little blemishes

I've decided to start writing again, but felt I need a new space (the number three is no longer so meaningful to me!) For anyone who wishes to follow, I've moved here.

Three times three, plus one!

Blossom arrived on December 19th - safe and sound into mummy's waiting arms.

I'd forgotten how much I love newborns - they are so teeny-tiny, floppy and brand new. I'm getting into the swing of it again - remembering the routines (eat, play, sleep, repeat) and the gentle ebb and flow of life slowed down to a baby pace. I already can't imagine life without my tiny Blossom. She has quickly worked her way into our hearts and become an integral part of our family.

How did I get so blessed?

Where was I?

I've found myself here a couple of times lately, starting a post and then finding myself stuck for words, so maybe I'll start with an update to break the ice...

When I last wrote I was in a pretty dark space. I was back on anti-depressants and had started taking anti-anxiety medication for the first time in my life (following a series of terrifying panic attacks). Thank goodness for modern medicine, because over the last five months I have been able to move to a much happier place. I am still on anti-depressants (and will stay on them for the time being as I am prone to post-partum depression) but I was able to wean myself off the anti-anxiety medication three months ago, with no ill effects. I'm feeling much more positive and upbeat about life, even though nothing has essentially changed (I guess it really is all about perspective...)

Willow has started to make friends at school, which is a huge break through for her. It took her three terms, but she got there. The school has decided that she will move to grade one next year (with the rest of her classmates) for social and emotional reasons, even though she will need a modified academic program. I am so pleased that the school has recognised her social and emotional needs as being just as important as her academic needs and I'm relieved that I didn't have to fight to get those needs met. These days, my main goal is that Willow survive her school years with her self esteem intact, which means (at this point in time) progressing to first grade and staying with her friends. Nonetheless, Willow has made pleasing academic progress this year. Her reading is coming along nicely (slow, yet steady improvement) and her hand writing has become a lot clearer.

Of course, we still have our battles. Willow's tantrums are legendary (we still average a couple of complete and utter half hour meltdowns in any given week) and she is impossible to negotiate with as she will never, ever compromise on any single point! It drives me batty and I have almost no patience left at times. However, I do recognise that her strong will is a double edged sword and while it makes life infuriating at times, it has also enabled her to persist (and develop) when others might give up.

Willow is still doing physiotherapy and speech therapy (privately) and her school has been wonderful in providing additional support, despite the fact that Willow has not qualified for any funding. Everyone has acknowledged that she has significant needs and that she is definitely a child "at risk". I am so pleased that her school is committed to her and her development. There is no sense of abandonment - which is how I felt in the public system every. single. day. Willow will also be evaluated by the minimal motor dysfunction unit next year (on the recommendation of her psychologist and after over a year on the waiting list) and I will be interested to hear any insights the doctors have (I'm not expecting much).

Spinner and Poppet are both thriving. They are both active, inquisitive, well-adjusted kids. Spinner is still swimming, playing cricket and chess, taking drama classes and piano lessons. He is happy at school, despite not being challenged by his school work much of the time. We did consider moving him to a different school that has a multi-year level "gifted" stream. However, Spinner made it clear to us that he would rather stay with his friends at this time, so we have decided to meet his social and emotional needs (do you see a theme developing here?) and keep him where he is happy.

Poppet is pleased to be three and better able to keep up with her older siblings. At last, she is a "big kid"! Over the last six months she has learnt to ride a bike, pump herself on a swing, get herself dressed and undressed, use the toilet (day and night) and write her name. She has also started swimming lessons (just like her big brother and sister) and she loves telling people that she can do a star float and blow bubbles in the water. I've never a met a kid who was in such a rush to "grow up" but finally, after three years, she seems content in herself and happy with where she is at!

As for me, I am currently the size of a beached whale, with just over five weeks (give or take) to go until baby #4 arrives. We will be having a busy Christmas in these parts. Mr. 3x3 has five weeks off work over the Christmas season (one of the benefits of being self-employed) so I am hoping that the transition from being a family of five to a family of six will not be too rocky. The kids are excited and I am very ready to meet the little person who has been growing within me over the last 8 months. The nursery is finished, the baby clothes washed and the car seat set to go. I guess all that remains is to rename this blog... something along the lines of "Three Times Three Plus One"!

Another label to add to the list

I have complained, many times, about the fact that Willow gets no educational support at school. Actually, I lie, her school has allocated her 45 minutes a week of one-on-one support which comes out of its general special needs budget. However, Willow gets no support specifically allocated to her and her alone (ie, from the Education Department). The reason that Willow does not get any support, despite her significant and complex educational issues, is because she does not fit into any particular funding category.

