Books - The Red Beast and Autistic Planet

We had 2 books arrive in the mail today... The Red Beast: Controlling Anger in Children With Asperger's Syndrome by KI Al-ghani and Autistic Planet by Jennifer Elder.

We've borrowed The Red Beast out from the library on a couple of occasions before and it's been helpful for both Shmoo and Loo (and me... must get around to organising a safe area/sensory zone for meltdown recoveries!).

Autistic Planet is lovely as well. Beautiful illustrations. It doesn't so much explain what autism is but it's great for starting up discussions with the kids about the little quirks that those with an ASD often have.

Both books are 'school' based, particularly The Red Beast, but the it's easy enough to extrapolate to any social situation.

Pregnancy, Miscarriage and Moving On

Excuse the hastily self-taken, crappy quality photo...

I've been feeling very guilty that I've not done any belly pics so far this pregnancy. The reason... well, there's still some part of me that has finds it difficult to accept that (a) this pregnancy is still happening; and (b) that this is very likely my last pregnancy. I have that 'I'm done' feeling. I'm okay with it, I cannot keep enduring the physical and emotional effects of recurrent miscarriage, the uncertainty that is the balanced translocation genetic lottery, the possibility of stillbirth or neonatal death. And I've become aware of my limits when it comes to having the strength and patience to be both a partner to someone with an ASD and a decent mother to ASD kids. But still, facing the end of this phase of my life is difficult and confronting. TTC/pregnancy/babies has been the main focus of my life for just under 10 years now. At 31 years old, that's a huge portion of my life.

I cried yesterday reading the paper. Coming up to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, there was a 2-page story about the grief that parents experiencing miscarriage go through; how difficult it is when there is so little acknowledgement of the babies that are lost. Apparently there is a local woodworking guild that makes little coffins that they donate to the NWPH and Mersey so that parents have something they can take their miscarried babies home in for burial. There was mention of parents in the last couple of years having to take their little lost babes home in things like biscuit tins; and of midwives and nurses going out to buy boxes from Chickenfeed. Stories of parents being told that they could take the baby home to bury or they could leave it at the hospital to be disposed of with the rubbish.

So sad. And yet, I read it and felt a huge wave of relief that parents are now given the choice. Back in 2004 I wasn't given that choice. I asked to keep the 'products of conception' to take home for burial. It was something I needed to do; something I didn't get to do with our first loss but I knew it would help me to process the 2nd miscarriage and my grief. I was patronised and lied to. I put in a complaint but it was too late, despite my explicit request our baby had been classified as medical waste and had been disposed of along with used bandages and the like. I kicked up a fuss, I wrote letters, I approached MPs. I eventually received an apology and assurances of changes in hospital policies. The memory of it is still traumatic, I still feel bitter about it, and it's difficult for me to walk through certain parts of the hospital. I still refuse to have a straightforward miscarriage (or birth for that matter ;) ) in a hospital but it was good to read that other parents are now given the choice that I wasn't.

And so here we are, with #4 hopefully arriving safe and healthy in another 4 months or so. I am so grateful, so blessed. I know how lucky I am. I feel bad though because I know there are women with fertility problems, who aren't aware of my history, who look with envy at me and my baby belly and 3 young kids. I know, all to well, the irrational stab of pain and sadness that it causes.

Maybe this part of my life is coming to an end but I will always carry it with me, close to my heart, both the joy and the sorrow. And I look forward to watching my four beautiful boys grow and blossom over the coming years. :)

Burnie Show - Animal Nursery (ECIS)

The children (and their families) who attend the Early Childhood Intervention Centre and the Autism Specific Early Learning and Care Centre were kindly offered the opportunity to visit the animal nursery of the local show, the day before the official opening.

The boys had such a great time (apart from Beanie clinging to me for the first 5 minutes and some skittishness from all 3 occasionally around the animals). I think The OH found it more overwhelming than the kids LOL ;)

It was funny though... they had a small, central, enclosed area that the kids could enter to pat some calves and lambs. The boys spent quite a while in there and then asked to come out. The woman at the gate opened it up but laughed and (very obviously jokingly) told them that they had to stay and were going to be kept in there now. Shmoo stopped dead in his tracks, confused. One of the ECIS teachers and I giggled as we reminded the woman that he would take her literally. I had to reassure Shmoo that she was just joking :)

   

  

  

School's In

Okay, not so much us but mainstream schools kids are once again in classrooms here... which means we start getting busy again with the 'extra curricular' activities that only run during term.

 

Beanie's back at ECIS. And the canvas that Loo helped make last term is up on the classroom wall.

 

Swimming lessons again (as well as karate and performing arts).

