still has her blanket to this day and still uses it for comfort and every time I see it come out I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the hard weaning process.  Weaning is hard for everyone right? Yup.....“Me too”

My husband worked out of town.  It was very hard to leave her with anyone as her attachment was so strong to me.  (You guessed it....... "Me too".  )   We saw cranial sacral massage therapists,  natural paths and chiropractors.  She just never seemed truly happy or settled.  She was a very smart little girl.  She walked, talked, ran and jumped.  She was just never content and she never slept well.

I started her in preschool when she was 3.  She hated going.  The entire morning leading up to drop off time (at 1pm) was terrible as she would resist getting dressed or even getting into the car.  The daycare teacher (An amazing lady) would pry her off of me screaming and sometimes come out to the car to get her trying to make the transition easier on me as she knew my heart was breaking even though I desperately needed just a couple hours break.  They told me once I dropped her off and she had her moment she would be fine and happy.  I would pick her up and she would be exhausted.   After 4 months with no progress in making the transition any easier.... I decided that the hard mornings and the emotional stress it was causing both of us wasn't worth the 2 hours break and I pulled her from pre-school.   The teacher asked me if I wanted a referral to OSNS (Child Youth Development Center) and never told me why.   I declined although I would spend years coming back to this moment.  I declined because I was not the only mom going through these very typical struggles with my daughter.  "Me Too".  Right?

When she was 4, Four hour melt downs started.  When she would get violent and attack me and I would put her in her room and I would sit on the other side of the door and cry while she tore her room apart and screamed. She put her first hole in the wall.    I sold toys she abused while she stood at the top of the stairs and waved goodbye to them like there was nothing wrong with this situation.  She would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and not go back to bed for hours.  Night terrors? "Me too".   But I don't believe to this day she was ever having night terrors.   Our downstairs tenant once asked me if I had ever taken her to see a doctor as she had never heard a kid have these types of melt downs before.  I shrugged and wiped tears and told her lots of mom's tell me "Me too".

She was scared of bathrooms.  Like in a terror kind of way.  She would hold her bladder until her stomach hurt rather than use a bathroom that wasn't at our house. I spent a lot of time making schedules and reward charts. We used visuals.  We scheduled everything.   Every morning I prepared her for what lay ahead of us for the day and if I was going to make any changes to our plans she needed as much notice as humanly possible.  You couldn't decide to go through drivethru somewhere on the way to the grocery store without risking a melt down.   She had a very limited palate of foods she liked to eat although not as limited as some kids I had met.  Every birthday party or event we attended consisted mostly of tears and stress and if you caught a glimpse of us it was usually sneaking out the back early both of us miserable and stressed.     I learned about Sensory Processing Disorder and things began to make a little more sense.   Noise.   Touch.   Yep. Our first missing puzzle piece. We made the connection to dyes and behavior with the help of a rash that used to appear around her mouth whenever it touched her skin and we eliminated all dyes immediately after researching and started down the long road of reading and learning to identify hidden ingredients in labels. 

I got pregnant when she was 4.  Her ability to follow house rules when it came to safety saved me during the first months while I was sick and tired.  She would rub my back while I was puking and bring me crackers and ginger-ale because that's what she saw me do the last time.  She really has a soft side to her that I really love and our bond is amazing. Her melt downs got more frequent and more longer in duration.  I called Child Development bawling one day begging them to help me.  They refused as she would be starting school in the fall and they don't help school age children.  I did end up with a support worker that would visit weekly but other than being a great support and counselor for me nothing she ever suggested ever seemed to quite resonate with what was happening.   She was amazing at helping me see past her behavior and onto the kid that I raised and loved and for that I will forever be in her favor as this was the year I felt like I was losing myself and my little girl and it was devastating.

When she was 4 I had my second baby.  Another beautiful and perfect baby boy.  Sophie-Lyn was in the room with me when I gave birth and I had spent a lot of time preparing her for the day.  We covered every topic imaginable and the process helped both me and her prepare.  Everyone was amazed at how well she handled the situation and how much she understood.  She explained to the midwives that I was having a contraction when I couldn't talk (I laboured so well that sometimes they couldn't tell).    After finding out I was at 8 cm she asked the midwife excitedly "Does that mean ACTIVE labor?"  She was an absolute doll.   She asked to hold the baby right away when he was out - but she did request I clean him off first. (LOL)

THIS was the most easygoing newborn in the whole world.  He had hard nights.  If we drove he slept.  If I ran the vacuum he slept.  If I wrapped him in a baby sling he slept.   All the tips and tricks worked the second time round.  Hmmm. 

