Quinn loves visiting the playland at "Old McDonald's," as he calls it. For me, each visit is a new level of sadness. There was the baby Quinn suddenly and without warning knocked down, causing everyone who saw it to gasp in unison. The time I heard screaming from inside the play structure - not Quinn's, but I instinctively knew who was causing it -- and high-tailed it up the slide to find out I was right. The grandfather who glared at us for a good 20 minutes, even as he was leaving, because he mistakenly thought Quinn had bumped his beloved angel while he was spinning. The place seems to exacerbate Quinn's sensory-seeking nature in ways that looks a lot like serious disciplinary problems.
And that's not the worst of it. Each time we visit we watch kids make friends and play together. Other than when things go south, Quinn generally doesn't even acknowledge any other children. Finally, it's cute to watch kids make it to the top of the play structure and then holler or wave down at their parents. Quinn gets up there and does his own thing, in his own world, until we tell him it's time to go or the food has arrived.
It reached the point where we stopped going about six months ago. And then this morning, with my husband out of town and me looking to run down Quinn's battery before his final assembly and performance at Chinese School, he asked if we could go to Old McDonald's.
So we did.
And what a difference.
First, he scampered to the top and yelled down to me. Then he stuck his face against the inside of a bubble-shaped window and hollered at me, "Are you inside the bubble?" After a bit a little girl and her grandma came in to eat breakfast, but Grandma wanted to leave before the girl got to play. Quinn watched her the whole time and then asked, "Is the little girl not going to play?" Later on he asked, "Is a kid going to come play?" He actually noticed kids, and he wanted to play with them!
To another parent, this was hardly anything. To me, it was everything.
Showing posts with label SPD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SPD. Show all posts
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
The magic cushion
There's no way to know exactly why, but Quinn has gone from daily problems at school to daily successes at school. We are trying a lot of things to help him succeed - daily joint compressions, daily skin brushing, a weighted vest and good 'ole bribery. So I don't know if one thing is key, or it's the combination. But I do know that the magic cushion is a major factor in his success.
A fellow adoptive mom who herself has sensory processing disorder gave his to us when she saw how much Quinn was struggling at Chinese school. He just could not sit in his chair and was really getting in other kid's personal space. It's a bean-filled plastic disc with a thick fleeecy cover. We take it to his special-needs preschool, his typical preschool and his weekly Chinese school.
I didn't realize how much it helped until I noticed that every day when I dropped him off the teachers would ask hopefully, "Do you have his cushion?"
Here's a link to the cushion itself. The cover, which has a velcro closure, was handmade - and all of his therapists covet it, so if you've seen them for sale anywhere, please let me know!
A fellow adoptive mom who herself has sensory processing disorder gave his to us when she saw how much Quinn was struggling at Chinese school. He just could not sit in his chair and was really getting in other kid's personal space. It's a bean-filled plastic disc with a thick fleeecy cover. We take it to his special-needs preschool, his typical preschool and his weekly Chinese school.
I didn't realize how much it helped until I noticed that every day when I dropped him off the teachers would ask hopefully, "Do you have his cushion?"
Here's a link to the cushion itself. The cover, which has a velcro closure, was handmade - and all of his therapists covet it, so if you've seen them for sale anywhere, please let me know!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
The Concrete Kid
Quinn is so very concrete. The whimsical and imaginary just makes no sense to him.
Two sample conversations from the last couple of days:
Mama (singing): "Here comes Quinny cottontail."
Quinn: "Hey, I'm a boy!"
Mama: "You're not a bunny?"
Quinn (politely but emphatically): "No, thank you."
***
"Quinn, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be an astronaut?"
"No."
"Are you going to be a scientist?"
"No."
"Are you going to be an engineer?"
"No."
"What are you going to be?"
"Big!"
***
Not surprisingly, drawing and coloring has been a huge challenge for Quinn. Give him a blank slate and ask him to create, and he draws a big blank. All we've gotten so far is page after page of angry back-and-forth lines covering a page.
So when I spotted a color-by-letter at the fabulous Indianapolis Children's Museum on a recent visit, I had a hunch it might appeal to Quinn's concrete nature. If it says O, you color it orange. Concrete.
