To My Kin

You may find them locally, you may already know them.

I remember desperately searching the Internet for my, ‘kin’.

I felt I needed to speak to other mothers who were given the same diagnosis, I wanted them to answer my questions.

I believed they were the only ones who could truly understand me and give me some sort of glimpse into my future… Ethan’s future.

I eventually found a few members of my, ‘kin’, scattered all over the world.

Some were new to the diagnosis as was I, others were further along the diagnosis and many had lived through it all – they were still standing and offering support and advice to anyone who needed it.

Back in 2008, when Ethan was diagnosed, there was little information about Hunter Syndrome, there was less information about families living with it and even less information about where to get support.

I found an online forum, where I connected to some wonderful families.

Each of them answered my often blunt questions and each of them explained that there were many different severities with the syndrome.

They gave me hope… they gave me lists of specialists… they gave me suggestions for therapies… they were and still are invaluable to me.

The most important thing they gave me was indeed honesty.

They never lied- I appreciated that. I needed that.

Rose-tinted glasses are not something that should be offered to parents raising a terminally ill child.

We need honesty, with lots of, ‘You’re not alone’.

In the early years of diagnosis I needed this, ‘kin’. 

I needed those who knew exactly what I was facing, to hear me and to help me; which they did and have done for 8 years now.

Many of these ‘kin’ are now my family, I love them and their children dearly. I am forever grateful for them.

As the years rolled by, I learned that I could keep these, ‘kin’, but also find new, ‘kin’, and those new, ‘kin’, were very easy to find – they were everywhere!

Walking down the road, I often see my, ‘kin’.

She pushes the buggy, while her toddler roars for her to carry her, the baby begins to cry. She is tired. She smiles as she passes me – she is my kin.

She sits beside me in the waiting room. Her child is sitting in his chair flapping his arms and shouting. I ask his name. Her shoulders drop and we talk – she is my kin.

She struggles to breastfeed her baby who is starting to scream, she feels people are staring – she is my kin.

She lays awake thinking about all the things she should have done today, all the times she lost her patience, all the appointments she has to keep, worry lines decorate her forehead – she is my kin.

She laughs at the new thing her child has learned and wants to tell everyone who will listen! She wants to brag about her child, she wants you to see what she sees – she is my kin.

She beams as her child cycles for the first time; the age of the child is irrelevant. The fact that she has helped her child learn a new skill is filling her with pride – she is my kin.

She smiles as her child stumbles towards mine. She helps with their words. She has spent years in therapy and now her child can say their name and walk – she is my kin.

She is tired of the temper tantrums, the toilet accidents, the demands her toddler is screaming. She wants to grab the child and hide from the public – she is my kin.

We have all been there to some degree.

Yes not all have to face the same reality some parents (like me and others) have to face and that is life.

But; we are all kin for we are all mothers, doing our best, loving our children with every fiber of our being and worrying over things we simply cannot change nor predict; but we will still worry because that is all part of being a mammy.

I for one am tired of seeing my kin being torn apart on social media for everything. From how they raise their kids to what they feed their kids – let’s stop.

We are all mammies doing our best.

We are all different but the love we have for our children is the same.

There is no other love in this world greater than a mother’s love (and fathers, but this is about mammies!)

To my kin, thank you and you’re not alone.

Reptiles and Minecraft: The Things Autism Parents Learn to Love

When your child receives a diagnosis, you become fluent in a whole new language and soak up every bit of information that is available.

One of the symptoms of my son’s disorder is defined as:

“A preoccupation with only one or few interests, which he or she may be very knowledgeable about.”

This is such a completely perfect way to put it.

As parents, my husband and I have learned to embrace his interests and to immerse ourselves in them as well.

Over the years the topics of interest have changed, but his passion for them has not.

Instead of trying to change our son to fit into our world, one bit of parenting that we feel we’ve gotten right is this….we must learn to live in his world.

I am terrified of snakes.

When our son began memorizing the scientific names of snakes and recognizing hundreds of photos of snakes from around the world, it lead to us becoming the owners of a pet snake.

Then came pet snake number two and three.

Finally the snake fascination ended (and after a few years, they sadly passed away.)

I must admit a little feeling of relief when this preoccupation concluded.

With new vigor, the fascination with bearded dragons and geckos quickly emerged.

We are currently the proud owners of three bearded dragons and several brilliantly colorful geckos.

While a year ago, he would tell anyone that would listen EVERYTHING about the habitats and diets of these animals, the obsession with them has now faded away.

