I feel horrible looking back on this time, because since we didn't know what was going on, we teased him about this, thinking it would make him get over it. Hoping it would show him how "silly" he was being. Now that I know what the real problem is i look back at the teasing with a lot of shame ad guilt.
Oh! Isn't that always the way!
But as Oprah often reminds us, when we learned better, we did better. Something like that!
And after all, shouldn't we be glad that we noticed and remarked on early symptoms, and used humor and a comfortable family acceptance of those idiosyncracies when our children communicated their differences before they were diagnosed?
What else would we have done? Thrown up our hands and said "Omigosh! No one else in the family has any little quirks, what is this kiddo doing?!?"
Every child does funny, odd, and often charming things that only add up to a diagnosis if they persist, or increase, or cause enough difficulty for the child, or cause great enough concern in parents or other adults.
Chances are, most people in our families have little quirks that only make them unique. Of course we don't want our children to suffer, but it might be better for them and us if our first response to unusual behavior displays humor rather than drama.
When my son was very young, he had a dentist who was very serious telling mothers the horrible effects of poor dental hygiene. I remembered his face, his tone, and his words every time I helped my son brush his teeth - already an ordeal.
One day I looked up and saw my expression in the mirror, what my son saw as I used the mirror to look at him. I looked angry, or at least worried.
From then on, I decided to smile during toothbrushing time. Of course my son responded immediately. He relaxed, and within a few weeks wanted to take a turn himself with the toothbrush.
For him, toothbrushing was an ordeal because his mom looked like Attila the Hun. I thought it was because of sensory defensiveness. I was extra patient, gentle and understanding because I thought he was suffering. Sometimes the simplest observations make all the difference. It's a good thing I looked into that mirror.
I know that words can't undo the mom guilt and shame we feel when we find out stuff we didn't know and want to go back and be perfect, or at least what we feel is adequate.
But we probably should let that go, because we will make more mistakes in the future, and that guilt shelf expands when greater capacity is needed. We might need to hold a yard sale and just clear up room on the shelf we have.
I may have built on an addition to store all that stuff, myself. When I read another mom's terrible confession, a dozen very similar memories come to the forefront from my guilt room. Suite. Wing.
Pam W
SE of Seattle