I brought it home and trotted it out, and the results were nothing less than astonishing. This rooster picture was the very first one he did. And instantly, he went from angry scrawls to this (he even signed and dated it when he was done):
Two sample conversations from the last couple of days:
Mama (singing): "Here comes Quinny cottontail."
Quinn: "Hey, I'm a boy!"
Mama: "You're not a bunny?"
Quinn (politely but emphatically): "No, thank you."
***
"Quinn, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be an astronaut?"
"No."
"Are you going to be a scientist?"
"No."
"Are you going to be an engineer?"
"No."
"What are you going to be?"
"Big!"
***
Not surprisingly, drawing and coloring has been a huge challenge for Quinn. Give him a blank slate and ask him to create, and he draws a big blank. All we've gotten so far is page after page of angry back-and-forth lines covering a page.
So when I spotted a color-by-letter at the fabulous Indianapolis Children's Museum on a recent visit, I had a hunch it might appeal to Quinn's concrete nature. If it says O, you color it orange. Concrete.
I brought it home and trotted it out, and the results were nothing less than astonishing. This rooster picture was the very first one he did. And instantly, he went from angry scrawls to this (he even signed and dated it when he was done):
Friday, March 23, 2012
Our secret shame, or how we found success with bribery
I've never believed in bribing children to be good. And yet, here I am, doing it. And darned if it isn't working.
Between Quinn's many delays and his sensory processing disorder, he has a very, very, very tough time sitting still and acting appropriately in school. He also loves to bang, to lean, to push - behaviors that, even though they aren't done with aggression, look very aggressive. The girls cry. The boys push back. The teachers get frustrated. Quinn gets in trouble.
In short, Quinn's behavior was becoming a fairly serious problem at school. As in, the teacher pulled us aside when we picked him up, every day, to tell us about the latest problem. This happened at his preschool, at Chinese school and at his therapeutic play group. Making it especially challenging to help him address these issues, he doesn't do these things at home.
We tried everything we could think of and everything his various therapists suggested.
We talked about keeping our hands to ourselves. We talked about how everyone is surrounded by a bubble, and how we shouldn't pop someone else's bubble. We threatened timeouts. The behaviors continued.
Then one day about three weeks ago, I was telling Quinn how I knew he was going to do great in school that day and he said, "If you keep your hands to yourself, you get a dollar?" Hmmmm. What to do? Sorry, but I bit. And guess what? It worked. Immediately. Since that day, no inappropriate behaviors at school, and Quinn is becoming quite the math whiz adding up his haul.
As a side benefit, he's developing a sense of saving. Now when we go shopping he looks at the toys, asks the price and decides what he's saving up for. He vascillates between Smokey the Fire Truck and a big giant garbage truck, but he keeps saving.
I feel a little embarrassed that such a shameful technique is working for us. But I can't help but rejoice that it's working. My goal right now is to help him succeed in school. And if this is what works right now, then this is what I'll do.
Between Quinn's many delays and his sensory processing disorder, he has a very, very, very tough time sitting still and acting appropriately in school. He also loves to bang, to lean, to push - behaviors that, even though they aren't done with aggression, look very aggressive. The girls cry. The boys push back. The teachers get frustrated. Quinn gets in trouble.
In short, Quinn's behavior was becoming a fairly serious problem at school. As in, the teacher pulled us aside when we picked him up, every day, to tell us about the latest problem. This happened at his preschool, at Chinese school and at his therapeutic play group. Making it especially challenging to help him address these issues, he doesn't do these things at home.
We tried everything we could think of and everything his various therapists suggested.
We talked about keeping our hands to ourselves. We talked about how everyone is surrounded by a bubble, and how we shouldn't pop someone else's bubble. We threatened timeouts. The behaviors continued.
Then one day about three weeks ago, I was telling Quinn how I knew he was going to do great in school that day and he said, "If you keep your hands to yourself, you get a dollar?" Hmmmm. What to do? Sorry, but I bit. And guess what? It worked. Immediately. Since that day, no inappropriate behaviors at school, and Quinn is becoming quite the math whiz adding up his haul.
