J has no awareness of birthdays. Either his own or anyone elses.
His first birthday was a family celebration and a time when I had no clue he had special needs.
His second birthday was shared with his second cousin who was 13 days younger than him.
Even though we thought he had a hearing problem, I realised his difficulties ran a lot deeper as I could see the enormous differences between him and his second cousin,E. The differences were apparent when I was holding E and talking to her and even though her speech was still evolving, her understanding was profound. She responded to facial expressions and sought out contact with others. J was silent and uninterested in everyone.
We had this joint party at a family members house, and one person, who shall remain unnamed, passed comment -
It went along the lines of " oh girls are so much better than boys", "he's backwards" (meant in the derogatory sense, not as he was doing something back to front) and " he's so much trouble" ( as he wanted to climb the stairs for the hundredth time.
He was two. It was his birthday. He was well behaved and had never had a temper tantrum. Hurt? Yep. Still hurt? Oh yes as no apology was given.
Thereafter, his birthdays were only small, close family affairs. He took not the slightest bit of interest in the proceedings and even the presents went unnoticed and untouched.
His eighth birthday is a few days away and again I am struggling to find presents. He has little interest in most toys and is destructive with the rest. Those light up spinning wands, which are cheap admittedly, used to be something he'd play with, but then he started to crack them open to break them, and he'd make his humming,distressed noise if they were near him, so I stopped buying them.
It is, in my opinion, such a shame he has no excitement about his impending birthday.
I would love him to be planning his party, who to invite, where it will be, what presents he wants, and see him bubbling with the thrill of his special day.
It is just another day to him.
We try to do something special for him, but as we cannot go out to restaurants with him anymore (due to an incident which I will talk about another time), theme parks hold no amusement for him, and he has no friends (which makes me sad to write, but he doesn't care or notice or need friends around him as he is such a solo, solitary child) who can come round to play, it is really just like any other day to him.
He will be sharing the morning at our local Mencap Junior Gateway scheme where I will provide a cake and candles for him to blow out, and the afternoon will be a trip to the park followed by his favourite food, McDonald's. Finally after weeks of "cola,chips,chicken" he will get some!
The day itself for me holds memories and sadness over the delivery and a lot of 'if onlys' and 'I wish'. I just cannot stop the thought that when he got stuck and was not breathing at birth I should have been more forceful with them, as I had been in active labour for 36 hours, the hormone drip was turned up to maximum with not much effect, and he was in distress. But they kept on saying "we'll give it another 30 minutes", which went on for a few hours. It was only when his heart beat stopped as he was just descending the first part of the birth canal, that they pressed the red button, alarms sounded everywhere, and the room filled with people. As he had started to descend, not crown, they wanted to get him out the exhaust way and not the sunroof, so with great indignity I was put in stirrups and he was yanked out of me, with me crying out that I was not contracting. Tubes were put down his mouth and oxygen and rubbing to get him going were given by the doctors. He recovered quickly and we only stayed in for four days.
I swore never to go through that again, and it took me three years before I felt ready. Second time around was much more positive, and with a 10lb 8oz baby that time, it was easier, believe it or not!
That time I just had a room full of midwives who asked to see me give birth to him, as we knew he was a whopper from a scan the previous week, and it was rare to see a big baby being born the exhaust pipe way. I still remember the gasps as they saw how big he actually was!
So, come Saturday, my big boy will turn 8. I don't feel old enough to be a mother to an 8 year old, let alone three children. But then I look in the mirror and see the lines and fatigue and realise I may not feel my age of 32, but I sure as hell look it, older even. I look so young and vibrant in the photos of the early days of motherhood - now I resemble a washer woman who has had three hours sleep in the past fortnight, but at least I have the joys of being a mum, something I am very grateful for.
