Our second son is born, and Our Story continues....
Our second son was born on July 3, 2003 and he was healthy! Now that I had time off work for maternity leave, I could really start researching our concerns with Dominic, then 18 months old. He still would not/could not eat solid foods, would vomit after every meal and bottle, was not responding to our voices or his name (even though I was sure he knew his name), and had developed odd little "quirks". Well, we affectionately referred to them as quirks. It was more like baby-obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Here, I've listed some of Dominic's quirks at 18 months old:
As the eldest child (if you buy into anything about
birth order, you understand where I'm coming from), I
was never satisfied with what I did in life. I strove for perfection and aimed to please my parents. So, when I gave birth to
my first child, I vowed to be the perfect parent. Of course, nothing less than perfection would do from MY child. My husband
and I have very high IQs and before my maternity leave
was over, I already had his 529 Plan set up and a short list of the
only universities he should consider for college!
Now, some things may seem odd. But remember, this is my first child, so I have nothing to compare to. No point of reference. Only those charming baby books-of which I had tons-"How to teach your baby math", "How to teach your baby to read", etc. MY son would be speaking four languages before he started kindergarten!
How it all began
I must say that my son's birth was not horrific or unusual in any way. He was born via c-section, as he was breech. His APGAR scores were perfect. I did have RhoGAM shots during my pregnancy and after delivery.
The first indication that something was not quite right was when my son was 9 months old and still wasn't talking. After all, I had been told that I began talking at 10 months! Certainly, "Karen 2.0" would be an improved version! What gives? Of course, our pediatrician chuckled and said not to worry. Other than having a little body (in the 25th percentile) and a Charlie Brown head (in the 90th percentile), everything was perfect! Our pediatrician told as that normally, children will begin talking around 12 months. Normally!? Hmmmph. I resented that my child should be called "normal". Certainly, he would be extraordinary! (Boy, was I ever right about that one.)
When my son was an infant, he would sit in his swing or carrier or crib and just
stare off into space.
He rarely looked into our eyes or faces-even when we were speaking to him. He rarely acknowledged us. But he was a very good baby.
He slept through the night (6 hours) at the age of two-2.5 months old. He rarely fussed or cried. He was content to just sit and stare
at the wall. I guess that pretty much sums him up-he always seemed content.
We were told how lucky we were to have such a "good" baby.
When my son was 9 months old, I became pregnant again. Pure bliss! I can do this standing on my head. I had no idea that parenthood was so easy! If this next baby was as good and easy as the first, this would be a cakewalk.
At 12 months, and still no words from Dominic, I again voiced my concern to our pediatrician. He again reassured us that there was no cause for concern. Frustrated, I left and hit the books again. Still waters run deep. Maybe my little prodigy was quietly working on some profound theorem and was awaiting just the right moment to spring it on us?
Sometime between 12 and 18 months-the birth of my second son, Dominic's personality became more profound. Things really began to change or become apparent with him. By the time he was 18 months old and I was ready to deliver my second son, I knew in my heart something was wrong.
I had a scheduled c-section with my second son, so had time to make arrangements for babysitters while I was in the hospital. When I reviewed the list of "instructions" that I had come up with for taking care of my young son, it hit me that this was not simply the work of a worrisome overprotective first-time mom, nor the anal-retentive rantings of a micromanager. No, it was something more.
As I ran down the list of things that my son required, I worried that the person scheduled to care for him would have a difficult time following the instructions and/or remembering everything on the list.
For example:
Feeding: Dom will only eat baby food and milk. The baby food must be stage 1, as he cannot negotiate any "chunky" foods, he spits them out or gags on it. Keep a towel handy, as Dom vomits every time he gets done eating.
When going outside, he must wear a hat, as he seems to hate the sun in his eyes. If he picks up something in one hand and starts crying or screaming, it's because he needs to have something in his other hand, too. His favorite spot is near the tree closest to the house, he likes to pull a piece of bark off it and hold a piece in each hand. If he drops one piece, he will get very upset.
That was just the beginning. The list of instructions for Dominic went on for four pages. He was very rigid in his schedule and the way he behaved, as well as how he expected us to behave. Over time, we had worked our entire schedule, household configuration, and so on around Dominic and his little "quirks" as we liked to call them.
As I sat down with my aunt, who was the first to care for Dom while I was in the hospital delivering my second son, and ran down the entire list of instructions, my heart beat fast. She nodded politely and stopped me frequently to ask questions-she didn't want to get anything wrong. In my mind I was sure she thought I was crazy! She took notes and when we were through the "Dominic Instruction Manual" she said, "Wow, Karen. You are so in-tune with your child!" She was impressed. I was nervous. Is this normal? I had done some babysitting in my younger days and if I had been handed such a rigid instruction manual, I'd have run for the hills! Perhaps my aunt chalked it up to me being a worried first-time mom who'd never left her child with anyone before? I hoped. In any case, she was too sensitive and polite to say otherwise.
At this point, I had to focus on the delivery of my second son, but in the back of my mind I couldn't help but worry about Dominic.
continue...