Welcome to the Rainforest

Ever since Liberty began his therapeutic listening, it has apparently increased his vocalizations. Lately, it has gotten to the point where he is outright screeching, chirping, howling, yelling, or even whispering. It's starting to get on my last frayed and dangling nerve.

And, forget about it if I answer the phone. There must be some kind of "disturbance in the Force," to borrow a phrase from Star Wars, that, whenever I put my ear to the telephone, he will invariably appear right in front of me (from wherever he has been) and begin these wild and crazy vocalizations. He will climb up in my lap and turn my face toward his, or try and get the phone out of my hand. Pity the poor caller on the other end who usually gets a big "whoop, whoop," bellowed into their ears.

What can I say? It's just starting to get to me.

Sometimes he wakes up in the morning with a happy little screech or yelp that rips me from whatever level of sleep I was able to attain. He is in the other room right now and it sounds like "yipping." I can only hope that this is pre-speech, not just some kind of new stim. I've waited so long for speech.

I found one of my son's old occupational therapy notebooks in which the therapist wrote down that Liberty said four words: "Get down, go out, Mom, and Tigger." That day stands out in my memory. He was two years old. He will be six years old in July.

I just don't get it. Where is the speech? I know his receptive language has increased because he follows commands now. There is something that just won't allow his brain to make that connection he needs. It can get me so down.

Today, for instance, Lib started crying and I could not get him to attempt to show me what was wrong. I took his finger and tried to get him to point to areas of his body. All he did was cry harder and hurl himself into my arms. Eventually, I was so worn out that I was crying, too. We had been up at 2 and 4 AM the night before because the weather turned humid; rain was on its way. It rained hard most of this morning. I think my son got the usual postnasal drip that this part of the Gulf is so famous for. So, I was tired and I know he was tired.

I rocked him until I could rock no more. He is heavy. My bones and muscles ache. My back is about to go out again, I can feel it.

I wearily got up and just collapsed on the bed in the bedroom while he continued to cry in the other room. I just had no more energy. Finally, he came and climbed into bed with me and we napped with our arms wrapped around each other for at least two hours when I awoke to long shadows in the house, the sun going down. Lib continued to nap for another two hours, utterly worn out.

These are the scenarios we constantly cycle through. We mostly have pretty good days. But, when Lib is hurting and cannot communicate with me, that is when I am at my wit's end yet again, and I question everything. I just sit back and watch my mind as all the "trash talk" blows through like tumbleweeds - random thoughts about how it was that damned MMR shot that did this, or I'm angry that they are so proud at school about how well he is communicating but communication stinks at home. I suddenly want to rush to the hospital and get an MRI, maybe it's a brain tumor after all. Maybe I need to change doctors. Maybe I should take him off all supplements, maybe I should do all the supplements I have been letting slip through the cracks....on and on it goes. I cannot stop those thoughts but I can step back from them now and just witness them. It does help. A little.

I guess vocalizing is in many ways better than silence. I see my son with those bright and shiny eyes trying his best. Sometimes I have imitated his sounds to see what he would do, and usually he stops and looks at me. I'm trying meet him where he is. Mostly I dream about not being able to find him, my mind's way I guess of burning off fears.

You know, most of the biomed treatments we have encountered all say that behaviors usually get worse before they get better. I'm sure that is true sometimes, but is it always true? My occupational therapist I have now who guides Liberty's therapeutic listening told me that she thinks that Lib is just transitioning, and to try and be patient and watch him for a month and see if things change. Our speech therapist said most of this is sensory integration problems. Right now he is running his hands in front of his face, getting eye level with countertops and rocking back and forth, measuring distance (it looks like to me) by walking from one end of the room to the other , and now these persistent sounds that really do imitate gibbons in the rainforest. Ever hear one of those? It's a wop, wop, wop sound.

Oh, yes, and the clapping. The clap-clap-clapping.

Can anyone doubt why I cherish my alone time...the peace of silent meditation? This is that core that I have to cultivate if I am to going to be able to withstand this journey with my son.