Tag Archives: developmental delays

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

She is not tuberous sclerosis. She is my beautiful daughter Estelle.

May 1, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 10 Comments

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 1

by guest blogger Jennifer Carpenter (Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming)

I remember thinking to myself, “What are you talking about?” as I watched the radiologist point to the small white dots on the ultrasound image of my 25-week-old baby. She was saying something about cardiac rhabdo-something and her heart, and I was really just hearing words but not comprehending anything. Then, about 10 minutes later, a woman came in the room and introduced herself as a genetic counselor and handed me an information pamphlet from 1995, (and this was in 2012). I briefly glanced at it and saw the words “mental retardation” and “tumors”. I sat there dumbfounded while she told me that my unborn baby likely had a genetic disease called Tuberous Sclerosis and would have significant disabilities and may not be able to walk or talk. Again, I thought, “what are you talking about? Are you saying my baby will not be normal?”

I got into my car after the appointment and sat there in stunned silence. I picked up the pamphlet and for some reason started reading about the origins of the disease; how it was discovered and what happened to people that had tuberous sclerosis. “Fits” and “convulsions” and “retardation” were the descriptions used early on by doctors to describe these patients. Many of these poor people ended up in mental institutions. I thought, “Will my daughter have to be placed in a mental institution? How will I be able to take care of her? What will happen to her?” Then my cell phone rang. It was the genetics counselor that I had just spoken with. She told me that she was sorry and that while I could not get a late term abortion in California, that Colorado would allow medical terminations up to 27 weeks, if that was something I wanted to consider. Termination? I had been watching my daughter grow in my belly for nearly 7 months, watching her hands and feet take shape, her face and lips develop. How could I end the life of my daughter after all this time spent together? Had others terminated their babies with this diagnosis? Was that the right thing to do, if she was not going to have any quality of life and be completely mentally and physically disabled? Were the doctors certain that she had tuberous sclerosis? All of these questions were swirling around in my head as I drove the 2 hours home that day. Two weeks later, her diagnosis was confirmed through genetic testing. A spontaneous mutation had occurred during her development. This was to be our reality and I had no idea of what that would mean to my life or to hers.

In the end, I knew that I had to continue the journey with my beloved daughter growing inside of me. I became hell bent on understanding the disease and learning all that I could about what may happen to her. I threw away the 1995 pamphlet and discovered that there’s much more information and treatment options available today than there were in 1995. Our knowledge about the disease has come a long way in 20 years. (And shame on that genetic counselor that gave me such outdated information; they should be the experts on the latest information out there on genetic disorders, even the rare ones).

On the day she was born, I knew that I was going to fight for her. To be her voice and her advocate. I knew that, while I couldn’t change the fact that she has tuberous sclerosis and there is no cure, I could get her the best medical care possible and be aggressive and proactive with her treatments. I got her into a TSC clinic and I immediately enrolled her in research studies to help learn more about the disease and to help find a cure, (and selfishly, to have more doctors track her development and provide early identification of potential issues). It gave me some sense of control over an uncontrollable diagnosis and an unpredictable future. At least I could take comfort in that.

Today, my daughter is a beautiful, smiling 15 month old toddler. She isn’t yet walking or talking, but we are working on it. She may have significant developmental delays and may require special education and assistance, we just don’t know yet. She still has those cardiac rhabdomyomas, but they are not causing any issues and her eyes and kidneys are clear for now. She does have mild epilepsy, which is well controlled with medication. But these days I just try to focus on the person that she is becoming, rather than the diagnosis that she has. She is not tuberous sclerosis. She is my beautiful daughter Estelle, who laughs and hugs and smiles and just got two new teeth.

Boston TSC Study, Tuberous Sclerosis

A New Diagnosis

March 31, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 6 Comments

When I fill out medical forms that ask me for Connor’s diagnoses, I write tuberous sclerosis complex, epilepsy and developmental delay. As of Friday, I will now write autism

When Connor was first diagnosed and we read all the possibilities that could possibly come with TSC, autism terrified me the most. I really didn’t understand it. I’d worked with kids with varying degrees of autism in the classroom, some of whom I was not remotely equipped or provided the training to work with and others that were favorites of mine. But I was terrified of the word. I thought that if the day came that we received that diagnosis, I would jump out of a window.

