As you probably know, since we found out about Will's hearing deficit I have blamed myself. It's hard not to. The way I saw it, I built him in my body and therefore it was my body that had failed him by building that particular bit to a substandard level. I use the past tense in that there sentence because I no longer feel like that to that extent. It's taken a lot of time and blogging but I have, for the most part, accepted that we can't change it and blaming my self was helping no-one.
We recently learnt that Will definitely has Pendred's Syndrome; a genetic defect affecting his vestibular aqueduct and cochlea.
For this to happen, Shaun and I both have to carry a gene defect that when paired with the same, create the syndrome. It has to have been in both of our families for generations, hiding silently. Lurking.
I sometimes thought that if this turned out to be the case I would resent him. I thought I would resent the universe for bringing us together. I thought I would be angry. And I thought I would doubt our relationship and our future.
None of these things happened.
I felt guilt. Horrible, drowning, suffocating guilt. I felt sorry. So very, very sorry. Sorry for saying hello on the stairs. Sorry for sending flirtatious emails (we met at work). Sorry for letting him fall in love with me. Sorry for having the gene that, when it met him, meant he had disabled children. Sorry for not being one of the millions of other girls he could have met. Sorry for having the gene. Sorry for ruining his life, for making it that much harder, for causing him all this pain.
Guilt, a mother's ruin.
But not sorry I met him. Not angry I met him. Not sorry I fell in love with him. Not angry that he made my children disabled. I felt bad for him but not bad for myself.
It made me love him that much more. There is no-one I would rather travel this journey with.
Showing posts with label William. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William. Show all posts
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
Friday, 30 March 2012
Catching Up
I'm back! I haven't posted since Valentines day and a LOT has gone down since then friends. A lot. Good and bad but all pretty huge. I am not sure I am ready to go into depth about all of it but let me at least try and summarise so that when I do elaborate you know what I am on about.
Well the biggest thing, as I'm sure you know if you follow me on Twitter or FB or indeed in real life is that we had the baby! A girl! Harriet was born on March 7th at 23:23 and came out a whopping 10lbs! It's no wonder I could hardly walk by the end!
Here she is in all her pink glory.
Cute no? Well I think so!
The birth was amazing. I don't think I ever got round to telling you guys Will's birth story but it was a long, rough ride. This time, however, I was all kinds of in control and had my dream drug free natural birth. Not even gas and air. Can I get a whoooooooooooop whoooooooooop???!
So, as you can imagine, I was left on a pretty large high afterwards. I was (and still am) very, very proud of myself.
And then came the crash. Harriet has failed her newborn hearing screening. This doesn't necessarily mean that she is deaf, it could be fluid etc but I heard all those excuses with Will and believed them for months making the crushing truth even harder to hear. So this time I am trying to accept what looks like the inevitable from the start. To add to this we got some results of genetic testing confirming that Will's hearing loss is indeed a result of a genetic syndrome. Enter a whole HEAP of messed up emotions and guilt on top of my fluctuating i just gave birth hormones. Yeah, the crash was big, the birth long forgotten.
For now, things seem to have levelled out and I have stopped randomly bursting into tears (this is not true, but now the tears are about how unbelievable tired I am or knocking over a cup of tea, not about how I have ruined my children's lives). This week was the first week I looked after both kids on my own and truth be told it was much easier that when Daddy was at home or when my Mum was staying. I don't know why but it has been. Of course now Will has a bug and is poorly making it especially hard to divide my attention but why would our lives be simple or God forbid easy? It's just not so.
Well the biggest thing, as I'm sure you know if you follow me on Twitter or FB or indeed in real life is that we had the baby! A girl! Harriet was born on March 7th at 23:23 and came out a whopping 10lbs! It's no wonder I could hardly walk by the end!
Here she is in all her pink glory.
The birth was amazing. I don't think I ever got round to telling you guys Will's birth story but it was a long, rough ride. This time, however, I was all kinds of in control and had my dream drug free natural birth. Not even gas and air. Can I get a whoooooooooooop whoooooooooop???!
So, as you can imagine, I was left on a pretty large high afterwards. I was (and still am) very, very proud of myself.
And then came the crash. Harriet has failed her newborn hearing screening. This doesn't necessarily mean that she is deaf, it could be fluid etc but I heard all those excuses with Will and believed them for months making the crushing truth even harder to hear. So this time I am trying to accept what looks like the inevitable from the start. To add to this we got some results of genetic testing confirming that Will's hearing loss is indeed a result of a genetic syndrome. Enter a whole HEAP of messed up emotions and guilt on top of my fluctuating i just gave birth hormones. Yeah, the crash was big, the birth long forgotten.
For now, things seem to have levelled out and I have stopped randomly bursting into tears (this is not true, but now the tears are about how unbelievable tired I am or knocking over a cup of tea, not about how I have ruined my children's lives). This week was the first week I looked after both kids on my own and truth be told it was much easier that when Daddy was at home or when my Mum was staying. I don't know why but it has been. Of course now Will has a bug and is poorly making it especially hard to divide my attention but why would our lives be simple or God forbid easy? It's just not so.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
A conversation
Last night, on the way home from his child minders, Will and I had a conversation. An actual, two way, conversation.
It went like this...
Me: (talking because I was carrying him and couldn't sign) Did you have a good day?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: Did you go to the park, see the ducks?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: What shall we do when we get home? Shall we have kisses and cuddles?
Will: Shakes his head, no
Me: Well what shall we do then?
Will: Signs 'TV'
Me: You want to watch TV?
Will: Nodding, yes, signs again TV. Then signs Daddy with a quizical look on his face
Me: Daddy?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: No, Daddy is still at work, but Mummy will watch TV with you
Will: Nodding, yes, OK.
Freaking AWESOME. Our first ever conversation.
It went like this...
Me: (talking because I was carrying him and couldn't sign) Did you have a good day?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: Did you go to the park, see the ducks?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: What shall we do when we get home? Shall we have kisses and cuddles?
Will: Shakes his head, no
Me: Well what shall we do then?
Will: Signs 'TV'
Me: You want to watch TV?
Will: Nodding, yes, signs again TV. Then signs Daddy with a quizical look on his face
Me: Daddy?
Will: Nodding, yes
Me: No, Daddy is still at work, but Mummy will watch TV with you
Will: Nodding, yes, OK.
Freaking AWESOME. Our first ever conversation.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Am I the only person to have a second child?
Okay, rant time.
Am I the only mother to ever have had a second child? I am honestly starting to feel that way!
It is a little over 7 weeks until baby 2 is due to make an arrival and we are starting to panic. We don't have cot, a double buggy, enough storage for clothes, a change bag...essentially nothing that really matters and we wouldn't be able to cope without. But none the less it feels like it's coming round a little bit too quick.
But we are excited. Really, really excited.
Other people, it seems, are less excited and also starting to panic. Or perhaps scaremonger is a better word for it.
I am SO fed up of people telling me how badly behaved William is going to be once the baby arrives. He has just reached that age where he is, more and more often, testing his boundaries. And so I am spending more and more time having to reinforce those boundaries and at times if I'm honest, I am finding it hard. But do you know what is not helpful? What is not helpful is if I am telling you that I am finding it hard if you say things like 'It's just going to get harder when the baby comes' or 'He will only get worse when the baby comes', especially if you laugh while you are saying it. Not. Helpful.
Another thing that is not helpful is if you tell me why you are going to buy Will a million gifts when the baby comes to help him cope with the emotional trauma that is a younger sibling. I am certain that material gifts are not going to go far to repairing any emotional uncertainty he may feel and would even go so far as to say that they may even make the situation worse. Guilt gifting anyone? No?
