Author: Dre

Categories
Kids Meth Exposure Special Needs Surviving

Self and Other Self

This is very hard for me to say, but here I go.

My daughter is two different people.  Her self, and her other self.

One of them, the one I feel is the real Blythe, is sweet, loving, charismatic, smart and articulate.  She is so incredibly amazing, and when I see her, when I spend time with her… I just can’t get enough.  I am so in love with her.

The other one, though.  This is so hard for me to admit thinking about my own child.  The other one is a child I don’t like very much.  When I see the signs of her eminent arrival, I start to feel a little sick inside. 

The thing about it, is when that other child takes over, I know my baby girl is in there, somewhere, fighting to get out.  It’s for her that I have patience with the other child when she appears.  It’s for her that I don’t give up.  I fight for her as long as it takes, and when I see the real Blythe emerging, I know that everything I do is worth it.

Have you ever seen The Exorcist?  Well, it’s kind of like that, only without quite so much gore.

Over the past couple of years, doctors and various types of therapists have listed the different diagnoses they would have given Blythe, had they only seen her as her other self.

A few:

Since Blythe stopped being exposed to meth in early October, I’ve seen that other child a lot less often.  In fact, I haven’t seen her in over a month, and even then she stayed a very short time and wasn’t really all that awful. 

It was the marked improvement in her health as well as the decrease in visits from the other child that prompted me to look into whether or not meth exposure could be responsible for Blythe’s “issues”.

What I found, in doing that research, is that most children who are exposed to meth are like Blythe’s other self all the time, and I couldn’t find any information on how to help them to get better.  It’s so sad to think about those kids, who never get to be their real selves.  They are trapped inside those other personalities, fighting to get out, just like Blythe was.

They are the reason I’m committed to writing about our experience with meth exposure.  It’s for them that I’ll post everything I possibly can about what worked for Blythe, even though at the time I didn’t realize I was dealing with a meth exposed child.  If even one child benefits from her story, it will be worth the effort.

Every child deserves a chance to be who they are… not what meth exposure made them.

Categories
Addiction Kids Meth Exposure Special Needs Surviving

The Blame Game

Thank you all so much for your support and encouragement on my last post, where I talked about learning of Blythe’s exposure to methamphetamines.

I realize that it’s not my fault for not knowing she was being exposed, but I can’t help but feel a lot of guilt, anyway.  I do feel as though I failed to protect her, but I also know that I did everything I could to keep her safe.

For the majority of Blythe’s life, the world at large has been a danger to her.  Every time we ventured out, we were taking a risk.  Everything she touched, away from home, had the potential to send her into anaphylaxis.  If she so much as leaned her cheek against the counter at the pharmacy, her face would swell within minutes.  That’s just a glimpse into what life was like for her.

I always did my best to keep my fear at bay, but I think I was able to do that, in large part, because our home was safe.  If the world was a battlefield, home was our neutral ground, where we could let down our guard and live like normal people.

I could spend hours telling you all the things I’ve done, over the years, to make sure our home was a place where Blythe could just be a kid, without worries.  All the research I’ve done, the ways we’ve altered our lives to provide the best possible environment for her to grow up in. 

So, to learn that she was being exposed to methampetamines, right here at home, the one place on this Earth that I thought was safe for her…  I can’t explain how it felt, other than to say it knocked me down in a way nothing in my life ever has before.

I worked so fucking hard, every day, to give her a place where she could be an innocent kid.  I did fail to provide that for her.  Through no fault of my own, obviously, but it’s a failure, all the same.

I was really, really angry.  My home didn’t feel like home anymore, it felt like a toxic waste dump.  And I place a lot of blame squarely on the shoulders of the person who was responsible for her exposure, where it belongs.

But I also know how much he loves our daughters, and if he had known it was his addiction that was making her sick, I like to believe he would have done something about it.  It’s hard to know, for sure, given the nature of addiction, but I have to try and believe that, for my sanity.

I’m trying to keep my focus on the now.  Since she has stopped being exposed to meth, her health has improved remarkably and dramatically.  It’s fantastic and amazing, and gives me so much hope for her future. 

For that, I am so incredibly happy.

