Interesting Updates

Let's see. I survived my week of solo parenting. I had a meltdown (yes, me, not my three-year-old son or son with autism) Saturday night when Hutton woke up while I was attempting to give him his b12 shot. I'd stayed up too late, and then I really just wanted to go to bed, but had to wait for him to fall asleep. Definite Calgon moment.

Sunday morning, though, I had a breakthrough. I slept late (that's one definite plus to my boys - they actually let me sleep in on weekends, though Hutton will usually come in the room 5 or 6 times to ask what time we're going to have breakfast. Yeah, bad mommy!) and when I got downstairs, Old Fergus had peed on his dog bed. Instead of my normal reaction, cursing and yelling, I started humming an upbeat song as I cleaned up the dog bed, stuffed it in the washing machine (thank you front loader! Best appliance purchase ever!) and wiped pee of the floor. As I hummed, I thought, "I am not going to change the fact that Fergus is old and incontinent by yelling at him. He can't control it, and I slept late, so if I'm going to be mad at anyone, it's myself."

Just thinking that seemed to flip a switch in my head. I realized the obvious, but just saying it to myself made it seem so monumental. I can't control the actions of others, or change things like aging dogs with poor bladder control, or cure autism instantaneously, and my prayers to a god I don't really believe in have not been realized in miracle cures. So, that's life. But, I can control my own attitude. (Well, some of the time.) If I choose to get mad about the life I've been given, that won't change things. It won't make the autism disappear, or make Fergus young again. It will probably just shorten my life, as I swear I feel like my 34-year-old heart it going to give out when I get really angry. (Yes, I'm going to see a doctor and have him check my heart, because I'm paranoid. Well, it's on the list. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow, but it's with Hutton's DAN doctor, so that doesn't really count, I guess!) I've thought before that I should figure out how to control my anger, and learn to walk away, but I usually have to yell a bit first. And feel my heart race.

But Sunday, as I hummed a song that I just made up, I didn't feel my heart race. I didn't feel steam trying to escape from my ears. I just calmly cleaned up the dog pee and got on with life. Calm. No yelling. Not even any angry sighing. What a concept! Who would have thought that I, an adult, could control my own emotions? And, of course, it reminds me of my handy little travel mug my friend Jen gave me: the Don't Worry, Be Happy! cup. I have the perfect thing to hum the next time I end up staying up too late or have to clean up dog pee.


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Monday, the boys had "Tiny Tigers" class, their martial arts class. The first two classes, Hutton was not so good in the paying attention area, and anytime during stretches, his toes would end up in his mouth. The past two classes, however, he's done so well! He pays attention most of the time! He attempts the moves the instructor shows him! Last time he even answered when the instructor called roll! Wow!

Monday night, Hubby returned. Hallelujah! I let him give the boys their bath and put them to bed, after he prepared dinner. Aren't I nice to share like that?
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Tuesday was soccer day for all of us. First up: Lil' Kickers for Harrison. The Soccer Mom (the non-obnoxious one) I mentioned here told me she'd taken her son in for an evaluation at Kindering Center, the local early intervention center. She said they didn't have the results yet. I nodded, and felt nervous. I really don't want to hear her son has autism. It's possible his behavior is from being a normal, exuberant 3-year-old who hasn't learned enough English yet to follow directions. I hope that's the case. We'll see.

Hutton's soccer class was...eh. He was a bit better at listening this time (and he didn't put any cones on his head!) but was still quite spacey, and during the scrimmage at the end of the class, he didn't notice when the other team scored against him, twice, while he was standing in goal. Hmm. Maybe martial arts is more suited to him than team sports are.

My soccer game was short-playered, as usual. We had nine, but one player pulled a muscle soon after the game started, so we were down to our regular 8 on 11. The second half we forfeited in order to get the other team to loan us a player. That's fine -- we lose 3 - 0, but actually get to enjoy the second half. Our team motto is: We play for fun and exercise! It's a good motto to have when you win about one game a season. Of course, the games would be a lot more fun if we actually had a full team, but hey, with only eight players, you get a lot more exercise, as you can't sub out. Then again, I don't sprint as much, since I don't want to waste any precious energy. Eh.

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Wednesday's interesting update: While making dinner, Harrison and I were chatting with Hubby. (Hutton was playing upstairs.) I mentioned that Hutton had a doctor appointment today, and Hubby asked which doctor it was with. I told him our DAN! doc, and he asked if we should go to a neurologist. I just shrugged and said, "I don't think a neurologist has anything new to offer." Hubby then said something that made it all finally click. All the questions as to why he seems to have lost interest in helping with the big autism issues. He said....drum roll....
"I don't think Hutton has autism."

Well really, it went like this. He said first, "Doesn't he need another evaluation? He hasn't had a neurologist evaluate him in over three years."

I said, "Why does he need another evaluation? He still has autism." And that's why Hubby dropped the, "I don't think Hutton has autism," bomb.


Silence.... as I took in what he said. And thought, that explains so much. Then I asked the next big question. "What do you think he has then?"

"I think his problem is asphyxiation at birth. Being born blue."

"So, brain damage is Hutton's problem."

"Yes."

I nodded and thought about this. I think being born blue, with the cord around his neck, didn't do Hutton any favors. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have autism. I think the blue baby thing loaded the gun, and the Hep B shot he got less than 24 hours later, pulled the trigger and started the chain of reactions to follow that would further push him into the world of autism. The colic, the ear infections, the eczema, the food allergies we discovered that made sense of the colic, ear infections and eczema, and then, the big A. Was it the "well baby" checkup we went to, when Hutton had eczema on his face and an ear infection, yet he was still "well" enough to get all of his shots? I don't know. There was not a definite regression. It was just that Hutton did not gain any more words to the few he spoke, and preferred to sign "more" to learning more words.

Interesting. Hutton doesn't have autism, according to Hubby. And none of his teachers, or speech therapists, or ABA therapists have noticed this. Wouldn't people who deal with children with autism as their career notice something? No, sorry Hubby, but Hutton was diagnosed with autism at 2 1/2, and he still has it. Is there a difference in Hubby's mind between autism and say, mental retardation or developmental delays because of brain damage at birth? Does the label mean anything, really? Aren't we still going to try to do everything possible to help Hutton, whether he has brain damage or has autism?

I don't know. I did mention to Hubby if he thinks that Hutton's problems stem from his birth, we should look into HBOT (hyperbaric oxygen therapy). He didn't shake his head, at least. I'll have to see if my friend who has a hyperbaric chamber will let us try it out. You never know.

Off to get ready for the big doctor appointment! Anyone want to place bets on whether Hutton has yeast? 2 to 1 odds. Just kidding.