So please stop it. Stop telling me how awful it is going to be. Stop going on about how tired I am going to be. Stop telling me how bad William's behaviour is going to get. Stop telling me about your friends son who turned into the devil as soon as his younger sibling arrived and has never gone back to the angel he once was. Stop making me feel guilty for giving William the GIFT that is a younger sibling.
Because I have a sister and I know my life is better for her. And Shaun has a sister and I know his life is better for her. And I know plenty of people that have had plenty of children and none of their eldest seem to have any long lasting damage. And I KNOW that William is going to make the best big brother ever because he already dresses, feeds and reads books to his teddy bears.
OK, I'm done.
Am I the only mother to ever have had a second child? I am honestly starting to feel that way!
It is a little over 7 weeks until baby 2 is due to make an arrival and we are starting to panic. We don't have cot, a double buggy, enough storage for clothes, a change bag...essentially nothing that really matters and we wouldn't be able to cope without. But none the less it feels like it's coming round a little bit too quick.
But we are excited. Really, really excited.
Other people, it seems, are less excited and also starting to panic. Or perhaps scaremonger is a better word for it.
I am SO fed up of people telling me how badly behaved William is going to be once the baby arrives. He has just reached that age where he is, more and more often, testing his boundaries. And so I am spending more and more time having to reinforce those boundaries and at times if I'm honest, I am finding it hard. But do you know what is not helpful? What is not helpful is if I am telling you that I am finding it hard if you say things like 'It's just going to get harder when the baby comes' or 'He will only get worse when the baby comes', especially if you laugh while you are saying it. Not. Helpful.
Another thing that is not helpful is if you tell me why you are going to buy Will a million gifts when the baby comes to help him cope with the emotional trauma that is a younger sibling. I am certain that material gifts are not going to go far to repairing any emotional uncertainty he may feel and would even go so far as to say that they may even make the situation worse. Guilt gifting anyone? No?
So please stop it. Stop telling me how awful it is going to be. Stop going on about how tired I am going to be. Stop telling me how bad William's behaviour is going to get. Stop telling me about your friends son who turned into the devil as soon as his younger sibling arrived and has never gone back to the angel he once was. Stop making me feel guilty for giving William the GIFT that is a younger sibling.
Because I have a sister and I know my life is better for her. And Shaun has a sister and I know his life is better for her. And I know plenty of people that have had plenty of children and none of their eldest seem to have any long lasting damage. And I KNOW that William is going to make the best big brother ever because he already dresses, feeds and reads books to his teddy bears.
OK, I'm done.
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Get on your dancing shoes...or socks at least
So, as I'm sure you'll already know from my previous two posts about the doctors and his blood tests, my son is pretty freaking awesome.
What you won't already know is that he got his Mummy's moves. And for a deaf kid, it's quite an achievement to appreciate music at all, let alone with grooves like this.
And if you are wondering, yes I do dance and clean at the same time. And yes, I do it in my undies.
There are some things only a mother can teach you.
What you won't already know is that he got his Mummy's moves. And for a deaf kid, it's quite an achievement to appreciate music at all, let alone with grooves like this.
And if you are wondering, yes I do dance and clean at the same time. And yes, I do it in my undies.
There are some things only a mother can teach you.
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Blood tests and a super hero
Did you read my recent post about going to the doctors?
Well today surpassed all of that pride I have felt over recent trips. Today Will had a blood test as part of his genetic testing to try and find out what it is (if anything) that has caused his hearing loss and if it will affect future children of ours.
This is his shirt, and I can tell you that the badge does not do my wee boy justice.
We went in and Will was placed on my lap with a cushion on his. The nurses rolled up both his sleeves and chose his left inner elbow to take the blood from. We discussed anaesthetic but because of his eczema the cream would have taken an hour to take effect and I didn't want to hang around that long, so we went without. Eeeeeeeeeeeeekkkk.
There was a 'play expert' with bubbles and a finger puppet kitten to distract him - he was having none of it.
Will watched the needle go in to his little arm, watched the skin around it turn red and fiery and watched the vial fill up with his own blood.
He made not a peep. He had no dummy, no snacks, no distraction, and there wasn't a tear in sight.
Well today surpassed all of that pride I have felt over recent trips. Today Will had a blood test as part of his genetic testing to try and find out what it is (if anything) that has caused his hearing loss and if it will affect future children of ours.
This is his shirt, and I can tell you that the badge does not do my wee boy justice.
We went in and Will was placed on my lap with a cushion on his. The nurses rolled up both his sleeves and chose his left inner elbow to take the blood from. We discussed anaesthetic but because of his eczema the cream would have taken an hour to take effect and I didn't want to hang around that long, so we went without. Eeeeeeeeeeeeekkkk.
There was a 'play expert' with bubbles and a finger puppet kitten to distract him - he was having none of it.
Will watched the needle go in to his little arm, watched the skin around it turn red and fiery and watched the vial fill up with his own blood.
He made not a peep. He had no dummy, no snacks, no distraction, and there wasn't a tear in sight.
The staff were astounded.
And then, AND THEN, when they had removed the needle and put the plaster over the hole, he offered them his other arm to do the same to that.
I am pretty sure that gives him super hero status, in his Mummy's eyes at least.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
D U C K
So, last week. A week ago today in fact, William said his first word. His first actual, proper, undeniable, every letter within, word.
He said duck. He said the d and the u and the ck.
And he was pointing to a picture of a duck at the time.
So he definitely said duck and he definitely meant duck. And did I mention that he said duck?
Speech. It brings up a BIG array of emotions, most of which I choose to bury deep.
So here's something you should know about me. I do not like to fail. I am a high achiever. I have high expectations of myself and I take it really hard if I let myself down. You can probably analyse my childhood or my parents or both and figure out where is comes from but it really doesn't matter. Because that's just how it is. I am a perfectionist and expect nothing less from myself than just that, perfection.
Because of this I have a coping mechanism. Again you can analyse and what not but this is just how it is. If I think I am going to fail at something I will not do it. I will not even try. Because I do not like to fail, and if I don't attempt something it dramatically reduces the chances of me failing at it. This may well be why I hate sport. why I don't play an instrument and why I never really forged a career before having kids. If I don't try these things, I cannot get them wrong. It is definitely why I was a wreck about breastfeeding when I was pregnant and determined not to do it. As it was that turned out alright for me and I was one of the lucky ones, as was my son as he benefited from 9 months of the stuff.
And so back to speech. Now this is not so much about trying or failing because it's not about me. But it's about expectations. I have NO expectations of William when it comes to speech. I know that in my heart and in my head I have accepted that he may never talk. Because it's easier for me that way. That way if he does never talk, it's OK. And if he does talk, well then, that's bonus for all of us. But I don't have emotions tied up in it. Ahem.
But then he said his first word. He spoke.
And now I do not know what to do with myself.
Because you see, this opens windows. It releases possibilities. It gives hope. I do not like hope any more than I like failure because one can only lead to the other. Right?
Wrong. Because this is my baby. And I have higher hopes for him than I have ever had for myself. Not expectations, I expect nothing for him or from him. But hopes. And dreams. And with him, hope cannot lead to failure. Because he cannot fail in my eyes. And he cannot let me down.
This parenting lark has turned my world upside down.
I'm trying lovelinks again this week, pop on over and check out who else is...
He said duck. He said the d and the u and the ck.
And he was pointing to a picture of a duck at the time.
So he definitely said duck and he definitely meant duck. And did I mention that he said duck?
Speech. It brings up a BIG array of emotions, most of which I choose to bury deep.
