Setting Limits

Nick is very keen on milkshakes, however, he does tend to gulp them down too quickly. In fact, he is like this with any type of liquid. I have tried on numerous occasions to slow him down. I have modeled, guided and directed.... to no avail.

Nick also has extremely low muscle tone and this is very evident around his mouth. His bottom lip droops and his lips are always apart. Over the last few months he has been pushing out his bottom jaw and placing his lower teeth over his top teeth. We have spent years of therapy trying to help with his tone, yet it is getting worse.

Well, I had a bit of a *aha* moment today when we went out for lunch. After munching away on a huge plate of Spag Bol, Nick requested a milkshake. It was thick and creamy and needed a good old stir to make it easier to gulp down. As is standard practice, Nick indicated that I should stir the milkshake. Well you know, I was just plain fed up with doing the whole stir stir thing. A fleeting thought made its way through my brain... 'what would I do if this was Nick's big brother?'

I looked at Nick and said, "Nick, you are a big guy now and I am no longer going to stir your milkshake. Also, from now on you are going to have to use a straw!"

Well, can you believe it? He used the straw. It took him an age to get through the milkshake, yet he tried his very best. As for that lip closure ~ WOW. I wonder what Nick's tone is going to be like in six months if he keeps using a straw. Then again, I wonder what his waistline will look like if we make this a regular therapy!

Notes to self:

Presume competence
Take a risk
Don't stress if he makes a fuss
Give reassurance and encouragement
Don't be a helicopter parent
Set limits
Remember 'edge plus 1'

Excuse me.... this is not my baby!

March 2000

Dear Doctor 

Thank you once again for helping me deliver my little boy. It was very sweet of you to order me an epidural. I really was mighty chuffed, even though I subsequently heard via the grapevine, that you didn't like to get out of your bed unless absolutely necessary! Wow, that epidural did its trick, hey! It managed to slow down my contractions and prolong my labour until you had finished your eight hour sleep, have a leisurely breakfast and come to work all dressed up in your suit. Ahem, hope you don't mind me telling you this... but the white gumboots didn't look quite right!

Anyhow, I just need to bring up a little something that has been bothering me for a few months now. You see, Doctor...... I spent a lovely three days in hospital, bonding with my little boy. Did you know that we took to breastfeeding easily and that my baby actually gained weight before leaving the hospital!

The first couple of weeks at home are a bit of a blur! That constant treadmill of caring for a newborn, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Feeding, burping, changing nappies, sleeping... you get my drift?

Doctor, we then hit a little snag and the wheels fell off big time. My baby stopped feeding! I would put him to the breast and he would suckle for 30 seconds and then stop. I would wind him and try again. While I was going crazy mad over the feeding issue, I was also spending hours carrying around a screaming baby. Seriously, my life turned upside down. This pattern carried on for weeks until I finally introduced solids at 4 months. He must have got some nourishment from those quick 30 second feeds because he did put on weight. 25 GRAMS per week. Did you hear me Doctor? ONLY 25 GRAMS per week!! I should have started solids earlier, BUT I didn't! 

Life improved after solids...... until we started to notice that he wasn't reaching his milestones. Initially I explained this away by saying that his older sibling was a late developer. Again, this period of my life is a bit of a blur. Understandable, don't you think?

Doctor, he doesn't play, he is difficult to interact with, he doesn't explore, he doesn't crawl, he doesn't babble! He does not POINT! He cries, he howls and he cries some more. He won’t go to sleep and when he does sleep, he wakes up many times throughout the night. I swaddle him up tight and pull him in close to my body. I rock him, I bounce him, I cry over him, I push him in his buggy! My heart is breaking into pieces.

Doctor, something is going on with this kid. This is not the baby I ordered. Doctor, please help me...... I had a normal pregnancy, I didn't smoke or drink, I didn't take drugs..... Oops, I did take ONE tablet for serious nausea! Babies are meant to be highly social little creatures. This baby is hard work. This is not my baby, it can't be! 

It's OK, I won't be cross.... just please take this one back and give me my real baby. Please, PLEASE! I can't deal with this one. Admit it, Doctor. You gave me the wrong baby!