So Worried

Tate and I had a really good day today, a really good day.  This is of note as the past 3 weeks have been so very difficult for us.  So much so, that I don't really even want to revisit them, even just in a blog post as I worry that will bring bad juju on me.  But I'll give a brief synopsis.

The week before we went to Dallas, actually the weekend before Tate started having amazing meltdowns.  By amazing, I mean he would cry and cry and scream like this...( so sorry it's rotated)

But for 45-90 minutes.  Straight.  With no stopping.  Most of the time I could barely ascertain what the triggering factor was.  Surprisingly, not usually because I said no to something he wanted.  Because if I knew what the problem was, believe me, I would have fixed it.  I would have given him ANYTHING to appease him.  If when he woke up he rolled the wrong way he would seemingly cry.  If his Cheerios spilled out of his bowl he would lose his mind.  Even when I would tell him it's ok, he would continue.

But when we were in Dallas, well he was spectacular.  He didn't fall asleep until about 930 on Friday night due to all the excitement and playing hard with the other little girls (3 year and 5 year old...who are TIGHT) as well as the pre-teen girls.  I tried desperately to not worry about his sleeping or lack thereof because I wanted to try to give up some of my need to control when he sleeps and not be 'that' mom.  Well this backfired;  I should remember... I know my child.  I know his needs.  I know he needs his sleep, his early sleep.  What others think or do with their children is of no concern to me.

He slept until about 6:15 on Saturday, so really didn't make up his sleep deficit.  As you've seen in the post from that trip at one point there were 35 women in that house along with the 2 little girls and 4 pre-teen girls.  And Tate as well as a 6 year old and an 8 year old boy, but they were lost in their DSs the entire time.  V, Tate's godmother's daughter was awesome in watching out for Tate and taking care of him and he adores her.  And he loves, loves, loves Olivia (the 3 year old we went to Day Out with Thomas with in April), but her true BFF was there who she spends more than half her life with and they are tight as I've mentioned.  But Tate soldiered on, running after the girls, keeping up, oblivious to them leaving him out numerous times (my sweet sweet little boy).

At 2:30 I was trying to get some lunch into him.  Ahhh yes, I've not mentioned a nap, you are correct.  I let him skip his nap as he does that at school all. the. time.  I was having fun with my girlfriends, and I really thought he could handle it.  (yes I suppose those 2 mimosas clouded my judgement)  Well I was wrong.  I had brought our tortillas and cheese and milk and everything else from home, but apparently I zigged with the cheese quesadilla when I should have zagged because he took one look at his lunch and went postal.

Screaming, crying, whining, fussing.  Out of control.  I tried cajoling.  I offered chips (which he had been noshing on all day).  I offered some of Olivia's leftover Halloween candy (of which the kids raided without us knowing and was quickly confiscated).  I offered to remake the quesadillas.  I offered my phone to watch trains, Polar Express, anything.  Nothing worked.

He got more worked up and more worked up.  I put him in the downstairs playroom and tried cuddling.  No dice.  I got angry and told him to stop behaving like a baby.  I got in his face and hissed 'what do you want?'  Just tears and noise. Finally I left him in the room, checking on him 10 minutes later....still laying on the floor flailing about.  I asked his godmother to go in to him to see if she could help.  She graciously did.  I peeked in through the bathroom door and saw her reading to him while he screamed.  She did a puzzle 'with him' while he whined and whimpered.  I went back in and we tried getting him to let me hold him.  Finally after an hour I half-dragged him upstairs and said we're taking a nap.  More wailing.

Finally at 3:45 he fell asleep in my arms as I held him down practically to get him to fall asleep.

Ugh I thought...a very very late nap which would undoubtedly make bedtime a disaster.

He slept like a log until I went into the room at 4:52 to wake him up.  He seemed happy to see me initially and then went into full tantrum mode.  Again.  I was so angry, scared, upset.  I was so very tired.

I went and got him a plate of chips and M&Ms and brought them to him along with a milk.  More tears.  I had had it.  I told him I couldn't take one more minute and I was going downstairs.

Cue Barbie, my diamond sister who I haven't seen since 1989.  She had asked earlier if she could go to him and I kind of blew her off thinking he didn't know her, and I doubted it would work.  This time almost in tears myself I told her to have at it.  She hugged me and went upstairs to my boy.  15 minutes later I saw her out of the corner of my eye walk outside with Tate in her arms still whimpering, no shoes or socks on as they made their way out into 40 degree weather.  They returned 20 minutes later and Tate was hiccuping, but no longer crying.

I gathered him out of her loving arms and took him back upstairs.  I offered him his chips and M&Ms and asked if he wanted to eat them downstairs;  he declined wanting to be alone up in the room to eat he said.  I happily acquiesced and made my way back downstairs.  Barbie said they just chatted and walked, counting all the chimneys Santa must have just come down a few weeks prior.  She said he did say 'there are alot of people here.'

These kids are meeting her for the very first time with that much
love.  It's amazing how kids just 'know' when someone is
so kind, loving and embodies such a beautiful heart.