Two years changes a lot.

I can’t say it came as a total surprise. I refer to some of Connor’s behaviors as “quirks.” I guess I was just hoping they could stay “quirks” and not become a diagnosis.

We went to Boston for his two-year visit with the TSC study. It was a low key visit since Chris and I had both caught Connor’s cold from the week before and were not particularly energetic (and why I didn’t get in touch, Ann–we’ll be back next Feb!). We also had an appointment with the Boston TSC Clinic. Even though I suspected deep down that this day was coming, I didn’t actually realize it would be Friday. The study had sent his results from the autism scale given the day before to the doctor. The words “Connor has autism” were never actually spoken. We were discussing some of his behaviors and suddenly we were talking about therapy options in addition to what he already receives. An education specialist was brought in so she could help us find local resources and I found myself saying, “So this is it? Is this an official diagnosis?” It was. But the sooner the better and we now move forward.

We also finally got a little more detail on his MRI. It wasn’t as specific as I was hoping for, but we do now know his brain has somewhere around 20-30 tubers, probably closer to 20. They are scattered throughout. I thought he had two SENs in the ventricles of the brain, but he actually has three. However, they are so small that they are nowhere near being classified as a SEGA (which can block fluid in the brain and require either surgical intervention or use of Afinitor or Rapamune) and therefore aren’t currently an issue (and hopefully never will be).

I’m sad that we only have one visit left with the Boston study. I really enjoy going up there. I think I could actually live in that city in spite of the cold and that says A LOT. I was really touched by the fact that while we were there, non-stop coverage was being given to the deaths of two firefighters and who they were. It gave the city a close knit feeling and reflected a genuine interest in the loss of two heroes. It’s not something I’ve ever seen in the 20+ years I’ve been in Atlanta, where we just get the 6 p.m. death count.

These are the only photos I took which tells you how off I was this trip.

First big boy flight with his own seat. On the way back we were told we couldn't use this seat because it wasn't airline compliant. Gotta love consistency. — First big boy flight with his own seat. On the way back we were told we couldn’t use this seat because it wasn’t airline compliant. Gotta love consistency.

Modified Atkins Diet for Seizures, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Eleven Days Seizure Free!

March 19, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

Remember that Connor kid I used to write about before politics, politics, politics? He’s still around and doing great.

Connor is getting closer and closer to walking. We can now hold both hands as he takes forward steps to us. At his last physical therapy session, his therapist decided to remove the seat from his gait trainer/walker. I thought she was nuts. I thought he’d slump down with the waist support under his shoulders and refuse to cooperate, but he maintains standing and he’s moving better than ever. We had it locked so he couldn’t turn but could go back and forth in a straight line. On a whim the other day, I unlocked the ability to turn and though he careened a little out of control into furniture and the walls (guess we will paint this room last) like Lindsay Lohan behind the wheel of a Mercedes, he had a blast trying to get around.

The best news is this:

Though I started tweaking his diet back in December, we started the full-on modified Atkins diet around the second week of February. We haven’t seen a seizure since March 7. Today is the 19th.

The magic of some whipping cream and olive oil. If only dietary therapy worked for everyone. Thank God. Colorado looks gorgeous, but I do not want to take on refugee status while we wait for the rest of the country to catch up to 2014.