Willow is yet to be "formally" diagnosed with anything - and yet her problems are immediately obvious to even the most casual observer (be they 5 or 55). Late last year an educational psychologist "diagnosed" her with dyspraxia. In many, many ways this diagnosis fits like a glove. It some ways it doesn't fit at all and thus she cannot be officially diagnosed. Last week a speech therapist (visiting Willow at school in order to write a report in support of funding) diagnosed Willow with "nonverbal learning disorder". In many ways this diagnosis is disarmingly accurate, however, Willow is atypical of a NVLD child in that she is not particularly verbal.

More to the point, neither dyspraxia or nonverbal learning disorder fare a category of disability that will attract funding from the Education Department - so an official diagnosis is pretty much useless. The special education officer believes that Willow may eventually be diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome - which would open up funding opportunities within the education system - but she is not likely to get that diagnosis now and maybe not for several years (if at all).

These reports upset me and confuse me. Nothing is clear. There is no obvious path forwards, no defined steps to take. All I know is that this journey is long and painful and lonely. I've been very depressed. I've gone back on anti-depressants. I am taking anti-anxiety medication (after suffering several debilitating panic attacks). I don't know how other people stay positive and upbeat. I don't know why I find it so hard to accept my "lot" and embrace all that is good and beautiful about my life (because there is so much to be grateful for). I don't know when or how I lost my joy - but sometime over the last year it dissolved into nothingness - and finding it again has been so darn hard.

Change of plans

Just, when I thought the door was closed, it got flung open. I'm pregnant - the result of a little carelessness, a dash of recklessness and a foolhardy premise that people don't fall accidentally pregnant at the age of 38. It has taken a while to digest the news and I have to admit I've had mixed feelings - a deep sense of peace at times, mounting anxiety and fear at other times (as in, "what the hell was I thinking?!") but overall it is good and I'm okay.

I should also apologise for my absence (maybe? I'm not sure who checks in these days?) Life is busy. My new routine (two children in two different schools as opposed to one child in one school) has taken a lot out of me (not to mention morning sickness and first trimester fatigue). Transitioning Willow to school has been challenging (and I've found myself caught in yet another cycle of grief and rage). Fortunately, we found the right school (or perhaps it found us - we really were so lucky) and that helps incredibly (in fact, the alternative doesn't bear thinking about).

I'm still grabbling with some depression and anxiety but I have a wonderful therapist and a very supportive husband. I also should say that I have ever increasing concerns about my privacy (and Willow's) here on the internet... but for the moment I'll keep writing and sharing in the hope that my story (and Willow's) will be helpful to others "out there".

Treasures that I never want to forget (but probably will)

That I have sung:

Hush-a-bye baby, they've gone to milk
Milk maid and lady dressed in silk
Lady goes softly, maid goes slow
Round again, round again, round they go...

every night of Poppet's life. That she now knows all the words and sings along with me at bedtime. Her little voice is like warm caramel - soft and buttery. It makes my heart melt and I already mourn the day when she will stop singing (or worse ask me to stop). My life will be a little emptier for it.

That when Poppet is cross at me she says "Shananana Mummy!" which means "Naughty Mummy!" in Poppet language (I have no idea how she came up with "Shananana"). She will then correct herself and state, "Only bad guys are naughty. Shananana bad guys!"

That when Willow does her sight words she always says "scissors" when she reads "is"... no matter how many times I correct her.

That Willow loves bandaids and is usually wearing at least 3 or 4 (we had a "no blood, no bandaid" rule at home, but she manages to get them regardless, because who can resist a little girl, with tears in her eyes, who asks for a bandaid?!)

That Spinner loves to do crosswords and play scrabble with me. That he loves reading poetry and playing with his Pokemon cards in equal amounts.

That Spinner will only listen to classical music. If I tune into a rock station in the car he will demand that I change back to classic FM. I always oblige (how could I not?)

public vs. private

The public system is shrouded in dark confusion. It is never clear who you should be communicating with. People are impossible to get hold of. Calls are not returned. There is bureaucracy and a never-ending chain of command. There are lost forms and passivity and NO INTIATIVE. You have to advocate for your child. You have to chase up EVERY SINGLE THING or it will not happen. Nobody looks out for you. Nobody is helpful. Recently i spoke to the DECS speech therapist who evaluated Willow late last year. i needed a copy of his evaluation to give to her current school. He still hadn't completed it although he had seen Willow months previously. he told me smugly... "i can tell you now, that there is NO WAY willow will get support under the Catholic program".

Willow's current school approaches things differently. when catholic ed said Willow did not qualify for support based on the reports we presented the school asked the special education officer to come out and observed willow. instead taking a glance at her from across a crowded room and saying "I can tell you know there is no way she will get support", which is what the disability coordinator at DECS said to me after less than a minute's observation of Willow, the catholic ed woman spent and hour with willow and came out saying "she doesn't fall into any of our funding categories, but desperately needs support and I will find a way to get it."