My husband inherited his child’s love for these animals, so they are still a part of our household.

From reptiles, the compulsion for Minecraft became prevalent.

This has been the longest lasting one, as we’re going on our third year as Minecraft connoisseurs.

Most of his clothing depicts his favorite characters and his room is filled with books and figurines pertaining to the game.

He becomes fixated on watching YouTube videos of other gamers documenting their gameplay, and his dream is to someday do what they do.

While we do encourage our child to take up other interests, like running or playing outside, we understand his primary focus.

We won’t force him to play football or other sports that he’s not interested in.

We do want him to be a well-rounded person, and we’ll strive to incorporate other facets into his life.

However, we want him to grow up knowing that we appreciate his individuality; and we’ll work hard to nurture his passions.

Because of him, we’ve learned to love things that we never would have imagined.

Leaving: It Is Never Easy

I feel guilty too, that we can’t, ‘just go’.

If we decide to make a trip, even to our local supermarket, it is planned, pre-planned with exit strategies all in place in case my son has a meltdown.

He cannot help these meltdowns.

He can become so overly excited or overstimulated that he has to let ‘it’ out, and letting ‘it’ out can come in bouts of laughter, screaming, violence, shouting curse words at onlookers …the list is honestly, endless.

I have two other sons, one who has ADHD and a toddler.

Both are very aware of the attention their older brother can generate on a seemingly average family outing.

My middle guy, (who also has ADHD) finds it hard to concentrate on rules and guidelines when out and about, he finds his brothers actions embarrassing – something I can understand (and hope he will soon be less embarrassed about) this leads him to walk away and we end up looking for him in a state of panic sometimes.

My youngest, the toddler, is currently being potty trained and loves nothing more than running off while his eldest brother distracts mammy and daddy, he can be found peeing absolutely anywhere these days.

My point is, it is hard to go anywhere with my three sons and something I don’t do by myself, ever.

The summer months will be long, where I will have to come up with games and entertainment all within the safety of our home.

I will have to rely on the weather – if it’s dry there is a local green park I can walk to with all three boys, but we can’t stay long.

The park is not suitable for my eldest son who has now become a wheelchair user.

He loves the chair but also loves to run, despite being in pain for days after a walk around the park, he will insist on bolting and this obviously leaves him in more pain which leads to more behaviour issues.

More guilt for me as the other two boys are running wild and free and so is Ethan, but I must reign him in and remind the boys we must go home soon. 

Ethan does not understand why he is in pain and cannot comprehend that less running and more wheelchair use would ease that pain. I don’t want to force him to stop running either for I know one day he will not be able to run or even remember how to run and boy does my Ethie love to run.

We don’t go to the funfairs.

We don’t go to circus.

We don’t go to beaches even though we live on the beautiful west coast of Ireland.

We don’t go to adventure parks.

We don’t go to friends’ houses for barbecues.

All of this would require so much planning, replanning and being on edge the whole time, that there is no point.

We end up snapping at each other or worse, losing our patience with our boys.

We do, ‘our’, things and we do them at off peak and off season times because that is just a little easier for our family.

We just can’t simply, ‘go’, and to those of you who can, enjoy it, relish it – it is a beautiful thing to be able to wake up and decide to go to the beach today just because it’s summer …

This summer we will go to the beach, we will take a walk through our city and we will go to the adventure parks…we will just do that when everyone else is seeing a dull day with the chance of rain, we will take that chance.

To the parents like me, hang in there, I know how hard it is to leave the safety of your home.

Even with all the planning in the world, our kids can throw a curveball in a second.

I hope you guys get to the beach this summer. 

As Much As I Wish It Was, Life Is Not A Pinterest Quote.

Sleep is ESSENTIAL, for everyone. We all know this.

Why is it so hard for my little boy?

He is constantly exhausted.

He cannot get comfortable at night. He cannot switch off. His legs hurt.

He cannot sleep properly.

He must feel dreadful. Because I know I do.

I feel like I’ve been beaten with a club for years. Like somebody has run me over.

My mind is not clear. I cannot rationalise anything! I lose my rag constantly!

I cannot get things done. And a mother of a child with special needs has to get things done!

There is no choice. So why does this happen?

I grumble about lack of sleep all the time.

And so often I’m met with, ‘We are only given the challenges we can cope with,’ – you know the one where because your child was born with a disability, it makes you stronger than everyone whose wasn’t?