Medical Marijuana, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Politics and Pinot

January 20, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 1 Comment

Oh, I have a blog? I should probably update it. I’ve been so busy. I’m starting to get materials together for the D.C. trip with the TS Alliance in March, been filling out paperwork for Connor’s services and looking into starting hippotherapy (horses-yay!), and trying to read the books I bought on the ketogenic diet. I’m a tad bit nervous and anxious to get started. I’ve already tweaked his diet a bit to be low carb and higher in fat, which I think is helping his seizures, but no where near what the diet requires. It’s way too extreme to do without medical oversight. I can’t totally relax though because our appointment in Birmingham is Feb. 4, but that is just to meet with the neurologist. Though I was told he’d be admitted soon after, Connor doesn’t actually get scheduled for the clinic until that appointment. I’m scared they’ll pull some unexpected wait to start out of their pocket. I’d kept our appointment at CHOA just in case they could get us in earlier and save us the travel or in case something went awry with Birmingham. But come to find out, even though Connor’s neurologist has spoken to several people, and I have spoken to several people regarding starting keto, they still have him down for starting modified Atkins diet, even though the plan of action was changed before Christmas. I wish someone could explain to me how I have several conversations with someone about the fact that I’m bring Connor in for one thing and at no point does anyone say, “oh oops. He’s scheduled for something else!” Whatever. It’s the same old thing with CHOA every time, no matter what it’s for.

I’ve also been wrapped up in the sudden and surprising momentum of the medical cannabis movement in Georgia. The parents I’ve been talking to did an amazing job of getting the attention of the media and several legislators. Things are rolling and there’s more to come! I’ve been emailing my state legislators and the governor and we’re really seeing a lot of growing support. Access to medical cannabis has the potential to be life changing for so many suffering people.

Connor’s stubborness is reaching epic proportions. He will be two in March and he still won’t give up the bottle. A couple weeks ago I thought we were rounding a momentous curve. He has a sippy cup with a mouthpiece that can be interchanged with the bottle nipple. We’ve been more focused on cup drinking lately so it had been a while since I tried putting the actual sippy cup mouthpiece on the sippy cup instead of the nipple. I handed it to him and there was 15 seconds of drinking. My hands were on my mouth, trying not to gasp, practically jumping up and down. Then he stopped, pulled it out of his mouth, gave it a careful visual inspection, realized he’d been had and threw it down. The next 30 minutes were a standoff in which he would have no part of it. He had to accept a few sips from his training cup and his straw cup (which he’ll only take when urged and helped) before I relented and gave him the nipple. I like to create the illusion that I’m winning.

In spite of all this, we did have a great night out this weekend with two of our couple friends. Connor spent the night with my parents and we went to a wine tasting, dinner, had some drinks and hung out at a friend’s place. Part of the excitement was that we would be able to sleep in on Sunday, but I was having so much fun that we didn’t head home until four. I don’t think Chris was too pleased — he really treasures his sleep — but he humored me.

This morning I met up with Sara and her two boys for a trip to the Fernbank Natural History Museum. I wasn’t really sure Connor would be into it, but he had a blast. They have a pretty sweet play area.

I’ll close with this open letter written by Aaron Klepinger. I posted previously about his son Hunter.

My son Hunter has had intractable epilepsy for over 8 years and the seizures have severely impacted his development. He was able to do more before his seizures, such as stand unassisted against the couch. After starting to seize, he has regressed to a 1 month old development level. He depends on us for everything (transferring, feeding, diapering, etc.). We have failed 12 pharmaceuticals, often with devastating side effects such as hours of screaming fits, increased seizures, non-stop sleeping, no sleep, etc. We have tried vitamin supplements, chiropractic, intense neuro-developmental therapies, ketogenic diet for 2 years with constant dietary changes, and VNS implanted (https://www.epilepsy.com/epilepsy/vns).

He also has been diagnosed with a movement disorder. He flails his arms and legs and moves his head in all directions usually for hours at a time, sometimes in rapid succession. He moves and kicks so much in bed, we have had to put his mattress on the floor because he has fallen off the mattress. We are considering having to make a custom bed for him to keep him safe. His wheelchair has had to be customized heavily to stop him from hurting himself. We modified our Georgia home for his protection also. His shower there is extra wide so he doesn’t punch and kick the walls as he did when he was bathed in the bath. We also had to buy a ~$2000 bath chair out of pocket to strap him down while we bathe him. The typical chair covered by insurance would not provide enough support.

