k.bear

Tantrums and Self Inflicting Pain

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 Our tiny little tot with brown eyes so wide they melt you from the inside out. Her beautiful blonde hair and long lashes are surely model material. {o.k. I’m a little bias}Then there is that moment you almost can’t recognize her. You know she is there but her fire for life has vanished. She has been taken over. You search but come up empty. Where is my sweet girl; you ask?
A tantrum over something so meaningless a shoe, a piece of clothing, or maybe an afternoon snack. A feeling of complete loss. I can not do anything right. How is it this little girl can make her momma cry day in and day out. I cry on the inside and out. I want to please her and help; but, when she won’t let me in how can I even begin to try?

Time outs on a rug, a spanking here or there, a visit to her room {usually in her crib} in order to restrain her flailing limbs. You look in her eyes and clearly she is not there. Self restraining her and hating the mother you have become. I love children. I love her with all my heart. Why, why must I go through this just to be her mom I cry out? I pray every night just make this end. Make her tantrums stop!


Time in time again I would take her out of her room to find blood. Surely she is banging her head on the crib. What an awful mother I must be putting a child out of control in something that has wood sides? No, I enter her room during one of her moments and what do I find? A little girl crying out in pain. She too clearly wants it to end. A death grip on her gums; ripping and tearing at what soon would be little teeth. She is so young. What would even possess a child to inflict such pain on herself as this? To the point of drawing blood. Surely, this is a joke? I am dreaming. I am afraid not.

  
It is REAL! Very Real!

Down and Dirty (Potty Talk)

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Was she strong willed or a spirited child? Book after book; desperate for information and desperate for answers. I’m not a by the book parent what was I doing? I can’t stand the many labels we place on children, adults, and people in general. Did I need a label to make this better? I’m a behavioral science major with a focus on psychology. I should know this stuff, right? Truth, we are all just human and the question shouldn’t be what label he/she may be but rather how can we help him/her? I am not a medical doctor and never would claim to be one. I have countless hours clocked with working with children {not only my own but 23+ years worth of experience} also including 15 years experience with special needs. Therefore, I’d like to think I can spot something being off when I see it. 

With every passing day that went by I knew in the pit of my stomach something was not quite right; my something is off radar would ring and I would close my ears to its piercing sound. All of K.Bear’s well visits were proving her to be a healthy, growing, beautiful little girl. Why question the professionals? She is healthy; the end!

On the flip side there were so many still unanswered questions I could not seem to shake what child potty trains them self at 1 year old? Why so much “poop” drama as we would say. She ate the same as the rest of us; but, did she need to control that too? A control freak at one? Oh’ man we are in for it.

The days passed, as did the months, and another full year in fact before the pieces would be put together. The “poop” drama seemed to subside {a.k.a extreme constipation} and in fact turned quite the opposite. By the way since we are talking about “bathroom issues” I might also note the color at times was simply just not right. Surely, she must have eaten a popsicle with blue dye for that to occur. However, like any busy parent of now three children I never gave it a second thought. Looking back it was clearly my little girl’s intestinal track screaming for help. Now, was that the ringing bell I could hear?

“Gluten intolerance in children is becoming more and more common. Many parents are not even aware that their child has a gluten intolerance until the symptoms become noticeable enough and potentially disturbing. *

I was almost there. I may have been one step closer and holding the very key to an unlocked, unknown, world. We were clearly on a journey one we were very unfamiliar with. 

*sited from Gluten Intolerance School

Misunderstood

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It’s hard to believe I have been blogging in this space for the past 5 years. To think this is where it all began; me, a mom looking for an outlet during the wee hours of the morning. What started simply as a way to pass time while holding my wide eyed early riser; still and quietly waiting for big sister {Pumpkin} to arise. This very place has become a home, an escape, and where I get to share our story with you.


It is simply amazing to see how a story plays out; His story in fact. A story scripted in our heart long before we were born, days numbered, and outcomes unknown. We walk. We trust and we rest knowing we too will overcome this world. There we were a family; a dad, mom, and two sweet little girls. One as angelic and easy going as they come. A second daughter wide eyed and beautifully created just for us. Our girls could not have been any more different I tell you: although, both loved just the same their temperaments differed from the start.

I wrote this January 2009; ” So my littlest wide eyed wanderer didn’t think that sleep was needed for mommy last night. Another sleepless night! We’re up, we’re down, we’re fed, we’re changed, what more could you want? Just sleep sweet baby. That is what I kept thinking as I literally slept walked into K. Bears room last night 100+ times. I had no idea how little sleep one could actually live on.” {After four kids I can tell you first hand sleepless night are a given and you will survive.}

Our second daughter; K.Bear always seemed to need us more. I have often joked that no one saw her face for the first year of her life as I had no choice but to baby wear her. Cuddled close to Mommy and rarely out of an arms reach.


As a mother I embraced each cuddle and snuggle no less than the 1000 others before it. Now, don’t get me wrong some space of my own would have been nice at times but the screaming we would endure was not worth it. Periodically a mental questioning would enter my mind;  why did she need me so much more? Is this normal? How is it that two girls raised in the exact same atmosphere are so very different?  Was she gassy? Was it colic? Did she just not like people? Confused and pondering but left empty handed night after night. Sleepless nights and cranky days.

The questions seem to come and go. She is our daughter, a gift, loved dearly, and yet, at times she seemed so misunderstood by us; her parents none the less.