relief.

One of the reasons I haven't been posting much lately is because I'm going through some transitions and rough patches as a mom. Things were so much easier (or in hindsight, they seem to have been) when the little ones were younger. I look at new moms and see them pushing strollers with newborns and I sigh wistfully. I didn't know it then, but that was probably the easiest parenting was ever going to be.

Kids are tough. I know I'm not the first parent to realize this. Parenting is tough. It was easier when they couldn't talk, or assert their own independence, or disobey. But we've got these two little beings - people - in our life now. And with that, there are so many sets of issues.


I ache for Ben. There, I said it. I ache for what seems to be his fragile personality, his brooding self. He's sensitive. He's shy. He's anxious. He gets nervous in big crowds. His preschool teacher used the term 'severe social anxiety' to describe what she sees in him - and she suggested we get him tested to see if he's on the Autism spectrum.

That last sentence was really difficult to type.


Ben's had delays with communication and language, and with social skills, but I was always able to attribute that to the fact that he was born nearly two months early. That was a reason I could give to certain behaviors - a reason that fit conveniently and allowed me to tie everything together in a special Prematurity box in my mind. I also still believe, and always will, that when you take a shy child, and have three strangers come into his home - or worse, bring him to a strange place where those three strangers are - for an evaluation, that shy child will not perform. But I digress.

What I know about Ben, in addition to his shy qualities, is that he is a total goofball with people he knows and loves. He has several friends - Cambelle and Chloe, Liv and Charlotte, Casey, Tommy and Jake... with whom he's really comfortable. And he LOVES his cousins. He's okay when he's comfortable.

So back in October, when his Pre-K teacher (who has a Masters in Special Education) mentioned that he 'doesn't do well in groups' suggested that he be evaluated 'to get a diagnosis, if there is one' ... my Mama Bear self rose to the surface. I was in denial, I thought that she didn't know my kid like I do... But I dutifully made appointments and scheduled evaluations.

There's this duality to parenthood - one that I'm encountering more and more every day: the emotional, sometimes visceral side vs. the pragmatic, objective side. The fact of the matter is, I sometimes need to listen to one side more than the other. Sometimes I have to remind myself that there are two sides to being a mom. And in this situation, I have to fight myself from getting caught up in the Mama Bear, and instead embrace the pragmatic.

And I thought of it like this: I'm shy. I'm introverted. I think in certain situations I can fake it but for the most part, every single social encounter I have, I replay in my mind after it's over. I wonder what the other person thinks of what I said. Did I sound stupid? Did I sound mean? Did I sound socially awkward, as I'm wont to do? I remember being so afraid of things growing up - social situations of all kinds - that it actually interfered with my ability to do things that I might have really enjoyed. I never dared to try out for a school play. I had to be forced to try out for sports teams. I ran for Student Council Treasurer during my freshman year of high school, but that's only because I didn't have to give a speech. The other three years I was a class rep (no speech required).

That's just the surface of it, really, my painful introversion. But reflecting on all of this helped me to take a step back from wallowing in worry as this child's mother... and I thought: if I can help him in any way to be a more secure, happy kid growing up, then I'm going to do it. I'll get the child evaluated from here to Kingdom Come if it means that experts, and child psychiatrists and psychologists and neurologists think they can help me to understand him better. I'll do whatever I can for Ben - and his brother Ryan - to be healthy, secure kids. They deserve it.

Fast forward to 11/18, Ben's initial consult at CNNH in Voorhees. The pediatric neurologist sat with me while Ben sat in the waiting room with Grammy, and asked all about Ben's history. We talked about his delays, and what he can do; we talked about what he eats, how often he poops; we talked about things he says and things he doesn't say. And at the end of our visit, she brought Ben in. She was charmed by him and was able to get him to chat with her a bit. As we left, she wrote some paperwork for us to get a battery of tests done (EEG, EKG, psych eval) to rule out certain things, but said to us, 'I'm really not worried about him. He's not autistic.' She also told me privately that he's highly intelligent and that + anxiety = a controlling child. We all got a good laugh out of that ... We joke that Ben is the ruler of the house. Auntie Irv said, 'You had to pay her to tell you that? I could've told you that!'

So. We're waiting for the beginning of December when Ben's first tests will be, and then he has some more in February. But in the meantime I'm feeling good, like I'm doing the best I can as a mom.

***

In other house news, Ben is (finally) going consistently on the potty. The neurologist told me that the potty is a control issue for some kids, and his pre-k teacher said the same. The next day, we went cold turkey and started with underpants. He is doing so, SO well. He seems more confident and definitely happier - like a real Big Boy. We are so proud of him.

There's a book called something like 'I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids'... I feel like I could have written it. If you'd told me that my child wouldn't be potty trained until he was 4 years old, I'd have laughed at you. But things are never as we planned when it comes to parenting.

My friend Corinne told me about this article, written for parents of special-needs kids. But it applies to all of us. We have a vision of what parenting will be like, but it's like nothing we could ever imagine. It's just different.