Since starting medical cannabis treatment, we are seeing way less seizures, more moments of relaxation, more happiness, greater eye contact, and greater awareness of his surroundings. Throughout his life, he has had a lot of GI issues, including constipation. We have noticed better motility with his bowels as we have increased the medical cannabis. He also used to clench his fists so tightly he would cut his hands with his fingernails. He did this fist clenching almost 24/7/365. He no longer does this.

In reviewing the past ~3 months of online seizure data, his seizures have gone from 17% of days without seizures (likely less than 17% if I dig further into paper records sitting on a moving truck now) to 47% of days without seizures after starting treatment (47% is a confirmed, hard number). Seizures that were 5, 10, or 20+ minutes before are now under 2 minutes. His more mild seizures we can’t even tell if they are a seizure now they are so quick and unpronounced. He holds his arms out as if he thinks he’s going to seize and then the seizure never comes. And this is all on a low dose, having just started medicine. Seizure medicines usually take months to tweak to a proper dose and this is the same way.

Haleigh Cox and 150,000 Georgians that have epilepsy should have the medical option of this gift from God. Thank you for helping us come home and share this medical treatment with so many other people suffering.

For your colleagues in the House and Senate, Georgia has a great medical tradition, including Emory, the CDC, and many health oriented companies and non-profits such as the American Cancer Society. We should step to the forefront on this health issue too and lead the way for states like Alabama and Tennessee that are considering legislation. Lets look at the science and put patients first. Medical cannabis is improving my son’s quality of life dramatically. It is our moral obligation to end the suffering of sick people. Lets pass some legislation this session before someone dies from unsafe pharmaceuticals. Compare the 40+ side effects (including death) of the most prescribed seizure medicine (Depakote) to the side effects of cannabis (none, virtually). Add to that the benefits that patients are seeing. It is clear the science supports medical use of this plant. Lets move forward with a bill in 2013 so Haleigh can live and Hunter can come home and stop being a prisoner in the state of Colorado.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Medical maladies and eating strategies for the picky eater that will eat anything — sort of.

Aside December 13, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt 2 Comments

I had a physical last week. When I got home, I announced that I only had six months to live. My parents laughed and rolled their eyes, a natural reaction from anyone that has known me for 33 years (they were there to watch Connor since Chris was working upstairs). Chris told me to stop it. He never enjoys my macabre sense of humor. I’m not allowed to play games like “What If?” or “Would You Rather?” He doesn’t like hypotheticals, where as I thrive on knowing things like, If I died, would you keep the cats or give them to my mom? Or, would you rather be married to a donkey or smell like a port-a-potty no matter how many showers you take.

My doctor confirmed that she thinks the headaches I’ve been having are migraines — mild as far as migraines go — but still migraines.

I also took Connor to a dermatologist for a wart he’s had on his foot for some time now. One $50 co-pay and $4 for parking later, off I go to Walgreens for standard over-the-counter Compound W. Sigh. I did like the dermatologist, though. He was an old guy that put out the vibe of an old-timey pharmacist. AND he was familiar with TSC! Even though we weren’t there for anything TSC related, he saw his history and asked questions about how Connor was affected, and he was familiar with various organ involvement. It sounded like he had even been the one to diagnose people based on facial angiofibromas, who were otherwise unaware of their condition. It’s always nice to come across a medical professional that actually knows what TSC is, and that he knew about the effects beyond the dermatological made me quite happy.

In other medical news, CHOA is once again trying to give me what I now know is a migraine. We finally got the call to schedule Connor’s first visit to the keto clinic so we can consult about the modified Atkins diet for seizure control. Want to guess when the appointment is? March 18. March. 18. Lots of four letter words when I hung up. I’m still not really clear on how this is going to go. She told me the nutritionist would call me. Possibly to start the diet before that? I couldn’t get a real clear answer, though I expressed my dismay at waiting three months. She also couldn’t tell me how soon the nutritionist would call. So I think we start the diet via phone consult, which is better than waiting three months, but I sure would prefer meeting with the expert before making such a drastic change to Connor’s diet. But like I said, I’m not even sure if that’s the plan yet.

