I realized my choice wasn't the way to show them to mow through adversity and keep trying. And, perhaps, I was more emotional than usual, being pregnant, but it was painful watching Jaimie sit in the corner of the room with her hands over her ears crying while all the other children in the group were having fun, including Jordhan.
All I wanted to do was show Jaimie it was okay to make friends, that other kids will like her as much as Jordhan and I did. But she wouldn't (or couldn't) allow herself to try. I knew, then, that I needed to find another way to make Jaimie feel good about making friends. Maybe in a safer environment.
A few days later, Steve and I took the girls for a walk around our neighborhood. A new couple moved into the townhouse across from us. They were a beautiful young couple with a little girl about Jordhan's age so we wanted to take the girls over to introduce them. I thought even if Jaimie was too scared to meet or play with the little girl, Jordhan may warm up to the idea. Wouldn't it have been fabulous to have a little friend so close? I was too nervous to go over at first because I wasn't sure how Jaimie would react. So, I let the girls lead the way.
We walked by the couple's house pulling the girls in their wagon. Suddenly, this gorgeous little red-haired girl bounded up to us and tried getting in with them.
“Jenna!” her Dad said. “That's not your wagon. I'm so sorry. She really wants one of those. She's been eyeballing yours every time you guys go for a ride.”
We all laughed. “No worries,” I said. “Anytime she'd like to join us for a spin, she's more than welcome.”
We introduced ourselves. As we made small talk about the weather, what we all did for work and where we moved from, I heard Jaimie laughing. It was a beautiful sound we didn't hear often and this huge-hearted Jenna brought it out in Jaimie.
All three girls sat in the wagon—Jenna sitting in the middle—and chatting away as though they'd been friends for years. There was no crying, screaming, or yelling. Jaimie didn't run away or even try moving away from Jenna. And at the end of our little visit Jaimie allowed Jenna to hug her. I almost cried.
Jenna was Jaimie's first little friend. Yes, she was younger but they were all basically at the same level, socially. And the fact that Jaimie sought out a playmate was a miracle to us. Jenna's friendship meant--and still means—the world to Jaimie and it has given her the courage to be around other children. I don't think those lovely people will ever know how much they've meant to us but I knew we were meant to meet up.
We spent the summer having playmates, pool parties, and Care Bear tea parties at each other's places. Things went so well Jaimie and Jordhan were invited to Jenna's birthday party in September. We told Melissa and Jason (Jenna's parents) about Jaimie's SPD. Even though there'd only be a handful of times Jaimie had broken down, when she played with Jenna, we explained things to them because Jaimie's reactions scared Jenna at first. But after awhile, and because they understood her, if or when Jaimie melted down, when we were with them, it was no big deal. Even with their love and understanding, I was still nervous about a birthday party.
We'd always downplayed Jaimie's birthdays. The hustle and bustle of birthday parties had been too much for her in the past. In fact, she cried just when we sang “Happy Birthday” to her. But she seemed genuinely excited about going to Jenna's house for a party. It was in a safe environment that she was both familiar with and comfortable in. So we figured what the heck! We lived right across the street so that if something did happen, and Jaimie needed her quiet place, we could just walk back home. And Melissa, as always, was willing to help make things a bit more tolerable for Jaimie:
“Why don't you guys come over a bit earlier,” she said. “We know you guys have an earlier routine than us and the girls can all play together before everyone else arrives. It may be easier for Jaimie too.”
When we first arrived, Jaimie sat on their couch and zoned out. That was our way to describe whenever Jaimie sat in a quiet place, tuned us all out, and was unresponsive. When she'd first started to do that, we worried something more serious was wrong. But eventually we figured out it was her way of calming herself down whenever she was in new situations or with new people. She sat that way for a good five or ten minutes, then jumped off the couch, and joined the Jenna and Jordhan.
She made it through the whole party without any fits or crying. It took a long time to calm her down afterwards, and she didn't sleep that night, but she did it. We were so proud of her. It was the first of many baby-steps and it was good experiences like that that helped us through her setbacks.