We got a new family doctor with the arrival of our new bundle. Sophie-Lyn had massive melt down at the office when we went in for the meet and greet.  She was rested.  She was fed.  She was happy on the walk there.  Then as soon as the doors closed behind us all hell broke loose.  She didn't want to go in.  She didn't want to go home.   She didn't want to stay.   She didn't want anything.  Not Me.  Not Anyone.   These public outbursts are the ones I used to dread the most as she was STILL the loudest kid we knew and I hated having an audience while  I would be fighting to hold myself and my patience together.  At one point she flipped her manner and had a great conversation with the doctor while I was out of the room.   The doctor told me later that her speech was fabulous and that I was dealing with a very intelligent little girl that was able to manipulate. 

Kindergarten arrived.  Transition issues.  Daily.  Over and Over.   She did alright during the day but the drive to school was hard and there were lots of prying off of hands and at drop off and quite often the drive home also consisted of exhausted melt downs.   She was scared of bathrooms.  The teacher wasn't concerned.   Sometimes she would shut down and not join in.  The teacher thought she was fabulous.

 One day after a close friends birthday ended badly on our part we left early and when we arrived home she was laying under the table sobbing and told me,  "My entire body feels angry and I don't know why".  I lay with her on the floor rubbing her back while my heart broke.   This day started the first of many of a spiral of phone calls and emails trying to get SOMEONE to help.  I learned that no one really  recognized sensory processing as an actual disorder that needed help. I waited 8 months for a referral to a pediatrician.  Because sensory tends to cause anxiety (and vice versa) I tried that route as well and waited hours at a walk in mental health clinic for kids only to be told their programs start for children ages 8 and up.

My mom begged me to try another natural path.  I didn't want to waste any more money.  She paid and drove us 40 minutes away to Kelowna.    This natural path did something called Vega Testing.  She told me she reacts violently to sugar, dyes, preservatives, and possibly gluten and dairy. I couldn't imagine possibly taking her off all those things with such a picky eater as what in the heck would be left for her to eat???! (Later I would learn that this diet is actually considered the Autism Diet and this was going to be a substantial point in our Journey.)  I asked her about Sensory Processing Disorder.  "That's high functioning Autism" she told me.   "but she is so social" I said.    "It presents differently in girls".  She told me.  I cried all the way home. It wasn't the thought of Autism that upset me.  I had no idea how I was going to put her on this diet.  Cutting out dyes was hard enough.  I didn't have time or energy to create everything from scratch for her or the money to eat all organic.   I was panicked and stressed.  This was one situation where I was NOT hearing "Me Too".

But I did it. I sat her down.  I told her I knew what was making her body angry.  We talked about food and body health.  We talked about how even though she wouldn't be able to eat any of the things we had we would find other alternatives to her favorite foods that would be just as good. I told her we were going to make her body feel happy.  And she agreed to team up with me and make it happen.  4 days later I made a comment about something that I don't remember and she bust out laughing and continued to bug me about it.  This was the first time I remember her laughing and making a joke in YEARS. 

It was a turning point for me.  I researched autism.  I researched high functioning autism in girls.  Pieces slowly were falling into place. I reached out to other mothers that were saying "Me Too".  Only for the first time in my child's life, I actually felt like they really did understand. 

As soon as I saw the pediatrician I pushed for the referral for Autism. (I finally got into see him right before her 6th birthday).  She had begun having melt downs at school and spent portions of the day hiding in the boot room and being unconscionable.    He wasn't keen on giving the referral to me.  He suggested the books "A spirited child" and "the Sensational child" but said for Autism she simply didn't present.  I told him I wanted it anyway.  I ended up starting the long process and getting an appointment for 18 months in the future.    I began to hire specialists for what we could afford out of pocket.  The first specialist i talked to on the phone that had experience with autism changed my world.  She could explain mysteries about my kid to me before she had even met her. A puzzle piece LOCKED dead into place.   I finally felt like I was on the right track with this kid. 

Febrary 26th, 2019, when Sophie-Lyn was 7 years old at 2:19 pm we got the diagnosis of AUTISM.  I felt an overwhelming sense of relief and instantly let go years of pent up guilt.

I hugged the psychiatrist on my way out the door and thanked her for changing our lives!

And so....... It started. 

Our Journey into our new normal and our new lives!

And one thing is for certain.
 I will NEVER allow someone to tell me "Me Too" when I am searching for something lurking in my maternal instincts.  I learned to trust my instincts.  I learned that I wasn't a failure.  That I haven't done anything wrong.  Actually.... I had been doing something right all along.

 I'm a Mother of a child with Autism. 
Me. Too.
And our lives are just finally getting started.