I must also accept the blame for making Connor sick this week. Connor came down with his first normal, run-of-of-the-mill illness. We’ve had seizures, brain surgery and weeks in the hospital…but not one bout of ordinary childhood illness. He woke up late Wednesday night coughing and ran a low-grade fever most of Thursday. No fever this morning, but still coughing occasionally. Fantastically, though fevers typically lower the seizure threshold, I saw no seizures during the course of battling his temperature with Tylenol and Motrin. But why my fault he’s sick? I recently blogged about his superior health and just this week, I thought, man, we might just make it to his second birthday with no viruses! My bad, buddy. I know better. I’ve been sleeping on the floor next to his crib the last couple nights because it makes me feel better mentally — my hips hate me though. Chris would have done it, but Connor doesn’t tolerate snoring.

So it has been a lot of lying around and sleeping, along with more PBS than usual. If I see this Mouse King episode of Super Why one more time, I will scream.

Progress in the eating arena:

On the bright side, it appears we are making progress in the eating arena. His speech therapist has been providing tools to work on his sensory issues with his mouth. He does not appear to have any other sensory issues whatsoever, but try getting him to use a sippy cup or eat food with no degree of pureeing has been about as fun as…as…as trying to make an appointment for anything at CHOA. To eat non-pureed food, it had to be cut extraordinarily small and he would eat in very limited quantities. But this week has been far more successful at getting him to drink from this cut-out cup (which allows me to see how much he’s getting, as well as prevent it from hitting his face making him buck away).

He also ate this whole serving of mac-n-cheese. Just a couple weeks ago, I had to cut the pasta up and mix bites with pureed food so he wouldn’t just store it in his cheeks like a chipmunk. But he demolished the whole thing with no mixing or cutting this week.

He also did well with this, though he didn’t finish due to stubborness. The bites he did take, he swallowed, while before this one was almost inedible because he just built a fortress of peas and meat in his mouth.

These are his other fancy tools:

The blue and orange thingy can hook to his clothes or seat and its purpose is to prevent him from throwing his utensils. Unfortunately, they slide out anyway, so that’s not really helping. The purple and green spoon is bendable to work on getting him to feed himself. Angling it should aid in helping him put the food in his mouth. This is all theoretical as he shows little interest in anything other than being fed or throwing spoons. Or removing food from the spoon with his hand. The purple tool is a textured spoon to desensitize his mouth. He hated it at first, but now it doesn’t phase him. That’s a Nuk brush on the end. He hates that bad boy. It is also to desensitize his mouth. Not just for eating food, but also for rubbing it around in there. The therapist added the rubber grip so he could hold it himself, I suppose not realizing that his complete and utter hatred for it means that if you actually put it in his hand, it will immediately be on the other side of the room.

Now if you’ll excuse me, he just fell asleep and I’m going to check his temperature. He’s made it pretty clear that if I stick that thing in his ear one more time, I get a Nuk brush in my eye, so cross your fingers…

By the way, my blog is nominated for a couple of awards over at WEGO Health. Thanks to those who have endorsed me already! It’s not too late 🙂 to do it here.

“Let me guess, you have a headache again?” (unrulybodies.wordpress.com)

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

My first contribution over at Mommy Hot Spot:

December 9, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt Leave a comment

Why is My House Full of Physical Therapy Equipment?

Check out my article here.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

How I Do This.

November 21, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

…as long as he cares that I’m there. Maybe not like David, newly adopted, possessive. But he looks for me at swimming, tearful, crawls up and grabs my legs, clutches my face with his wolverine claws, clings to the gate demanding I come get him. Maybe he doesn’t call me mama yet, or reach for me when someone else takes him. But if someone else has him and he’s fussing–sometimes…sometimes if I take him he stops.

Sometimes when I have something to blog, I jot it down on my phone’s notepad to remember it for later. But sometimes I jot it down somewhere else and forget about it. I just found this on my laptop. It must have been written this summer, since I mention a mild jealousy that my friends’ newly adopted son showed more outward attachment to them than we necessarily saw from Connor. It made me feel good to read this today because it helps me remember that he is continually progressing, the details of which can be missed when you’re with him every day. Still no “mama” per se, but he does think I’m increasingly awesome, so maybe when he just goes on with his muhmuhmuhmuhmuhmuh, he actually IS referring to me, but I’m far too great for just two syllables.