So here's something you should know about me. I do not like to fail. I am a high achiever. I have high expectations of myself and I take it really hard if I let myself down. You can probably analyse my childhood or my parents or both and figure out where is comes from but it really doesn't matter. Because that's just how it is. I am a perfectionist and expect nothing less from myself than just that, perfection.
Because of this I have a coping mechanism. Again you can analyse and what not but this is just how it is. If I think I am going to fail at something I will not do it. I will not even try. Because I do not like to fail, and if I don't attempt something it dramatically reduces the chances of me failing at it. This may well be why I hate sport. why I don't play an instrument and why I never really forged a career before having kids. If I don't try these things, I cannot get them wrong. It is definitely why I was a wreck about breastfeeding when I was pregnant and determined not to do it. As it was that turned out alright for me and I was one of the lucky ones, as was my son as he benefited from 9 months of the stuff.
And so back to speech. Now this is not so much about trying or failing because it's not about me. But it's about expectations. I have NO expectations of William when it comes to speech. I know that in my heart and in my head I have accepted that he may never talk. Because it's easier for me that way. That way if he does never talk, it's OK. And if he does talk, well then, that's bonus for all of us. But I don't have emotions tied up in it. Ahem.
But then he said his first word. He spoke.
And now I do not know what to do with myself.
Because you see, this opens windows. It releases possibilities. It gives hope. I do not like hope any more than I like failure because one can only lead to the other. Right?
Wrong. Because this is my baby. And I have higher hopes for him than I have ever had for myself. Not expectations, I expect nothing for him or from him. But hopes. And dreams. And with him, hope cannot lead to failure. Because he cannot fail in my eyes. And he cannot let me down.
This parenting lark has turned my world upside down.
I'm trying lovelinks again this week, pop on over and check out who else is...
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Milestones
Milestones are funny aren't they.
You turn 16, 18, 21, then wait for 30, 40, 50...
And somewhere in there you have kids and they are an hour, a day, a week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks, 4 weeks...5 months, 6 months, 7 months...a year.
Yesterday my baby was 18 months.
EV-ER-Y-ONE says it. "It goes so fast; they grow up so fast; you'll miss this stage when it's gone" etc etc.
And it's true. I do not know where the past year and a half have gone. I remember him turning 6 months like it was yesterday. Some days I'm certain it was. He seems so grown up, so capable. So smart. I watch him walking, running, laughing, signing. I remember him sleeping, breastfeeding, snuggling, crying. The change was instant. I do not remember him learning any of the things he does now, it just changed in a snap of my fingers.
But at the same time I have minimal recollection of our life without him. I don't remember not being a Mum. The past year and a half feel like the whole of my life. I have changed so much, been through so much. I have been pushed to limits I didn't know I had. Experienced emotions I didn't know existed. Felt the highest of highs and hit the lowest of lows. I feel like I have lived 10 years in this short 18 months.
I read yesterday that 18 months is often the point parents accept that their baby is no longer a baby but a little person. I have to admit I got a lump in my throat reading it, knowing how present that feeling is.
And I know that just as quickly we will be celebrating his 18th birthday and I will feel like today was yesterday but that I have lived for 100 years in those 18.
Kids mess with the time continuum. There is no denying it.
You turn 16, 18, 21, then wait for 30, 40, 50...
And somewhere in there you have kids and they are an hour, a day, a week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks, 4 weeks...5 months, 6 months, 7 months...a year.
Yesterday my baby was 18 months.
EV-ER-Y-ONE says it. "It goes so fast; they grow up so fast; you'll miss this stage when it's gone" etc etc.
And it's true. I do not know where the past year and a half have gone. I remember him turning 6 months like it was yesterday. Some days I'm certain it was. He seems so grown up, so capable. So smart. I watch him walking, running, laughing, signing. I remember him sleeping, breastfeeding, snuggling, crying. The change was instant. I do not remember him learning any of the things he does now, it just changed in a snap of my fingers.
But at the same time I have minimal recollection of our life without him. I don't remember not being a Mum. The past year and a half feel like the whole of my life. I have changed so much, been through so much. I have been pushed to limits I didn't know I had. Experienced emotions I didn't know existed. Felt the highest of highs and hit the lowest of lows. I feel like I have lived 10 years in this short 18 months.
I read yesterday that 18 months is often the point parents accept that their baby is no longer a baby but a little person. I have to admit I got a lump in my throat reading it, knowing how present that feeling is.
And I know that just as quickly we will be celebrating his 18th birthday and I will feel like today was yesterday but that I have lived for 100 years in those 18.
Kids mess with the time continuum. There is no denying it.
Monday, 7 November 2011
The greenest of monsters
Jealousy.
Once upon a time a good friend of mine (she doesn't look like that) said to me 'Envy is wanting what someone else has, jealousy is not wanting them to have it'
I have been thinking a lot about both recently, fueled by this post here, which I feel has blurred the line between the two. But it's about something I know nothing about. Here's what I do know about.
I suffer from what is, based on the above, a big old case of envy. Ever since I found out that William was deaf I have looked at all the people around me having children and wondered why they 'got off'. Why it had to be my baby that got the duff gene out of nowhere. Why my baby has a harder life than theirs. Why they get to moan about sleepless nights and weaning and laundry while I sit on the floor rocking, wishing that these were the only things I had to worry about. Why do my friends get to fret about their perfectly normal children going to school, making friends and coping with the change when I, already, worry about my child going to school and being able to talk.
But not once, not ever, not for one portion of a second, have I ever, ever wished that these people had deaf children. Or that their children had any kind of disability at all. Or that they didn't have their wonderful, non disabled children.
I am envious that they don't have to deal with what I have to deal with. But I am not jealous of their 'normality'. I would not for one second wish this heartache on anyone.
But that doesn't stop me from wishing it was different sometimes. For me. Not for anyone else.
I'm linking up with lovelinks for the first time...come join me!
I'm linking up with lovelinks for the first time...come join me!
Friday, 4 November 2011
Signs
I have decided, partly to make myself feel better and partly from a purely administrative point of view, to keep a list of William's signs. I also want to publish them with photographic evidence but, as I'm sure you know, toddlers are not always camera compliant, so we will see how that works out.
Ok, so for now, at 04/11/2011 (at almost exactly 18 months) we have...
1. bye bye (waving)
2. dummy (pointing at mouth with one finger)
3. food (pointing at mouth with all fingers)
4. bottle (fist with thumb and little finger out, drinking from thumb)
5. please (tapping mouth with open hand)
6. thank you (tapping mouth with open hand)
7. yes (nodding)
8. no (shaking head)
9. dog (hands bent forward like paws in front of chest)
10. cow (fist with thumb and finger out, thumbs into side of head)
11. sheep (fists with just little fingers out, little fingers spiralling from sides of head)
12. pig (fist twisting nose)
13. horse (fists on top of one another, in front of body, up and down)
14. bird (thumb and index finger tapping together)
15. duck (thumb and rest of fingers tapping together)
16. fish (moving flat hand infront of body like fish)
17. cake (tapping clawed hand onto flat hand)
18. ball (making ball shape with both hands)
19. up (pointing up)
20. come (beconing to come with his hand)
21. lion (making a claw coming toward you)
22. giraffe (hand coming out of neck and moving upward)
23. elephant (fist coming down from nose, mimicing a trunk)
24. train (flat hands either side of body moving circularly)
25. car (mimic turning a steering wheel)
26. bus (mimic turning a larger steering wheel)
27. digger (pretend to dig with one hand)
28. banana (pretend to peel an imaginary banana)
29. orange (pretend to squeeze something round, next to your mouth)
30. grape (hold one hand as if dangling a bunch of grapes, use the other to twist from it bigger and down)
31. hot (go to touch something and pull hand away sharply, as if it is hot)
32. cook (pretend to hold a frying pan and shake back and forth)
33. gone (have claw hands open and together and then pull away to clasped hands, repeatedly)
34. ready (with two open hands, push your thumbs into your chest)
35. again (flick the index and middle fingers of one hand down with the rest curled into a fist)
36. plane (make a fist with your thumb and little finger protruding and move it around up high, like a plane)
37. balloon (make a ball shape with your hands as if coming from your mouth while blowing)
38. drink (make a cup with your hand and pretend to drink from it
I feel better already, my kid is smart! Time to get some snaps!
