Accidents

Olivia’s teacher has had to send me an email every single day this week. Some days she’s sent more than one.

Yesterday, she sent two emails and called me fifteen minutes before school let out. Olivia had had her third accident of the day and had no more spare clothes. Mrs. H didn’t want to put O on a cold bus in wet clothes.

I called Tom and he took clean clothes for Olivia and took her with him for the day.

When I got off work, I went home, picked up Olivia and took her directly to the doctor to check for a bladder infection.

These accidents are not normal for her. At least, not anymore. Yes, last year there were accidents aplenty but she’s a year old and has been doing so well and she even had two accidents at my mom’s between the time Tom dropped her off and the time I got there, which was all of 45 minutes.

So.

Bladder infection it is. And don’t I feel terrible about not taking her sooner? Except, well, let’s remember she had 5p- syndrome and thus, accidents are going to happen and if I run her off to the doctor at the first drop of pee in her underwear, well, let’s just say our flexible spending account would be dry before the first thaw each year.

Along with antibiotics to make her feel better, I sent a brand new tube of peppermint chapstick (‘tis the season) for her teacher to use as bribery, um, I mean a reward for each time Olivia uses the toilet at school instead of staying right there in her seat and peeing in her pants.

The last resort will be to send a pull up along with the three pairs of clean pants/underwear and having her teacher put that on her after the first accident of the day. I hate to do that, though because it feels so much like a step back.

These are the times I hate 5p- syndrome. I hate that I have to wonder if these accidents are the result of an illness or if her muscles are just too weak to hold the urine or if it’s a behavioral issues stemming from the missing part of her chromosome.

It is in moments like this that I am reminded that I would give her back that missing DNA in a heartbeat if that were an option.

I love Olivia more than York peppermint patties. I adore this child so very, very much. I think she’s amazing just the way she is.

But unlike other parents out there (who are NOT wrong, let me say that right here) who wouldn’t change their child even a little, I would absolutely give her back that part of her fifth chromosome.

Damnit, life is challenging enough without the added pressure of ‘special’ challenges. I hate that she’s going to deal with every day challenges while also taking on the world with less DNA than the rest of us.

It sucks and I know nothing can be done except to give her the tools she needs to work around this.

I would like to think it goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway; I would not trade Olivia for all the chromosomally typical kids in the world. I think she’s amazing just the way she is. But for her, for her own peace, if given the opportunity, I’d give her back her health. I’d take away her syndrome because 5p- does not define my child. Olivia would still be funny and sassy and girly and sweet even with all her chromosomes intact. She’d still dance and sing and do amazing forward rolls. She’d run and skip and maybe even ride a bike. She’d still be Olivia but without the challenges that 5p- brings with it.

Alas, there is no way to give her back what 5p- had taken away. So instead, I’ll continue to love her, to advocate for her, to fight for her to get all the help she needs to reach her greatest potential. And I’ll take her to the doctor and figure out what’s going on since she can’t always articulate what’s happening in her own body.

That’s what we do, we moms of typical and special needs kids. We love our kids to the tips of our toes and we do everything we can to make life just a little easier, a little better for our little loves.