As a side benefit, he's developing a sense of saving. Now when we go shopping he looks at the toys, asks the price and decides what he's saving up for. He vascillates between Smokey the Fire Truck and a big giant garbage truck, but he keeps saving.
I feel a little embarrassed that such a shameful technique is working for us. But I can't help but rejoice that it's working. My goal right now is to help him succeed in school. And if this is what works right now, then this is what I'll do.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Quinn's on a sensory diet
We have lot of things we do when sensory-seeking Quinn gets a little out of control. He knows his options, and can choose one when he agrees that "your engine is running too fast." He can get a bear hug, joint compressions, pressure on his shoulders. We can do wheel-barrow walks or he can push a big ball up the wall.
But it turns out, which I didn't understand until this week, that we need to be doing that stuff every day - or more - to try to regulate his nervous system.
So for the last couple days we've been getting up a little earlier to add joint compressions and brushing of his arms and legs to our morning routine. Then we do the same two things again before school, and if it's a late school day he wears his compression vest for a bit while we get ready in the morning.
Funny with all this stuff: Just when you think you're doing it right, you learn you've been doing it wrong.
Live and learn.
But it turns out, which I didn't understand until this week, that we need to be doing that stuff every day - or more - to try to regulate his nervous system.
So for the last couple days we've been getting up a little earlier to add joint compressions and brushing of his arms and legs to our morning routine. Then we do the same two things again before school, and if it's a late school day he wears his compression vest for a bit while we get ready in the morning.
Funny with all this stuff: Just when you think you're doing it right, you learn you've been doing it wrong.
Live and learn.
Friday, February 17, 2012
The OT speaks (but Quinn, not so much...)
Mary, Quinn's wonderful occupational therapist, visited him at preschool today to get some sense of why he is acting aggressively toward the other kids - we've had some reports of eye-poking and pushing. I figured it was tied to his sensory needs, which seem to be really great when he's around other kids. Mary had a totally different - and totally unexpected - observation: She thinks it ties to his communication challenges. Her theory is that he doesn't know how to tell kids what he wants, so he either shows them with physical force or just plain ignores them. Thinking that through, it makes a lot of sense. He interacts really well with adults, who are patient and help draw out of him what he's trying to say, but very, very little with other kids.
Her idea is to work more intensively on bringing up his verbal communication skills.
I wish we had done this sooner! Quinn does so well at Mary's office that she is seeing him less and less. But today she saw very clearly that he still needs a lot of intervention. That's good for all of us, I think!
Her idea is to work more intensively on bringing up his verbal communication skills.
I wish we had done this sooner! Quinn does so well at Mary's office that she is seeing him less and less. But today she saw very clearly that he still needs a lot of intervention. That's good for all of us, I think!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Educating the special-needs kid
We've been playing a little revolving door game trying to find the right preschool fit for Quinn. He is in a public special needs program, which is great at teaching him to follow rules and learn the ways of a classroom. However, the needs of his classmates are so great that there isn't much peer interaction, which is a real need of Quinn because he remains mostly uninterested in other children.
At his therapists' recommendation, we set out to find a "typical" preschool where Quinn would see - and hopefully model - more normal interactions. The first attempt was the excellent language preschool that just wasn't equipped to redirect him all day, and decided against enrolling him. The second try is an evangelical school with a special-needs program. Things were great until the assistant director who deals with SN kids retired at the end of the year, and was replaced by a woman who has owned a preschool but never actually dealt with SN kids. She sees his challenges as disciplinary problems that can be solved by punishment. So we yanked him out of there, but - long story - we're trying again, but without her "help." His OT will go with him to school tomorrow and offer some ideas to deal with some behaviors that are disruptive and possibly dangerous: poking kids in the eye and banging or pushing into them. He never does it out of meanness or anger, but out of a need for deep sensory input. Still, it's a problem.
On the one hand, I totally get it. If Quinn was in a class with a kid who seemed to be acting aggressively toward the other kids I'd be freaking out. And yet being around kids is the only way he's going to learn to be around kids. Such a paradox.
