Since the day he was born, Chase has been completely in love with Riley. If he's upset, all Riley has to do is look at him, and he'll get a huge smile on his face. If Riley talks to him, it's like his whole world is complete. It's funny, it's like Riley understands him in a way that we can't. He always knows just what to say to him. If Chase is crying, he'll tell us why, and the crazy thing is, he's usually right. It's as if he somehow intuitively knows how to differentiate the cries.
The same is true in reverse. After Chase presented him with a Red Sox baseball helmet at the hospital the very first time they met (on the day he was born), Riley has thought he was the coolest thing ever. He loves to talk to him, make faces at him, sing to him. He likes to talk about how he's going to teach Chase how to do this or that and how Chase is getting so big. He loves to show his friends and his teachers and total strangers "his baby". He likes to give him toys and to "share with him". He likes to feed him, to help change his diaper and to put him to bed. He will run all over the house looking for a paci if he thinks Chase needs one, and will sit calmly next to him while he settles down enough to take it.
There is nothing I love more than watching the two of them interact.
Today as we were sitting in the kitchen, Riley eating pancakes on the island and Chase sitting in his carseat on the floor drinking his bottle, Riley looked down at him and Chase gave him a big grin. Riley hopped down from his stool and started talking to him. Chase started making noises back at him. Riley turned to me and said, in his goofy half laugh, "Monny, Chase is so funny." I asked him why and he said, "He's so funny when he talks." We spent the next few minutes talking about how fun it will be when Chase is old enough to talk so that we can understand his words and when he can run and play.
A little while later, as I was packing up Chase's bottles for school, I overheard the two boys "talking" to each other. My heart almost melted when I heard the following: "Chase, you're my best buddy in the whole wide world." And Chase responded with a big grin and a squeal as if to say, "Yup, and you're mine too."
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Week of Worry
A week ago today, as I walked into the boys' school to pick them up at the end of a long work day, I was immediately greeted by one of Chase's teachers who had clearly been waiting for me to enter the building. She is normally gone for the day by about 4:00 and it was almost 6:00 by the time I arrived, so I knew something was up and that it was probably serious as soon as she said, "I need to talk to you about Chase." She closed the door to the office and I felt like the walls were closing in. For the next ten minutes, she proceeded to tell me that she and Chase's other teacher had "serious concerns about Chase." I left school with the two boys that night trying to hold it together and pretending like nothing was amiss, but I felt like our little world was coming to an end. I shared the concerns with Casey, who as is typical, did not overreact like I did. At this point, I do not believe he was particularly alarmed. I went to bed feeling slightly better. The next morning, when I got to Chase's class to drop him off, both of his teachers then began talking to me about their concerns. Again they used the words "serious concerns about Chase" what felt like a hundred times. The gist of their concerns, to the extent that I can remember them through my tears and foggy mind, were that every day between 4:00 and 5:00 he would cry inconsolably for an extended period of time and that no matter what they tried to do to bring him out of it, they just could not console him. They felt that he was too old for this sort of behavior. They also mentioned that they thought he had emotional problems -- lack of interest in his friends, lack of enjoyment of a lot of things throughout the day, but mostly just the inconsolable crying. They mentioned "developmental delays". They advised me to call our pediatrician. I left his classroom in tears, certain that my fear that there would be something wrong with Chase (mentioned in a prior post) was becoming horribly true.
I came to work that morning and locked myself in my office. Casey knew immediately that something was wrong because I never have my office door closed. As I explained to him what his teachers had told me, I could see the concern growing in his eyes too. He decided that he would show up to school unannounced at 4:00 that afternoon (Chase's "rough" time of the day) and try to witness the behavior. Upon his arrival, Chase was hanging out quietly in his swing and the report from his teachers was that he had had a very good day. But still, Casey was able to hear his teachers' concerns from them directly, instead of my emotional spin on them. They gave him a similar report, although downplayed it slightly, probably because he had had a good day (he had had a very BAD day the day that I was initially approached). They promised to bring in the reports that they are required to do for each child in their care that they had been accumulating since he started at school at 3 months.
Our pediatrician, after listening to me try to explain his teachers' concerns, indicated that most of what I had described didn't trouble him, but that he thought it would still be a good idea for him to be seen. We set up an appointment for Friday -- an agonizing three days away. That night, doing what no parent should ever do, I scoured the internet trying to diagnose what could possibly be "wrong" with our sweet Chase. I read article after article about autism. Casey and I both started thinking about how Chase used to wake up babbling, and didn't do it anymore. The more I thought about things, the more I convinced myself that he hadn't really talked much period in quite some time. Our fears grew.