A few weeks later, Jenna invited the girls to go Trick-or-Treating with her. Jaimie was interested in the prospect of getting candy but not about having to either wear a costume or go up to strangers’ houses asking for treats. But she said she wanted to give it a try that year. That marked the first Halloween ever Jaimie showed any interest in.
It certainly helped that Jenna's favorite holiday was Halloween—her excitement was contagious. Again Jaimie surprised me with her enthusiasm. It was snowing and icy on Halloween night that year and we had to cut our candy adventure short due to slipping on the ice but, again, she did it! Whatever insecurities or fears she had were eased whenever Jenna joined her in something new. I remember thinking, “It's too bad we can't bring Jenna everywhere with us…or clone her, somehow.”
Even the arrival of Xander, our new baby boy, that November wasn't as hard on Jaimie as we thought it would be. She still had a problem with me being in the hospital for a couple of nights and away from her. And she still wouldn't let Steve do anything for her. But she learned something even more exciting: that she could do some things on her own. For me that was a phenomenal achievement because Xander turned out to be a very fussy baby and I wasn't always able to jump to Jaimie's demands when she needed something done.
It wasn't that Jaimie was a demanding child. She got used to me doing everything for her because (a) she made herself believe she couldn't do things and (b) she'd always been afraid of how things would make her feel. When she started doing things for herself, she sprouted some self-confidence she'd never had before. It was such a relief to tell her, “You can do it, Jaimie!” and have her respond with, “I know, Mama!”
Things were going so well that we started prepping Jaimie for regular preschool in the next fall before her fifth birthday. We kept her back a year in order to give her a bit more exposure to different people and situations so the next time she was in a classroom she'd be more receptive to the idea. We decided to give the preschool program at the YMCA, called “Fun Factory,” a try. We also decided that two days a week would be a perfect way to ease Jaimie into the school idea.
After our struggles with the pre-preschool classes at the YMCA, I was admittedly very nervous about putting Jaimie into a regular preschool class. But a meeting with Karen, the head of preschool programs, put me at ease.
I'm sure I came across as neurotic at the beginning of our conversation. “This just has to work,” I said, speaking faster than I usually do. “This will be our third try putting Jaimie in a preschool program and I just want to set her up for success. I can't let her stay at home hiding from the world anymore. All I want for her is happiness and to experience life as fully as she can. I know she can't enjoy it exactly the same way we all do but if we tweak things for her just a bit, maybe she'll try.”
Karen touched my shoulder then said, “Let's tweak then. What can we do?”
For the first time since Donna, I had someone who was willing to work with me to help Jaimie. Karen never told us what she thought was best nor tried to change her. Instead, she used what Jaimie was good at and comfortable with, and then went from there. In fact, she tweaked the environment to suit Jaimie's needs and not the other way around. I knew I'd made the right choice.
All summer long, we prepared Jaimie for her first day of school. We visited the YMCA and showed her where her class would be. Closer to the day, we went on the actual school days to form the routine. When we received the we
lcome sheets, I told Jaimie what she'd be doing in her class. And the week before classes, Karen set up a meeting for Jaimie to meet her teachers, Kennedy and Judith. She wouldn't speak to either of them or eye contact but, at the very least, she didn't try hiding her face or standing behind me.
It sounded like a lot of work but the more time spent in getting Jaimie ready for that huge event, the more likely she'd accept going and, maybe, enjoying it. And I was willing to do anything in my power in helping to make this ride less bumpy for her. I was not going to let what happened last time happen again.
On the first day of preschool, Jaimie seemed genuinely excited. Steve stayed with Xander out in the hallway while I went into the room with Jaimie and Jordhan. Each of them chose a storage box for their shoes and snacks; then we followed the other children through the door. Jordhan ran over to play with some blocks but Jaimie shoved her head into my thighs and cried, “Don't leave me, Mama.”