At his therapists' recommendation, we set out to find a "typical" preschool where Quinn would see - and hopefully model - more normal interactions. The first attempt was the excellent language preschool that just wasn't equipped to redirect him all day, and decided against enrolling him. The second try is an evangelical school with a special-needs program. Things were great until the assistant director who deals with SN kids retired at the end of the year, and was replaced by a woman who has owned a preschool but never actually dealt with SN kids. She sees his challenges as disciplinary problems that can be solved by punishment. So we yanked him out of there, but - long story - we're trying again, but without her "help." His OT will go with him to school tomorrow and offer some ideas to deal with some behaviors that are disruptive and possibly dangerous: poking kids in the eye and banging or pushing into them. He never does it out of meanness or anger, but out of a need for deep sensory input. Still, it's a problem.
On the one hand, I totally get it. If Quinn was in a class with a kid who seemed to be acting aggressively toward the other kids I'd be freaking out. And yet being around kids is the only way he's going to learn to be around kids. Such a paradox.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Preschool dropout
After a three-week trial, the preschool for kids with speech delays decided not to enroll Quinn. They said that redirecting him ("Quinn, sit down. Quinn, are you listening?") was taking too much of the teacher's time. I can't say I blame them, because I know that is a challenge for him.
Surprisingly, I actually feel some sense of relief because I had been working my tail off trying to hide his challenges since this school doesn't take kids with issues other than speech. We were getting up early to run him around the 'hood and burn some energy, watching his diet very closely, not letting him watch any TV in the morning, etc., etc., etc. All good things, of course, but we were making ourselves a little nutty worrying about them all.
So we're back in the hunt for a school that's a good fit for Quinn. Today we visited a church-affiliated school that employs a PT who specializes in sensory processing disorder. They allow about two kids with SPD in each class. But all the kids get "therapy" -- they bring in an OT every Monday and do lots of sensory play every day. In many ways, this place is the opposite of the last school. While that one was very academically focused, this one doesn't really do academics at all. Its philosophy is that kids (at this private school, in this high-end neighborhood) are getting that sort of stimulation at home; what they need at school is social interaction and play. Since Quinn is doing great academically but is in desperate need of social skills, that sounds good to me. The catch: They might not have a slot for him. The school's SN liason was planning to put him in the 3-year-old class (their ages are developmental, not chronological) but changed her mind after meeting him and seeing his impressive brain at work on a puzzle and a game.
And so we wait. We play. And we enjoy our extra time with this fabulous little guy we're blessed to call our son.
Monday, May 30, 2011
We are peeing on the potty! (but not pooping...)
It was no small feat for a kid who is quite content to spend the day in a dirty or wet diaper (thank you, sensory processing disorder...), but we are doing it! Quinn is peeing on the potty! No poop yet, and honestly, no real reason to hope that's going to change any time soon.
Me: "Quinn, where do we go poo-poo?"
Quinn: "On. The. Potty!" (You wouldn't believe the enthusiasm!)
Me: "That's right! And where did you just go poo-poo?"
Quinn: "In. The. Underpants!" (Equal enthusiasm.)
No remorse from this kid. I guess this is the downside to taking the potty training thing nice and easy...
Still, we'll take our successes where we can find them. After all, QUINN IS PEEING ON THE POTTY! After an appalling lack of success with regular reminders, and after discovering the impracticalities of letting him run around naked (it worked, but ONLY when he was naked) we jumped on the prize bandwagon. Oh, my. We had a little basket with some cheap stickers and freebie toys, plus a few toy cars. Within hours the kid had the system licked, and was fishing about for the toy cars. That eventually morphed into demands for toy cars upon peeing, and eventually into determined but not very convincing fake tears when one was not produced. Oops.
So we have moved on to the "prize chart," which was greeted with wailing and desperate cries of "Basket? Toy car?" But finally, a week in, he is on board. He gets a sticker for each time he goes, and works toward prizes - a trip to the "car washer" or the little train ride at the zoo or "Old McDonald's" playland - that was his first choice.
So we're progressing, and we're wearing big boy underpants right out in public. Which is darned inconvenient. It means having to pull over when he says he has to go, spending way too much time in dirty public restrooms and trying to remember to take him to the potty at regular intervals. He's shockingly good about it, and sometimes funny to boot. Yesterday he was trying to pull down his underpants at lunch and was stymied by the drawstring. "Mama," he finally said, quite exasperated. "These pants are locked!"
