INFANT MASSAGE CLASS: “EARLY SIGNS”

Articles and blog posts on the early signs of SPD (sensory processing disorder, which I call sensory processing differences) and autism fill me with a mixture of recognition (yes, much is familiar), trepidation (at this point I’ve reached a certain level of saturation and also seen many stereotypes and errors), annoyance (ditto, plus the occasional offensive or condescending bits can set me back for days), and, sometimes, gratitude (after all, some of this stuff could be very helpful to parents – and most writers mean well!).

I usually find that I am holding my breath as I read, waiting for the triggers...yet I am compelled to read, always hoping to learn more about our neurodiverse world.

My son G was diagnosed with SPD at three, autism at eight. Being a bit spectrumesque myself, I would never have thought there was anything about him that needed to be evaluated (his evaluations were always at the behest of his teachers) but in retrospect a few things stand out.

My earliest memory of being aware of G’s possible difference from his “normal” peers occurred in an infant massage class. We mothers – this was in the East Village, in New York City, but yup, all mothers – were told to sit in a circle. I don’t remember precisely how old the babies were – early parenthood is kind of a blur – but they were all quite young, a few months old at most. We had pads and brought blankets and placed our babies on their backs on those blankets. We were given diagrams of massage strokes and instructed in proper technique for stroking and soothing our babies.

Infant massage was meant to be a bonding exercise. To stimulate our babies’ brains and help with their digestion! To make them happy! Healthy!

Except - my baby didn’t seem to be with the program. While all the other babies enjoyed a free and loving massage – yeah, try getting that a few decades down the line, babies! - my darling G was having none of it.

Figure I – Infant Massage Class. Not Shown: Ashamed Mother.

As soon as I tried to massage him, heck, as soon as I lay him down on his back, the screaming would start. Sure, there was the occasional peep from another baby, but nothing like G’s agonized cries. I actually tried three sessions before giving up in despair.

Clearly, I was missing some important mothering skills. I blamed myself, of course.

When G was a baby, I thought of myself as someone who accepted all people, someone who would never discriminate on the basis of ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation...Someone who accepted and loved people of all sorts. Yet I knew little to nothing about neurodiversity!

It would have been helpful to me as a new mother to have a positive concept of other kinds of difference, an idea of the incredibly wide ranges of neurology, physiology, psychology, sensitivity, sensory processing etc. that make up human beings. Obviously, this would not have led to shifting blame to my baby! It just would have made things make sense.

It would have helped to know that my baby needed deep pressure, not fluttery strokes that probably felt like torture to him. It might have been best to keep him partly or fully wrapped so that he could locate his body safely in space, instead of flailing around. He never liked being moved; there might have been better ways to transition him.

Instead, all I knew - in that context, with the limited knowledge I had – was that something seemed wrong. Since I myself had also always been “different,” this initially added to my disorientation and self-blame.

These moments keep coming, but now they come cushioned with fundamental commitments to diversity, acceptance, and hope.

When you and/or your child live(s) with an invisible, complex difference, explanations and strategies can be elusive and imprecise. I still sometimes don’t know whether my child needs help; and when he does need help I don’t always know how to help him. Sometimes I try to help him in unhelpful, unwanted or unnecessary ways, as do others. Other times we miss the boat and G is on his own with his challenges when some wisdom or support is sorely needed.

When G was screaming in the otherwise serene and harmonious infant massage space, I knew he was deeply uncomfortable, but I didn’t know that he had SPD, or that he was autistic, and that his sensitivities would benefit from a very different approach. Parents who recognize their children in “early signs” lists will I hope have important tools at their disposal, not least the knowledge that all parties concerned are doing their best – and that that is just fine. For the Full Spectrums, the labels that apply to us are mostly useful in that regard.

There’s still so much I don’t know, but I do know our differences are not our “fault.” I know that what is “wrong” is not us but a world that is primarily designed for the “average,” “normal” person – whoever that is.  

I know that I accept and celebrate G exactly as he is.  Same for me. And you. And you, and you, and you...:

This blog is a safe space for people to recognize a full spectrum of human being, and to explore how we might make the world a more welcoming place for all. Parents and caregivers who are searching for ways to understand, connect with, and support their children, individuals who are exploring their own differences, early-signers and adult-figure-outers, you are all welcome here.

Please visit the other sites below for more informative and inclusive posts.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

IS IT SHOWING?