Ok, so for now, at 04/11/2011 (at almost exactly 18 months) we have...
1. bye bye (waving)
2. dummy (pointing at mouth with one finger)
3. food (pointing at mouth with all fingers)
4. bottle (fist with thumb and little finger out, drinking from thumb)
5. please (tapping mouth with open hand)
6. thank you (tapping mouth with open hand)
7. yes (nodding)
8. no (shaking head)
9. dog (hands bent forward like paws in front of chest)
10. cow (fist with thumb and finger out, thumbs into side of head)
11. sheep (fists with just little fingers out, little fingers spiralling from sides of head)
12. pig (fist twisting nose)
13. horse (fists on top of one another, in front of body, up and down)
14. bird (thumb and index finger tapping together)
15. duck (thumb and rest of fingers tapping together)
16. fish (moving flat hand infront of body like fish)
17. cake (tapping clawed hand onto flat hand)
18. ball (making ball shape with both hands)
19. up (pointing up)
20. come (beconing to come with his hand)
21. lion (making a claw coming toward you)
22. giraffe (hand coming out of neck and moving upward)
23. elephant (fist coming down from nose, mimicing a trunk)
24. train (flat hands either side of body moving circularly)
25. car (mimic turning a steering wheel)
26. bus (mimic turning a larger steering wheel)
27. digger (pretend to dig with one hand)
28. banana (pretend to peel an imaginary banana)
29. orange (pretend to squeeze something round, next to your mouth)
30. grape (hold one hand as if dangling a bunch of grapes, use the other to twist from it bigger and down)
31. hot (go to touch something and pull hand away sharply, as if it is hot)
32. cook (pretend to hold a frying pan and shake back and forth)
33. gone (have claw hands open and together and then pull away to clasped hands, repeatedly)
34. ready (with two open hands, push your thumbs into your chest)
35. again (flick the index and middle fingers of one hand down with the rest curled into a fist)
36. plane (make a fist with your thumb and little finger protruding and move it around up high, like a plane)
37. balloon (make a ball shape with your hands as if coming from your mouth while blowing)
38. drink (make a cup with your hand and pretend to drink from it
I feel better already, my kid is smart! Time to get some snaps!
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Mmmmmm
I have been trying to write a post for a while now about Will's speech. Or lack of, rather. He still doesn't have any words and it's taking it's toll on me. Since he started wearing his hearing aids consistently he has come so far and the difference when he has them in is breathtaking.
But we have stalled. Predictably, I guess. Nothing can continue along that steep trajectory of progress. He has more sounds than before. And more listening skills. More understanding. More signing. All so very positive but my heart longs for a word. Just one word.
We work so hard, every day. Repeating, playing, reading. Nothing.
Today we went to deaf playgroup. It was much better than the previous time. There was a new boy there that William took quite a shine to. They played beautifully together around the toy kitchen and then with some jigsaws. One of the jigsaws was animals, an area where Will's signing excels. He was showing each animal to the other boy and telling him what it was, through sign. Horse, giraffe, elephant. Monkey, dog, alligator.
The professionals that run the group were so excited that of course my heart swelled with joy and with pride. My baby, not only communicating but teaching.
We decided from the beginning to sign with Will and always knew he would sign before he spoke. In sign he has as many, if not more, words as the children we know with normal hearing.
And whenever he signs a new word, I get excited, I praise him, I hug him and I am genuinely happy for him and for us for making such a smart kid. Because he is super smart.
But I still long for speech. Just for one word so that I can be reassured that one day there will be more. Because as much as I boldly say 'Will may never talk' and 'we are learning and teaching sign because he is deaf, it's part of who he is', there is still a part of me that is desperate for him to be normal. The part of me that is worrying about nursery, school, friends, bullies, exams, careers, relationships, grandchildren. That part of me was given hope when he started wearing his aids. Hope when he started to make sounds that I thought would become words. Hope that he would grow up to be just like everyone else but with hearing aids in his ears.
But the truth is he won't ever be like everyone else. Because he is different. Because he is disabled. And as much as I know I need to embrace this fact. Some days, most days of late, I just want to embrace him and cry about it.
But we have stalled. Predictably, I guess. Nothing can continue along that steep trajectory of progress. He has more sounds than before. And more listening skills. More understanding. More signing. All so very positive but my heart longs for a word. Just one word.
We work so hard, every day. Repeating, playing, reading. Nothing.
Today we went to deaf playgroup. It was much better than the previous time. There was a new boy there that William took quite a shine to. They played beautifully together around the toy kitchen and then with some jigsaws. One of the jigsaws was animals, an area where Will's signing excels. He was showing each animal to the other boy and telling him what it was, through sign. Horse, giraffe, elephant. Monkey, dog, alligator.
The professionals that run the group were so excited that of course my heart swelled with joy and with pride. My baby, not only communicating but teaching.
We decided from the beginning to sign with Will and always knew he would sign before he spoke. In sign he has as many, if not more, words as the children we know with normal hearing.
And whenever he signs a new word, I get excited, I praise him, I hug him and I am genuinely happy for him and for us for making such a smart kid. Because he is super smart.
But I still long for speech. Just for one word so that I can be reassured that one day there will be more. Because as much as I boldly say 'Will may never talk' and 'we are learning and teaching sign because he is deaf, it's part of who he is', there is still a part of me that is desperate for him to be normal. The part of me that is worrying about nursery, school, friends, bullies, exams, careers, relationships, grandchildren. That part of me was given hope when he started wearing his aids. Hope when he started to make sounds that I thought would become words. Hope that he would grow up to be just like everyone else but with hearing aids in his ears.
But the truth is he won't ever be like everyone else. Because he is different. Because he is disabled. And as much as I know I need to embrace this fact. Some days, most days of late, I just want to embrace him and cry about it.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
My favourite things
I have talked a little bit before about how I have always wanted to be a Mum and how, because of this I have always made sure to surround myself with children.
But I always knew that having my own children would be different, harder in some ways maybe but better is so many. And I was right.
For me it's the little things; when I am doing something and I realise that I am the Mum.
Putting on Wills shoes. There is something about having your child on your lap and labouring to get his socks and shoes on before he darts away to something more interesting that really melts my heart.
Hanging out his cute clothes. Not so much doing four loads of laundry a day, you understand, I'm not crazy. But hanging out the tiny socks and trousers and vests. Even now that they aren't teeny tiny baby clothes, I still find them massively cute.
Having crap in all of my bags (nappies, dummies, bits of food, odd socks). I love finding something random but child related (as long as it's not sticky), especially if I am not with Will. It's a lovely reminder that I am a Mum. His Mum.
My house being a tip. Sure, it drives me crazy and exhausts me but there is something that I love about tripping over toys, finding toys in my bed, under my duvet, the fact that every room in the house has a little reminder that a little person lives here. That we are a family.
Recently this happened
And as much as I was annoyed (at myself for leaving Will and pens unattended) and as much as attempting, and failing, to clean it off was frustrating, part of me felt a warm glow inside. Because it's funny. Because it was going to happen one day. Because it felt like a parental rite of passage. And because it was a reminder that I am a Mum. Not a very attentive one, clearly, but a Mum none the less.