Because there were several children doing the same thing—typical for all preschoolers on the first day of school—we didn't draw attention to ourselves too much. In fact, during our conversation, Karen called the first month of preschool “The Months of Tears.” The difference was that I wasn't able to calm Jaimie. She wanted me there but when I tried comforting her, she screamed, “Don't touch me, Mama.” For a split second, I thought of removing her. Instead, I guided her over to the book area they'd set up for her with her head still securely wedged in my thighs. I knelt down on the mini ABC rug and Jaimie lay on the floor, not moving her face from my lap.
I tried everything I could think of to get her to respond to me. Nothing worked. I stayed strong. I had to make her do it. She needed to make herself do it. I fought back tears when Judith, the head preschool teacher, came offering her assistance.
She crouched down, put her hand on my shoulder, and said, “Hi Jaimie,” she said. “Remember me? We met a few weeks ago.”
No response. Jaimie wedged her face deeper into my legs.
Judith tried again. “I'd really love to play with you, Jaimie. We'll have a lot of fun!”
Nothing.
“We have crayons or PlayDoh,” she said. “I remember your Mama saying you liked those things. Would you like to start there with me?”
That sparked a bit of interest. Jaimie turned her head sideways, shoving Soodee securely into her nose, then looked in Judith's direction. “I don't like the smell in here,” Jaimie said. “And the lights are too shiny.”
Judith smiled, and then whispered to Jaimie. “I know what you mean about the lights, Jaimie. They give me a headache sometimes. Why don't we try to do something so we can tune them out? Would you like to try?”
Jaimie glanced over at the PlayDoh table. “Only if Mama stays too.”
I didn't say a word. Judith said, “Of course, Mama can stay for a little while but you know she'll have to go. We only let kids stay in here. No grown-ups allowed except for Teacher Kennedy and myself.”
Judith stuck her hand out to guide Jaimie to the station but Jaimie shoved her hands under her tummy. “No,” she said. “No hands.”
Judith slapped her forehead. “Oh gosh, Jaimie. I forgot about that. No worries. You come on your own, okay? I'll meet you over there.”
I waited. When Jaimie hadn't moved in about five minutes, I decided to remove her. Tears stung my eyes again as I reached across her body to lift her up. We'll just try again another day, I thought. Suddenly, Jaimie stood up, grabbed my hand and walked us over to the PlayDoh table.
“Hi Jaimie,” Judith said. “I'm so happy you decided to join us. We have pink today. You like pink?”
Jaimie nodded. It was another half-an hour before she felt comfortable enough for me to leave but we did it! Once she got into her PlayDoh creation, I slipped out and I watched her through the window for a while. Jaimie went back over to the book section several times but she stayed for the entire class, right by Jordhan's side. I cried. Fortunately, there were other teary-deary Moms around whom I blended in with.
Good for you, my girl.
By December, Jaimie was used to the routine and knew what to expect when she got into class. For some reason, she still experienced tremendous stress with the Free Play part of preschool, so the teachers and I came up with an idea. There were still stations set up but the teachers always had at least one station set up with one of Jaimie's favorite activities, such as PlayDoh, coloring or stickers. That way, she always had a place of familiarity to start with so that she felt more confident venturing into other stations. That seemed to help quite a bit.
The amount of time I had to stay with Jaimie before she'd let me leave lessened until I was able to say, “Okay, Jaimie. One station change then we'll do ‘high-fives’ and I'll go.”
She still didn't pay attention to the other children, even when they'd go right up and ask her to play with them. She played beside the other children instead of with them, except Jordy. But Jordy wasn't always patient with Jaimie's desperate need to stay close. She finally got a taste of what it was like to socialize with kids her own age and wanted to make her own friends aside from Jaimie. That seemed to hurt Jaimie tremendously. Still, Jaimie made some fantastic progress despite her anxiety.
The biggest step she took was participating in Show-and-Share. I watched from the window as Jaimie stepped in front of her little classmates and proudly held up her Funshine Bear. My heart filled with joy. She even answered their questions. My little Jaimie who, a few months earlier, wasn't brave enough to walk out our front door, stood in front of her class and joined them in fun. I was so glad I had Kleenex with me that day!
