My Asperger's Kid, Chapter 2

Two years after Max came Leo.  Wow! What a different baby.  Leo was so smiley and happy, and he loved to SLEEP!  In his OWN bed!  Josh and I had noticed that Max was always very serious, but it became even more pronounced when compared to Leo.  We still didn't think much of it, though.  Neither Josh nor I are very easy laughers, so we just decided he came by it naturally.  We even thought his not wanting to sleep was sort of hereditary, as Josh had trouble sleeping when he was a kid because he just couldn't stop thinking.

Sleeping changed, a little, for Max as time wore on.  A few months after he turned a year old, we put him in his own bed.  We would lie down with him until he fell asleep.  It still took a long time, but he did at least sleep in his own bed for a large portion of the night before he would sneak into ours.  But then we didn't care because we were able to have some time alone and sleep without a little person on top of us or kicking us.

Around the time Max turned two, we saw an episode of The Super Nanny that focused on getting kids to go to sleep on their own and in their own beds.  We thought, "Heck, why not?  It can't hurt."  Her instructions were (after going through your bedtime routine) to sit quietly next to the bed without talking or looking at the child and to scoot a little farther away each night so that by the end of a week you just walk out the door.  We followed her instructions, well Josh did, because I couldn't stand the thoughts of not hugging Max or cuddling him if he wanted me.  It went fabulously!  He had no trouble until the night that Josh just walked out the door.  And cried off and on for about an hour.  However, he got used to it.  He would get out of bed a lot because he "needed to tell us something," but it was so much better.

With the sleeping changed, life focused on other things.  In pretty much all other areas Max was super easy.  He reached all his milestones in the range he was supposed to, and he was healthy.  We loved watching him learn and grow.  Parenting became more simple, and we had a season of refreshment.

My Asperger's Kid, Chapter 1

So...

I have never really been a girly-girl. Growing up, I never planned my wedding, didn't even really think about having a husband until late high school. I did think about kids, though. I thought about what they would look like, what they would say, and how they would play. I remember specifically thinking about boys. I don't know why, I've just always jived with them better than girls. Little girls are annoying. There, I said it.

I had these visions of a pudgy little boy on the floor, half on his belly with one arm under his head, watching his cars as he drove them back and forth, making the engine sounds. I had these visions of being the perfect mommy. And visions of the perfect child.

When Max came along, I was elated to put it mildly. He was my world. Josh (my husband) would head off to work every day, and then it was just the two of us. It was fabulous! I was smitten. I loved taking him with me everywhere. I loved that he was so beautiful that people couldn't help but comment. I loved that he was such a good baby. The thing I loved the most, though, was that he loved me. I was secretly thrilled that he never wanted anyone else. Our days were filled with cuddles and nursing, and my heart was full. For awhile.

In babyhood, Max would not sleep in his own bed. And please don't judge me and say that we didn't try hard enough because you weren't there. I didn't even think twice about it when he was a newborn because I knew that babies that breastfeed eat often, so I just assumed that he was hungry a lot. He became attached to me to the point that at times I thought I would lose my mind. And because I was a first-time mother, I was afraid to put him down. It wasn't until kid #2 that I realized babies won't die if you put them down and let them cry sometimes. So there I was, straddling this fence of loving every minute of cuddling, yet feeling so overwhelmed because I couldn't ever put this child down. I felt like I was going to choke sometimes because I had this ball of something continually rising in my chest and I was going to explode because I couldn't even fold one load of laundry without him sitting on my lap. I distinctly remember one evening when Josh came home and I burst into tears. Sobbing, I choked out, "I'm so tired of being a mommy."

The key word there is "tired." My amazingly selfless, sweet, wonderful husband took over. Instead of Max using my breast as a pacifier (because he wouldn't take a real pacifier), Josh walked the halls with him. And bounced him. And sang to him. And cuddled him. And swayed with him. And watched TV with him. And still he wouldn't sleep. Hours it would take him to finally conk out, only to wake as soon as Josh put him in his crib. We quit trying to lay him down because we were so exhausted. Josh lovingly and without complaint did this every night so I could rest and then would bring him to bed with us where he would stay asleep. Praise the Lord!!!!! Then, a new day would dawn, and we would forget that long night and see that face. He was absolutely breathtaking.