Confronting

Last year, when I was fighting to get Willow funding/support at kindergarten, I was rebuffed over and over again. While I wrung my hands in despair and cried in frustration, the fact that no-one evaluated Willow and then said, "This is a little girl who needs a lot of help", enabled me to deny, at some level, the seriousness of her predicament (or at least retain a little blind hope that perhaps they were right and I was wrong).

This year, out of the public system and into the Catholic system, I have had an entirely different experience. People observe Willow and are extremely concerned. They are astounded that she has not qualified for any support from numerous government bodies and agencies. They acknowledge that Willow is a child "at risk" who has "high learning needs". They are worried because she doesn't have support when she so clearly needs it.

I find this confronting. Instinctively I find myself wanting to say "It's not that bad! She's made amazing progress!" But then I bite my tongue, because I'm not helping Willow by downplaying her difficulties (which are indeed significant). Sometimes it doesn't pay to look on the bright side.

I've found the transition to school to be challenging in this regard. I see the other children and she is so obviously different. I know that the differences will only become more obvious as time passes. We have a long road and many struggles ahead. Still, I find it hard to stomach the dire predictions about her future, just as I found it hard to stomach the patronizing "Don't worry, she'll be fine..." comments.

And I wonder, why can't there be a middle ground?

When did that happen?

Contrary to appearances, things have really eased up over the last six months, at least insofar as my day to day life with the kids is concerned (which is why I am sometimes crazy enough to toy with the idea of having a fourth!) The evidence:

• These days the kids all get themselves up (usually around 7am) and will read/play quietly until about 7.30-8am when either Willow or Poppet will come to get me. It is such a treat and not something I expected to enjoy for another couple of years!
• The kids will happily entertain themselves for longer and longer stretches of time. I find myself able to sit down and read the paper or a book now and again.
• Poppet now talks completely fluently. She is very social and plays well with her sister (they share a lot in common despite the 3 year age gap between them - which is actually more like a 1-2 year gap given Willow's delays and Poppet's precociousness).
• Willow's language has vastly improved and her frustration levels have decreased markedly. Her melt-downs are less frequent now and less severe - so instead of having several out-of-control, collapse-on-the-floor, screaming sessions each day, we now have a a couple of "light" melt-downs once or twice a week.
• These days putting the kids to bed is quick and easy - a bedtime story and a kiss goodnight does the trick (I used to have to do a lot of "backwards and forwards" with Willow especially - endless repeats of lullabies, cuddles, kisses, hugs etc.)
• We can now leave the kids awake when we have a babysitter and the babysitter can put them to bed because they will happily go to sleep without us present! (We used to have the kids tucked up in bed and almost asleep before we left the house due to the dramas/meltdowns if we were not present.)
• We all eat the same meal at dinner and we all eat at the same time (except for Willow who will still only eat honey sandwiches on white bread without crusts...).
• Poppet has stopped napping so we can keep busy all day without worrying about nap time.
• We rarely need to use the stroller as Poppet is a great walker.
• We don't need to use high chairs or cribs when we are on holiday or out and about.
• The children can all sleep in one room (if we are on holiday).
• Willow hasn't had a toileting accident in months and is dry 50% of the time at night. A load has been lifted.
• After two years of pretty solid sleep I seem to have finally recovered from the utterly awful 3 years of chronic sleep deprivation that I suffered with Willow. Admittedly, it did take years to catch up on all the lost sleep but I can now have a late night, sleep poorly (for whatever reason) or even get woken up by a sick child in the night and I don't feel like death the next day.
• The laundry seems to have diminished to a slightly more manageable level now that the kids can usually wear just *one* outfit of clothes a day (so I'm down to a "mere" 1-2 loads each day!)
• I can drop off and pick up Spinner at the school gates (which makes the whole "two different schools" scenario a lot easier to manage).

I figure that once Poppet is toilet trained, I'm not going to know myself (after over 8.5 years of nappies and wipes). I think you'll hear me hollering for joy all over Australia!

Strangely hopeful

I've had a draft post sitting here for a week ... to do with Willow and school and her current issues (namely, her poor social skills and her inability to make and sustain friendships and engage in any peer play). It breaks my heart to think about it and there have been so many times when I've wished that Willow and I could run away to a place where none of this mattered, somewhere where it wasn't so hard, where Willow's teacher didn't pull me aside every single day to tell me yet another thing that she was struggling with....

BUT
BUT
BUT

Just as I began to feel like I was destined to start each day running from Willow's classroom with hot tears streaming down my face (rushing to hide in my car), I found hope... because Willow's school has found some funding for her and while initially (based on all the evaluations and reports) it didn't look like she would get any additional support from Catholic Education, after the relevant person came and observed Willow in her classroom she agreed that Willow NEEDS support and she has pledged to find a way to get it (it will be tricky because Willow doesn't fit into any particular qualifying category). So the school cares about her and they are getting to know her and I'm feeling strangely calm and hopeful, even optimistic. I think it is going to be okay... at least for now (and that is all I ever ask for).