I knew. I knew but I didn’t know. I knew but I didn’t want to know. I knew my son, “Clark Kent the ADHD WonderKid,” wasn’t like most other kids.

 

Remember when your child was a baby? Beautiful, and. . .perfect. Or you hoped he or she was perfect, and you prayed about it. Please God just let him be healthy, I prayed. And he was. He was eight pounds of flawless boy child, lungs on fire, every finger and toe accounted for. Thank you God, I breathed.

The first year a few problems cropped up. We went through reflux – not fun. He had to have a minor procedure to release his tongue from his lower palate. Nothing major. No concerns.

The second year was when I started noticing issues. He didn’t just startle at loud sounds or sudden movement, he panicked. True, unstoppable panic. He parambulated in circles to the left, and he waggled his left hand incessantly. Waggle, waggle, waggle, waggle. It was cute, but it seemed somewhat, well, autistic. And he stopped napping in the daytime. NO.NAPS.AT.ALL. He slept through the night, but he slept much less even then than we expected. By then, we had his baby sister Susanne, and his diminishing sleep hours nearly killed me. His father and I whispered about autism at night, afraid to say the words in the light of day and make them real.

To read the rest of A Mother Knows, hop on over to {a mom’s view of ADHD} by clicking HERE.

Hugs,

Pamelot

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