Back Story

Can't very well start a story without giving you a bit of the history, right?

My son, my special boy, is named Brandon. He is a bright and energetic and creative child. He's always creating something with his Lego's or on Minecraft (video game).

I was only 19 years old when I found out I was pregnant with my special child. The pregnancy was fairly easy. Nothing was really out of whack or anything like that. I worked all of my pregnancy. I stopped working 3 days before I gave birth.

My water broke October 11, 2004 at around 4am. My mother was asleep and my father was in his side of the house (it was a mother-in-law suite attached to a bigger house) playing on the computer. I go to their side of the home and ask if mom was still in bed. My father was curious as to what I needed, but I told him it was a girl issue. He shrugged and carried on. I go and wake my mother up, told her my water broke. She jumped up and then said I was fine and that we had time. So we all gradually got ready, I hopped on my computer for a little bit. And then we ventured out by 5, 5:30.

This is where everything starts to go hazy on me.

I remember the nurses asking why I wasn't feeling the strong contractions that they were monitoring. Like, seriously, how am I suppose to know the answer to that? I just didn't. They were shocked that I wasn't crying or moaning in pain with how high they were spiking. So, that made them give me Pitocin. Because, you know...in order for me to labor properly, I had to be writhing in agony and crying like a maniac (insert major eye roll here).

Contractions got awful. They kind of forced pain meds on me by asking me in the middle of a particularly strong contraction if I wanted meds. Of course, when you're in the middle of a contraction you're going to be irrational. I wanted a drug-free vaginal birth. I didn't want the Pitocin or the Demoral. But I received them anyway. That's where everything just flattened me out. I had to have a catheter and I was in and out of sleep and just drooling and incoherent.

Sixteen hours into it, the doctor insisted on a C-Section. So I was wheeled away and at 8:28pm, I had my boy. Brandon: 6lbs 9oz of pure amazing. Unfortunately, the cord was wrapped around his neck several times and because of my bad anemia, he had jaundice. I couldn't breastfeed, the hospital did NOT help me at all with it. They pointed at a pump and told me to use it. I didn't know how. I didn't know how to breastfeed. I remember trying to get him to latch but he wouldn't. I didn't know what to do. I was forced into formula because of the lack of help from this hospital. I'll never go back to their L&D.

Brandon freshly born.

Brandon was a sweet heart. He still is. He slept a lot and ate a lot. Oh did he eat! He gained a lot of weight and he was growing in height at a crazy fast pace.

Around 3 months old, Brandon was diagnosed with Asthma and seasonal allergies. He was always wheezy and raspy. He was put on liquid Albuterol. At 6 months old, he was diagnosed with Tortucollis, which with some physical therapy, he grew out of.

He acted like a normal baby. Ate a lot, got into stuff when he began crawling, cried when he couldn't do something he wanted. When parents of children his age started gasping and saying that their child was talking...I had nothing to brag about. My son wasn't talking yet. But that's okay! Because he was walking and giggling and loved his tickles and toy trucks.

Brandon at 1 years old.

Doctors weren't worried. He was still young. He's a boy, he'll talk soon enough, they're just late developers. I heard it all. It's okay. He'll be fine.

And he was fine, for the most part. He walked right on time, he was sociable, and despite the Tortucollis, he was doing well.

We moved from our home in Palmetto to Tampa, just so I can work. I started him in daycare when he was a little over a year old. I was back to work. He did fine at this daycare.

When I moved back to Palmetto (long emotional story) later that same year, I moved him to a different daycare. He was 2 now. However, he wasn't your average 2 year old. Most of the 2 year old children were talking and they also were half his size. He was the size of an average 4 year old. This caused problems. The teachers didn't feel comfortable with him being with the smaller 2 year old group. So they lied to me and said he was "advanced for his age" and moved him to the 4 year old group. This was a big mistake. He was the size of a 4 year old but he wasn't mentally a 4 year old. He couldn't talk! He couldn't participate in any of the activities...what were they thinking? He was harassed. One time he came home with a bite mark that lasted over 12 hours. The next time, he came home with 17 (yes, I counted) bite marks. I was livid! I yelled at the school.

Brandon at 2 years old.

I had to get him out of that daycare. They tried saying they were kicking him out for attacking three kids, but what do they expect when those three kids attacked him first? Oh well, that's over and done with.

Even by 3 years old, Brandon wasn't talking on par with his age. I was getting worried. The doctor assured me that he was fine, just a little late, that they don't start worrying until they're much older. His vocab wasn't large at all. Mama, Dada, Hot, Pop, Ma, Hi. That was pretty much it.

I decided to see a different doctor. They referred me immediately to All Children's Hospital in Sarasota for Speech Therapy. On his 4th birthday, he was evaluated. On his 4th birthday, he had the speech vocabulary of a 1.7 year old. That's very far behind. The Speech Pathologist that he was assigned to was amazing. She was bright and young and she was kind. She worked with him for 2 years. When he wasn't progressing as fast as they thought he should have been, they started questioning something else: hearing. Was it something with his ears?

Sure enough, they did a hearing test. He had bad negative pressure in both ears. So bad that he was, technically speaking, deaf. When his allergies kicked up, the negative pressure turned into thick glue-like gunk that plugged him up so bad he couldn't hear much of anything. It explained everything. My 5 year old son, was practically deaf, and the pediatrician didn't even think about that. Never was curious. They referred him to an ENT in Sarasota and he went through surgery. He had tubes put in.

Brandon at 5 years old.

It broke my heart to see my baby go through surgery. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't care that it was a simple common procedure. He had to go under for it. I was scared. I held strong for him, though. I didn't cry until after he fell asleep holding my hand. Watching him go under was probably the hardest thing I've ever dealt with...and I've dealt with a LOT. My poor boy.

He woke up and was groggy, but he came out of it quick. The surgery only took 15 minutes, but those 15 minutes was like weeks to me. I was pacing and crying in the waiting room. I kept an eye on the clock. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.

And he was. He was fine. We stayed until he was cleared and then when we went outside...he began to hear things for the first time. It was crazy to see how much improvement he went through from just 15 minutes of a minor surgery. It was amazing.

His speech therapy continued well, from that point forward. He was hearing better, he was pronouncing things better. When he started school and started using the school's speech therapist, he was even better. He kept progressing and this past year, he was finally deemed no longer speech impaired. He is definitely language impaired.

He was also diagnosed with ADHD. He also has SLD in memory and language. But he's a fighter. He keeps working hard.

Recently, we were worried that there was more to it. That there was something else. We saw a neuro-psychologist and he was tested and evaluated. Much to our relief, he doesn't have other mental disorders (such as bipolar). His language impairment is far beyond what we originally believed. It's pretty severe. His input and output of language is faulty. It's hard for him to understand verbal instruction or direction. He tries, but it's lost in translation.

His neuro-psychologist has referred him to a Catholic private school. It is a special needs private school. With his language impairment, public school will be next to useless for him. He is having the max of his IEP interventions. There is no more that the school can do for him. If we keep him here, he's likely to fail. Fail repeatedly. We do not want that. No parent wants that.

Although I am atheist, I will suck it up and take him to this school. Why? Because my lack of religious affiliation shouldn't EVER get in the way of my child's education.

This will always be an ongoing process. He will always need help. I feel a sense of relief because he'll be with other special children. Children like him.

He's my special child.

My Special Child