July 3, 2007
hey, don’t write yourself off yet . . .
Every six months, I take the boys to the pediatric dentist. And every six months, there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth and questioning the judgment of the universe and my fitness as a mother.
Because the dentist is incredibly difficult for Henry. Lots of things are difficult for Henry; he’s just like that. But recently, things that used to be catastrophically difficult have become . . . less so. When I took him to the pediatrician this last time, he had a throat culture; in the past, he had to be restrained for the swab. This time, he sat up on the counter and wrapped his arms around his knees and took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m ready” and opened his mouth.
Just like that.
Wade and I have been talking about how much Henry has changed in the last year, particularly how he has grown out of some of the behaviors we worried the most about. He has gained confidence, socially and academically; he has stopped living so much in his own little world. He is doing things that the doctors told us he would never do–understanding puns, for example, and solving word problems (which I still can’t do most of the time). He worries about Charlie when he is sick or sad and clearly has a strong empathetic bond with his brother.
He hugs me, and lets me kiss him, which he hadn’t done for a long time. He laughs, a lot. He has conversations, where he talks and then he listens.
Henry is still quirky and anxious, but he’s not stuck (for lack of a better word) in the frightening ways we thought he would be. And I find myself, as I watch him move through his days, wondering if he really is anything at all beyond that, or if, honestly, he is just quirky and anxious.
I think Henry was overdiagnosed. I think he is different from other children–I think he feels and senses and perceives the world differently–but I don’t think he falls on any spectrum. He clearly has ADHD, but beyond that? Beyond that, I think the doctors were looking for something more, I think WE were looking for something more, I think as a culture we’ve fallen into the trap of looking for something more, something that would explain why some kids are different.
Instead of just saying, some kids are different.
Before we went to the dentist today, I decided that we were going to start small: there would be no X rays, for one thing, and Henry would take his own toothbrush and toothpaste. And we would go from there.
He let the hygienist brush his teeth. He waited patiently for the dentist, who was running late. He opened his mouth and let the dentist examine his teeth and his dental work and he was polite and friendly and calm.
He didn’t cry or scream.
The last two times we have gone to the dentist, I have cried the entire way home. Today, we turned the radio up and sang along with Jimmy Eat World (because how can you NOT sing along to The Middle?) and talked about where we might go for a snack and what time Nana and Papa’s plane was landing and how many turtles live in the lake. I won’t say that today was just a normal visit to the dentist–normal kids, like Charlie, have X rays and have their teeth cleaned with the Special Spinny Toothbrush–but it was the most normal visit we have ever had.
And if this is what the rest of Henry’s life will be like–being a little quirky and a little anxious and a little bit more sensitive to the world than his peers–I think that’s okay. In fact, I think it’s just fine.
It just takes some time, little girl
You’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be all right, all right.
Posted by Susan @ 8:12 pm • Uncategorized
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July 3rd, 2007 at 9:23 pm, Anonymous Says:
And a little child shall lead them.
Amen to that huh? Way to go Henry!
Happy 4th to you and yours.
July 3rd, 2007 at 9:57 pm, Annika Says:
I think Henry is awesome. And I think you are awesome.
July 3rd, 2007 at 10:00 pm, dani Says:
It’s truly Independence Day for Henry. Yeay! xo.
July 4th, 2007 at 1:17 am, Kim Says:
They ARE all different and I think sometimes we rush into labels. Things just are what they are.
July 4th, 2007 at 5:38 am, chichimama Says:
I’m very happy for Henry! And for you!
And I still bring my own toothpaste to the dentist, they stuff they use is just horrid. You can tell Henry that the dentist doesn’t even blink when I hand over my tube, and says that more people than you would think feel similarly. (Or, he’s just a really nice person and humoring me…).
July 4th, 2007 at 5:57 am, standing still Says:
Three cheers! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
July 4th, 2007 at 6:26 am, Sarah Says:
What a great day for you!
July 4th, 2007 at 6:34 am, daysgoby Says:
I’m so proud of Henry and so OVERJOYED for you!
A great weight, huh?
July 4th, 2007 at 7:35 am, Arwen Says:
Our next door neighbors have a son who was recently diagnosed with a extremely high functioning autism. And basically he is quirky, like Henry. I used to notice that he was quirky but now I don’t, his mom says it is because he is used to us so some of the behaviors dissipate with his comfort of us increasing.
July 4th, 2007 at 7:46 am, Mark Says:
Lovely!
July 4th, 2007 at 8:13 am, Lisa Milton Says:
Many a great leader, artist, thinker was a quirky kid - I’ve got one too.
He is so lucky to have you, someone that gets him and loves him.
Happy 4th to all of you.
July 4th, 2007 at 8:22 am, Debra Says:
Hey, waitaminute. You mean pitching a fit, throwing up, and biting down when the dentist tries to examine your teeth isn’t normal??
My battles at the dentist’s were legend! Eventually (age 7) I allowed enough of an investigation to have 6 teeth pulled.
July 4th, 2007 at 12:08 pm, Jordan Says:
Good for you. All of our kids have their quirks; some fit into diagnostic categories early on and then don’t anymore as they get older. I find that the kids who seem to “outgrow” what was assumed to be a spectrum diagnosis are often the ones whose sensitive sensory systems mature significantly enough to allow their attention, language, social, and academic skills to improve a great deal. I don’t know if that’s been the case for your son, but whatever has made the difference this year: hooray! Quirky people are my favorites.