Me: "Quinn, where do we go poo-poo?"
Quinn: "On. The. Potty!" (You wouldn't believe the enthusiasm!)
Me: "That's right! And where did you just go poo-poo?"
Quinn: "In. The. Underpants!" (Equal enthusiasm.)
No remorse from this kid. I guess this is the downside to taking the potty training thing nice and easy...
Still, we'll take our successes where we can find them. After all, QUINN IS PEEING ON THE POTTY! After an appalling lack of success with regular reminders, and after discovering the impracticalities of letting him run around naked (it worked, but ONLY when he was naked) we jumped on the prize bandwagon. Oh, my. We had a little basket with some cheap stickers and freebie toys, plus a few toy cars. Within hours the kid had the system licked, and was fishing about for the toy cars. That eventually morphed into demands for toy cars upon peeing, and eventually into determined but not very convincing fake tears when one was not produced. Oops.
So we have moved on to the "prize chart," which was greeted with wailing and desperate cries of "Basket? Toy car?" But finally, a week in, he is on board. He gets a sticker for each time he goes, and works toward prizes - a trip to the "car washer" or the little train ride at the zoo or "Old McDonald's" playland - that was his first choice.
So we're progressing, and we're wearing big boy underpants right out in public. Which is darned inconvenient. It means having to pull over when he says he has to go, spending way too much time in dirty public restrooms and trying to remember to take him to the potty at regular intervals. He's shockingly good about it, and sometimes funny to boot. Yesterday he was trying to pull down his underpants at lunch and was stymied by the drawstring. "Mama," he finally said, quite exasperated. "These pants are locked!"
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Just another way Quinn has changed me for the better
A few years back a woman came to our neighborhood picnic with her son, who has severe autism. He sat down to eat, but quickly got perturbed by something and soon was screaming and flailing. She apologized, explained his autism and they left. I remember feeling so sorry for her but having NO IDEA what to say or do. Sort of a social paralysis.
Flash forward to last Sunday. Same picnic, same woman, same son - but this year she left him home with a caregiver. I joined her in the food line to ask about her son and whether she had watched the "Autism Now" series on PBS a couple weeks back. We started chatting about Sensory Processing Disorder and schools and she offered to share her volumes of knowledge - and house full of SPD gadgets - with me. Cool.
It didn't strike me until later how I couldn't have had that conversation before Quinn came into my life. I didn't have the knowledge, obviously, but I also didn't have any level of comfortable with the subject or, really, any understanding of the challenges and joys of her life.
Once again, I find myself immeasurably grateful to Quinn for opening my eyes to new parts of the world and teaching me about things I didn't know existed. My life is better because of him, and I am a better person for having met him.
To me, that's one of the surprises of parenting a child with special needs. You learn. You grow. Your world expands. And how awesome is that?
Flash forward to last Sunday. Same picnic, same woman, same son - but this year she left him home with a caregiver. I joined her in the food line to ask about her son and whether she had watched the "Autism Now" series on PBS a couple weeks back. We started chatting about Sensory Processing Disorder and schools and she offered to share her volumes of knowledge - and house full of SPD gadgets - with me. Cool.
It didn't strike me until later how I couldn't have had that conversation before Quinn came into my life. I didn't have the knowledge, obviously, but I also didn't have any level of comfortable with the subject or, really, any understanding of the challenges and joys of her life.
Once again, I find myself immeasurably grateful to Quinn for opening my eyes to new parts of the world and teaching me about things I didn't know existed. My life is better because of him, and I am a better person for having met him.
To me, that's one of the surprises of parenting a child with special needs. You learn. You grow. Your world expands. And how awesome is that?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The good, the bad and the honest truth
I subscribe to a bunch of China adoption message boards, and enjoy them all. But with all the challenges we have faced with Quinn, and with all the challenges most all adoptive parents I know have faced, it worries me just a little to see so many people jumping into international adoption without an apparent understanding of what MIGHT not go according to plan.