And I love being a Mum.
But I always knew that having my own children would be different, harder in some ways maybe but better is so many. And I was right.
For me it's the little things; when I am doing something and I realise that I am the Mum.
Putting on Wills shoes. There is something about having your child on your lap and labouring to get his socks and shoes on before he darts away to something more interesting that really melts my heart.
Hanging out his cute clothes. Not so much doing four loads of laundry a day, you understand, I'm not crazy. But hanging out the tiny socks and trousers and vests. Even now that they aren't teeny tiny baby clothes, I still find them massively cute.
Having crap in all of my bags (nappies, dummies, bits of food, odd socks). I love finding something random but child related (as long as it's not sticky), especially if I am not with Will. It's a lovely reminder that I am a Mum. His Mum.
My house being a tip. Sure, it drives me crazy and exhausts me but there is something that I love about tripping over toys, finding toys in my bed, under my duvet, the fact that every room in the house has a little reminder that a little person lives here. That we are a family.
Recently this happened
And as much as I was annoyed (at myself for leaving Will and pens unattended) and as much as attempting, and failing, to clean it off was frustrating, part of me felt a warm glow inside. Because it's funny. Because it was going to happen one day. Because it felt like a parental rite of passage. And because it was a reminder that I am a Mum. Not a very attentive one, clearly, but a Mum none the less.
And I love being a Mum.
Saturday, 22 October 2011
Diagnosis Day
It was over a year ago now and I have not talked about the day William was diagnosed as deaf since the day itself. To anyone. It was, easily, the worst day of my life. And, as you may have read here, I have had some pretty tough days.
It was his fifth hearing test. We had had four inconclusive tests because the baby has to be asleep for the entirety of the testing which can take up to an hour. If you have had children you probably know that young babies do not sleep on demand and are easily woken, especially if you put 5 of these around their skull when they are already asleep.
And, despite people around us having their babies pass their hearing tests whilst awake but breastfeeding or being cradled into stillness, we were constantly reassured by the health professionals that our baby probably wasn't deaf, he just needed to be asleep for the testing to work.
So, on test 5, he managed to stay asleep. When he awoke, the audiologist was very quiet.
Shaun said to him "Did you get it?"
He said "It doesn't look good".
I said nothing
My head said "What the FUCK does that even mean????? Is he deaf or not deaf???? I don't want to know how it LOOKS, I want to know how it IS"
In time the audiologist told us that William had moderate hearing loss in his right ear and severe to profound hearing loss in his left. They are not able to test to the highest level of sounds in babies, lest they damage the hearing (the irony is not lost on me) so we won't really know about his left ear until he is older. For now he will wear hearing aids on both ears. If he turns out to be profoundly deaf in his left there will be no point in a hearing aid on that ear.
My world had literally stopped turning. My heart had broken into more than a million pieces. I have never felt grief or sorrow or pain or guilt like it. I kept him close to me and sobbed 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' over and over again. My poor baby.
I was told I needed to take him to hospital to have blood tests taken. I did not need an appointment, I just had to rock up and they would do it. No time to waste, I thought, I'll go now. This was one of my poorer life decisions.
It took me an hour to get to the hospital.
Blood tests at the hospital are on a ticket system. You take a ticket, you wait, they call your number off you go. I waited for an hour and a half. William did a poo. A poo that went all the way up his back, requiring a change of clothes. I couldn't fit my buggy in the toilet to get to the change table. By the time I had got in and changed him completely, we had missed our turn.
I went up to the curtains and pleaded, begged, that I didn't have to take a new ticket, that they would fit me in. The looked at me and said 'you or the baby?' I nodded 'the baby', the response 'we don't take blood from babies'.
I sobbed. Standing in the middle of a crowded hospital I sobbed and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. My baby was deaf and I didn't know why. All I knew was that it was my fault and that by not getting these blood tests I was failing him, again.
I found a reception desk and begged them to help me, to tell me where to go, to give me an appointment, to make the day easier. They sent me to paediatrics.
Paediatrics are obviously used to hysterical mothers because they knew how to look after me, to calm me down, to make it better. There was another long wait and eventually they took blood samples from the back of Wills hand and we left, still crying.
I got home at 5.30 that evening. Our hearing test appointment had been at 9am.
That was the longest day of my life.
The next few days, weeks maybe months even, I remember crying a lot. Sitting on the floor and crying. I remember thinking I would never get up.
It breaks my heart to think of how impossible that day was but it mends it to think of how far we've come. It's been a battle of course but we have a beautiful, smart, engaging little boy who runs and signs and talks and communicates and laughs and who loves life and who makes me so glad I did get off that floor and carry on because he is so very, very worth it.
It was his fifth hearing test. We had had four inconclusive tests because the baby has to be asleep for the entirety of the testing which can take up to an hour. If you have had children you probably know that young babies do not sleep on demand and are easily woken, especially if you put 5 of these around their skull when they are already asleep.
And, despite people around us having their babies pass their hearing tests whilst awake but breastfeeding or being cradled into stillness, we were constantly reassured by the health professionals that our baby probably wasn't deaf, he just needed to be asleep for the testing to work.
So, on test 5, he managed to stay asleep. When he awoke, the audiologist was very quiet.
Shaun said to him "Did you get it?"
He said "It doesn't look good".
I said nothing
My head said "What the FUCK does that even mean????? Is he deaf or not deaf???? I don't want to know how it LOOKS, I want to know how it IS"
In time the audiologist told us that William had moderate hearing loss in his right ear and severe to profound hearing loss in his left. They are not able to test to the highest level of sounds in babies, lest they damage the hearing (the irony is not lost on me) so we won't really know about his left ear until he is older. For now he will wear hearing aids on both ears. If he turns out to be profoundly deaf in his left there will be no point in a hearing aid on that ear.
My world had literally stopped turning. My heart had broken into more than a million pieces. I have never felt grief or sorrow or pain or guilt like it. I kept him close to me and sobbed 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' over and over again. My poor baby.
I was told I needed to take him to hospital to have blood tests taken. I did not need an appointment, I just had to rock up and they would do it. No time to waste, I thought, I'll go now. This was one of my poorer life decisions.
It took me an hour to get to the hospital.
Blood tests at the hospital are on a ticket system. You take a ticket, you wait, they call your number off you go. I waited for an hour and a half. William did a poo. A poo that went all the way up his back, requiring a change of clothes. I couldn't fit my buggy in the toilet to get to the change table. By the time I had got in and changed him completely, we had missed our turn.
I went up to the curtains and pleaded, begged, that I didn't have to take a new ticket, that they would fit me in. The looked at me and said 'you or the baby?' I nodded 'the baby', the response 'we don't take blood from babies'.
I sobbed. Standing in the middle of a crowded hospital I sobbed and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. My baby was deaf and I didn't know why. All I knew was that it was my fault and that by not getting these blood tests I was failing him, again.
I found a reception desk and begged them to help me, to tell me where to go, to give me an appointment, to make the day easier. They sent me to paediatrics.
Paediatrics are obviously used to hysterical mothers because they knew how to look after me, to calm me down, to make it better. There was another long wait and eventually they took blood samples from the back of Wills hand and we left, still crying.
I got home at 5.30 that evening. Our hearing test appointment had been at 9am.
That was the longest day of my life.
The next few days, weeks maybe months even, I remember crying a lot. Sitting on the floor and crying. I remember thinking I would never get up.
It breaks my heart to think of how impossible that day was but it mends it to think of how far we've come. It's been a battle of course but we have a beautiful, smart, engaging little boy who runs and signs and talks and communicates and laughs and who loves life and who makes me so glad I did get off that floor and carry on because he is so very, very worth it.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Sex!