His attachment now borders on problematic. I have to hide from him during aquatic therapy so he doesn’t watch me and cry for me the whole time. The first time after I moved he kept looking for me in my usual spot. He chases me around the kitchen island and has nearly taken me out multiple times getting under my feet. He has sibling rivalry with the dishwasher because when I’m emptying or filling it, I am unable to pick him up. Sometimes he throws his drink around until I sit down with him and let him drink it on my lap. The last two times we left him with my parents, he wouldn’t eat until we got home. It’s a problem I love to have (minus the eating–sure hope that resolves before we take some long-awaited, adults-only trips next year). He pulls himself up at the kitchen table or couch — wherever we might be sitting — and does not like to be left alone in the playroom out of sight.

And he reaches out for me. He reaches out for me.

People ask, how do you do this? That’s how.

Aquatic Therapy’s Role in Recovery (rawlivingfoods.typepad.com)

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

A mommy fail and cognitive growth

November 8, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt 6 Comments

I was on such a high yesterday about Connor climbing the stairs that I could have been the mayor of Toronto. Of course, this morning brought the sobering (though still awesome) reality of this development. I thought I had secured him this morning when I ran upstairs to get something. I stayed for a couple minutes talking to Chris about his progress painting the master bedroom, then opened the bedroom door only to find a toddler charging at me from the top of the stairs. It appears I failed to secure him properly and he followed me up the steps. Bad mommy.

Problem is that we actually tried installing a gate at the top of the steps but it didn’t really go so well as it is wedged between two bannisters and no wall. Same at the bottom. The bannisters just sort of start to push outwards as the door is tightened and doesn’t seem particularly safe, so we will just have to be sure to secure him away from the stairs all together.

But in all my excitement about his motor development, I forgot to talk about his cognitive development. I think I did mention how excited I was when I asked him if he wanted to read his favorite book and he crawled into the play room straight to it. But I have also seen an unbelievable change in his ability to manipulate apps on the iPad. We have several that we downloaded a long time ago at the suggestion of his therapists to teach him cause and effect, but he really just banged on the screen as we tried to help him manipulate them.

He did best with this one, Baby Piano, as it actually does respond well to random banging. In the last couple weeks he has had a renewed interest in it with more careful tapping of the keys.

He also figured out how to manipulate Peekaboo Barn independently. It’s pretty basic, just tap the barn door to open it and a new animal appears each time making sounds. But I could see that he was actually waiting to see what animal would appear inside instead of just hitting the screen.

A more recent download is the Crayola App which allows him to use his finger to color. He just has to touch it to make the colors appear, and I only helped him as far as changing colors for him. And he seemed to notice that I was changing the colors.

But this was the one that blew my mind. During the IFSP meeting this week, his speech therapist put Itsy Bitsy Spider on for him. We hadn’t used that one with him in a long time as it’s slightly more involved with moving characters and multiple places to tap to make things happen. I’d never seen him use it very productively. We either guided his hand or he banged randomly. Without even having seen it for weeks and weeks, he began to carefully watch the spider and tap it at opportune times to make it interact. I could barely concentrate on the meeting I was so shocked.

I had a really vivid dream last night that he started talking. Maybe it was a premonition 🙂

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Connor climbed up the stairs!

November 7, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt 7 Comments

Connor climbed up the stairs this morning! I almost had a heart attack. It came out of nowhere as we only just introduced it in PT last week. We hadn’t even really worked on it yet. Sure, he goes over to the stairs and props himself up with his arms on the step. He’d even managed to go up one with assistance. But today I was on my computer and I glanced over to the stairs and there he was on the second step. I gasped and ran to the bottom in case he fell, but he just kept going. I did a whisper yell to get Chris out of his office, but not wanting to startle Connor or stop him. He would have gone all the way to the top but Chris stopped him since we are painting (ahem, correction, he is painting) the bedroom and there is stuff all over.

