I can’t tell you how or when it happened, but at some point, I found a rhythm. I began to function with little to no sleep. At night I slept on the couch next to the wind-up baby swing. I put Andra in there after her last feeding. Every ten minutes I would wind the crank to keep her asleep. I stayed in the ready position until I was so exhausted that I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
I succumbed to the weariness and exhaustion, before I gave in to sleep. At that point, when the baby swing slowed to its stop, Andra would begin to fuss and complain, I turned the crank and dozed back into a semi-sleep state. From the first peep of sunlight, she would wake, and the crying would start all over again.
I felt isolated and alone. Nothing was going right. The days seemed endless and my emotions were frayed. I called the doctor’s office hundreds of times, hoping they would be some measure of sanity for me. During her three-month-old well check I broke down and begged the doctor for answers.
I told her about the endless hours of crying, the inconsolable tantrums, sleep that only came in small spurts in a swing, and disproportionate reaction to sound. Appropriately enough, the doctor listened while I vented. She told me many children had colic and she would soon outgrow it, approximately six to nine months old.
I felt relieved, and hoped she was right…she wasn’t right. It was endless. The only time Andra settled down enough not to cry was when she was being rocked. I did anything to avoid hearing the ear-piercing scream that was like nails on a chalkboard, even if it meant constantly rocking her through the night in either her swing or pumpkin seat.
During her nine month check I reiterated to the doctor that she was still difficult to settle, hardly slept unless she was rocked, when she was over stimulated she was inconsolable, and it was virtually impossible to drive with her in the car because if the car stopped or slowed for any reason at all she would let out a blood curdling scream that ripped you in two. I was told, in time, it would pass and not to give up.
Easy for her to say, because she didn’t have to live it day in and day out, I didn’t feel anyone understood the misery I was going through with my child. I felt awful, wanting to enjoy her, but feeling tortured by her at the same time. Sleep deprived, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know how to handle her. In my mind I was the worst mother in the world. Everything and everyone around me suffered along with us.
As Andra grew so did some unusual and worrisome behaviors. By two she talked very little. She didn’t make eye contact, didn’t like to be touched or soothed when she was over stimulated, was overly obsessed with her pacifier, purple blanket, and turtles. I made play dates, and watched with increasing concern as the other children interacted and played together while Andra sat within their vicinity and played on her own.
There was something wrong! I knew it deep within me, but trying to convince my husband that there was something amiss was a daunting task. He refused to see that there was anything wrong with her. He believed it was just a phase that she would grow out of sooner or later. I did manage to convince him to have her tested because she wasn’t talking.
After much deliberation, we had her tested through the local early childhood intervention program. Without hesitation they were able to see what I saw. I felt vindicated. I wasn’t the horrible mom that I imagined I was. They worked in conjunction with our pediatrician. After what seemed like an eternity we soon had our answers…Broad Spectrum Autism, Anxiety Disorder, Hypersensitivity Disorder, Panic Attacks, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Auditory Processing Issues.
It was a relief, and it was a new hurdle to overcome. This was it. It was what we had wanted to know, but didn’t know how to handle…