The next day Casey and I poured over the reports his teachers had promised us, only to find that there were very few things that even could hint at any sort of developmental delay. But still, there were hints of him talking less, and a sign of autism is regression from things that a child once was able to do. As the week drew on, I'll admit it, Casey and I were both pretty glum. We talked about how much we loved the little guy and how any sort of diagnosis would not change that. Still, the whole scenario was pretty exhausting and neither of us were sleeping particularly well. (As an aside here, I do realize that an autism diagnosis is NOT the end of the world and that plenty of kids on the autism spectrum have completely "normal" and happy lives, but I also do understand that there are limitations and as a parent, it is difficult to contemplate your child facing a life with those limitations.)
I continued to talk to his teachers each day, and would spend an extra 15 minutes or so in his classroom each morning when I dropped him off, trying to get as much information as I could to take to our pediatrician. On Thursday morning, it hit me to ask them about Chase's babbling. When I asked them if he babbled much, they looked almost puzzled and said, "Oh yes, if we put him on the floor with his friends, they'll smile and talk to each other for a long time. He talks plenty." This was the first time I allowed myself to relax some in about 2 days. When I got to work and reported this development to Casey, he too seemed to relax. That night, Valentine's Day night, we had the most amazing night with our two little guys. Chase was in a fantastic mood, his teachers reported that he hadn't had a single "episode" since Monday, Riley ate his dinner without a fight (he has been SUPER picky lately), everyone was happy, and it was just one of those nights that make you really happy to be a parent. We slept a little easier.
Friday morning I took Chase to see his pediatrician, who was kind enough to spend almost 45 minutes with us just observing Chase. He listening to me describe the various issues, reviewed the documentation from Chase's teachers, asked me some questions about sleep patterns, and overall just seemed a bit perplexed. He said, "I usually only get these kind of calls from parents when there kids are about 4 years old, and almost never before they are 2. When I get those calls, I am often not surprised, as I have seen some indications of a problem throughout my time spent with those children during their well visits. I have never seen anything that indicated a problem with Chase and I still don't. He has looked into my eyes throughout this examination, he seems to be interested in what I'm doing, he seems to be right on track if not slightly ahead in his physical development. In short, he looks great."
And then came the "however." And what he said next was like a bombshell. He thought Chase's issues all revolved around his sleeping habits. What?!? The sleeping habits of our baby who was sleeping 10-12 hours straight through the night by 10 weeks? The baby who used to smile when we finally put him in his crib because he was so happy to be going to bed? The one who didn't make a peep after he was in bed until around 8:00 the next morning when he started happily babbling to himself? How could that be?
Then it hit me. Yes, all of those things USED to be true, but he hadn't done any of them in at least a month. He would scream bloody murder when you put him in his crib (we thought it was early separation anxiety). He would wake up countless times every night (surely it was teething) but would fall back to sleep immediately if you put his paci in his mouth. He was restless in bed (no doubt because he was learning new skills like how to sit and crawl). He woke up in the mornings crying instead of happy (well I'd be grumpy too if I hadn't slept well).
The diagnosis? We were babying him too much. Yes, really. He needed a good dose of "crying it out". Hmmm, I guess we never had had to do that with Chase because he had been such a good and easy sleeper. Well, until he started making noises in the middle of the night or babbling in the morning, that is. I had been afraid that he would wake Riley up, so would immediately go into his room when he made any sort of sound to coax him back to sleep. Hmmmm. It seems that my fear of him waking up Riley had turned into Chase loosing the ability to soothe himself, both during the night and as a result, during the day too. He couldn't soothe himself, so he'd get frustrated. He was overtired from not sleeping well at night, so his frustration became uncontrollable. An ugly cycle that was a recipe for disaster.
Following our pediatrician's advise, Friday night we were determined to let him cry it out. I even considered having a slumber part with Riley downstairs so Chase wouldn't wake him up, but Casey talked me out of it (I'm glad he did). The boys slept in their rooms, which are right next to each other, and Chase cried and screamed and carried on for over an hour that night. It was excruciating for Casey and me -- all we wanted to do was rush in and make it better for him, but that's what got us into this mess, so we convinced each other that we were actually doing a GOOD thing by ignorning him (are we bad people???). But you know what? Riley didn't wake up once. After all of my concerns about Chase waking him up with any of his little noises and turning poor Chase into a non-self-soothing, horrible sleeper, it turns out my concerns were completely baseless. Riley, it appears, can sleep through just about anything. And Chase, well, I was afraid that he'd feel awful after that horrible night of crying and I thought he would look at us like, "Why did you abandon me last night?" Not so. I can't remember a day that he has been happier in a REALLY long time. He talked more, smiled more, ate better... it was just odd. Saturday night, he only woke up once and may have cried for 20 minutes, if not less. Another awesome day of a happy, babbling baby who seemed to be making huge strides in his sitting and crawling capabilities almost overnight. Last night, he only cried briefly when we initially put him in his crib and then didn't make a peep until 5:30 this morning. Of course, at 5:30 this morning, I was determined to let him cry it out again, but finally gave up at 6:30 only to discover that the kid was STARVING (which he never is in the morning).
