Multiple Miscarriages and a Miracle Baby

    So the Mighty has asked their readers what their greatest gift has been. I could say the laptop from my parents that I am typing this on. I could say my awesome phone generously provided by my inlaws. I could say a roof over my head and my family and friends.

    While they are all AMAZING gifts, I have to say the best is my son. Yeah yeah, I know. You've probably all heard that before, but wait. My story is different.

    I have been through 7 miscarriages. Yes, you read that right. SEVEN. The first one was about 16 weeks along. The other 6 were before 11 weeks. Spontaneous Abortions is how Doctors refer to them. I hate that term. I didn't CHOOSE to lose those babies. My body did, and it ripped my heart out every.single.time.

   It got to the point where my doctor told me, I may never be able to carry a child to term. I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts at the age of 13 and struggled with them, but other than that, they couldn't find anything medically wrong with me.

    Until Liam. Liam was conceived during Hurricane Katrina. Yep, you read that right too. No power for days, equals bored people! I found out on my brother's birthday that I was pregnant. I was scared to death.

    I made an appointment to see an OB/Gyn. As soon as I told them of my previous miscarriages, I was scheduled to see a high risk OB/Gyn. I had every test under the sun. While we waited on results, I was told to take it easy. At 9 weeks I started to bleed and was rushed to the ER.

   My husband and my best friend in tow, we waited for what seemed like hours, when it was merely one. They brought in an ultrasound machine. Here I am, feet in stirrups, a Doctor, a nurse, the US tech, my hubby and best friend at my feet. The Dr. is talking all hush hush. I can feel panic start to course through my body. My hubby and my best friend are standing there with their mouths agape. NO ONE IS TELLING ME WHAT'S GOING ON.....

    Then I hear one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. I hear his heart beat. It sounds like a train roaring down the tracks. I am sent home on bed rest, and after going over all my testing, they tell me I have a clotting disorder. They send hubby to the pharmacy for aspirin and tell me to take it every morning until 32 weeks.

    Aspirin! Aspirin saved my pregnancy! I went to a high risk OB/GYN weekly through my pregnancy.  Hubby rented me a hospital grade dopplar, so I could check the baby's heart beat every day. I was on bed rest, and if I wasn't throwing up, I was chilling out.

    When we moved from Alabama back to Pa, I had to find a new Dr. By this time I was 20 weeks in. The new high risk was quite a drive, as we live in a very rural area. So I only saw him every other week. Long story short, I delivered around 36 weeks. I became pre eclamptic and had to be induced. But other than that, it was a normal delivery and I had a beautiful baby boy to be thankful for.

    He wasn't a Christmas gift though, he was actually my mother's day gift that year, as I had him just 2 days before. (Though we moved home in December and we drew a bow on my tummy and presented it as our gift to our parents.) I bawled like a baby when they laid his little body on my chest. I silently thanked God for this miracle.

    So now you know my story, or at least part of it. If you follow us on facebook, you know my boy is autistic, struggles with biploar disorder, SPD, ADHD, OCD, ODD, and anxiety. You also know I embrace him and all his quirkiness. This is why!

     I don't care if he's autistic. I don't care that he struggles with all these labels. (I mean, I do, but I don't love him any less.) I care that he is mine.

     So when I hear people say they hate that their child is autistic, I get angry. Not because I don't think you have valid feelings. Let's face it, your journey is different than mine. I hate it, because I know there are other women and men out there who want nothing more than a child to love. We have that. We were given that blessing. Even though our journeys are hard, we still have them. We have something they long to have. We have something to be thankful for.


    You see, my greatest gift didn't come from a store. It isn't a thing. My greatest gift is my son, and I will always treasure him. Through the good, the bad and the ugly days of autism and bipolar. He is my "Miracle Man!"

To medicate or NOT to medicate

WE ARE USING MEDICATIONS~

Yes, you read that right. the mother who was vehemently against medicating children, has put her child on meds.

I was always against medicating my son. He was diagnosed with ADHD before he was diagnosed with Autism, and I told the pediatrician from the get go, NO MEDS.