Before Quinn came home, I read time and time and time again that kids may be behind when you meet them but they'll catch up practically instantly, like when you're still in China. Um, not in our case. I stupidly expected that because I had read it so often, and I really panicked when it didn't happen.
So the other day a prospective parent posted a message to one of the boards asking for advice. One of her concerns was which SNs might work best for her family because they already have a special-needs child. In our case, the SN is not the issue, it's Quinn's 16 months of institutionalization that left him so challenged in so many ways.
I truly don't want to scare anybody waiting to adopt, but I think it's vitally important that we're all aware of the negatives along with the positives. So here's what I wrote to the prospective mom, and here's what I believe more every day:
Let me preface this by saying that adopting my son was the smartest thing I ever did, and my life is changed immeasurably for the better from having him in it. I would not change a thing and I love, love, love being a mom to this incredible child.
Next I will say that now more than ever, I think it's vital in international adoption to prepare the worst and pray for the best. When I say now more than ever, what I mean is that from what I've read, China's orphanages increasingly are filled with special needs kids, many with visible differences. Many people in China still consider people who look differently to be "unlucky," and sadly, some of those people work in orphanages and are caring for kids. That means it's possible that some of the kids in orphanages today are not getting the care that kids in orphanages even a few years ago got. I don't mean medical care - I mean someone to hold them and coo at them and make faces and sounds at them. All the stuff that fosters healthy development.
For us, dealing with our son's special need has been a breeze. It truly is one of those minor, correctable things so many of us seek. He had one surgery and we do some follow-up exercises. Honestly, that is the least of his issues. He came to us at 16 months seriously developmentally delayed. He could sit up only with assistance, would/could not eat solid foods and did not make a sound. I had read time and time again on these boards that kids arrive delayed and catch up almost immediately, but that is not what happened in our case - and the same is true for many, many, many parents who have contacted me not on these boards but privately after reading my blog. After 2 1/2 years Quinn is still seriously delayed in pretty much every area. He gets speech therapy, occupational therapy, is in a therapeutic play group and attends special-ed preschool. He displays several symptoms of autism - he does not like to make eye contact, often won't acknowledge spoken directions, does a lot of self soothing behaviors like swinging his head around. But every therapist we've seen says he does not have autism, but simply missed out on learning the basics of normal human interaction. They think that with some pretty intensive therapy while he's young he can catch up to his peers. So when he's not in formal therapy we're working with him on in-home therapy. It's fun and seriously rewarding, but it takes a lot of time. So much so that both my husband and I cut back to part-time hours.
We went into adoption fully expecting to have two kids, but have decided that it's in Quinn's best interest that we focus on him utterly and give him the very best possible chance in life. Honestly, right now I think that if we had another child, they would both suffer for it. I know many families have many special needs children and juggle it all very successfully, but for us this feels right.
I think you need to go into international adoption assuming you may deal with serious developmental delays as well as disorders associated with a lack of stimulation in the early months (Quinn has sensory integration disorder, which is common among institutional kids.) You also need to research reactive attachment disorder and realize that this could be your reality. These kinds of things do not show up in reports from the orphanages. If your family situation requires a child who needs very little intervention or extra attention, honestly I would rethink whether international adoption is for you. You may get lucky and end up with a child who has no issues at all - I hope so! But you need to be prepared that might not be the case.
I truly do not mean to scare you off. Had I known three years ago all that I know now, I still would have traveled with very same road with joy and enthusiasm. But I wish I had gone into it knowing more, which is why I share my story - the good and the bad.
Before Quinn came home, I read time and time and time again that kids may be behind when you meet them but they'll catch up practically instantly, like when you're still in China. Um, not in our case. I stupidly expected that because I had read it so often, and I really panicked when it didn't happen.
So the other day a prospective parent posted a message to one of the boards asking for advice. One of her concerns was which SNs might work best for her family because they already have a special-needs child. In our case, the SN is not the issue, it's Quinn's 16 months of institutionalization that left him so challenged in so many ways.
I truly don't want to scare anybody waiting to adopt, but I think it's vitally important that we're all aware of the negatives along with the positives. So here's what I wrote to the prospective mom, and here's what I believe more every day:
Let me preface this by saying that adopting my son was the smartest thing I ever did, and my life is changed immeasurably for the better from having him in it. I would not change a thing and I love, love, love being a mom to this incredible child.