Could the key to his "serious problems" really be something as simple as letting him re-learn how to soothe himself? I guess only time will tell, but right now, it seems to be working and we could not be happier about having our "easy baby" back, even though we hadn't really realized he was missing.
Are we upset with his teachers, you might wonder? No, absolutely not. Although I wish that their concerns had been brought up a bit more delicately ("serious concerns" was alarming to say the least), I am glad they cared enough about Chase to want to figure out what was troubling him. And to their credit, they have spent more one on one time with him in the past week than they probably really have time for in a room with 7 other young babies, but they are commited to making his time at school happier for him. Between that extra love and attention, and their decision to open what I'm sure was an extremely uncomfortable dialogue with us, it seems that we have collectively been able to find a way to give him back his happy disposition. And for that, I am forever grateful.
The moral of this story: parenting is tough. When you think you are doing something for the good of your child(ren), it may turn out that you aren't. You will never do everything "right" and will constantly make mistakes. The important thing is not to never make a mistake, but to learn from it when you do. Kids are pretty resilient, and are absolutely forgiving. As long as you love them, spend real quality time with them and try to do your best, they will be fine, even if it does take someone scaring you to death to make you count your blessings.
I came to work that morning and locked myself in my office. Casey knew immediately that something was wrong because I never have my office door closed. As I explained to him what his teachers had told me, I could see the concern growing in his eyes too. He decided that he would show up to school unannounced at 4:00 that afternoon (Chase's "rough" time of the day) and try to witness the behavior. Upon his arrival, Chase was hanging out quietly in his swing and the report from his teachers was that he had had a very good day. But still, Casey was able to hear his teachers' concerns from them directly, instead of my emotional spin on them. They gave him a similar report, although downplayed it slightly, probably because he had had a good day (he had had a very BAD day the day that I was initially approached). They promised to bring in the reports that they are required to do for each child in their care that they had been accumulating since he started at school at 3 months.
Our pediatrician, after listening to me try to explain his teachers' concerns, indicated that most of what I had described didn't trouble him, but that he thought it would still be a good idea for him to be seen. We set up an appointment for Friday -- an agonizing three days away. That night, doing what no parent should ever do, I scoured the internet trying to diagnose what could possibly be "wrong" with our sweet Chase. I read article after article about autism. Casey and I both started thinking about how Chase used to wake up babbling, and didn't do it anymore. The more I thought about things, the more I convinced myself that he hadn't really talked much period in quite some time. Our fears grew.
The next day Casey and I poured over the reports his teachers had promised us, only to find that there were very few things that even could hint at any sort of developmental delay. But still, there were hints of him talking less, and a sign of autism is regression from things that a child once was able to do. As the week drew on, I'll admit it, Casey and I were both pretty glum. We talked about how much we loved the little guy and how any sort of diagnosis would not change that. Still, the whole scenario was pretty exhausting and neither of us were sleeping particularly well. (As an aside here, I do realize that an autism diagnosis is NOT the end of the world and that plenty of kids on the autism spectrum have completely "normal" and happy lives, but I also do understand that there are limitations and as a parent, it is difficult to contemplate your child facing a life with those limitations.)
I continued to talk to his teachers each day, and would spend an extra 15 minutes or so in his classroom each morning when I dropped him off, trying to get as much information as I could to take to our pediatrician. On Thursday morning, it hit me to ask them about Chase's babbling. When I asked them if he babbled much, they looked almost puzzled and said, "Oh yes, if we put him on the floor with his friends, they'll smile and talk to each other for a long time. He talks plenty." This was the first time I allowed myself to relax some in about 2 days. When I got to work and reported this development to Casey, he too seemed to relax. That night, Valentine's Day night, we had the most amazing night with our two little guys. Chase was in a fantastic mood, his teachers reported that he hadn't had a single "episode" since Monday, Riley ate his dinner without a fight (he has been SUPER picky lately), everyone was happy, and it was just one of those nights that make you really happy to be a parent. We slept a little easier.
Friday morning I took Chase to see his pediatrician, who was kind enough to spend almost 45 minutes with us just observing Chase. He listening to me describe the various issues, reviewed the documentation from Chase's teachers, asked me some questions about sleep patterns, and overall just seemed a bit perplexed. He said, "I usually only get these kind of calls from parents when there kids are about 4 years old, and almost never before they are 2. When I get those calls, I am often not surprised, as I have seen some indications of a problem throughout my time spent with those children during their well visits. I have never seen anything that indicated a problem with Chase and I still don't. He has looked into my eyes throughout this examination, he seems to be interested in what I'm doing, he seems to be right on track if not slightly ahead in his physical development. In short, he looks great."
