Another important facet of social media, at least for myself are the groups one can join. You can pick a group for most areas of your life these days.
There’s dating, work, special interests , hobbies, support, brand loyalty, health, lifestyle groups, your favorite spot to eat, pets, internet services. The list can be endless and really is limited purely by your imagination or lack thereof .
Are all of them necessarily safe and good places? probably not. I myself just joined a freelancer work group on Facebook and saw a post this morning of a young woman asking for a date.
I’m hoping she perhaps thought she was in another group when she sent it out to our group (and yes I most certainly suggested E-harmony once again as is my go to for those awkward posts:)
There are groups one may never know about or want to know about, dark groups of which this writer won’t give any power to by even bringing them up:) There are wacky groups, quirky groups and just plain fearless groups.
For this particular post series I will focus on a special Facebook group for ADHD & ASD that I have gotten great advice, given what I hope has helped and feel does everyone a world of good just to be in. There are highs and lows as you follow other’s experiences, and even as you vote for other’s success you pray for your own at the same time:)
In my case, I have an 8-year-old son , he is a charmer, sweet, smart, handsome boy with a good heart. I also am lucky enough to have two older son’s (18 & 15) who are away at school and am proud of the young men they have become:) A wee momma brag there:)
Getting back to my youngest son. I was 39 years old when he was born, I was warned a pregnancy could affect my health at that age, but figured if the universe sought to bless me with another child who was I to fight it:) He was born at almost 9 pounds, and at one point it was quite scary as childbirth is not always textbook and in my case it almost ended my time here.
Was he worth it? you bet:) admittedly later when all was finally ok, it occurred to me that if I had not made it, he and my other two son’s would have been left with no mom . Sometimes I think we feel so strongly about something that logic tends to take a step aside as you focus with tunnel vision on a goal.
These back round details are leading to a point. Since birth my son had very bad constipation, I mean so bad it required a doctor’s intervention more than once. As I had two other son’s I was mystified by what ailed him. I changed to soy milk, I changed to rice milk, I tried everything to help. As he started growing, I noticed he didn’t seem to be talking very much. He would simply be unresponsive to stimuli and would just sit like a “statue”. I tried the baby Einstein tv shows, the sesame street shows, reading to him, talking to him, showing him pictures, nothing was working.
I chalked it up to him simply just being “different” then my other son’s . This was one I heard often (and looking back should never have listened to, I should have listened to my gut). When I mentioned his issues to doctors I got “oh well, each child develops differently”. Even when I insisted he was far behind my other two boys at these stages.
At around two he still wasnt saying much of anything and didn’t really walk well until he was about 1 1/2 (my other two son’s were just under one). What worried me the most was that seemingly out of nowhere these massive “spells” came on. By “spells”, I mean just mentioning a change (without days of prior notice and heavy repetition) would result in world war 3!
He still has ongoing bouts of banging into walls, being awkward, telling me this or that hurts, it seems his own body space is foreign to him is the best I can describe it. The one that worries me is he seemingly does not feel pain or at least acknowledge the “real” stuff. (He once had the felt inserts of boots crammed under his feet so long he was limping. When asked why he was limping he said “I don’t know”.
Sleeping through the night? What’s that? I’d get up to use the washroom in the middle of the night and there he would be playing with some toy cars. Get him a toy outside of a car? That wasn’t happening either. He was set on certain foods, certain toys and routine. This could cause a catastrophic meltdown if this path veered in any way. The only sure things in life are death, taxes, uncertainty and constant change. How was this wee fellow to survive it day-to-day?
These “meltdowns” eventually came with full-fledged flailing, kicking, hitting, screaming and large bites to whatever he could grasp his teeth on. These literally would tear chunks of skin out of my arm (I was about to be married and had to wear my no sleeve wedding dress with a huge “zombie like” chunk out of my arm) Again my doctor said “well, some kids are just biters”. Looking back perhaps the doctor needed a sample bite to understand the gravity of the situation:)
I also noticed a lot of “self soothing” techniques. In his case it was a curl the top of the ear down almost back in the ear and sucking on his pointer finger. Any excitable behaviour was accompanied by very very rapid rubbing of his pincer fingers (this still happens). When I saw the slight rocking begin I was instantly brought back to a movie I saw way back in the day . It was called son-rise (make sure the tissues are handy). I cannot recommend it enough, and I saw this way before I had children (as a matter of fact I was 10).
At around 3 1/2 I even went so far as to have his hearing checked and all was perfect (it was checked at birth as well and I was told it was fine). In retrospect I was secretly hoping it was as simple as a missed hearing issue. It was easier than accepting what I was starting to suspect. Throughout this time his father was quite adamant that everything was “fine” and I was “making a mountain out of a molehill”.
His father’s background was being brought up with many siblings and so any perceived weakness was either ignored or not discussed. As I grew up an only child I was heavily focused on and so thought perhaps my own perception was wrong and I was just “over reacting”.
By the time I was ready to go back to work, I had a babysitter. Years later I was told she simply could not handle him but didn’t know how to tell me. It was a daily challenge for her to just keep him safe until one of us got home. He then went to a home based daycare, recommended by a male pediatrician who suggested it would help “socialize” him before school started. (this was by far the WORST mistake in my case I’ve ever made).
I would get reports from the daycare lady that “he can’t even color what’s wrong with him? or “he acts so weird” or “why does he laugh when people are upset”. As a mother it took all my power to not mention that perhaps daycare was not her particular foray:) Perhaps a career in a child free environment was more suited to her temperament, but I digress.
Eventually the dreaded 1st day of school came…
continued on blog post 2 of 4