Next I will say that now more than ever, I think it's vital in international adoption to prepare the worst and pray for the best. When I say now more than ever, what I mean is that from what I've read, China's orphanages increasingly are filled with special needs kids, many with visible differences. Many people in China still consider people who look differently to be "unlucky," and sadly, some of those people work in orphanages and are caring for kids. That means it's possible that some of the kids in orphanages today are not getting the care that kids in orphanages even a few years ago got. I don't mean medical care - I mean someone to hold them and coo at them and make faces and sounds at them. All the stuff that fosters healthy development.
For us, dealing with our son's special need has been a breeze. It truly is one of those minor, correctable things so many of us seek. He had one surgery and we do some follow-up exercises. Honestly, that is the least of his issues. He came to us at 16 months seriously developmentally delayed. He could sit up only with assistance, would/could not eat solid foods and did not make a sound. I had read time and time again on these boards that kids arrive delayed and catch up almost immediately, but that is not what happened in our case - and the same is true for many, many, many parents who have contacted me not on these boards but privately after reading my blog. After 2 1/2 years Quinn is still seriously delayed in pretty much every area. He gets speech therapy, occupational therapy, is in a therapeutic play group and attends special-ed preschool. He displays several symptoms of autism - he does not like to make eye contact, often won't acknowledge spoken directions, does a lot of self soothing behaviors like swinging his head around. But every therapist we've seen says he does not have autism, but simply missed out on learning the basics of normal human interaction. They think that with some pretty intensive therapy while he's young he can catch up to his peers. So when he's not in formal therapy we're working with him on in-home therapy. It's fun and seriously rewarding, but it takes a lot of time. So much so that both my husband and I cut back to part-time hours.
We went into adoption fully expecting to have two kids, but have decided that it's in Quinn's best interest that we focus on him utterly and give him the very best possible chance in life. Honestly, right now I think that if we had another child, they would both suffer for it. I know many families have many special needs children and juggle it all very successfully, but for us this feels right.
I think you need to go into international adoption assuming you may deal with serious developmental delays as well as disorders associated with a lack of stimulation in the early months (Quinn has sensory integration disorder, which is common among institutional kids.) You also need to research reactive attachment disorder and realize that this could be your reality. These kinds of things do not show up in reports from the orphanages. If your family situation requires a child who needs very little intervention or extra attention, honestly I would rethink whether international adoption is for you. You may get lucky and end up with a child who has no issues at all - I hope so! But you need to be prepared that might not be the case.
I truly do not mean to scare you off. Had I known three years ago all that I know now, I still would have traveled with very same road with joy and enthusiasm. But I wish I had gone into it knowing more, which is why I share my story - the good and the bad.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Potty training and the sensory-seeking kid
I've read over and over that when a child shows interest in the potty or discomfort at having a wet or dirty diaper, it's time to potty-train. As Quinn hasn't been in daycare where he needed to be potty trained, I really haven't worried about, figuring I'd wait for his cue.
But now that I'm learning about Sensory Processing Disorder, I'm realizing that cue may never come. He is PERFECTLY happy to spend the entire day in a wet diaper if I let him. He never complains about the feel, smell, whatever - in fact, he doesn't even seem to notice.
I got a little bench potty a few months ago, and while he loves to drag it all over the house and use it to step up to things he's not supposed to reach, he dislikes sitting on it. So I got him a potty seat that goes on top of the regular toilet seat. That he likes. He drags his potty bench over to it, steps up to sit on the potty and has a lovely time opening the little cubby door next to the toilet, unrolling the toilet paper, asking me to identify the fall foilage on the potpourri envelope. After a while he puts the potpourri back, closes the cubby door and says very cheerfully, "All done potty!" Then he hops down. NOT ONCE has he done anything in the toilet - and it's the same story at school, where he's taken to the potty each morning.
I'd love to hear any ideas, or things that worked for you!!
But now that I'm learning about Sensory Processing Disorder, I'm realizing that cue may never come. He is PERFECTLY happy to spend the entire day in a wet diaper if I let him. He never complains about the feel, smell, whatever - in fact, he doesn't even seem to notice.