And today, Beanie was so delighted (don't you just love a 2yo's joy?) when his penguin backpack arrived in the mail. His big brothers have their own bags and Beanie has been longing for one too so you can imagine his excitement when I presented him with a catalogue last week and asked him to choose a bag.

WTF?!

Christmas products out in September?!

'Healthy' Is Not A Consolation Prize

We're having another baby. #4 will be our last and, as it turns out, #4 will also be our 4th boy.

"Oh well, as long as it's healthy I suppose."
"Never mind, as long as it's healthy."
"Don't worry, at least it's healthy."
"It's okay, you'll just have to try again. I know someone who had four boys and then a girl."

No. Not "Oh well," or "Never mind" or "Don't worry". I don't need consoling. Why assume that I would? Why the look of pity? I have 3 beautiful, amazing boys already... are they supposed to be so horrible that I'd be desperate to have a girl? What's wrong with simply saying "Congratulations!"?

We were trying for a baby, not a girl. If we were so shallow as to only be in it for the experience of having a girl then we would have been better off heading down to the pet store and buying a female puppy. 8-|

We had a lovely older woman pop by this afternoon doing research for Roy Morgan. The kids were thrilled to have someone different to chat to. I was so proud of Shmoo in particular, he introduced himself and even included a "pleased to meet you". Who says homeschooled children don't know how to socialise ;)

The woman asked Shmoo how old he was and then asked which school he went to. Shmoo looked puzzled for a second and then replied "I don't go to a school". He then looked around the kitchen where we were sitting and gestured all around "This is my school".

The kids then proceeded to be super charming and endearing. Gotta love it when they do that LOL. Unlike yesterday where I ended up sitting on the floor in the fruit and veg section of the supermarket, holding and trying to calm a kicking, hitting, pinching, tantruming Loo Bear. :-<

TWLOHA

R U OK?Day - Thursday, 13 Sep 2012

White Balloon Day

White Balloon Day was on Friday. I meant to post about it last week before the actual event but between the amniocentesis, coming down with a nasty cold/sinus thing, not being able to get Blogger to work for a few days and some wild weather that seemed to play havoc with our internet connection, I didn't get around to typing up a post.

Having missed the actual day, I then thought that I wouldn't bother posting. Leave it 'til next year maybe. Except that today I finally got some time to sit down and read the newspaper and came across the horrifying story about the Victorian teen who endured her stepfather's violent sexual abuse for years. It only ended when she managed to get her stepfather's shotgun and shoot him. And the terrible thing about it (aside from the poor girl initially being charged with murder!) is that the girl's mother, friends, family and teachers had suspicions of abuse occurring but nothing was ever actually reported to the appropriate authorities.

Sadly, stories like this aren't unusual. Stories like this and this are reported in the media all the time and the stories that make it into the news only represent a tiny, tiny proportion of what's actually happening out there in the real world. The perpetrators of child sexual abuse who are caught are so often given a measly 'slap on the wrist' punishment. It's a sickening fact that most perpetrators aren't caught, they get away with it because of the overwhelming, lifelong sense of shame, fear and doubt that they instill in their victims.

So yeah, White Balloon Day has come and gone again and I missed it. But it's just a day. Unfortunately, for so many people out there it's not just a day, it's something that they will carry with them every day for the rest of their lives. The psychological and emotional scars go deep and have the ability to infect every facet of someone's life. If they are lucky they will find the love and support they need to help them overcome, to become survivors rather than victims.

Yes, this is an issue that I am passionate about; yes, it's an issue close to my heart. The neglect I experienced as a very young child left me vulnerable to being raped. From a young age I struggled on and off with depression, self-harm, bulimia, self-esteem issues, derealisation and depersonalisation among other things. In my teens I would deliberately and stupidly put myself in dangerous situations in an attempt to prove to myself that I was no longer that vulnerable, weak child.

I know all too well what it's like and I don't want my children to ever have to deal with those issues. I'm in my thirties now and it's only been in the last year or two that I've been able to properly deal with the multiple forms of abuse I experienced as a child. One of the most healing things for me was finding someone (a psychologist in my case) to whom I could tell my story to in its entirety; to have her believe me without question; to look up at her face after speaking and see compassion rather than disbelief, tears in her eyes rather than a look of disgust. After having so many people in my early childhood make me doubt not just myself but others too, it made a huge difference.

Talk to your children, protect your children, communicate with them, believe them. Give them the tools they will need should they ever find themselves in situations like these. It is possible to give them courage, safety and strength without making them fearful. And don't forget that most of the time it's not the stranger danger, most perpetrators are already known to the family/child. You might think that it's just not the kind of thing that happens in your circles; that it only happens 'out there'. Not true. Never underestimate a perpetrator's ability to look completely normal and utterly harmless. In the real world the monsters look the same as everyone else.