favorite time of day

Every night before bed, I try to have some quiet time with the kids. I know how the kids love to hear stories about themselves when they were little so tonight I thought I’d highlight how different they were.

Some things I’ve mentioned to them previously include how Aria came out of my body, hungry. Her voice was loud and she was communicating with me from the moment they placed her on my chest after she was born. Roan came out, absolutely perfectly behaved. He was long and lean. She was short and stubby. He did everything perfectly the day he was  ready to meet the world. She tried to stay put as long as she possibly could – 7 mm dilated and no labor pains yet. He was born 5 days early. She, on her due date–with some convincing in the form of the midwife breaking my water.

Tonight I went further to talk about how I am always hearing Aria’s little voice. “Can I have ____?” Can you help me _____?” “Can you play ____ with me?” and so on. It really is a blessing and sometimes a pain in the butt. Roan on the other hand, I always had to remind him to use his words. He would point and point and I would ask him to use his words. Mostly because I knew he knew the words.

I continued talking about how I could tell his little brain was moving so fast and that his little mouth and voice just couldn’t keep up. I was surprised with his reaction.

He turned away, angry. I queried him further and told him that it wasn’t bad and that it’s just a result of being human. Lot’s of people are the same way. He started crying his sad cry. I knew I hit a hard spot for him. Roan has never been one to cry much. Choua used to say kiddingly, “What is wrong with this kid? He never cries.”

My heart just sank. He said he knows exactly what I was saying. That it was all true about how his brain was moving so fast but he couldn’t communicate it with us. He said that he felt so lonely; which absolutely broke my heart. We talked a little more and I told him not to feel bad because I never wanted him to feel that way…that he was broken or bad somehow. I told him that I also feel bad because I always felt that I was the one that needed help because I couldn’t understand and help him more. All of the speech and occupational therapists and the psychologist now. These are all ways for me to try to understand and help him more.

At the end of 2011, Roan was diagnosed with the third category of ADHD: “Predominantly Hyperactive-Impulsive Type presents with excessive fidgetiness and restlessness, hyperactivity, difficulty waiting and remaining seated, immature behaviour; destructive behaviors may also be present“.

People usually tell me that I should get a second opinion. However, looking back through his life, I am confident that he was correctly diagnosed. I was a bit relieved actually…and just so sad. As a mother, I think you always feel responsible. If only, I hadn’t eaten so many sweets while I was pregnant with him. Or, if only I could have been more calm or read to him more or…if, if, if. In fact, other people mention the “Ifs” to me as well.

However, in the true spirit of my favorite time of the day and in the spirit of my amazing, forgiving little boy, he empathized with my sadness and didn’t want me to be sad too. I think he finally can understand that he is not alone and that he should not feel lonely because I will always be right there with him. At least that is what I like to believe.

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