Dear Persons,

In IS IT TOUCHING?, I explored how the traditional view of sensitivity is limited --and somewhat discriminatory toward highly sensitive people and people with sensory processing differences (SPD).  I meant to put forth the idea that the way we perceive and process things should be recognized as a sort of neurological/physical/emotional/temperamental spectrum. Simply put, we have widely divergent levels of physical and emotional sensitivity. Furthermore, as self-advocates and advocates for our children and loved ones, it is up to us to decide whether our sensory (I include emotions as feelings here) processing differences are problematic, or glorious, or both, or neither...

This post was one of my most-read ever, and elicited many responses, both public and private.

One interesting theme that emerged from these conversations was that of EXPRESSION. I heard from people who have incredibly strong sensory and/or emotional feelings – but hardly express them at all. And I heard from people who feel they are “all over the place” in a sort of hot mess way and want to calm their actions, reactions and attitudes down (here is where some calming sensory activities might come in handy!). I heard from parents with super-sensitive, expressive children whom they are trying to understand...In short, it emerged that what we show (in those actions, reactions, and attitudes) is not just an exact reflection of what we feel.

So, this month, I’d like to bring your attention to the possibility that sensitivity does not correlate directly or evenly with expression or external reactivity. Some people develop coping mechanisms to hamper their reactions because of cultural or familial pressures. Some are naturally less expressive. Some people stuff their feelings. Others let it all hang out, sometimes in spades – intentionally, or because they cannot suppress the expression of their reactions.

Another manifestation of the sensitivity/expression interplay may be seen in those of us with sensory processing differences where certain stimuli that might seem minor to others (tags on clothing, bright lights, strong tastes or textures in food, temperature variations...) are interpreted by the brain as major. This may then result, expression-wise, in sensory overload or “acting out” or “shutting down” or...

At the extremes, you get people who may appear histrionic – your drama kings and queens who scream when stepping into a puddle of water (guilty) or a person gives them side eye; or your heartless stoics, who don’t even flinch when a finger is cut off or a loved one dies.

Notably, the histrionics and the stoicism may reflect/express SIMILAR levels of sensitivity, exteriorized in different ways. What we are experiencing inside is not always expressed in ways that exactly match our inner experience of intensity. People can be low on the sensitivity scale, but high on the expression scale; or they may feel deeply, yet not be expressive of that externally...

We may feel or express less – the proverbial “stone;” we may feel or express more, experiencing or acting explosively, like “fireworks.” These two things – what we feel and what we show - don’t usually occur in a matchy-matchy fashion.

What’s more, sensitivity itself can be emotional, physical, neurological...; while expression can be through actions, words, attitudes, moods...AND, as this scale shows, these factors can intersect in a Full Spectrum of ways!

Figure I – Showing Chart: Sensitivity and Expression: Stone to Fireworks, Squared

In addition, our attempts to modulate our expression are not always in line with our intentions.

As I wrote in IS IT TOUCHING?, I am a total sap and literally – embarrassingly! -  unable to not cry under a variety of circumstances, from funerals and other clearly sad occasions to anything touching (try this for a tear test), sentimental, or even joyous.

On the other hand, things that move me powerfully but are hurtful, complicated, or angering can overwhelm me and cause me to shut down and seem withdrawn or even cause a meltdown (internally!). And I am just one feeling/expressing person, a fraction of my Full Spectrum family. I am still trying to figure out my son, who sometimes can appear extremely insensitive as a reaction to sensory overload; my daughter, who seems impervious to all but a very few extremely, tremendously sensitive areas; and Pardner, who has the rare gift of being sensitive but non-reactive, observant and caring, yet as steady as can be. But Pardner has his areas of sensitivity, too: do not put your bike up against his car, nor, if you are a child with potential child gore on your hands, or a hairy cat in your arms, should you “touch the threads.”

So, finally, our sensitivities and expressions thereof can also vary from experience to experience, with different situations being more or less

Manageable/controllable,

moving/touching/intense,

and/or expressed

!

In the neurodiverse world, terms like “over-responder” and “under-responder” get thrown around, as if there is a mean level of response that is correct. Add on different ideas about social cues and behavior, reactions that may be judged “inappropriate,” or “unexpected”...Whew. I’m looking to expand our perspective on what’s a natural part of the range of human being, not criticize people. Human sensitivity and expression weave together in diverse, complex and fascinating ways, in a dynamic matrix represented here by a spectrum from stones to fireworks.  

What holds for all of us is that we want to be our healthiest selves. We have the privilege and responsibility of figuring out what that means - for our children, for ourselves, for our communities.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up