As the years have gone by and as I have watched my child struggle, pita and I started to actually entertain the idea....

I still wasn't sure. That's a BIG step. But when Liam had his last manic episode, and our choice was inpatient over 2 hours away or home with an appt with the child psychiatrist, the realization was that medicine was going to need to be administered.

It was with heavy hearts that we accepted a script for Concerta, and one for Hydroxyzine for Liam. We were told that these are the first step. If they don't work it will be Zoloft, and then maybe even anti psychotics. So we started with the lesser of evils.

I was nauseous when I gave him his meds that first day. I watched him like a hawk. I mean seriously, Liam kept asking me to stop staring at him!

                               That day I saw a miracle.

  My son was concentrating. He was staying on task. He was playing something for more than 10 minutes at a time. He wasn't angry. He wasn't having constant meltdowns. He wasn't stimming constantly. We weren't walking on egg shells. (note: I don't mind that he stims, but sometimes he gets carried away (head banging) and I do fear it will hurt him)

We went from three meltdowns a day to maybe 3 a WEEK! Instead of bursts of anger, he cries. (I don't like to see him crying, but it beats keeping him from banging his head off the walls when he is upset)

I was afraid to actually come forth and admit that I too, was giving my son medication. So many people look down on those that medicate their children. I myself hated to hear that children were being put on Ritalin or Adderall. I didn't condemn anyone for it, but I hated to hear it. In my mind it was like people were giving their children legal cocaine. How could that be healthy?

And then my son went down hill. so fast in fact, that we really had no other choice. It was then that I realized that these medications are made to HELP our children. His doctor wasn't just throwing a script at us and rushing us out of his office. He was reaching out and telling us what he thought would help our son lead a happy, healthy life.

We just went today for a medication check up and when we told Dr. S all the good that has come from these two medications, he was smiling from ear to ear. He said that sadly, he doesn't always hear that it helps a child like this. He was genuinely happy that Liam is doing so well. We are happy. Liam is happy.

While I still believe wholeheartedly that medication should ALWAYS be last resort, I am now embracing it.

Not for me. Not for my life, but for him and for his life. He is happy. He is healthy. He is thriving.

My job as his mother is to make sure of that.

(I am NOT a doctor. I am NOT saying medication is the right step for ANYONE or ANY CHILD. I am saying that it should be last resort, but as parents, we shouldn't feel guilty for helping our children have better lives)

Stifle

Those that follow us on Facebook know that a few months ago Liam was almost hospitalized. Thankfully he wasn't, but it was close.

Afterwards we got him in to see a child psychiatrist whom diagnosed him as Bipolar, ODD, OCD tendencies and Anxiety. All of this on top of Autism, ADHD, and SPD.

This was a very hard time for him, and for us as his parents. I still haven't let myself fully absorb the feelings associated with his depressive episode. I can't. I just can't.

Last night Liam was sitting on my lap, rare for him now that he is getting older. I was thinking about other families I know, who have recently had to hospitalize their autistic children. The flood of memories from Liam's episode became so grandiose I couldn't contain them.

These words were flowing through my mind, so I quickly typed them into my phone so I could remember them today.

Stifle

I stifle the feelings,
The memories, the thoughts.
I think of his courage.
How hard he had fought.

I couldn't give in.
I couldn't shed tears.
He needed my strength
To conquer his fears.

Feeling so helpless, useless, alone.
I shut down my mind.
My heart like a stone.

Still I stifle.
I push away the pain.
I bury the memories;
The heartbreak, the disdain.

I'm afraid to give in.
Afraid to feel.
I fear recurrence.
I fear he won't heal.

Just one little boy.
How much can he take?
How much can he bear?
How long til he breaks?

I stifle my breath.
I mutter a prayer.
I stifle the pain,
Layer by layer.

~Courtney B

My childhood therapist was right. It feels good to get that out. Even if it is in the form of poetry. The release is enlightening.
                                                              <3 <3 <3 <3