I have to confess something really terrible. I drank alcohol while pregnant. Drank it before I actually got to know I was pregnant. Yes, yes, it was unplanned, unexpected and yes..quite understandable since I had sex after having missed a pill or two. Surely my attitude of forgetfulness and negligence had for most part of my life resulted in trivial consequences such as failing to return on time books to the library or for days losing sight of house keys. But then came a moment when it resulted in another human life. Gosh, I should have had a contraceptive injection or something more permament and independent of my clogged brain. Or should I?
Well, I do not regret having my babies. They are precious to me. What I regret is that I had not given them the start that most modern mothers give to their children, and they start giving it to them before the little creatures are even conceived.
Folic acid
Trust Funds
Registration with the best private school
To name just a couple.
I had given to my babies none of the good, healthy and future oriented stuff. Instead I smoked and drank. Drank and smoked. But only Until I found out that I was growing little stupified fetuses in me.
That 'stupified' bit actually is something what I wanted to write this post about.
My little daughter-1 year old -is lovely. But since the moment of her birth I had been utterly and deeply convinced she is afflicted with Foetal Alchol Syndrome. I saw in her symptoms of mental retardation since she was about 3 months. She could not speak coherently, could not point to the objects I named, and flashcards with letters beat her black and blue.
To make things more serious, she was born with a rather peculiar look. Add to that a few odd developmental abnormalities (problems with hips, skin, eye- of of which fortunately has since cleared) and there was no doubt as to the fact that she was infused with too much alcohol . I cannot describe the agony I went through because of the FAS diagnosis which I formulated myself, with a little bit of help of online forums and medical resources. Fuelled by guilt, my anguish began to become unbearable. And so was the sight of the growing older and ever more mentally impaired being.
I almost freaked out when she showed such abnormal behaviour as failing to recognize me in the mornings when she was 6 months old.
My heart jumped with horror when my friend's babies started waving bye byes, and she only stared.
I could not sleep for weeks, when she started scratching her head with her wrist instead of her her nails.
I was brought to tears when she stuck her tough out and - drooling badly-kept it out there for hours. That surely looked stupid.
The anxiety stories can go on and on, but one turned to be just ground breaking.
My little girl, like most little girls, like to be carried. And I, like most busy mums, cannot do that all the time. So I put her down. Now, to me a reasonable child's behaviour would be to claw and tug at mum's skirt, wail, howl and cry uncontrollably until the fed up parent gives up and picks the stubborn munchkin up . That was at least what my older sensible son did. The little girl showed none of the 'sensible' perseverance , except for the perseveringly ear shattering howls and shrieking. So howling like mad, she never stayed by me, she just ran away, mostly to climb the stairs or a small coffee table made from glass. How bizarre. How unsensible. How mental. How stupid. How FAS.
NOT.
In fact, that actually turned out to me clever ploy. So clever it took me 4 months to understand it and appreciate.
That clever little girl achieved her goal (getting back into her mummy's arms)quicker and easier but doing something, she knew, I would stop her from doing immediately. Of course by picking her up.Clever. So much for FAS. Welcome sanity, and no, I won't drink to that.