Here goes an attempt at the Reader's Digest condensed version.
When I was married to Colin's father he was in the Navy, so we moved around a lot. I think I got pregnant with Colin on the road between CA and TX. We lived in TX for about eight months, stayed with my parents in MO for a couple of weeks, then went to Dan's permanent job in Denver. Colin was born in a military hospital, we left Denver and went back to MO to stay with my parents after Dan got out of the Navy. Due to a misunderstanding (we thought my dad had kicked us out) we ended up moving to southern FL when Colin about about ten months old.
So in November we went from a St. Louis winter, with snow on the ground and an average temp around freezing, to Ft. Lauderdale with a temp around 70 and a LOT of humidity. Colin developed a cold on the way down, and that started roughly a year of ear infections. It wasn't helped by Dan smoking inside our very small apartment. The ear infections didn't go away until Colin got tubes in his ears at age two.
When Colin was about twenty months, I left his father and went back to MO. The ear infections didn't go away until Colin got tubes in his ears at age two. At twenty-seven months I moved in with my current husband (Orlando FL for a month, then San Antonio TX). Back to the life of a military wife.
Colin didn't really have any playmates (he still doesn't, to my sorrow). He learned to talk from the tv, and I didn't know anything other than that he was slow to talk until he was three years old. Several months of military doctors testing, hearing tests and neurology tests and a blood test and a developmental pediatrician evaluation and they gave us the diagnosis of PDD.
I think in a way the fact that we didn't have many friends with children helped, because we didn't compare Colin with normal children, we just kind of raised him in a vaccuum. We didn't try to get him to "act normal" because we didn't have any preconceptions of what normal was.
If I had known the diagnosis before I got pregnant with my daughter, I don't know when (or if) she would have been born.
Colin has greatly improved since he started school at four. He used to be a little boy who wouldn't make eyecontact, lined his toys up, would run off if I didn't keep my eye on him every second, would tell me he was hungry by quoting Winnie the Pooh saying "Oh bother, no more honey."
He's now thirteen. We can have conversations. He loves legos still but doesn't line them up: now he builds people with them. He's developing into a talented artist. He lives in this world now, doesn't just move through it.
Whether this is rational or not, I blame my first husband's smoking for a lot of Colin's problems with interacting.
Would I want a cure for him? I don't really know. I'm happy that he seems to be outgrowing it. The meltdowns are not nearly as bad, and not nearly as often. If there had been a cure ten years ago, when he was just starting on his social development, I'd've sold my right arm for it. Sometimes I still cry, after he's in bed, and I wonder if something I did or something I am crippled my son. And sometimes I cry because the little boy he used to be grew into the junior giant who tells me I'm the best mom in the world.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2006-07-20 06:52 pm (UTC)When I was married to Colin's father he was in the Navy, so we moved around a lot. I think I got pregnant with Colin on the road between CA and TX. We lived in TX for about eight months, stayed with my parents in MO for a couple of weeks, then went to Dan's permanent job in Denver. Colin was born in a military hospital, we left Denver and went back to MO to stay with my parents after Dan got out of the Navy. Due to a misunderstanding (we thought my dad had kicked us out) we ended up moving to southern FL when Colin about about ten months old.
So in November we went from a St. Louis winter, with snow on the ground and an average temp around freezing, to Ft. Lauderdale with a temp around 70 and a LOT of humidity. Colin developed a cold on the way down, and that started roughly a year of ear infections. It wasn't helped by Dan smoking inside our very small apartment. The ear infections didn't go away until Colin got tubes in his ears at age two.
When Colin was about twenty months, I left his father and went back to MO. The ear infections didn't go away until Colin got tubes in his ears at age two. At twenty-seven months I moved in with my current husband (Orlando FL for a month, then San Antonio TX). Back to the life of a military wife.
Colin didn't really have any playmates (he still doesn't, to my sorrow). He learned to talk from the tv, and I didn't know anything other than that he was slow to talk until he was three years old. Several months of military doctors testing, hearing tests and neurology tests and a blood test and a developmental pediatrician evaluation and they gave us the diagnosis of PDD.
I think in a way the fact that we didn't have many friends with children helped, because we didn't compare Colin with normal children, we just kind of raised him in a vaccuum. We didn't try to get him to "act normal" because we didn't have any preconceptions of what normal was.
If I had known the diagnosis before I got pregnant with my daughter, I don't know when (or if) she would have been born.
Colin has greatly improved since he started school at four. He used to be a little boy who wouldn't make eyecontact, lined his toys up, would run off if I didn't keep my eye on him every second, would tell me he was hungry by quoting Winnie the Pooh saying "Oh bother, no more honey."
He's now thirteen. We can have conversations. He loves legos still but doesn't line them up: now he builds people with them. He's developing into a talented artist. He lives in this world now, doesn't just move through it.
Whether this is rational or not, I blame my first husband's smoking for a lot of Colin's problems with interacting.
Would I want a cure for him? I don't really know. I'm happy that he seems to be outgrowing it. The meltdowns are not nearly as bad, and not nearly as often. If there had been a cure ten years ago, when he was just starting on his social development, I'd've sold my right arm for it. Sometimes I still cry, after he's in bed, and I wonder if something I did or something I am crippled my son. And sometimes I cry because the little boy he used to be grew into the junior giant who tells me I'm the best mom in the world.