What I’ve Learnt As A SWAN Parent

At five years old, my son Gabriel still can’t walk or talk and struggles with feeding.

Yet I have no idea why.

Despite a raft of testing taking place over three years he remains undiagnosed. A rare genetic condition is suspected as the unifying cause for his multi-system medical issues that range from minor cardiac abnormalities to growth hormone deficiency.

It can be difficult facing an unknown future where the path your son is taking is literally unchartered. He is writing his own book, a thrilling page turner at times and a bit mundane in places, and all you can do is hope it is one with a happy ending.

He is not alone.  There are 6000 disabled children born every year with a syndrome without a name.

As one of many SWAN mums, here are a few things I have learnt:

Feelings of Isolation are Common

In a recent survey conducted by SWAN UK, 75% of parents said raising a child with an undiagnosed genetic condition was, ‘isolating.’

The words, ‘frustrated’, and, ‘lonely’, also came up a lot as did, “anxiety, low mood and depression”.

There is no shame in feeling like this.

It is a hard journey and one you have to undertake alone.

Friends will find it difficult to understand, no matter how supportive they are.

Even amongst support groups – undiagnosed children are so diverse that quality of life issues that massively affect one might be a blip on the radar for another.

This is why it is important to find families with similar children to not only support each other in the dark times, but to laugh out loud together in the good.

Interestingly, 93% of respondents to the survey said they felt less isolated since joining SWAN UK.

It gets easier. It does.

In the first few years of testing I was a wreck.

I hated everything that was happening to us and would spend many hours crying in the shower (where no one could see me).

The depth of my despair was overwhelming at times.

I was convinced my child was going to die.

How could I deal with that?

Also I didn’t think I had it in me to raise a child with a disability.

Thoughts like; “But he’ll never have a girlfriend” used to consume me.

Then slowly the sand shifted and things got easier.

Life has a habit of chugging back on.

The 20 hospitals appointments a month became 2 or 3.

Therapy sessions are now largely done in school.

Gabriel is just Gabriel and I wouldn’t swap him for the world.

And girlfriends are overrated.

We Must Leave No Stone Unturned

Some days I don’t want a diagnosis. It is nice living in a bubble and thinking the world can never touch you.

That piece of paper with a name for my child’s syndrome will also come with a potentially  frightening prognosis.

The thing is we need to keep pushing to find out what is, “wrong”.

He has two siblings and they have the right to know if it will affect their children.

As Gabriel gets older and understands more he too needs to know what is causing the limitations in his body.

We, his parents, need it too. For closure – so we can keep moving forward.

The reality though is being, ‘undiagnosed’, is not always a temporary stage, the genetic  cause of some conditions may never be known.

Genetics is Not Easily Understood

In some ways life was easier in the testing stage when we could say to people that our child had heart problems.

It is something that people can latch on to that conveys the seriousness of the situation, but still offers promise of medical intervention and hope for the future.

Now that his cardiac issues are stable and we know it is a rare genetic mutation that is causing his delays, the notion of, “What is wrong?” is a lot more vague.

It is hard for me to get my head around genetic arrays and genome testing, let alone try to explain the processes to family and friends.

The best way I suppose is to say that if Gabriel was a book, the first stage of testing was checking to see if whole sentences or paragraphs in his DNA had been copied or deleted.

Now we are looking and testing the the exact order of the letters.

Are you still with me?

No falling asleep at the back!

Access to Support is Harder

With no label, it is often harder to access social care support for your family as your child does not fit easily into a tick box on their forms.

There is also an underlying assumption that your child will catch up when in reality the gap between them and their peers is likely to get larger each year.

The, “maybe he will grow out of it”, comments make you want to rip your teeth out in frustration.

In addition, care can often be spread across a number of hospitals.

We currently access 10 consultants across three hospitals as well as a physiotherapist, dietitian and speech and language therapy (and that is not a lot compared to others).

It is important that care is co-ordinated so, “small stuff”, is not therefore missed.

Lack of diagnosis again can be a barrier to this.

This is why SWAN UK made the theme of this year’s Undiagnosed Children’s Awareness Day, “The Big Ambition”  – that is to ensure every family has the support they need, when they need it.

It is not easy raising children with special needs and one that lives under the shadow of an unknown disorder can bring extra pressures.

But, I will add this: even those children with some of the worst predicted outcomes have surprised the life out of us all.

And they continue to do this every day.

The Lost Art of Emotional Eating

Food has certainly been my friend in the past five years as I have navigated through the new world of special needs parenting.

Bad day – biscuit or three.

No sleep – pieces of hot buttery toast.

Child not feeding – some ice cream.

DLA form to fill in – whole chocolate cake.

I know it is not great (and so does my waistline) and I’ll have little bursts of fitness where I’ll begin to feel like my old self.

Then a crisis will hit and I’ll hit the crisps.

There is a reason why it is called comfort food after all.

As my little boy gets older and heavier, I want to be healthier and stronger so that I can stick around as long as possible to look after him.

This means I need to take better care of myself.

So how to break this unhealthy cycle of reaching for the biscuit tin every time I feel stressed, scared or even bored?