When Barbie and I saw each other for the first time 14 years.

My poor baby was completely and totally overwhelmed.

I went back upstairs and he was finishing up his 'lunch.'  He then asked where Olivia and S were and ran downstairs to find them.

Like nothing had happened.

Sigh.

I gave the 3 kids a bath around 7.  Then let Tate play to his heart's content until about 7:45.  With the blessing of Angela and Susan, both MDs, I gave Tate a dose of Benadryl to help him sleep and to go to bed earlier because we all knew he needed to get to sleep to make up for his lack of sleep and emotional well being.  He still fought going to bed, but was asleep by 830.

I was absolutely exhausted.  Emotionally and physically.  

But I still enjoyed my sistergirl time immensely.

We returned to Houston with no problems on Sunday.

However, Tate's tantrums and meltdowns continued.  I was late to work Monday - Thursday that week because he became uncontrollable every single day within minutes of waking.  And I quickly realized that me stressing and trying to rush him out the door or trying to make him stop crying did not help.  I just had to let him cry, offer comfort when he would accept it and just was late to work.  I certainly lost my cool a few times and one evening even swatted his bottom three times trying to get him to 'snap out of it'.  That actually worked to an extent;  I know it didn't hurt, but the physical contact seemed to get his attention.  Yet he went back to screeching 5 minutes later.

Last Tuesday, the 15th he screamed so loud and so long that evening that he lost his voice.  He was hoarse the next day and actually still is.

But I finally started letting him just cry as long as he needed by walking out of the room.  I would tell him I was still in the house, but I couldn't figure out what he wanted, and I was no longer going to offer him anything and everything under the sun (which I was doing...from watching trains on my phone, to a rainbow popsicle, to a new Thomas train).  He has a full vocabulary and can tell me what is wrong.  I was no longer going to try to guess as to what upset him.

He went on for over an hour that Tuesday night.  It was horrific, but I held firm.

In addition he started sleeping poorly, waking and crying/screaming around 10p two nights in a row.  And horribly screaming around 3am another.  I put him in bed with me all those times, and one night the only thing that helped was putting on Josh Groban's song "Believe" from 'The Polar Express.'  He calmed almost immediately in the presence of that beautiful music.  And believe me I've brought it out a few more times during the meltdowns with varying success.  But that night at 3am it really worked and he let me hold him.

Wednesday morning was still bad, so much so I called his pediatrician to get her advice and see if she wanted to see him.  Sadly, they were out of the office Wednesday, but she called me back Thursday evening around 7pm.  As an aside, I love his pediatrician.  I so appreciate her taking the time to call me, at no charge and listen to my worries and fears about my son.

She thinks it's just being 3 years old.  She urged me to continue walking away reassuring him that when he calms down I'll be there.  She does want to see him if the night wakings continue to be sure nothing medical is going on.  He has been constantly complaining that his eyes hurt upon waking, and asks for medicine.  However, when I give him coconut milk in a medicine dropper, he says they no longer hurt. He is still hoarse and he's congested, so if he's not better by mid-week I will go ahead and take him in...can't hurt.

Thankfully Thursday morning was tantrum free as was all day Friday.  Saturday went great until we arrived at my parents'.  He had asked to go over, so I told him he could nap on the way over which he was thrilled about.  As soon as he opened his eyes in the car and we were there he started crying and screaming.  I took him on into the house whereupon he continued his madness for 34 minutes.  My poor parents were in shock.  I insisted they leave him alone and 34 minutes later he let me hug him and cuddle him and he went on to have a great time while we were there.

Today was fine as well.

So we shall see what the week brings.  I pray it's just being 3, or actually almost 3 1/2 as his half year birthday is on the 23rd of this month.  Several people have made mention of the half year disturbances in growth and development, so maybe that's what it is.

And I know where my real fear comes in about his neurological well being.  Because truly I was starting to worry something was seriously neurologically wrong with my sweet boy.

Why was/am I so worried?  It's the sheer number of patients I see every single day with a myriad of diagnosed mental illnesses by the age of 8, from severe anxiety to personality disorder to ADHD and ADD to bipolar to being fully medicated.  Kids under the age of 10 seeing psychiatrists, kids hitting their parents at the age of 7 and parents doing nothing.  Uncontrollable rage and mental disease run rampant.

And it makes me so sad.  And it makes me hypervigilant about my sweet child.

Who just tonight told me to be sure to put more covers on myself because "I don't want you to be cold Mommy."  Who hopped down from the dinner table earlier because "I want to give you a hug."  Who asked me 3 or 4 times this morning if I was going to watch him this morning as he sang in church.

My precious boy.

I hate to see him in so much pain.  I know I haven't met his pain with as much love and nurturing as I should have over the past 3 weeks.  I need to work on that; need to work on taking better care of myself, so I can take much better care of him.  

But he knows I love him.  He knows that no matter how much he screams and cries I'm not leaving him alone in this house.

There's no disturbance he can have that's gonna get me out of his life.

We're a team.  Me and my boy.

Wow...that wasn't so brief, was it?! :)