July 4th, 2007 at 1:21 pm, beth Says:
Henry sounds just like my Nicholas. It’s so surprising now, how much of his many quirks he’s outgrown. He changed a lot between ages 5 and 7. He’s still different, there IS some sort of learning difference involved, but his sensory issues are greatly lessened.
Last night at dinner, I had a long discussion with my boys about Sensory Processing disorder and how they both have it and they have opposite sensitivities and they have to respect that in one another. I’m hoping that will decrease the friction with them. Accepting themselves, and one another.
Glad Henry is doing so well!
July 4th, 2007 at 1:51 pm, Val Says:
Wow. You’re a nice mom.
They held me down in the dentist chair and were mean to me.
But I lived.
July 4th, 2007 at 2:51 pm, Cathy Says:
plop.. that is the tear that just dropped from my eye.! your post made me tear up. :)I am glad that you had a good trip to the dentist. there is such joy in normalcy. we are having a good day/week too. I think summer mellows out kids too.
July 4th, 2007 at 5:21 pm, paper napkin Says:
It’s those small successes that feel like you’ve won the lottery. No, the Tour de France (there’s no work involved in the lottery). Hooray, take a victory lap Henry!
(And you know quirky is the new black.)
July 4th, 2007 at 5:55 pm, Karianna Says:
I could write and write and write about how right you are - some kids are simply “different.”
And I hate that the notion of “supporting parents” and “better medicine” has actually become more of an oversensitivity to each little quirk.
Quick!
Diagnose!
Label!
Treat!
Whereas some things work out better left alone.
Yay Henry.
July 4th, 2007 at 6:44 pm, ADHD Mom Says:
I just loved this post. I could relate to it in so many ways. Thanks
July 5th, 2007 at 2:03 am, Kathryn Says:
I’ve posted before– I have a quirky Henry too.
I’m constantly amazed at how I can feel completely okay with his differences one moment and then have knots in my stomach over them another.
You have always given me such hope and guidance– I really admire your attitude and positive outlook and I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am to hear about your Henry’s great progress!!!
July 5th, 2007 at 5:15 am, Anonymous Says:
I am so very glad to have stumbled upon this post. Our oldest has been diagnosed with a sensory processing and anxiety disorder. We are seeing an occupational therapist and a therapist and I do think it is helping. I do also think, though, that our little bundle is different and quirky and always will be and that is ok. I can’t wait to read more about your adventures…
July 5th, 2007 at 10:32 am, Rebecca Says:
This post really hit home with me- my youngest son has been diagnosed ADHD-Impulse disorder and Bipolar, so quirky is what we’re all about! I worry sometimes that we were quick to medicate, but we’ve been “working” on this and seeing a child psychologist with no results for way too long… I know some of his issues are just that- his issues, so it’s good to hear we’re not alone.
July 5th, 2007 at 12:02 pm, Shan Says:
As a clinical psychologist, I see kids overdiagnosed all the time. It drives me crazy (no pun intended). Not everything needs or deserves a diagnostic label. There are still individual differences among human beings that are just that–differences!
July 5th, 2007 at 1:25 pm, Kathy/Lessons from the Laundry Says:
I’ve been around a lot of quirky kids. And really I think they are so bold and interesting and their perspectives usually challenge our small boundries in so many ways. I think as a society we are being led to accept labels as a way to get services, which is okay, but we need to fight to keep the child first and label second. Lovely post.
July 5th, 2007 at 2:47 pm, Amy Says:
As we say in our house, “Hooray for Henry!” And for his awesome mom and dad.
July 5th, 2007 at 3:58 pm, Mocha Says:
You know that you totally tear my heart up when you write about Henry, don’t you? I really love what you said about him being different because NOT. EVERY. CHILD. IS FROM A COOKIE CUTOUT. Why? Why? Why is it so hard for doctors and teachers to realize this? Why do they think we are all from the same cloth and sneer when we bring in our difficult children?
Don’t get me started, woman.
July 5th, 2007 at 8:28 pm, Susan Says:
I would like to give each and every one of you a gigantic smooch.
Thank you so very much. You are all so kind, and so very pretty.
That is all.
July 6th, 2007 at 9:47 am, Jamie Says:
What a beautiful post. I felt in some ways like you were telling a story about my daughter and I. Thanks for such a positive spin - because on many days it’s NOT easy to see past the worries.
July 6th, 2007 at 11:39 am, The June Cleaver Diaries Says:
It’s so cool to see you come full circle with this, from 2005 to now.
Have I really “known” you that long????
July 7th, 2007 at 7:13 pm, Sincerely Anna Says:
Came over here for the first time today. I really felt your heart in this post. My 4 1/2 year old stands out in the crowd, too. Boy, there are days when…well, you know. It’s hard. But our kids teach us so much, and our kids will teach other kids so much. God uses them more than we know.
I totally get how you feel about this!
July 28th, 2007 at 7:34 pm, Tricia Says:
I think quirky kids make the best grown-ups…