I got a little bench potty a few months ago, and while he loves to drag it all over the house and use it to step up to things he's not supposed to reach, he dislikes sitting on it. So I got him a potty seat that goes on top of the regular toilet seat. That he likes. He drags his potty bench over to it, steps up to sit on the potty and has a lovely time opening the little cubby door next to the toilet, unrolling the toilet paper, asking me to identify the fall foilage on the potpourri envelope. After a while he puts the potpourri back, closes the cubby door and says very cheerfully, "All done potty!" Then he hops down. NOT ONCE has he done anything in the toilet - and it's the same story at school, where he's taken to the potty each morning.
I'd love to hear any ideas, or things that worked for you!!
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Future fashionista (fashionisto?)
Funny how I'm seeing everything through the Sensory Processing lens these days. About a month ago Quinn went from not liking the feel of anything soft to loving the feel of coats and blankets draped over him. He often pulls my coats out the closet to try on, and also likes to pull blankets off the bed and drapes off the wall, both of which make fine capes (and stangulation risks, I know!).
It's a little bit funny, a little bit odd, and very Quinn. The upside, beyond the amusing live performance: If he ends up becoming a fashion designer and/or auditioning for Project Runway, I have the perfect photos for his audition tape/book jacket/press kit. All he'll have to do is add a heartfelt, "I've loved fabrics since I was a toddler," and he's good to go!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sensory processing disorder
Well, I'm a believer. A couple weeks ago I'd never heard of this and now I'm amazed at how much it explains about Quinn's sometimes odd reactions and behaviors. How he runs around on gravel without seeming to notice how sharp it is, how well he tolerates the cold, how he can spin forever and not get dizzy - all those things are related to his sensory processing.
What I've learned is that he is a "sensory seeker," meaning he needs extra sensory input for certain internal senses to kick in. Oddly, when he gets really cranked up if we give him deep or sudden pressure - anything from a long, hard squeeze on his shoulder to literally throwing him onto a huge, cushy dog bed that has been renamed his "crash pad," he calms right down. It's pretty amazing.
The occupational therapist at his school has started working with him - apparently the first session consisted mostly of her putting on a weighted vest (the constant deep pressure helps sensory-seeking kids to concentrate in school) and him commanding, "Take off! Take off!" We're also working with his private OT (the one we see for his post-surgical shoulder therapy) on coming up with a "sensory diet" of exercises we can do for him.
I read "The Out of Sync Child" - which many of you recommended - and was blown away at how perfectly the sensory-seeking examples described Quinn. Now reading "The Out of Sync Child has Fun," which is where we got the idea for the much-loved crash pad.
Still learning, and still kicking myself that we didn't figure this out sooner. I was told that Quinn had been tested for sensory integration issues and showed no sign of it, so anytime a therapist would bring it up I'd tell them he'd already been tested. Now I know he was only tested for being over-sensitive, which he most definitely is not.
What I've learned is that he is a "sensory seeker," meaning he needs extra sensory input for certain internal senses to kick in. Oddly, when he gets really cranked up if we give him deep or sudden pressure - anything from a long, hard squeeze on his shoulder to literally throwing him onto a huge, cushy dog bed that has been renamed his "crash pad," he calms right down. It's pretty amazing.
The occupational therapist at his school has started working with him - apparently the first session consisted mostly of her putting on a weighted vest (the constant deep pressure helps sensory-seeking kids to concentrate in school) and him commanding, "Take off! Take off!" We're also working with his private OT (the one we see for his post-surgical shoulder therapy) on coming up with a "sensory diet" of exercises we can do for him.
I read "The Out of Sync Child" - which many of you recommended - and was blown away at how perfectly the sensory-seeking examples described Quinn. Now reading "The Out of Sync Child has Fun," which is where we got the idea for the much-loved crash pad.
Still learning, and still kicking myself that we didn't figure this out sooner. I was told that Quinn had been tested for sensory integration issues and showed no sign of it, so anytime a therapist would bring it up I'd tell them he'd already been tested. Now I know he was only tested for being over-sensitive, which he most definitely is not.
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