And every time I hear it I silently implode.

I know people mean well. But what an absolute load of crap!

If my son could sleep and I could therefore sleep, life would be so different.

Life would be manageable and less stressful.

It would be enjoyable. We would be further along with everything, from my to-do list through to his mobility.

And I can tell you now. I absolutely cannot manage it!

Not with everything else on my plate. A plate that feels more like a giant platter that is constantly over spilling and getting worse because of the lack of sleep!

I am constantly broken.

I may not look broken to you, because to save your embarrassment, I politely thank you for citing that proverb to try to make me feel better. But it doesn’t.

It just makes me feel worse. Because to me it translates to, ‘I’m a crap parent’. Because sometimes, I really cannot manage what I’ve been dealt.

I know that is because you cannot see the paddling going on beneath the water.

The desperate struggle to stay afloat and save myself from drowning.

I am just hanging on in there until I finally cannot paddle anymore. Which clearly I cannot let happen!

So rather than thinking I’m some sort of superhuman, which I am not, why not just pop over and make me a cup of tea or just give me a hug when you see me?

That would be so much more helpful.

So I know you know, that despite the fact I’ve covered the bags under my eyes as best I can with make-up and have put on a cheery Mary Poppins-esque grin on the school run, I am rather worn out.

And that’s an understatement.

Summer Survival Kit

The players:

– Ethan who has Hunter Syndrome and is 14.
– J, who has ADHD and is 11.
– Dictator (toddler) D, who is 2 and currently potty training.
– Ger (me) , who has no patience and is 30 ish.
– D (daddy), who just graduated college and is busy with interviews!

The Game: Survival of the Summer.          

The Rules: Survival.

The Strategy: Survival by any means possible. ANY MEANS POSSIBLE FOLKS.

Bribery

If you stop fighting/peeing on the floor/screaming/shouting -Mammy will…give you whatever you want just please stop for five minutes.

Adventure

If you sit and colour for ten minutes we can go on an adventure…never tell them where you may go, as this can lead to a lot of huffing and puffing about how, ‘mean’, you are.

Simply saying, ‘adventure’, can mean anything – the back garden to tidy up the toys so we can cut the grass… eventually; or a walk around the neighbourhood looking for snails in between those beautiful, ‘summer showers’. 

Rewards

Not unlike, ‘Bribery’ – give them a, ‘reward’, for playing nicely as soon as you see them do it – a reward can be anything from their choice of a treat to a small glass of wine for you – ‘cos you’re obviously doing something right if these boys are being quiet, right? Right!

Laugh

When everything goes wrong, just laugh…it confuses the lot of them and they will be shocked that you’re laughing at a poop in the middle of the floor.

Trust me, they will ask if you’re ok and then that’s your chance to say, could you help me please. 

Four times out of 10 it has worked… only on my 11 year old as the other two really don’t care and find poop and pee funny. 

Cry

This may seem terribly clever of me, but it works… simply cry. Hopefully you’ll only be pretending, but if you’re really going to, do what I do and demand a loo break.

These boys have no idea how to stop mammy from being upset, even the dictator stops drops and tidies up. It’s a move you shouldn’t use too often, as it can lead to, “Ah, come on mammy, you’re not even really crying.”

Walk/Run

When the opportunity arises with enough space to let them run, let them and time them and race them and challenge them!

The aim here is to tire those little legs out! And you’ll be getting in shape too. My lads love nothing more than chasing Ethan & I, while I push his chair down a slope. 

Ethan loves it and they try to catch us…Ethans brakes are excellent FYI!

Buy a kite

In fact buy one for each child. They are cheap and they really do they keep them quiet! And you can sit on the grass saying, “Ohh! Good job, run with it now, the faster you run the higher it will go!”

All while sneakily eating that bar of chocolate.

Ok, so these are not that helpful, but hopefully you’ll get through your Summer and so will your children. It is a hard time for most kids with extra needs. 

I guess my honest and truthful advice would be all of the above and try to remain positive. Get out as often as you can even if it’s just to the local field/park and run those kids!

Have a Summer if the weather allows it, if not make one, because let’s face it…in a few short Summers they will have their mates and then jobs and then a whole life where you just become the hotel and pass machine!

Living for the Little Things

Yet, even though my life isn’t filled with these typical moments of celebration like I once imagined, I have learned that there is great beauty in recognizing and celebrating the little things.

In fact, the little things are what I now truly live for.

Being a special needs parent requires reassessing situations continuously and never giving up.

