Will you remind me?
I think I had known for a while that the Batsman’s delay with language was part of a much bigger picture issue.
He said some single words from when he was quite young…mama, dada, nonna and the like…but from when he was 18 months old his language never really took off in that exponential way that it does for most kids….new word after new word until before you know it their vocabulary is hundreds of words. Being the besotted mum of my first born, I anticipated his every need and want, and so perhaps in a way the very slow development of speech didn’t stick out too much in those early toddlerhood days. And he was our gorgeous, happy boy who engaged with us, pointed at planes, played with us, smiled and laughed and made lots of eye contact.
By the time he was two, I was worried but didn’t want to panic…all boys are slower to speak aren’t they? So many people said to me ‘he will speak when he is ready’, ‘boys are always slower’, ‘I know a boy who didn’t speak much till he was 3 and he is fine now, can’t shut him up’…so I suppressed my outward worry (most of the time) and indulged my inner neurotic by consciously and sub-consciously comparing the Batsman’s progress with the children of others around me. That process could be very painful at times and looking back now, I know I often felt stressed and anxious when the Batsman was in group situations with other kids his age…the comparisons, the “is he saying many words yet?” questions, all made me feel more worried and in a way defensive of our precious Batsman and his abilities. On our regular walks to the fruit shop and the café for a baby cino, in our every day puddling around at home…just the two of us…it was much easier for my worries to fade into the background. When there was no point of comparison, he was simply our beautiful boy with the big blue eyes, loving his days and sleeping for 12 hours every single night.
But it wasn’t just the delayed speech that played on my mind…the Batsman was sensitive to loud noise (we had many a tearful episode during Happy Birthday singing) and he would regularly block his ears if a noise like the vacuum cleaner or the blender disturbed him.
He went through a stage of being utterly fascinated with lights and sometimes he lined things up, like cars or his set of bells, not obsessively but lined up all the same. His one true love however, a love that endures to this day, is his love of things that spin. Balls, wheels, windmills, baby toys, tops…almost any household item can be spun on the floor if you work hard enough at it…the tea strainer, a cup…anything.
Reading this post back now, it reads to me like a checklist for autism spectrum disorder. Of course it does, now that I know what I know, that we have a diagnosis and that reading about autism occupies almost every “children asleep” minute. Of course it does. The Batsman’s diagnosis is a mild ASD so his symptoms are there, if you know what you are looking for, but they lack that “in your face” severity.
Was I in denial back then about the Batsman’s development? Maybe, maybe not. Could we have checked things out earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Would it have made a difference to have a diagnosis earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Can I afford the precious time now to go back and wonder about these questions? Most definitely not. The journey ahead, the steepest learning curve, the impetus to find therapies and approaches that will help our precious boy are all way more critical and urgent than spending a lot of time wallowing in the great “what if”. My head knows but occasionally my heart will want to wander back there and visit the guilt and regret dark cloud that I think all parents visit every now and then.
I can’t afford to stay there for long though so if I do wander, will you remind me to come back to the here and now?
He said some single words from when he was quite young…mama, dada, nonna and the like…but from when he was 18 months old his language never really took off in that exponential way that it does for most kids….new word after new word until before you know it their vocabulary is hundreds of words. Being the besotted mum of my first born, I anticipated his every need and want, and so perhaps in a way the very slow development of speech didn’t stick out too much in those early toddlerhood days. And he was our gorgeous, happy boy who engaged with us, pointed at planes, played with us, smiled and laughed and made lots of eye contact.
By the time he was two, I was worried but didn’t want to panic…all boys are slower to speak aren’t they? So many people said to me ‘he will speak when he is ready’, ‘boys are always slower’, ‘I know a boy who didn’t speak much till he was 3 and he is fine now, can’t shut him up’…so I suppressed my outward worry (most of the time) and indulged my inner neurotic by consciously and sub-consciously comparing the Batsman’s progress with the children of others around me. That process could be very painful at times and looking back now, I know I often felt stressed and anxious when the Batsman was in group situations with other kids his age…the comparisons, the “is he saying many words yet?” questions, all made me feel more worried and in a way defensive of our precious Batsman and his abilities. On our regular walks to the fruit shop and the café for a baby cino, in our every day puddling around at home…just the two of us…it was much easier for my worries to fade into the background. When there was no point of comparison, he was simply our beautiful boy with the big blue eyes, loving his days and sleeping for 12 hours every single night.
But it wasn’t just the delayed speech that played on my mind…the Batsman was sensitive to loud noise (we had many a tearful episode during Happy Birthday singing) and he would regularly block his ears if a noise like the vacuum cleaner or the blender disturbed him.
He went through a stage of being utterly fascinated with lights and sometimes he lined things up, like cars or his set of bells, not obsessively but lined up all the same. His one true love however, a love that endures to this day, is his love of things that spin. Balls, wheels, windmills, baby toys, tops…almost any household item can be spun on the floor if you work hard enough at it…the tea strainer, a cup…anything.
Reading this post back now, it reads to me like a checklist for autism spectrum disorder. Of course it does, now that I know what I know, that we have a diagnosis and that reading about autism occupies almost every “children asleep” minute. Of course it does. The Batsman’s diagnosis is a mild ASD so his symptoms are there, if you know what you are looking for, but they lack that “in your face” severity.
Was I in denial back then about the Batsman’s development? Maybe, maybe not. Could we have checked things out earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Would it have made a difference to have a diagnosis earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Can I afford the precious time now to go back and wonder about these questions? Most definitely not. The journey ahead, the steepest learning curve, the impetus to find therapies and approaches that will help our precious boy are all way more critical and urgent than spending a lot of time wallowing in the great “what if”. My head knows but occasionally my heart will want to wander back there and visit the guilt and regret dark cloud that I think all parents visit every now and then.
I can’t afford to stay there for long though so if I do wander, will you remind me to come back to the here and now?
I will!
ReplyDeleteThe journey on the path of being different leads to new shores which can be incredibly beautiful. Thank you for sharing these images and the magic of the batsman.
love
Ines