I know it is not going to be easy, but I need to give it a shot for myself and my family.

Here’s what I have learnt so far:

I need to know what my triggers are. For me lack of sleep is my biggest trigger for eating more. Although I can’t control the former, I can try to control the latter by recognising this will be a harder day.

I need to recognise the difference between emotional hunger and physical hunger. And how emotional eating will never leave me feeling satisfied.

Once the cheesecake has gone – the emotion will still be there.

But I get to add guilt for stuffing my face to it.

I need to keep only healthy snacks in the house – apparently emotional hunger only wants fatty-type foods.

Keeping a diary of what I have eaten will help.

Too often, I will mindlessly eat and not know how much I have consumed in a day.

Writing it down shocks me and makes me more aware of what I am putting in my mouth the next day.

Too often I will eat a chocolate bar and then wonder where it has gone as I didn’t even taste it.

What a waste.

If I try to control the urge to gorge when it hits by waiting five minutes, hopefully the urge will pass.

I am going to try and walk for a bit each day to clear my head of any built up stress and hopefully increase this exercise routine each day.

I certainly need to slowly change my mind set and realise that I don’t need food to help me cope.

That I can manage all my emotions one day at a time without a tasty crutch.

It is time to look around and see there are plenty of ways to get comfort and pleasure.

More date nights, spending time with friends, reading a book, a bubble bath or laughing with the children.

Most importantly, I need to start believing that I am worth it.

Because I really am.

Envy Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

Everywhere I looked there were children doing all the things that little children do.

Sitting, walking, babbling, jumping, and eating.

All the things that my boy couldn’t do.

I used to watch them with heavy hearts and the hurt made me turn my head away.

My friends had children of a similar age and it was tricky in those early days spending time with them.

It was like a punch in the gut every time their child did something new.

I’d pretend to be pleased (and I am sure I really was deep down), but part of me was crushed each time.

Now my boy is five, it seems ridiculous now that I thought like that. I am not even sure I was that good at pretending.

It was definitely a good day when envy left the building.

But it didn’t go quietly.

No, envy tried to move in and take over for a bit. Stupid envy.

It made me read people’s Facebook updates about lack of sleep and made me want to shout: “Lack of sleep!! LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT LACK OF SLEEP!!!”

It made me not want to be with my friends, avoid playgroups and anywhere where small children went.

I even went to the supermarket late at night so as to avoid the day-time pram posse.

It made me scoff at soap storylines when people were having hard times – “Hard times! You are joking! You still have washed hair and clean clothes. How hard can your life be? And you’ve gone to the pub without children to moan about it.”

It made me bitter and a bit horrible to be around.

It got so much easier when all his peers became toddlers and that crazy fast-paced baby development stage was behind us.

I never realised with my oldest two children that they could stand, cruise and then walk within a matter of weeks.

I may have even blinked and missed all these stages with my second child.

Not with my youngest though, I was vividly aware of each and every development stage for his age group because with each and every single one – the gap got bigger and bigger.

I think you get to the point when the gap becomes so big that you start to accept that your child is not catching up.

At this point you start to relax more about milestones.

And with that jealously and resentment tends to ease up too.

Now I compare him to no one.

Because you know what he is rather amazing just the way he is.

Envy has thankfully long left.

She comes back for surprise visits now and again but we rarely open the door.

In The Land of the Five-Second Delay

One, two, three, four, five.

“He-llooo!” my five year old sings back from his specialised pushchair.

But she’s gone. Her loss.

You see my boy has global development delay meaning he is delayed in all areas including cognition.

Therefore, it takes him a little bit longer to interpret the messages from his environment.

One thing you have to learn in spades when you parent a child with additional needs is patience.

Not just because it takes that much longer to dress them or feed them.

Not just because they come with their own equipment entourage, which never makes for speedy getaways anywhere.

And not just because the snail’s pace development would swipe the cheer out of the cheeriest of cheer leaders.

If you don’t have patience you can miss out on the most precious of moments.

We have to learn to wait to get the very best out of our children.

In this busy convenience-laden world where everyone wants everything right NOW that can be a tough ask.

I am starting to think that my son understands a lot more than I give him credit for, but this will only unravel if I give him more time to process and then communicate his understanding to me.

If I ask him a question, I need to wait a few beats to let him attempt an answer.

It is too tempting to fire the question again confusing him.

And when he is trying to get himself into a new position in our never-ending quest to master basic gross motor skills, I have to sit on my hands so I don’t reach to help him.

Sometimes I need to give him space to try and figure it all out himself.

The other day I was waving him off on school transport and I blew him a kiss before signing ‘I love you’ through the window.

Standard practice each day.

If I had wandered off to chat to his guide and not stood still for a few beats I would have missed out on something quite wonderful.

I would never have seen him grin as he tapped his chest back.

The sign for love.

If I needed no other confirmation, then this was it.

The five-second delay is worth waiting for.

Always.

5 Things I Wish I Knew When I Became A Special Needs Mum

Getting told that your child will be a bit different to the rest is not easy news to absorb, let alone process.