Did the title get you here? Ha ha, sadly (or not so) it's the gender type I want to talk to you about, not the naked time.
We have our 20 week anomaly scan today for baby2. I cannot believe it's done half it's time already!
The half way scan is where, if you so choose to, you can find out the sex (gender, not direction) of your baby. With William we found out. I think we wanted to but I also remember being under a lot of pressure from our family to do so. Either way it made little difference in the end and was definitely good for planning.
This time we have decided not to. We have a boy so it feels like everyone in the WORLD wants us to have a girl. I really don't want a girl. There you go, I said it. I want another boy. Brothers. We aren't stopping after this one so there's plenty of opportunity for a girl. But the thing with this pregnancy is that it is so very different from William's.
Here's how...
With Will, all I wanted to eat was steak, crisps and diet coke.
With baby2, all day I crave fruit, vegetables and fish. Chocolate has featured heavily in both pregnancies but I think that's just because it's a bloody good excuse to indulge!
With Will, I didn't have a bump until I was way past 20 weeks, probably closer to 25.
I am already huge. I know that I have less muscles or weaker muscles or whatever but I am a completely different shape. Much more all over weight and rounder bump.
With Will I cried a lot, got stressed a lot, worried a lot.
This time, not so much but my goodness, my temper! It comes out of nowhere and hits hard.
With Will I was tired, sure.
But with no2 I am whacked. All the time. I am 19 weeks now and there is no sign of any glow arriving anytime soon. I still nap every day when Will does. I know I have a toddler to look after but it's not that hard is it? That even with a daily 2 hour nap I can hardly make conversation with Shaun when he gets home at 7pm?
So, my point is, I think it's a girl. Because it is so very different from when I was pregnant with a boy.
And I am interested in what you think
Do you have different sexes? Were your pregnancies notably different?
Or two or more of the same? Were those pregnancies similar?
What old wives tales do you believe in?
What do you think I'm having?
We have our 20 week anomaly scan today for baby2. I cannot believe it's done half it's time already!
The half way scan is where, if you so choose to, you can find out the sex (gender, not direction) of your baby. With William we found out. I think we wanted to but I also remember being under a lot of pressure from our family to do so. Either way it made little difference in the end and was definitely good for planning.
This time we have decided not to. We have a boy so it feels like everyone in the WORLD wants us to have a girl. I really don't want a girl. There you go, I said it. I want another boy. Brothers. We aren't stopping after this one so there's plenty of opportunity for a girl. But the thing with this pregnancy is that it is so very different from William's.
Here's how...
With Will, all I wanted to eat was steak, crisps and diet coke.
With baby2, all day I crave fruit, vegetables and fish. Chocolate has featured heavily in both pregnancies but I think that's just because it's a bloody good excuse to indulge!
With Will, I didn't have a bump until I was way past 20 weeks, probably closer to 25.
I am already huge. I know that I have less muscles or weaker muscles or whatever but I am a completely different shape. Much more all over weight and rounder bump.
With Will I cried a lot, got stressed a lot, worried a lot.
This time, not so much but my goodness, my temper! It comes out of nowhere and hits hard.
With Will I was tired, sure.
But with no2 I am whacked. All the time. I am 19 weeks now and there is no sign of any glow arriving anytime soon. I still nap every day when Will does. I know I have a toddler to look after but it's not that hard is it? That even with a daily 2 hour nap I can hardly make conversation with Shaun when he gets home at 7pm?
So, my point is, I think it's a girl. Because it is so very different from when I was pregnant with a boy.
And I am interested in what you think
Do you have different sexes? Were your pregnancies notably different?
Or two or more of the same? Were those pregnancies similar?
What old wives tales do you believe in?
What do you think I'm having?
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
A disappointment
When William was 6 months old we went for the first time to what is officially called 'Toddler Group'. In our house it is called 'Deaf playgroup'. Because that's what it is. Playgroup for deaf kids, kids with hearing aids, and cochlear implants. Kids who communicate through sign language.
It was hard. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want a deaf kid. I didn't want to learn sign language, I didn't want my kid to have to. I didn't want to hear what the other Mums had to say. I wasn't interested in how it was going to get better, how successful their kids were, how 'normal' life could, in fact, be.
But we persevered. And it did get better. And William did achieve and develop. And life does, more often than not, have a semblance of normality about it. There was one Mum in particular that helped me a lot. That very first day, she was the only one who talked to me. She asked how I felt, how my partner felt, my parents, his parents. She discussed tests with me, told me her story. She made me feel welcome and comfortable and most importantly, she made me realise that life goes on. That this wasn't the end.
And deaf playgroup became a wonderful thing. It was first thing on a Monday morning, it got us up and out the house. It was a 30 minute walk so it got me exercising and in the fresh air. William adored being there and socialising with the other children. For a long time Monday afternoons were the only day he would nap for 2 hours. It was part of our routine and we loved it.
And then the Government had to make cuts. The NHS had to make cuts. Playgroup is every other week now, somewhere new. On paper it's just a different children's centre in a different area, fortnightly instead of weekly.
To us, it is now two buses or a 20 minute walk and then a bus to get there. It takes 50 minutes.
The room it is in is upstairs. I have to leave my pushchair outside, even in the rain. I have to carry our bags and William up 2 flights of stairs.
The room is much smaller. Today there were 6 children, all William's age and it was crowded.
There are leaflets at a reachable level so the kids can pull them off and get in trouble for it.
There is no kitchen to make a cup of tea, just a shelf for the juice that again the kids can reach and again get in trouble for spilling.
It's on every other Tuesday, so if you miss one week, it's a whole month between playgroups.
These all might sounds silly or small. But they make it harder. And combined they make it hardly worth my while. I am pregnant and tired, if I am going to travel 50 minutes somewhere and the same home, it has to be worth it. And today just made me feel like it no longer is. Which is a real shame because it used to be the highlight of our week. And I really would have liked to have given the support that Mum gave me to another Mum with a newly diagnosed deaf baby.
Have budget cuts affected you and your family? How does it make you feel?
It was hard. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want a deaf kid. I didn't want to learn sign language, I didn't want my kid to have to. I didn't want to hear what the other Mums had to say. I wasn't interested in how it was going to get better, how successful their kids were, how 'normal' life could, in fact, be.
But we persevered. And it did get better. And William did achieve and develop. And life does, more often than not, have a semblance of normality about it. There was one Mum in particular that helped me a lot. That very first day, she was the only one who talked to me. She asked how I felt, how my partner felt, my parents, his parents. She discussed tests with me, told me her story. She made me feel welcome and comfortable and most importantly, she made me realise that life goes on. That this wasn't the end.
And deaf playgroup became a wonderful thing. It was first thing on a Monday morning, it got us up and out the house. It was a 30 minute walk so it got me exercising and in the fresh air. William adored being there and socialising with the other children. For a long time Monday afternoons were the only day he would nap for 2 hours. It was part of our routine and we loved it.
And then the Government had to make cuts. The NHS had to make cuts. Playgroup is every other week now, somewhere new. On paper it's just a different children's centre in a different area, fortnightly instead of weekly.
To us, it is now two buses or a 20 minute walk and then a bus to get there. It takes 50 minutes.
The room it is in is upstairs. I have to leave my pushchair outside, even in the rain. I have to carry our bags and William up 2 flights of stairs.
The room is much smaller. Today there were 6 children, all William's age and it was crowded.
There are leaflets at a reachable level so the kids can pull them off and get in trouble for it.
There is no kitchen to make a cup of tea, just a shelf for the juice that again the kids can reach and again get in trouble for spilling.