And then came the "however." And what he said next was like a bombshell. He thought Chase's issues all revolved around his sleeping habits. What?!? The sleeping habits of our baby who was sleeping 10-12 hours straight through the night by 10 weeks? The baby who used to smile when we finally put him in his crib because he was so happy to be going to bed? The one who didn't make a peep after he was in bed until around 8:00 the next morning when he started happily babbling to himself? How could that be?
Then it hit me. Yes, all of those things USED to be true, but he hadn't done any of them in at least a month. He would scream bloody murder when you put him in his crib (we thought it was early separation anxiety). He would wake up countless times every night (surely it was teething) but would fall back to sleep immediately if you put his paci in his mouth. He was restless in bed (no doubt because he was learning new skills like how to sit and crawl). He woke up in the mornings crying instead of happy (well I'd be grumpy too if I hadn't slept well).
The diagnosis? We were babying him too much. Yes, really. He needed a good dose of "crying it out". Hmmm, I guess we never had had to do that with Chase because he had been such a good and easy sleeper. Well, until he started making noises in the middle of the night or babbling in the morning, that is. I had been afraid that he would wake Riley up, so would immediately go into his room when he made any sort of sound to coax him back to sleep. Hmmmm. It seems that my fear of him waking up Riley had turned into Chase loosing the ability to soothe himself, both during the night and as a result, during the day too. He couldn't soothe himself, so he'd get frustrated. He was overtired from not sleeping well at night, so his frustration became uncontrollable. An ugly cycle that was a recipe for disaster.
Following our pediatrician's advise, Friday night we were determined to let him cry it out. I even considered having a slumber part with Riley downstairs so Chase wouldn't wake him up, but Casey talked me out of it (I'm glad he did). The boys slept in their rooms, which are right next to each other, and Chase cried and screamed and carried on for over an hour that night. It was excruciating for Casey and me -- all we wanted to do was rush in and make it better for him, but that's what got us into this mess, so we convinced each other that we were actually doing a GOOD thing by ignorning him (are we bad people???). But you know what? Riley didn't wake up once. After all of my concerns about Chase waking him up with any of his little noises and turning poor Chase into a non-self-soothing, horrible sleeper, it turns out my concerns were completely baseless. Riley, it appears, can sleep through just about anything. And Chase, well, I was afraid that he'd feel awful after that horrible night of crying and I thought he would look at us like, "Why did you abandon me last night?" Not so. I can't remember a day that he has been happier in a REALLY long time. He talked more, smiled more, ate better... it was just odd. Saturday night, he only woke up once and may have cried for 20 minutes, if not less. Another awesome day of a happy, babbling baby who seemed to be making huge strides in his sitting and crawling capabilities almost overnight. Last night, he only cried briefly when we initially put him in his crib and then didn't make a peep until 5:30 this morning. Of course, at 5:30 this morning, I was determined to let him cry it out again, but finally gave up at 6:30 only to discover that the kid was STARVING (which he never is in the morning).
Could the key to his "serious problems" really be something as simple as letting him re-learn how to soothe himself? I guess only time will tell, but right now, it seems to be working and we could not be happier about having our "easy baby" back, even though we hadn't really realized he was missing.
Are we upset with his teachers, you might wonder? No, absolutely not. Although I wish that their concerns had been brought up a bit more delicately ("serious concerns" was alarming to say the least), I am glad they cared enough about Chase to want to figure out what was troubling him. And to their credit, they have spent more one on one time with him in the past week than they probably really have time for in a room with 7 other young babies, but they are commited to making his time at school happier for him. Between that extra love and attention, and their decision to open what I'm sure was an extremely uncomfortable dialogue with us, it seems that we have collectively been able to find a way to give him back his happy disposition. And for that, I am forever grateful.
The moral of this story: parenting is tough. When you think you are doing something for the good of your child(ren), it may turn out that you aren't. You will never do everything "right" and will constantly make mistakes. The important thing is not to never make a mistake, but to learn from it when you do. Kids are pretty resilient, and are absolutely forgiving. As long as you love them, spend real quality time with them and try to do your best, they will be fine, even if it does take someone scaring you to death to make you count your blessings.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
"When I Get Big"
Riley likes to talk about getting big. We often talk about how old he is in comparison to Chase. "When Chase is 3, I'll be 6. When Chase is 4, I'll be 7." And so on. Today he told me that I am a big girl. (Hopefully he was talking about my age or height, and not about the extra 10 pounds that still seem to be clinging to my small frame after Chase's arrival.) And I said, "Yes, I am big, but someday you'll be even bigger than me and that will make me sad." To which he replied, "Don't worry Monny, I'll still like you then." I hope that's true, Riley. I hope that's true.
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