I learned from Ashley.
My first child was easy. Delightfully, wonderfully easy. I spent many days patting myself on the back for being such a wonderful parent. Katie slept in her own bed, was potty trained at 2, ate all kinds of foods and almost never cried. She was easy.
Then along came Ashley. It was a bit of a difficult pregnancy and when she was born she had tremors (due to a med I take for a seizure disorder) an intolerance to formula both regular and soy, projectile vomiting (we used to measure it for distance 4 ft, 5 ft...) bloody stools, and then at one month old she got RSV and was hospitalized for a week. The next two years of her life were a struggle. Constant infections, poor growth and weight gain, ear tubes twice, delayed milestones, etc etc. She had a rough start. She didn't sleep much and cried a lot. Poor baby was always so sick and had to take so many medications all the time. I would have to wake her up at night to give her a nebulizer treatment followed by chest percussions to loosen the gunk in her lungs and hold her upside down to try and get it out.
Ashley was demanding, unhappy, miserable and difficult in many ways. I always felt like I wasn't meeting her needs the way I did with Katie. Nothing was easy. She was just as likely to have a tantrum over some unknown injustice as she was over a real boo boo. And her tantrums were on a scale I was unfamiliar with. Screaming, kicking, biting, spitting, scratching, flailing, injuring herself and anyone near her. I was totally unprepared for this total transformation from sweet girl to possessed demon child, and could not even predict what would set her off. I would tell her no and she wouldn't bat an eye, but say we were having peaches (and not pears) with lunch...BAM. Hour long meltdown. Often I didn't even know what set her off. If I had I would have given her the pears! She would tell me she hated me and wanted me dead and it broke my heart. I loved this little girl so much and she hated me. I was failing her! It took everything I had to learn to let it roll off of my back and not take it personally.
Her fits lasted long after the toddler stage, years longer in fact. They were completely out of proportion to the thing that set them off. They were like a volcano erupting and I could see one coming but was powerless to stop it. She was just as miserable as I was, probably more so. She couldn't put into words what was eating at her, what we could do to make her feel better or even what she wanted. Her frustration grew and grew and fed the fits.
We sought out counseling (did our divorce cause this?) pediatricians for a physical basis, a child psychologist, anyone we could think of. Our child needed something and we just didn't know what. I tried sticker charts, behavior therapy, rewards and punishments. Incentives and hug therapy. As she raged I would sit next to her and calmly tell her how much I loved her and how wonderful she is. When the fits stopped she would crawl in my lap and be so sorry, utterly drained.
Then, a few years ago one doctor realized that her thyroid was enlarged. It was big and full of nodules. Not a good thing in an 11 year old with a family history of thyroid disease. They started her on synthetic thyroid medicine and her mood started to lighten. It was slow at first, not really noticeable. Then one day it was like she was the happy, wonderful girl we had only seen glimpses of in the past. The fits came less and less often, were less severe and eventually pretty much stopped. She still has her moments, but now it's more like the typical teenager attitude. She seems so happy. She is a joy to be around. My Ashley shines!
Do I think that the thyroid issue was the whole issue? No, I don't. I think she had some RAD* like behaviors going on, and I think they were caused when she was so sick during her first two years of life and me, her mother, couldn't stop the pain. I think she didn't get that healthy dose of 'Mommy can fix everything' that most babies get. I couldn't nurse her because of the seizure meds so we lost out on that bond from the get-go. I don't think she trusted me to care for her and meet her needs. She never treated her Dad with the anger she directed at me, and I think it relates back to this fact. She couldn't trust me. How sad is that. To this day I tear up and it breaks my heart to think she couldn't trust me. My sweet sweet baby.
*RAD Reactive-Attachment Disorder A condition where a child has a hard time emotionally attaching to a parent. Many children with a history of abuse, institutionalization or trauma have RAD issues. (That's a pretty short description)
Now that we have Ahren I see some of the same behaviors emerging. The constant arguing, the tantrums over inconsequential things, incessant non-sense questions, very dramatic and demanding personality, the physical aspects of the rages (hitting, kicking, spitting, scratching, hurting himself) and the need for constant reassurance. This time, it is easier. I am much more consistent and calmer. Even when he tells me he doesn't love me and I am not his mother. I just smile and tell him he doesn't get out that easily, he is stuck with me and I love him very much. I will not engage in an argument with him. If I say it's cold out and he says, 'No it's not', I drop it. He can go outside without a coat and see for himself. I spend more time down on his level, eye-to-eye, letting him know I see him, I hear him, I love him. It seems to be helping.
I just wish I had known then (when Ash was little) what I know now. I hope Ashley can forgive me. I did the best I knew how but it wasn't enough.
This week was devoted to catching up on all her health and well-being. She was complaining about a tooth that had a chip in it so I got her a dentist appointment. Turns out that there was a cavity forming under an old filling and it had gotten deep enough that the corner of the tooth cracked off. The dentist was able to drill into it, fill it with medicine and re-do the filling to cover it. He also put her on antibiotics for 10 days to ward off any infection. 
Our Trick or treaters. From left we have Belle (Mina), Anakin Skywalker (Levi), Tinkerbelle (Holly), and a Goofy Golfer (Ahren). I took 10 pictures of them and this was the best I could get. They were pretty wound up about getting to trick or treat. 
I came home one evening to find Ahren's knees absolutely black. How in the world do little boys get so filthy? I had to scrub and scrub and the bath water was gray when he was done. 
Baby Henry, age 8.5 weeks, attending his first football game. He is a true Texan and the Friday Night lights tradition is a must. (Did you know this munchkin came many weeks early, weighing in at just under 5 pounds but is now 9.5 pounds at 8 weeks old? Can you say OINK!) Baby Henry is Holly's new baby brother and just as irresistable as she is!!!
My boys at the football game. Football means Nachos to them. And watching Kaytee cheer. Well, maybe just Nachos....
Speaking of loud, the boys get earplugs for the games. The fans here are insanely loud. (Much like the cheerleaders...Hee)