It's on every other Tuesday, so if you miss one week, it's a whole month between playgroups.
These all might sounds silly or small. But they make it harder. And combined they make it hardly worth my while. I am pregnant and tired, if I am going to travel 50 minutes somewhere and the same home, it has to be worth it. And today just made me feel like it no longer is. Which is a real shame because it used to be the highlight of our week. And I really would have liked to have given the support that Mum gave me to another Mum with a newly diagnosed deaf baby.
Have budget cuts affected you and your family? How does it make you feel?
Monday, 3 October 2011
I have to tell you this story
This is my favourite piece of perfect communication William has carried out yet.
My parents were here this weekend and when Will woke up I took him into their bedroom to see them. After a bit of pottering he found my Dad's car keys on the side. He showed them to my Dad and my Dad signed 'car' to him (pretended to turn a steering wheel). William did it back and my Dad nodded. "Yes, car".
Then it got really cute. William pulled at my Dad until he was out of bed and sitting up. Then he went and got my Dad's shoes for him and gestured that he had to put them on. OMG just the cutest thing. Then he pulled at my Dad's hand again, to the stairs, down the stairs, to the front door, out into the street and into the car.
Last time my Dad was here he had let William sit in the front seat of his car and pretend to drive. I just find it the most beautiful thing that not only did he remember (it was 3 weeks ago), but he managed to get him to do it again just from finding a set of keys.
Alas I didn't get a picture because it was 7am and as happy as my Dad and Will are to walk the streets in their PJs at that time, me not so much. But I will never forget it. It was William's first full conversation.
My parents were here this weekend and when Will woke up I took him into their bedroom to see them. After a bit of pottering he found my Dad's car keys on the side. He showed them to my Dad and my Dad signed 'car' to him (pretended to turn a steering wheel). William did it back and my Dad nodded. "Yes, car".
Then it got really cute. William pulled at my Dad until he was out of bed and sitting up. Then he went and got my Dad's shoes for him and gestured that he had to put them on. OMG just the cutest thing. Then he pulled at my Dad's hand again, to the stairs, down the stairs, to the front door, out into the street and into the car.
Last time my Dad was here he had let William sit in the front seat of his car and pretend to drive. I just find it the most beautiful thing that not only did he remember (it was 3 weeks ago), but he managed to get him to do it again just from finding a set of keys.
Alas I didn't get a picture because it was 7am and as happy as my Dad and Will are to walk the streets in their PJs at that time, me not so much. But I will never forget it. It was William's first full conversation.
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
TWOsday! My two gingers
When Jamie posted that she was doing a link up, I of course wanted to take part. But twos? I don't have so many twos other than the obvious - arms, legs, eyes etc. I have one beautiful baby boy, one ever expanding bump due in March and one wonderful, wonderful (so much so it deserves to be said twice - there's a two!) fiance.
But there it is, right there. My bump is (literally) an ever growing part of our lives but doesn't quite feature yet. So I am left with two. Two! My two boys. My big boy and my little boy. My two gingers I like to call them, the big ginger and the little ginger. The two people that make both my head and my heart spin upside down and inside out and ultimately keep my world turning.
And of all the men in my life it's their hair that makes them stand out as much as their fiery (see what I did there) personalities. So here they are, my TWO perfect gingers.
But there it is, right there. My bump is (literally) an ever growing part of our lives but doesn't quite feature yet. So I am left with two. Two! My two boys. My big boy and my little boy. My two gingers I like to call them, the big ginger and the little ginger. The two people that make both my head and my heart spin upside down and inside out and ultimately keep my world turning.
And of all the men in my life it's their hair that makes them stand out as much as their fiery (see what I did there) personalities. So here they are, my TWO perfect gingers.
Big steps for a little boy
A while ago I told you a story that, I think, displayed the first signs of Will not only hearing and listening but understanding. Well, that turned out to be just one of a few that have occurred over the past few weeks. Hurrah!
The first is a similar story to the last, one of listening and understanding. Will is really into pretending to cook, both me and his Dad love to cook and do cook a lot so it's no surprise he thinks of it as a fun thing to do. So rather than any of his toys, his present favourite thing to play with is anything out of the kitchen. Pots, pans, utensils, cake tins, tupperware.
Our coffee tables look like this...
Because of our delightful, inquisitive son, we do not keep anything in them and recently Will has taken to pretending they are his very own little oven. So unbelievably cute. I love watching him taking things in and out of it and watching his mind working overtime.
The other day he was carrying a two handled pan with just one hand and because of the angle he was holding it at, it wouldn't fit into the gap. From a distance away, I called his name and said to him 'use two hands, hold it with two hands'. We try and sign alongside speech at all times but I couldn't think of a gesture to accompany this so I just continued to repeat the words. It only took about three times before he did it. He looked at me, looked back, used two hands and sure enough got the pan in the 'oven'. So. Very. Proud.
The other steps forward are wanted to share with you are particularly exciting - SPEECH!!!
Over the past couple of weeks Will has begun to mimic sounds. When he waves bye bye it is now accompanied by a heartwarming 'buh buh'. When playing on the train in the playground and a friend of ours said 'choo choo', William repeated 'wooo wooo'. And then this week when we were playing with rubber ducks and making them quack he said 'ack ack'.
I cannot tell you how excited and proud all of this makes me. Wearing the hearing aids is making such a difference at such a fast rate. I am so very pleased with him and his progress and I have even turned my own little corner. I am, for the first time, much happier when Will has his hearing aids in and want him to wear them. There is such a distinct difference in his behaviour and mood, making it obvious that they are quite blatantly the best thing for him. And what's best for him is best for me and best for us.
The first is a similar story to the last, one of listening and understanding. Will is really into pretending to cook, both me and his Dad love to cook and do cook a lot so it's no surprise he thinks of it as a fun thing to do. So rather than any of his toys, his present favourite thing to play with is anything out of the kitchen. Pots, pans, utensils, cake tins, tupperware.
Our coffee tables look like this...
Because of our delightful, inquisitive son, we do not keep anything in them and recently Will has taken to pretending they are his very own little oven. So unbelievably cute. I love watching him taking things in and out of it and watching his mind working overtime.
The other day he was carrying a two handled pan with just one hand and because of the angle he was holding it at, it wouldn't fit into the gap. From a distance away, I called his name and said to him 'use two hands, hold it with two hands'. We try and sign alongside speech at all times but I couldn't think of a gesture to accompany this so I just continued to repeat the words. It only took about three times before he did it. He looked at me, looked back, used two hands and sure enough got the pan in the 'oven'. So. Very. Proud.
The other steps forward are wanted to share with you are particularly exciting - SPEECH!!!
Over the past couple of weeks Will has begun to mimic sounds. When he waves bye bye it is now accompanied by a heartwarming 'buh buh'. When playing on the train in the playground and a friend of ours said 'choo choo', William repeated 'wooo wooo'. And then this week when we were playing with rubber ducks and making them quack he said 'ack ack'.
I cannot tell you how excited and proud all of this makes me. Wearing the hearing aids is making such a difference at such a fast rate. I am so very pleased with him and his progress and I have even turned my own little corner. I am, for the first time, much happier when Will has his hearing aids in and want him to wear them. There is such a distinct difference in his behaviour and mood, making it obvious that they are quite blatantly the best thing for him. And what's best for him is best for me and best for us.
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Playground Parenting
Will has recently just started to really enjoy playgrounds. He loves to climb up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs, down the stairs. Occasionally the slide or the swing get a look in but at the moment it's mainly about the stairs.
And other kids. It's just me at home all day so Will doesn't get a whole heap of time with other children. Since going to the park on a regular basis we have both learnt about other kids. Will thinks they are all wonderful and is desperate to play, interact, talk and share. Me, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. I think they are all horrid. Well not all, but most, definitely the majority. Basically any that don't belong to my friends!