Just this week we had his IFSP meeting with his early intervention team to check his progress and set new goals. His physical therapy goal he was to have met by now, set based on the speed with which he met previous goals, was to be sitting independently with hands free for play. Instead he surpassed that and started crawling, pulling to stand and cruising. And now climbing the stairs!

Here is video of a repeat performance.

I’m wigging out like I just did 27 espresso shots.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Five months of great progress!

November 3, 2013 Rebecca Gaunt 2 Comments

Connor’s first year was such slow development that I still can’t wrap my head around the last few months. I mean I vividly remember obsessing over him just lifting his head. It took forever. He sat somewhat independently around my birthday in October of 2012, and I thought here we go! But it was months before he could sustain it comfortably on his own. We put our old house on the market at the beginning of June this year. I vividly remember that his crib was still in the raised position as there was no worry that he would fall out. He could sit well, but couldn’t get into sitting on his own. It all started when he finally chose to roll from back to front. He went the other way on time, but refused to CHOOSE tummy time, leaving himself immobile. Since June 1, he

mastered pulling up to sit

become mobile through rolling and scooting

added consonants to his babbling

learned to crawl

pulled to stand

started cruising furniture

has shown recognition of more words

has become very (too) opinionated

and initiated his first game of peekaboo

Exponential progress.

His physical therapist almost cried when she saw him cruise. She had been away for a couple weeks as her granddaughter was having cancer surgery at CHOP for ganglioneuroblastoma. Ain’t life grand for our kids. Don’t worry. I’m aborting my angry Where’s God diatribe. (Side note: She said CHOP is the best for this surgery and they went in thinking they would be able to get 50%. They think they got over 90%!)

Cover of "Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Ty... — Cover of Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type

He shows definite favorites in books — his two favorites are Click Clack Moo and Hand Hand Fingers Thumb. If I start reading from them, he comes crawling over. The other day I asked him if he wanted to read Click Clack Moo and he crawled out of the family room into the playroom to it and looked up at me expectantly (after a brief scrunched face short cry because we startled him with our enthusiasm).

I’ve given up trying to get the detailed results about his MRI from Boston. We got the standard report of no growth, but we were supposed to finally get details on number of tubers and locations so we can target potential deficits etc. But as no one ever gets back to me when I leave messages regarding that particular report, I guess we have to wait until we go for our next TSC study visit in February or March when we will schedule a visit at the clinic. Not very happy about that.

Connor still refuses to feed himself, and when we give him finger foods, he just destroys them. We’ve tried cracker type food items, but he crushes them, so his physical therapist suggested beef jerky. It’s easy for him to hold and he might like the taste. And wouldn’t you know, he sucked on that Slim Jim a couple times and bit it into pieces. He only swallowed one piece, and that was by accident, but still progress. Slim. Jims. If you had told me I would be feeding my toddler Slim Jims…

He also still won’t get off the bottle, which we think is another one of his stubborn things, kind of like refusing to roll over. His speech therapist has been pushing a straw with a squeeze bottle, since sippy cups get swatted across the room. He actually let me put the straw in his mouth without fighting me yesterday for the first time. Maybe we’ll get rid of these bottles some day after all.

I learned a valuable parenting lesson last week when we went to the North Georgia mountains with my parents. While we have had to deal with crazy TSC stuff, as far as the normal baby health issues are concerned, Connor has never really had any issues. He’s barely even had a cold. Well, last weekend we had a major bout of constipation. I never understood what the big deal was. They go eventually right? Give them some prune juice or whatever. My bad. Sorry about the flippant attitude. Almost two days of fussing and irritability. He went an entire day with no food or drink whatsoever. It wasn’t until the next morning when he willingly took his meds that I had the brilliant idea to give him milk, water and juice with the oral syringe. My mom shook her head at one point and said, “When people ask what we did this weekend I can tell them we waited for Connor to poop.” And so I deemed the weekend PoopWatch 2013. I’ll spare you further details, and only say that a couple days later I was looking for a cork.