Every Now and Again...

Abby needed a bath last night and I was not in the mood to do bath time. So I thought she could just jump in the shower, play for a few minutes, I'd wash her hair and she'd jump out. She has done this many, many times over the course of her life.


So last night, I told Abby that I was going to go run a shower for her.
"No!" she yelled.
"Yeah." I said, "It will be fun. You haven't had a shower for while. It will be quick."
"No!" she yelled, a bit more emphatically this time.

Me being just as persistent as she is, went ahead and ran a shower anyway. There was a time when she preferred the shower over the bath and I assumed that once she was in there, she'd get over it and take her shower.

I was wrong.


She screamed all the way to the bathroom and once I put her in the shower, she screamed some more. Screamed and screamed and screamed as she clawed at the shower curtain trying to find a way out, screamed as she jumped out and ran screaming naked and dripping wet through the house. Screaming long after I said, "Ok, ok! You don't have to take a shower! It's ok, Abby! ABBY! IT'S OK! YOU DON'T HAVE TO TAKE A SHOWER! ABBBYYYYY! IT'S OK!"

Jeeze, Louise.

Screaming, screaming, screaming. It had been a while since she'd had a scream-fest like that. Let's hope it's a long while before we see another.


After a nice relaxing BATH, dried off and dressed in clean pj's, Abby sat quietly watching the latest DVR'd "Super Why" while I did her hair. She let me put it in 5 tight little buns to sleep in overnight, so she could have curly hair the next day. I'm always surprised by the intricate hair styles she lets me do. There are many quote/unquote "normal" kids her age who would NEVER let their parents do the buns, braids and ponytail styles that Abby lets me do. As I sat parting, combing and twisting her soft hair, I was reminded of another scream-fest we'd had when she was two.

Abby's hair was getting long and was constantly in her eyes. I thought of cutting it into a cute little pixie cut, but couldn't imagine the wrath she would bring on anyone coming near her head with scissors. I didn't figure that would be safe for her or for the stylist wielding those scissors. So I opted to go with barrettes and pony holders. But even those simple devices were regarded with extreme contempt. Whenever I tried to snap a simple butterfly shaped barrette into her hair, she reacted as if I was shoving thumb tacks into her skull. She would scream and rip it out taking a clump of hair with it.

(Notice the "Quiet" face posted in the middle of the mirror as a constant reminder)

Ok, so why force the issue, right? Right. I'm with you. Except that the only thing that would make her more crazy than her mother trying to put barrettes in her hair, was hair in her mouth. This would make her gag and scream and throw herself on the floor and scream some more. (Have I mentioned screaming in this post?) So after months of wrestling with this issue, I decide after one particularly "fun" screaming/gagging/hair-in-the-mouth session, that she was going to wear barrettes. Period.

I took 20 deep breaths, muttered some prayers for patience and persistence on my part, and gently (or not so gently) told Abby that she was going to wear barrettes that day, and if she took them out, I would put them back in, and if she took them out again, I would put them back in, and if she took them out... well you get the idea.


And I did. She screamed, I put the barrettes in, she ripped them out, screaming all the while, and I would put them back. This went on for about 15 minutes until she was sweaty and exhausted (so was I). I finally put her barrettes back in, pulled her up onto my lap with her blankie-snuggle and pacifier, and whispered softly in her ear,

"It's ok, see. Feel the barrettes in your hair. They don't hurt, do they? They will keep your hair out of your mouth. Mamma wouldn't do anything to hurt you, Abby. We're going to put barrettes in every day, so the hair stays out of your eyes and your mouth."

She settled down and literally to this day, has let me do her hair ever since, and rarely complains. I felt sooo bad that day, but I know Abby's temperament. Sometimes she needs to be forced to try new things. I try to let her make her own choices, but every now and again, she needs a little push.


Now let me say again that I felt terrible. I hate forcing her to do things. I question myself at every turn. Was that the right thing to do or the right way to do it?! Well this is one example of not liking the process, but appreciating the outcome.

After watching me get my last hair cut, Abby announced, "Abby's turn!" She wants a hair cut, so I think she's ready for her first trim. Maybe we'll make a day of it for her 4th birthday.

Communication Breakdown

"The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said."
~Peter Drucker (1909 - 2005)

One of the many roadblocks we faced when trying to
"diagnose" Abby's autism, was that she talked.
Kind of.
And the two main symptoms of Autism that people/pediatricians focus on is eye contact and speech. Abby participated in both of these things, so people were quick to dismiss our fears.

Abby actually has a pretty large vocabulary. The problem lies not in her inability to talk. The problem lies in her difficulty to communicate using those words. Until starting school this past January, she mostly engaged in what is known as Echolalia. As defined by Wikipedia,

"Echolalia is the repetition of vocalizations made by another person. Echolalia can be present in autism ... Asperger syndrome, Alzheimer's Disease and, occasionally, other forms of psychopathology. It is also frequently found in blind or visually impaired children, although most will outgrow this behavior. When done involuntarily, echolalia may be considered a tic."

It was very frustrating to know that your child CAN speak, but not to understand why she "chooses" to scream rather than use the words you know she has in her vocabulary. I remember many a time losing my patience and sometimes my temper over what seemed like her refusal to use the words she knew. Instead of asking for her drink or for the crayon she just dropped, she would scream and throw a fit. Then when I would ask, "Do you want your crayon?" She would repeat, "Want your crayon?"


Because I didn't know about Echolalia, I viewed this as Abby's refusal to use words. I would insist as she was throwing tantrums that she "use her words" before I would "give in" to her tantrum. Well this helped nothing. It only made the tantrum worse. Because what I didn't understand was that she might know how to say the words, but she didn't understand how to communicate her wants and needs using those words.

I look back on those times that I lost my patience with her, wishing I could go back knowing what I know now. I wish I could go back and be the patient and loving mother that I always wanted to be. Not the mom who had been screamed at ALL.DAY.LONG. by the little girl with the giant scream and the mom whose patience had worn very thin. I feel badly for the sweet little girl trying to communicate to a mother who had not yet learned to "hear what wasn't being said." I still fail miserably at this some days. But thankfully, those days are few and farther apart now. I can only move forward and do better tomorrow than I did today.

This morning I was treated to a rare gift. My husband let me sleep in until 10 am!!! It was wonderful. When I finally did wake up, Abby was seated at the table, coloring in a notebook with colored pencils. She said to me, "Hi, Mom! Want to color? Come sit down in the seat." as she pointed to the dining chair next to her. She didn't scream at me once. When I complimented her on her excellent choice of words, she smiled and said, "Come on, Mom! Let's color!"

I cannot express to you how proud and thankful I am to have heard those sentences from her today. I'm crying now as I type these last words. The relief I feel at knowing that it's possible! By being patient and looking to understand what it is that Abby is trying to communicate when she doesn't use words, she is finding her voice and finally, finally learning to communicate. This makes each scream a little more tolerable and thankfully, like my least proud parenting moments, those screams are becoming fewer and farther apart.

There is hope. Always hope.