It's an experience all parents must go through and not one I have enjoyed. Seeing that kid get a little bit too close to yours. Seeing the moment their hand goes up to push them over, their face gets close to scream in their face. It invokes a protective feeling I had no idea could be so strong. I remember the first time I felt it. It was when I took Will for his 8 week immunisations. Watching that nurse stick those needles into my baby and seeing him cry because of it made my skin crawl with rage. Even though my head knew that it was better than him getting any of the nasty diseases they were protecting him from, my heart wanted me to jump over the desk, wrestle the nurse to the ground, pull out her hair and jab the needle in her eye. I had never worried that I didn't love my baby, but that experience made me sure that I did.
The park is like that. If a kid gets in his face, I want to push them over. If they dare to touch him, I want to knock them out. I thought I liked kids, all kids but ones that look like they might hurt mine make me not so friendly!
Of course most of them are polite and play nicely and have plenty of time to talk to and play with my Will. But there are ones that don't want to share, don't want to play and don't want to talk to a kid that grunts and signs rather than talks. Recently another wee boy shouted right in Will's face "I can't understand you!". Oh my, it took all my strength just to say to him, quietly "Please don't shout at him".
But all the while, Will was smiling. You see, he loves other children. If they kick bark at him, he things it's hilarious. If they scream in his face, he thinks they are communicating with him. If they try and pick him up to move him out of their way, he thinks they are just being affectionate. If they run away from him, he thinks they are playing chase. And that's what I've learned these past few weeks. It's all me. The tension, the fear, the anger, it's all me. I am so worried about Will being picked on and bullied about his hearing aids I go to these parks on the super defensive. But they are just parks. And they are just kids, doing what kids do. They aren't treating him any differently than any other baby that might happen to get in their way. And you know what? They don't even notice his hearing aids.
And other kids. It's just me at home all day so Will doesn't get a whole heap of time with other children. Since going to the park on a regular basis we have both learnt about other kids. Will thinks they are all wonderful and is desperate to play, interact, talk and share. Me, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. I think they are all horrid. Well not all, but most, definitely the majority. Basically any that don't belong to my friends!
It's an experience all parents must go through and not one I have enjoyed. Seeing that kid get a little bit too close to yours. Seeing the moment their hand goes up to push them over, their face gets close to scream in their face. It invokes a protective feeling I had no idea could be so strong. I remember the first time I felt it. It was when I took Will for his 8 week immunisations. Watching that nurse stick those needles into my baby and seeing him cry because of it made my skin crawl with rage. Even though my head knew that it was better than him getting any of the nasty diseases they were protecting him from, my heart wanted me to jump over the desk, wrestle the nurse to the ground, pull out her hair and jab the needle in her eye. I had never worried that I didn't love my baby, but that experience made me sure that I did.
The park is like that. If a kid gets in his face, I want to push them over. If they dare to touch him, I want to knock them out. I thought I liked kids, all kids but ones that look like they might hurt mine make me not so friendly!
Of course most of them are polite and play nicely and have plenty of time to talk to and play with my Will. But there are ones that don't want to share, don't want to play and don't want to talk to a kid that grunts and signs rather than talks. Recently another wee boy shouted right in Will's face "I can't understand you!". Oh my, it took all my strength just to say to him, quietly "Please don't shout at him".
But all the while, Will was smiling. You see, he loves other children. If they kick bark at him, he things it's hilarious. If they scream in his face, he thinks they are communicating with him. If they try and pick him up to move him out of their way, he thinks they are just being affectionate. If they run away from him, he thinks they are playing chase. And that's what I've learned these past few weeks. It's all me. The tension, the fear, the anger, it's all me. I am so worried about Will being picked on and bullied about his hearing aids I go to these parks on the super defensive. But they are just parks. And they are just kids, doing what kids do. They aren't treating him any differently than any other baby that might happen to get in their way. And you know what? They don't even notice his hearing aids.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Pushing my luck. Or not, as the story goes.
Earlier this week I talked about compromising my principles since becoming a parent because of lessons learnt, or sometimes just to get through the day.
This week has been a really good week. Will and I have had fun, napped during the day and slept well in the night. There have been very few cross words and even fewer tantrums. I put this down to one thing. I have finally learned the biggest lesson of them all.
Do Not Push Your Luck.
I have always pushed my luck. I would work until I burned out. Party until I burned out harder. Expected more from my body, mind, emotional and mental health than any of them could give. And no matter how many times I found myself on the edge, I would always go back and do it again. And again.
Pregnancy was no different. I was determined that being pregnant wasn't going to change my life. I still went out late, away for weekends, worked, exercised, baked, hosted parties, pushed myself to my limits. And my mental health suffered. Big time.
And then when Will was born, I continued along the same path. I could have listened to my body, my mind, my emotional breakdowns. But I continued to push myself. And continued to suffer for it.
I don't know what changed. Or when it changed. Or how it changed. But I have finally cracked it. Well that is clearly actually a lie but I am on the way to cracking it.
Yesterday we went *into town to get my fringe cut. We arrived at 10 and the hairdressers were all on training until 11. So do you know what I did? I came home. Because 11.30 is nap time. So the hairdressers at 11 would have been pushing my luck. I did not push my luck. And even though I spent £8 on transport for NO reason, even though I got the wrong bus home and had to get off after one stop and walk back, even though we didn't get into bed for our nap until 12.30, I did not lose it. I did not get upset or stressed or short tempered. We had a fun morning travelling followed by a nap, followed by a lovely afternoon at home together. All because we made it home in time for our nap. All because I did not push my luck.
This is a very big deal for me. A very big deal indeed. And I hope you don't mind if I give myself just a little pat on the back.
*this in itself is pushing my luck really. The London transport system is not overly pushchair friendly and its a 45 minute trek. But alas, vanity prevailed.
This week has been a really good week. Will and I have had fun, napped during the day and slept well in the night. There have been very few cross words and even fewer tantrums. I put this down to one thing. I have finally learned the biggest lesson of them all.
Do Not Push Your Luck.
I have always pushed my luck. I would work until I burned out. Party until I burned out harder. Expected more from my body, mind, emotional and mental health than any of them could give. And no matter how many times I found myself on the edge, I would always go back and do it again. And again.
Pregnancy was no different. I was determined that being pregnant wasn't going to change my life. I still went out late, away for weekends, worked, exercised, baked, hosted parties, pushed myself to my limits. And my mental health suffered. Big time.
And then when Will was born, I continued along the same path. I could have listened to my body, my mind, my emotional breakdowns. But I continued to push myself. And continued to suffer for it.
I don't know what changed. Or when it changed. Or how it changed. But I have finally cracked it. Well that is clearly actually a lie but I am on the way to cracking it.
Yesterday we went *into town to get my fringe cut. We arrived at 10 and the hairdressers were all on training until 11. So do you know what I did? I came home. Because 11.30 is nap time. So the hairdressers at 11 would have been pushing my luck. I did not push my luck. And even though I spent £8 on transport for NO reason, even though I got the wrong bus home and had to get off after one stop and walk back, even though we didn't get into bed for our nap until 12.30, I did not lose it. I did not get upset or stressed or short tempered. We had a fun morning travelling followed by a nap, followed by a lovely afternoon at home together. All because we made it home in time for our nap. All because I did not push my luck.
This is a very big deal for me. A very big deal indeed. And I hope you don't mind if I give myself just a little pat on the back.
*this in itself is pushing my luck really. The London transport system is not overly pushchair friendly and its a 45 minute trek. But alas, vanity prevailed.
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