My daughter is five and a half and she is unable to walk or talk. Making connections takes a great deal of repetition for her. 

Instead of days or weeks being poured into learning a new skill, we will put in years. 

We started working on sit to stand transfers three years ago.  For three years we diligently practiced this, having her pull up to a standing position from sitting on a bench. 

I was overcome with pride when I finally had the privilege of watching my daughter stand upright, holding onto her walker for four whole minutes!

This accomplishment took my breath away and solidified the fact that hard work eventually leads to incredible rewards. 

Seeing the look of joy on her face as she stood there, asserting her independence, was a moment of true celebration.

She is filled with love and light.

She adores being held and cuddled tightly.

There have been times when I have felt great sadness over never hearing her speak the words, “I love you.”

Thankfully, over time I’ve learned to open my eyes and my heart to see and embrace the little things.

This year, she has started to display affection with us in the most beautiful way. When I give her kisses and tell her, “I love you”, she reciprocates by taking my hand with her tiny hands and pulling it to her face.

She will cradle my hand to her face, holding it there sweetly against her cheek. The only way to describe it is magical.

There are so many little things that I now live for…

Watching her small fingers move as I sing, “The Itsy Bitsy Spider”…

Seeing her initiate steps while harnessed atop a treadmill during Physical Therapy…

Laughing as she grins and claps in excitement when she sees her reflection in a mirror, or when I ask if she wants to read her favorite book. 

They say that life isn’t measured in the number of breaths that we take, but in the moments that leave us breathless. She has taught me how true this is. 

Graciously, I have encountered countless moments like this with my daughter. 

I would compare them to watching a sunrise; I am captivated by them and feel such an appreciation for them. 

Life is even better when you live for the little things. 

The Power of Food – The Wonders Lurking in the Spice Cupboard!

The difference in my little boy is staggering; his weight gain has been phenomenal to the point where he is now a healthy weight/height for his age and is back on the growth chart where he should be!

He is healthier and happier than he has been in years.

We keep his immune system strong by giving him a wide range of fruits and veg, making sure his vitamins and minerals are in the right range, thanks to his dietician, who has gone above and beyond to confirm that his meals are absolutely, perfectly meeting his needs.

He has different herbs and spices renowned for their dietary/health properties.

The favourites being garlic, ginger, cinnamon, oregano and the spice that above all other things turns his tube yellow… turmeric.

I know the power of a healthy diet.

I know the power of herbs and spices to help us keep well and indeed to fight off infection.

So WHY I ask you, do we as parents and carers not put in as much effort and consideration into our own diets?!

I am pretty certain that I am not alone in making sure my child has the best diet imaginable, while I eat rather less well, shall we say.

Too many years of hospital visits relying on Costa, pre-packed butties and cola?!

I really should pay more attention to my diet too.

As a woman with autoimmune issues its more essential than ever that I keep myself as well as possible.

Recently, after many years of suffering in silence, I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder that conventional medicine can’t really help with, other than to give antibiotics when the inevitable infections take hold.

If this were my son we were talking about, I would be doing everything in my power to ensure that he was healthy and that we found a way to control the condition.

So the time has come for me to practice what I preach!

I will admit, the first thing I identified as a major problem for me was gluten.

I don’t have a coeliac allergy, but it was very noticeable that if I ate gluten, within 24hrs I was in pain with a flare up.

So taking what I’ve learnt over 12 months of doing a blended diet for my son, I cut out all gluten. Totally.

Caffeine was another one to go (although I haven’t quite managed to fully remove that one as yet… my morning brew is still an essential).

Then, I turned to the spice rack that has, for the past year, helped keep my boy healthy.

Turmeric is would appear is a potent anti-inflammatory.

Coconut oil is renowned not only for being a very healthy oil to cook with but also for having anti-fungal and anti-bacterial properties.

After a few weeks on antibiotics, feeling utterly meh and having flare-ups despite the medication, I was prepared to try ANYTHING regardless of how weird and wonderful it sounded!

Both can be used internally via diet but also externally… as its my skin that’s worst affected I was happy to slap the stuff on and deal with the glorious yellow tinged skin that resulted… but it calmed my skin down a treat.

I also tweaked my diet and added such beauties as these in on a daily basis (although I found taking turmeric in capsule form rather better than the Bart Simpson look). 

A week on and I’m feeling better than I have in a long time, pain level is down (not gone I should add, and I did this with the full support of my GP), and the inflammatory responses that have plagued me for years are a lot calmer than they were.

