I write about one thing: motherhood. Specifically, I write about being a mom to my beautiful daughter who was recently diagnosed with Autism. Recently is a really keyword in that sentence as it implies how much I don’t yet know and how much I have yet to learn. This is one of those stories.
Matthew was away on business this week. He came home tonight, thankfully, because I’m very much in a state of not-being-able-to-function. Not that him traveling through three different time zones in three days is going to really help tonight, but an extra set of hands that answers this week’s question: Where Dad go? will be much appreciated! My mom, the true hero of the week, has been staying with us and saving me from myself and what would have otherwise become the saddest laundry-themed story of all time. That’s right, you guessed it my lovely readers: The dreaded toddler vomit.
That was two nights ago. I’ll spare the unnecessary details, but let’s just say she got sick. In her star sheets. And she was VERY upset about it. OH NO! STARS! Oh nooooo. What happened to stars!? Since Daddy wasn’t home, the little one got to “sleep” in bed with Mommy. Sleep, as most parents could probably assume, is a relative term. What I really mean is the little one got to lie in bed next to Mommy and throw up once an hour every hour from 8pm to 2am. She would rub my arm alerting me to get the bowl which was honestly so adorable. I guess she really took it to heart when Grammie and Mommy told her that now she’s old enough to always cough into the bowl when her belly hurts. Then she would cry, bury her teary cheeks in my shoulder and tell me, it hurts, my belly. I know baby girl. It hurts my heart to see you sick, sad and confused. And then, even after she was done getting sick, she got to toss and turn next to Mommy, which, let’s be honest, kept Mommy up wondering if it was going to happen again. Thank goodness for the fact that Grammie was staying with us, as the only sleep I got was from 7am-9am before having to go into work, albeit a couple hours late.
Last night, it was something new. Something different. And something, in my opinion, really scary. Enter 2am crying, which isn’t super normal for her, but it happens from time to time. In an effort not to allow her to get so worked up that she got sick again, I headed downstairs to comfort her. She wanted the light on. She wanted juice. She wanted Daddy, but Mommy was okay too. I rubbed her back, I kissed her, I settled her. I laughed at her bedhead. I looked at her angelic face through my tired eyes and thought about how lucky I was to be this beautiful creature’s mama. I stumbled my way back upstairs into my own bed and, being 36.5-weeks pregnant, proceeded to lie in bed and think about Assistant Principal contracts because even though I was so exhausted, the sleep just wouldn’t come. Enter 4am crying, which is very abnormal for her. Waking up twice in a night just doesn’t really happen in our house. This time, I thought it would be safe to give her some time to self-soothe as that has always been the case since the 6-month sleep training extravaganza. I turned the sound off on the monitor but watched her on the screen intermittently. Then, I heard it. Not through the monitor, but through the walls of our house. BANG. What was that? BANG! That was a weird sound. And then I looked. I watched my sweet, innocent and frankly distraught little girl intentionally bang her head into the headboard of her bed. BANG. Screaming. BANG. More screaming. No more self-soothing for this mama, I ran down and scooped her into my arms. I didn’t know what to do, but I told her no no no, we don’t hurt our heads on purpose. She looked at me, hyperventilating, It hurts, here, rubbing her hand on her forehead in between sobs. She wanted more juice. She wanted a tissue. She wanted Daddy but Mommy was okay too. This time, I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t help but feel this deep, inexplicable sadness for what I had just watched her do. She allowed me to comfort her, to kiss her sweet head and give both Doggie and Monkey kisses too. I played her bedtime music and together we looked at the stars projected on her wall from her nightlight. She closed her eyes and clutched her cup of juice. Her eyelids fluttered as if she was already dreaming and I just sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her back with one hand and my own growing belly with my other for what seemed like forever.
I don’t understand it. I have never seen her do something like this before. I don’t know if it will ever happen again, or if this is a one-time my daddy is gone and I’m overtired sort of thing. But I can’t help but think, she has Autism, and this is something that kids with Autism do. Is this our new normal, or if it isn’t, will it be someday? Did I do the right things? Did I say the right things? What should I have done or said differently? Why is this happening to my sweet little one? What, inside her exquisite little brain, would make her do that? If I can’t understand this, what else won’t I be able to understand about her? I admittedly don’t have any of these answers, nor can I use this platform to crack a joke or put much of a positive spin on it other than I know she woke up fine and had a lovely day at home with Grammie until Daddy got home, undoubtedly the best part of her day. This is one of those motherhood moments that probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to others, to all of you who will read these words, but to me, is devastating. All I can do is try not to focus on it, pray for her safety, wellbeing, and happiness, try to educate myself, and remember that this too shall pass. I will eventually, to the best of my ability, come to understand everything about my daughter. Daddy is back home tonight and hopefully a sense of routine and normalcy will be restored, along with much needed sleep for all of us. And to anyone who’s reading this, if you have experience with this, please don’t hesitate to reach out to this sad and confused but ever-hopeful mama.
