Orri was a pretty normal toddler. He wasn’t actually that normal if I’m being honest- he was smarter than most kids (in my unbiased opinion.) He started talking at 7 months and walking at 10 months and, whilst I didn’t want to be a dickhead smug mum, I was absolutely smug because he was quite clearly brilliant. He was generally cautious, taking care on steps not to fall and watching other people before trying new things but also brave- he went down the big kid slide and climbed ladders at the playground when he was 2 and I would let him because I was trying to be brave with him and not make him afraid. He went to gymnastics on a Tuesday with his grandparents and loved it- he was learning to walk on the beam and doing roly polies but mainly he loved it because he went with his friend and the pair of them tore around shrieking and hiding and being generally loud and scampish. They were three years old and rambunctious and lovely.
Then C’s mum and Dad asked if we wanted them to carry on taking him to gym after Easter because he wasn’t enjoying it as much. He was nervous about going and didn’t like to go on the beam anymore. He was scared of the equipment- something that was also reflected down at the playground where he wouldn’t climb the high ladder or go down the big slide anymore.
We thought about it for ages. Should we push him to keep going because this fear was clearly a phase and we didn’t want him to quit things whenever they got tough or let him stop because he’s three and it’s just supposed to be fun? We opted for the latter and he stopped going to gym.
At the same sort of time, he became reluctant to go on walks and ride his scooter. His walking was slow and I was constantly cross with him about how long it took us to get anywhere (I’ll come back to this later in its own post because the guilt I feel about that now makes me feel sick.) I didn’t realise at the time but all of these things were part of a pattern pointing to brain trauma. I thought he was going through a lazy phase, getting more interested in cartoons and therefore not wanting to go out. I didn’t understand that his brain was filling up with fluid and it was becoming harder and harder for him to put one foot in front of the other. It must have been scary and confusing for him and I was impatient and annoyed when I should have been his biggest support. That’s a guilt I will never get rid of. We put his unwillingness to take part in riskier play down to his development- maybe he was beginning to realise that he could get hurt. He’d also grown a lot so maybe he was a bit unco-ordinated due to the growth spurt? I was constantly googling, trying to figure out what was wrong/was there anything wrong. Was I being neurotic or too casual?
I was working 4 days a week at the time and he was in a lovely nursery from 7:45ish until 5:30 3 days a week, with one day at his grandparents. It was a long day and he didn’t want me to leave him. He would cry and beg me not to make him go- he got so upset one day that I took him home and called in to work saying I couldn’t go because he was sick. Whenever I did leave him I felt so guilty because I would leave to the sound of him screaming for me. I know it may seem obvious- he’s little and in nursery for such a long time but he had loved nursery a few months earlier. He was such a sociable kid so playing with his friends all day was ideal in his eyes. At the same time, he started having accidents when he had been potty trained for at least six months. I couldn’t understand what was happening- he used to be so confident and now he didn’t want to be without me. I spent my whole day sick with worry about him. I spoke to the nursery who had also noticed the change in him and they wanted to get in an educational psychologist and a social worker who would observe him at nursery and at home. I didn’t realise at the time but they must have been concerned that he was suffering some sort of trauma at home that was making him act so differently. So I decided to take him to the doctor before we got as far as psychologists and social workers. More on that in my next post.
Brave Sir Orri and the Battle of Brain Castle 