During all of those new changes, Steve and I found out that I was pregnant with our fourth—and last—child. We chose not to tell Jaimie or anyone else about it until things were smoother for Jaimie in school, or until I couldn't hide it anymore. Besides, I didn't even want to think about having another baby with everything else that was going on. Our lives were already so busy. But, like always, God had a plan for things happening the way they did.
By March 2008, things changed again. Judith wasn't in the classroom anymore and neither was Kennedy. Jaimie took a real shining to Kennedy too. Kennedy never once made Jaimie feel like a “special needs child.” She focused on Jaimie's strengths, and accepted her the way she was. But that spring, Jaimie's beloved Teacher Kennedy was promoted to a different position within the YMCA and was no longer in the classroom. That was difficult enough for Jaimie. The worst part came after Kennedy left; there was a cycle of different substitute teachers. It seemed like every week we went to class, there was a new face teaching the students. That's difficult for any child but for one with a need for routine, and a fear of new people and situations, it was too much for Jaimie.
Some days, I fought with Jaimie just to get her into the cab to go to the school. On days when the teacher of the day was a person Jaimie couldn't relate to, she ran to the waiting area and hid under the tables. A few times, Kennedy was kind enough to come to our side of the building to help coax Jaimie back out and into the classroom. She'd even stayed with Jaimie until she felt better. Naturally, Jaimie's behavior near the end of her school year caused great concern for Steve and me. If she wasn't able to handle the dynamics of the preschool classroom, how on earth was she going to handle the curriculum of a regular school in kindergarten?
On a more promising note, Jaimie's teachers told me that she “Has a tremendous desire and eagerness to learn. She puts her hand up to answer questions, she pays attention to our lessons--as long as she's put up front, or on the edge of the circle—she asks for help when she needs it, and asks questions.”
Those, we thought, were all very important skills to have. And we hoped they'd be the base for helping Jaimie to get through the next phase in her little life.
11
Teaching Teachers, and Other Grown-Ups, How To Teach
We realized that, perhaps, a great deal of Jaimie's problems near the end of her preschool year were that she was more stressed and w
orried than usual…about me.
During a routine ultrasound, ironically around the same time that Jaimie had too many changes in her preschool classroom, we were told that the baby I carried had a heart abnormality: the structures on the right side of her heart measured larger than normal and she had a thickening in her aorta valve. Yet again, no one was able to tell us how the abnormality would affect our new baby, or even if it would. Even top pediatric cardiologists weren't able to give us a solid diagnosis until after the baby was born. So, for two and a half months, we had to “relax” and “not worry” as thoughts of the worst flooded our brains anyway.
Here Jaimie needed me more than ever and I had to prepare myself for the horrific possibility of saying goodbye to a baby we'd never met. I tried my best never to show my worry in front of Jaimie because she fed on other people's stress, especially mine. But Jaimie was a smart girl.
Even at five-years old, she was able to pick up on the fact that something was wrong when Mama had to keep going into the hospital for “tummy movies”, when my OB/GYN made a big deal of the baby's heartbeat and I was in and out of the emergency for the last few weeks, mostly due to false labor that my own stress put me into.
Fortunately, Jaimie had gone through pregnancy with us twice previously, so she knew that, one day, she'd have to be with Daddy while I was in the hospital with the baby. This time was very different, though. At one appointment, my OB/GYN made the mistake of telling us that the baby would have to go into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) right after she was born.
Jaimie's face frowned and teared up. “You mean, baby Sophie isn't going to come home with us, Mama? Where will she go? Won't she be lonely?”
Jaimie found out we were having another girl and she was so excited. She even helped me pick out her name. But as soon as all the heart-monitoring appointments began, and Jaimie feared something was going to happen to the baby, she stuck to me like glue. Whenever I sat on the couch for a rest, she laid beside me with her head on my tummy. She always talked to my tummy and rubbed it so the baby heard her—and my tummy stretched and kicked in response to her voice. And she had to be with me at every appointment, no matter what it was. I think she worried that something bad was going to happen to me too. And it affected every area of her life.
Not Just Spirited Page 12