SPD and Family

In the months since my last post, a whole bunch of things have happened.

But before I get into that, I'm ecstatic to update on R's development.  In discovering that he liked being around other kids during VBS, and as a result started babbling more, we have since enrolled him in a local preschool.  It's quite a non-traditional preschool, and though I am not giving up on homeschooling yet, I'm quite happy seeing R enjoy himself in school.  As a result, he has become a whole lot more chatty and we're seeing a lot more attempts by him to communicate with us verbally.

If you'd like to know more about how I suggest advocating for your SPD kid in school, you may read my previous post on the subject matter.

And now for the topic at hand.

Six months ago, my maternal grandma moved in to live with me, my husband and R.

Her condition was not what I would call ideal.  She had been diagnosed with shingles 2 years prior, and had been suffering from bronchiectasis for many, many years.  Her vision was also failing significantly.  To complicate matters, she lived far away from my parents and my uncle and aunt, and with traffic conditions in the Philippines being absolutely horrendous, visiting her has been really, really difficult.

My grandma had always been adamant that she will remain in the house where she lived for the rest of her days here on earth.  Nothing would have convinced her to move in with my mom or my uncle.  It wasn't until April of this year that she finally agreed to move in with me, as my mom and uncle are normally here everyday due to work and would be able to check on her.

She was already starting to lose some of her lucidity by then, and her physical condition was such that she couldn't, and wouldn't, sit up or get out of bed.

So we did what we could.  We had a doctor come look at her.  I had R's OT refer a physical therapist to us, and Grandma starting having sessions twice a week.

Hubby and I were a little bit concerned on how R would react to having a new person in the house.

I don't claim to be an expert, but I can share the experience we had when my grandma moved in with us.  Before that, I had already been introducing family members to R as part of our homeschooling.  I had printed and laminated photos of family members, and would teach him what he is to call each particular relative.

My grandma had already been part of that list, and he was able to identify her from the flash cards.  So when she moved in with us, I told R that his great-grandmother was going to stay with us for a while, and that he should treat her as kindly and as gently as he could.

His reaction was the best we could hope for.  He looked at her rather curiously.  He had seen her before in my grandma's house, so she wasn't completely a stranger to him.  He didn't react much, no aversion, no screaming.  So we both sighed in relief, and started assisting my uncle and mom in taking care of my grandma.

As time went by, R became more and more comfortable with Tai-mah, as we had taught him to call her.  He would be there every afternoon, eventually kissing her cheeks, holding her hands, and grinning when she sang to her visitors.  She would not always be aware of him, but I do like to believe she was happy when he went to see her.

Soon enough, she was being encouraged to sit up.  R would be so thrilled when she sat on her chair and would call out to her, "Tai-mah, sit!"  or "Tai-mah, sing!"  He continued to spend time in her room, kissing her cheeks, shaking her hands, and just being his cheerful, sunshiny self.

Then two weeks ago she started having coughs, phlegm and slight fever.  Her X-ray showed pneumonia, and we had to separate R from her.  He would protest about wanting to go see Tai-mah, but would quiet down when I would tell him she was sick and needed rest.

A few days later she was taken to hospital, and about a week later she passed away.

On social media, I had shared many Bible verses and how comforted we were as a family that she is with Jesus, but what I did not share was R's response to the whole event.  His nanny, as I was busy helping my mother with the funeral arrangements, told me that the day after his Tai-mah died, he went to her room and pointed to the bed, calling out her name.

So the nanny told him, "Wala na Tai-mah."  Wala na is the Filipino equivalent to "no more".

To our surprise, as the days passed, R would look at my grandma's room and say "Tai-mah, wah na.  No moh."

At the funeral he would keep looking at her and say, "Tai-mah, sleep."

Now, how much he understood, I'm not really sure.  All I could whisper to him was, "Tai-mah is with Jesus now."

He seemed to accept that.