My daughter is going to change the world. She is smart, endearing, incredibly compassionate and empathetic, clever, courageous and most of all she is brave. She is my hero. At 4 years of age she has overcome some hurdles some will never face, even as adults. But we have been counting our small wins in our battle privately. And it brings tears to my eyes to see how her differences affect her socially.
Last year when my then Miss 3 started preschool she had already been to more doctors appointments than most. Her brutal entrance into this world, ripped from her mothers womb then taken away to special care nursery, separated from the only safety she knows, whilst not than uncommon, was certainly not the peaceful and loving environment I had planned for her. Both of us were very unwell and it took nearly 6 months for our little family to see the light and for me to enjoy motherhood with a healing body and a healthy and happy baby.
However much I tried as a parent to protect my beautiful baby, her road was rough from the start health wise. Never anything serious, which we are undeniably grateful for, but hurdle after hurdle after hurdle. So when she did start preschool last year, an outwardly happy settled child, I held my concerns. She went to preschool happy enough, and told me of the children she played with. I took note of names she mentioned consistently and attempted to make contact with the parents of these kids to arrange playdates. I was gobsmacked when the mother of a sweet little boy refused to have a playdate because my daughter is a girl. “What is she afraid of? That her son might grow into a sensitive man? That he might have respect for women as an adult? That he might view women as equals when he enters the workforce one day?” I ranted at my husband. How could anyone deny their child the freedom to chose whom they play with? Well I was reminded of this incident this morning when that boy’s mother sat in front of our family at the preschool concert in which my child didn’t miss a beat and performed superbly. And I am reminded of the selfish rejection my child faces weekly when her preschool pocket is empty of party invites that pop out of the pockets of other children. Whilst I reason it isn’t just her who gets left out, its incredibly hard to not feel deflated.
You see, if my child was suffering from asthma, or diabetes or something as horrible as cancer, I wouldn’t feel the need to hide it. And I’m sure parents wouldn’t disallow their kids to be friends with my child, they might even do quite the opposite and encourage them to be friends. But when it comes to our mental health, what keeps us functioning and going, its all whispers. Even writing this now I have a twinge of doubt that my child may be judged if I hit the publish button. But it isn’t her fault. I’m sure anyone who endured the horrific treatment for a fusion making it impossible to toilet would associate doing a wee with pain. The scream that echoed out of the treatment room during the procedure makes me shudder to this day, and she had only just turned 3 at the time. Suffice to say we soon changed pediatricians going with a doctor who is more gentle with her methods.
Her new pediatrician whom we have been seeing regularly for well over a year tells me each visit that my child is highly functioning, and compassionate and thoughtful, and that the reason she is now suffering gripping fear is because she is so intelligent. She reminds me children will naturally be draw to befriend her because she is so thoughtful and kind and I believe in time she will be popular, though not through a mean girl facade that perhaps some of these mothers held as children and teens but by her genuine loving nature. But as it has been nearly 18 months and we have had little toileting progress and a near hospitalization as the fear makes her hold on, sometimes for 24 hours, we have called in some back up.
I was nervous sitting in the waiting room, and ashamed. My beautiful 4 year old was seeing a child psychologist to tackle her fears. But as my husband and I spoke with our new doctor, our avenue of hope that this could finally be sorted in time for our academically ready child to start big school next year, I started to relax. We are told it’s not uncommon for children this age to have toileting fears, and reassured that its not unreasonable for this to have happened given her medical history. We are asked many questions about our daughter and our family and I slowly start to realise that our Miss 4 has possibly always been a bit nervy about certain things, such as loud noises like a truck roaring past on a busy street or the hand dryers in public bathrooms. And it all becomes clear, we finally admit to ourselves that our child has anxiety. I breathe deeply. I listen to the doctor as she hands us dozens of forms to fill in and discusses her treatment plan.
Having suffered anxiety myself I know how crippling it can be. Our Miss 4 hides it well. I recall the phrase from the hit movie and a favorite in out household, Disney’s Frozen, where it is claimed “Fear will be your enemy”. This is certainly true of anxiety. Then the second idea from the movie that is fitting, ‘love will save us’. And that is definitely also true, but unfortunately we live in an unkind and unforgiving society that shames and blames rather than loves and encourages the people and families of those being treated for various mental health ailments.
We have since seen the psychologist a second time and now have regular sessions booked in and I have to say it does feel good to have this much needed support. Already after only two visits we are taking steps forwards. Our brave Miss 4 has used a public bathroom twice! Twice people! That’s amazing for a child who hasn’t been able to use any other toilet than the ones at our home and her grandmother’s home meaning we have had to schedule outings around when she may need to go. And I was greeted by a very proud child at preschool last week, announcing loudly “Mummy, I did a wee at preschool! Before you came!”. See whilst for most parents of 4 year olds this wound’t seem like something noteworthy, after the battle we have been fighting its a win worth celebrating. I let my instinct to shush her for fear of judgment lapse and listen as she tells me how she did her bubble breathing to feel calm. And I am proud, because I have a 4 year old who can recognise and label her emotions and further can use steps to control them so they don’t control her. We still have a lot of work to do and I am really hopeful that by the end of this year there will no longer be a need for nappies and shortened outings. But for now I know one thing is for sure, my daughter is going to change the world. She is my hero.