Categories
Addiction Kids Meth Exposure Special Needs Surviving

Exposure

My girls, Alison and Blythe.  Have you met them? 
Alison & Blythe 2007

Protecting them is my job, and I am damn good at it.

But I failed them, my friends.

I failed in a very big way, and while I forgive myself for my ignorance, I will also carry the burden of that failure around for the rest of my life.

Blythe has a slight obsession with The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl, these days.  She thinks about them, and talks about them, and tells her friends about them.  Recently I asked her why she likes them so much, and she spouted off a whole list of things.  Then she said, “I like Lava Girl because she’s on fire inside.  Just like me.”

She has been on fire inside since she was two months old.  That’s when the screaming fits began, followed shortly thereafter by “pseudo seizures” where her body acted as though it was seizing, but her brain function remained normal.

She was inconsolable, for hours at a time.  Her tiny little body would stiffen, all over, and she would flinch away from my touch.  I was so afraid to hold her when she was like that, because I thought I would drop her.  So I would put her in her crib and watch her fight against herself.  Every muscle in her body would tense up, “seizing”, and then she would fling herself this way and that.  And scream.  She would scream for hours, even after her body calmed itself. 

She was on fire inside, and I couldn’t figure out why.

I can’t even count the number of pediatricians we saw, those first few months, but not a single one of them had answers. 

None of them asked if she had ever been exposed to Methamphetamines, even though I now know she was displaying signs of exposure.  As she’s gotten older, she’s shown more and more signs, and yet none of the experts assigned to her care – myself included – ever asked the question.  

The thought never even crossed our collective minds that meth exposure might have been contributing to the ever-growing list of problems with her Central Nervous System.  Even if anyone had asked, I would have told them, with complete confidence, that she had never in her life been exposed to meth.

I know differently, now…  and that knowledge changes everything.

As always, my disclaimer:

Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his addiction and his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.

Categories
Surviving

Ok

There are things I want to write about here, heavy things.

As if the things I’ve written already have been light and fluffy, right?

I’ve hesitated about it, to this point, because I realize the majority of you are just moving along, living your lives, and do you really want to be smacked in the face, every time you come here?

But I want to write about it.  For myself, for my kids, and for people out there who are living as we lived.  It’s a story worth telling.

It won’t hurt my feelings if you choose to stay away for awhile.

Please know that no matter what I write about, I’m Ok.  My kids are better than Ok… they are thriving.  We’re moving forward, every day, and I want to thank you all so much for supporting us.

As always, my disclaimer:

Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.

Categories
Life in general

Change

Here it is, a whole new year. 

Time is marching on and life is moving forward at warp speed…

Last week, I began the training required to become a Clinical Research Coordinator (CRC).  It will take me awhile to learn the ropes and familiarize myself with FDA requirements and coding systems (not to mention pass the required exams), but I’m already incredibly excited. 

My long-term goal is to work on pediatric food allergy studies, but in the meantime I’ll be able to work in a lab right here in my little bitty town, which is amazing in and of itself.

Tomorrow, I start a new job at the gym where I’ve been a member for nearly a decade.  I’ll be working three evenings a week, and during that time my girls will have dinner, do homework, take baths, go to bed… and be completely taken care of, by someone other than me. 

I’m trying not to lose my shit, just thinking about it.  They’ll be fine.  Right??  Just nod and say, “Yes, Dre, they’ll be fine”.  Oh, good, thanks!

And because that is clearly not enough anxiety-inducing upheaval, the girls and I will be moving at the end of the month.

I’m very sad about leaving our home, but we’re not saying good-bye to it forever.  I just can’t keep up with everything by myself, and since I’m taking a step back from the businesses Jeremy and I run out of the house, it makes a lot more sense for him to live here, instead.  

I’m a little nervous.  More than a little, if I’m being completely honest.  As much as I’m overwhelmed by all of the responsibilities that go along with living and working here, it’s familiar.  I know what I’m doing, I’m comfortable, I’ve got a routine, and everything has its place, even if I’m overly stressed. 

Beyond the difficult emotions associated with our move, though, I’m really looking forward to the benefits.  Please, may there be many.   

Here’s to hoping the girls and I survive the coming weeks with minimal damage!