Tongue Tied

Did you know that the expression “tongue-tied” actually refers to a medical condition?

I didn’t until someone told me that Charlie had it about four and a half years ago. At the time, the news didn’t seem that important, but now I’m questioning that. I guess it’s important to note that we moved after Charlie was about two months old and then bumped around from one pediatrician to another until we found someone that was comfortable working with a child whose medical record is thicker than your average dictionary.

So. . . some things got a little lost. By the time our pediatrician actually looked at Charlie’s tongue he said, “well, since it isn’t affecting his eating, we probably don’t need to do anything about it.” Meanwhile, Charlie didn’t learn to eat by mouth until he was  two and a half months old. At the time, the delay was attributed to stroke recovery or cerebral palsy, and I didn’t think one thing about it. Let’s face it, when you’re dealing with potential hydrocephalus and suspected epilepsy, possible blindness, and lining up five new specialists, a funny-looking tongue is pretty much the last thing on your mind. Also, I was traumatized by g-tube surgery,  so I’m certain I would have rejected the idea of anyone getting near my baby with a scalpel.

three boys sitting on a green bench

If you look closely, you can see the heart shape of Charlie's tongue

But now it’s been pointed out to me that Louie has that same heart-shaped tongue.

So off I went to the Internet (natch. . . I have an PhD. in Google Research at this point).

Tongue tie is a tad controversial–many doctors believe it doesn’t cause that many issues, but a much larger percentage of occupational and speech therapists, and lactation consultants believe it’s a problem. I also read a study where people self-reported about their tongue-tie, and a large percentage believed that it made speech more difficult.

Two babies on a green blanket

Only picture of Louie I could find that shows his tongue--I think his might be worse than Charlie's

Turns out that funny-shaped tongue can cause issues in:

Feeding

Speech

Oral Hygiene

So far, Charlie has had issues with feeding, and has no speech whatsoever. I’m less sure about oral hygiene, but that’s because he’s scary defensive of his mouth. We have attributed all of that to cerebral palsy. Louie? Well, Louie was really lousy with the bottle for someone his size, and he’s had a lot more tongue thrust when eating solid food, and the OT who visits from Early Intervention noticed that he’s not as sophisticated when he mouths things.  When his bottom two teeth came in, they are rotated inward. My Dr. Google research reveals that yes, this can be a result of tongue tie. Makes me think that his tongue also needs some inspection.

I don’t think I’m going to snip Charlie’s frenulum and he’s magically going to start talking, but if there’s something making speech harder? I’m going to take care of that! Charlie faces enough obstacles with his brain injury–no way I’m going to let some little piece of tissue add to the problem. And with Louie? Well, frankly, we have enough doctors and therapists in our life. If there’s a way I can avoid having to add some for Louis, then that’s the route I’d like to take.

Appointments are made–by the end of June tongue tie will have been addressed with the pediatrician. In the mean time, I just have to have a baby and recover from my c-section. Should be easy, right?

A Good Ending

Charlie’s last day of school was yesterday. The best part of the end of the year (for me) is the beautiful memory book that his teacher and aides put together for the parents. There’s a page of pictures for each month and a piece of artwork as well. Most of the artwork is done using the children’s hand prints, which I’m sure also provides them with great sensory input–pretty sure Charlie hates all that input (insert evil mom cackle).

Three boys sitting on a bency

Not from school--just a gratuitous picture of my spawn.

The pictures show Charlie doing all kinds of things–brushing his teeth, wearing a Dr. Seuss hat, sitting in the sandbox with other preschoolers, his feet in the grass, sitting in a bounce house with his teacher–the list just goes on and on.

I’ve taught before and I know just how draining it can be. I know how easily one can slide into complacency and how you have to actively shake yourself to stay your best. I look at these pictures of my boy–engaged in play, making faces at new experiences, smiling in the crowd–and I am humbled by the work his teachers have done. And weepy.

We have been so blessed. It’s easy, I think, as a special needs parent, to focus on what’s wrong with the system. We focus on what our child isn’t getting or the next hurdle we have to leap over. I’m guilty of it too as my mind recently has been occupied with trying to figure out what will happen to Charlie once he leaves Early Intervention (that thought makes me weepy too).

Tonight, however, I’m letting myself be happy–my boy has been treated so well. He has seen so much and been involved with school in ways I could have never imagined.

And now I’m weepy again.

metal necklace that reads "A+ teacher"

End of the year gift for Charlie's teacher and aides.

Crying Uncle

For the record, I’m not a huge fan of whiny posts, so if you’re not either than you might want to skip this one. You’ve been warned. . .

Either tomorrow or Saturday I’ll be 35 weeks pregnant–I’m not exactly sure because those online ticker things don’t agree and I’m too lazy to figure it out for myself. This has been one spectacularly uneventful pregnancy. I had a brush with some contractions a few weeks ago, but even those have subsided and now I’m just big, big, big. I clearly had not recovered from the twins because I look like I’m pregnant with two again. Either that, or I’m giving birth to godzilla. Only time will tell.

So here I am, at the very end of this thing. I’m ordering stuff off the internet for the new babe, trying desperately to the get house in order after two weeks of solo-parenting, and generally feeling pretty good when BAM! I get hit with some of the worst pain I have ever experienced.

Two boys playing at a toy table

It’s somewhere around where my leg meets my pelvis and it shoots down into my leg. It hurts the worst when I step on one leg–so, basically when I’m walking. My twinnies still get up at night pretty regularly and it is so incredibly hard to take that first step out of bed in the dead of night when I know it’s going to send sparks rocketing down my leg. At first I thought it was nerve pain, but it’s escalated so significantly that I think it’s something more.

After much consulting with Dr. Google, I think I’m dealing with a problem with my pubic symphysis. I’m definitely hearing some popping/cracking when I walk and the other symptoms seem to fit too. Sadly, I’m not sure there’s much to be done about it besides giving birth.

So basically, I’m supposed to take care of my three children for the next four weeks with pain shooting down my leg and there’s almost nothing to be done.

I have a standing appointment with my OBGYN on Mondays now–I might start begging to push the date up a bit–I’m getting kind of desperate.

boy on a bike

Starting to move this independently, which is very cool!

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