You probably feel like curling up into a ball right now. It is going to take a while, but if I could I would take your hand right now and tell you that it is going to be okay.

Somehow. It will be okay.

I know because I have been in your shoes. Crying myself to sleep on long dark nights.

Feeling like you are just surviving, not living, one day until the next.

My little boy is now five and if I could go back and tell myself five things it would be this.

1. Never give up on hope

I think the thing that got me through the early days was hope. I still hoped that everything would turn out fine eventually.

At first this was that the doctors had it wrong and he would be a ‘normal’ boy one day, then it was just that he would walk and talk.

Now it has evolved over time and all I ask of him is to remain healthy and happy.

And most days I settle for happy.

2. Make new friends, keep old ones close.

I can’t stress enough how important it is to find friends going through the same thing.

When you feel a bit stronger try and brave the support groups online or even in person.

It will make you feel less isolated and realise that you not alone.

Because you are not alone in this.

Also, try as much as you can to not push away your existing friends. They won’t always get it right, but they will try in their own way.

One day you’ll want to be the old you again – an enhanced, slightly bruised version – and whom better to let your hair down with then those that know and love you best?

3. Acknowledge the bad days and then crack back on.

There will be many – too many, bad days.

The days when you don’t recognise yourself – when you’ll scream at your partner, parents and children.

The days when the smallest thing will tip you over the edge.

The days you won’t want to get out of bed to face it all again.

Never be ashamed of these days. Each time they happen, you move on a bit more and learn how to cope better the next time.

You are human after all. And we’ve all done it. Chalk them up to experience and keep looking ahead, not back.

4. Get help – lots of help

If it is offered, take it. If it is not offered, ask for it. Back when my boy was months old his consultant asked if we’d like her to arrange some respite.

I said no – slightly outraged that she thought we were not coping and also that she was suggesting – gasp – that he was sick.

Now years on, any mum of a child with additional needs will tell you this type of thing is not offered on a plate.

You need to put the wheels in motion early to have the right support in place.

You need to have some time out every now and again – either alone, with your partner or with any other children.

Stepping away is sometimes the best thing in the world you can do for your child.

5. Nothing much might change, but you will.

This is very true. One day you’ll wake up and like your life again. Warts and all.

Because it will be yours and yours alone.

I’m not saying this will happen immediately, but slowly you’ll get used to the different ebbs and flows that come with being a mum to a child with special needs.

I promise you in a few years you’ll be writing your own list of things you wish you knew.

I bet at the top will be this:

I can do this.

Because you know what – you can.

When Your Child Doesn’t Like to Touch

“They do this thing” I gushed. “Where they grab your finger with their whole hands and they don’t let go.

That is their way of saying their first hello, they are pleased to finally meet you and that they love you.” “Wow,” they replied. “

All that from touching you?”

“Yes – all that from touch.”

Touch. It is quite powerful really when you think about it.

It is the first unspoken conversation with your child.

It can comfort in the dead of the night.

It can soothe away an ache. It can reassure them as you walk through busy streets.

It can applaud them with a single pat.

It can express your love when no words come close.

But what happens when your touch means something different to your child?

When a stroke of their arm fills them with fear?

When an offered object is viewed with distrust?

When an unexpected brush of a sleeve can make them fretful?

When simple every day activities can send them into “fight or flight” mode?

Tactile defensiveness is part of sensory processing disorder.

This is when a person finds it difficult to process and act upon information received through the senses – sights, sounds, touch, tastes, smells, movement and balance, body position and muscle control.

The SPD Foundation indicates that 1 in 20 children experience symptoms of sensory processing disorder to an extent that it affects their ability to participate in everyday life.

In my son’s case his inability to explore his environment in a typical way due to his hypotonia (floppy muscles) affected his brain’s interpretation of touch.

This tactile defensiveness makes him feel overwhelmed and for the longest time he avoided touch when possible.

For a while there he didn’t even recognise his hands as his own as they received so little feedback from the world around him.

Over time his hand use has improved but hand function still remains the most delayed part of his development.

We have consulted with both NHS and private therapists about ways to improve this and received many useful suggestions such as:

• Using a vibrating hand massager to stimulate the senses

• Tapping the hand and reminding him that this is Gabriel’s hand

• Introducing different tactile stimulations slowly over a period of time

• Using deep pressure on the hands instead of a light feathery touch

• Messy play with foam, sand, water and food.

All has helped at different stages – the most dramatic being the hand massager in the earlier years.

After a few seconds stimulation he could tolerate holding a previously shunned small object.

Now he will flick everything he comes across, tentatively at first, then as he grows more comfortable with the item he will explore and experiment as any toddler would.

How we rejoiced when he reached into a toy box to pull out items and cheered as he used his hands in propel himself around the house in a nifty bum shuffle.

The most wondrous moment by far though was the first time he reached out with his tiny little hand and rested it on top of mine.

I hadn’t realised what I had missed out on in all those years.

Couldn’t have known how huge this gesture would be. Because in that instant I understood that holding your child’s hand is way to touch their heart.