I am actually speechless.

How ridiculous, to have had these items sitting in a cupboard for the past year, regularly being fed to my son, yet I never even considered their usefulness for my own wellbeing.

If it hadn’t been for Sam being a tubie, I doubt I would ever have even thought about them.

Hippocrates was spot on; let food be your medicine, and medicine be your food.

The Day I Dropped My Son

‘The day I dropped my son’ was a blog post recently shared on Selfish Mother a global online community for mums.

It struck a chord with us here at the Firefly Community as we continue to campaign for improved accessible toilet facilities with our own Space to Change campaign and to support the Changing Places campaign.

The mum in this real life experience shared her story anonymously but everyday we hear from parents of children with special needs about the difficulties they face toileting their children on days out.

Often the focus is on dignity and health from a hygiene perspective.

Photographs are shared of children being changed in cramped and dirty places including the floors of public toilets.

This mum’s shared experience puts the spotlight on an often overlooked issue caused by poor accessible toilet provision – and that is the risk involved in lifting a disabled child or adult in unsuitable circumstances.

The risk to the person with the disability, the risk to the carer and the risk to any other family members who might be accompanying that day as in this situation a sibling.

It could be said that the family in this story got off lightly, a few bruises and an aching heart, made better with cuddles and biscuits.

However, the, ‘what ifs..?’ will haunt every special needs parent who finds themselves in this situation.

What if the mum had caused herself a serious back injury leaving her unable to care for her child properly in the future?

What if the child has sustained a serious head injury in the fall?

What if his sister had been knocked to the floor during the incident?

There are a lot of, ‘What ifs..?’ in this situation. A situation that many special needs families face on a daily basis.

The biggest and most important, ‘What if..?’ should be:

‘What if this venue had provided a bench and hoist in it’s accessible toilet?’

If that had been the case, then this mum would never have found herself in a situation of trying to lift her disabled child from a wheelchair to lie him on a toilet floor to change his incontinence pad.

Space to Change toilets allow adaptions to existing 7.5 sqm accessible toilets to include adult-sized changing benches and hoists to ensure the safe and dignified lifting, changing and toileting of children and adults with complex needs.

They are essential. However, they aren’t widely available.

To sign a petition for a changing benches and hoists to be installed in all large public buildings and spaces – click here.

Our Therapist’s Greatest Gift

There’s lots of practical reasons I do this. I spend a good 15-20 minutes patting and rubbing his back to get rid of any trapped wind which will help him (and us) enjoy a longer night’s sleep.

I can usually tell what sort of night he will have based on those precious 15 minutes, dictating whether we go to bed early to prepare for the night ahead or risk staying up a little bit later.

But if I’m honest, those 15 minutes are probably my most favourite part of the day. A little bit of quiet time just him and me together with me chatting about my day, rubbing his back and watching his little face as he slowly doses off to sleep.

I love the feel of his body relax in to mine, as his head slowly rests on to my shoulder.

The constant movement slows, the hand flapping ceases, the head movements stop and I can begin to run my fingers through his hair, hold his hands and touch his face.

This is the real reason why I love cuddling him to sleep.

You see, Daniel has Sensory Processing Disorder and I will be ever thankful to a wonderful Brainwave therapist who explained what exactly that means and how it affects him.

I watch Daniel throughout the day and his constant movements exhaust me so I can only imagine how it is for him to never be at peace in his body.

His arms, his legs, his head, his whole body is in continual movement, he is never still.

He hates his hair or face being touched.

We describe hair and nail cutting, teeth and ear cleaning as, ‘doing battle’.

Holding hands is a complete No No.

Hugs and kisses are out of the question unless you manage to steal one and risk being head-butted.

Holding Daniel is atune to holding a bucking broncho.

I used to take this personally, ‘Why doesn’t he like being touched or held (by me)?’ and then I heard those magic words, ‘Sensory Processing Disorder.’

I finally began to understand Daniel and with understanding came the opportunity to begin to do things to help him including a programme of desensitizing him and deep pressure with a weighted vest and lycra suit.

We have worked with some fantastic therapists over the past few years, but as I sit with Daniel I often reflect that it is the ones who truly helped us understand our little boy that made the biggest difference.

I know that I don’t have many years left of rocking Daniel over to sleep as he becomes too heavy to lift in to bed so I’m going to make the most of it while I can.

Cherish this time with my little boy while he’s at peace with his body.