Why I cried when my child had a meltdown on a busy train

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Isaac was so excited. He had watched so many trains come and go from the busy platform while he flapped, clapped and laughed at the doors opening and closing and the whistle blow as each train pulled away. He loves trains and even more so when he gets to ride on them.

Our train was due next so I held his hand and gathered up our bags. I knelt down beside him and told him we needed coach B and we would sit at a table. I was unsure if he understood as at 8 he has complex autism, learning difficulties and a brain tumour. I had already prepared him though and just the day before we had been on the same train for the journey down. He had loved that journey and I was sure he would love this one too.

But as I helped him over the large gap and headed for our booked seats on the busy train I had no idea of the huge meltdown I was about to face.

The seats we booked were not where they should have been and instead of a table of four we were instead booked to sit on a row of two with the other two seats behind. No amount of explaining would work and Isaac sat down in the aisle of the busy train and screamed.

He screamed and he screamed. He banged his head and bit himself. He shook and kicked his legs. He could not cope with such a simple change as a different seat. It was awful.

He was scared. I was scared. He was crying, his sister was crying and I was crying inside. It was like a scene from a horror movie with all eyes on the train on me and my son and I had no idea what to do. My son was a danger to himself and others and was causing an obstruction on a busy train that was unable to stop.

I sat on the floor beside my traumatised son and tried to calm him as a member of the train crew approached us. Through the noise and distress of my son and his sisters crying I somehow managed to explain to the assistant what the problem was.

Immediately she did everything she could to help. She checked every carriage on that train for a feee table but there was none available. I tried to see if Isaac would sit on some fold out seats near a window or perhaps even stand at the door. I had told him we would be sitting at a table together and that was all his brain could process. One little change had disturbed him so much his body was in crisis.

And then a stranger offered to help. With tears in her own eyes she came down to where I was and said she could see the distress of my son and would he like her table seat. She was not angry or frustrated, or even annoyed; she showed compassion and gave up her own seat to see my child happy.
I thanked her and we sat at her table and immediately Isaac began to calm down. Everyone was looking at me and I was waiting for a stare or rude comment or cheeky remark. We got none of that. All I saw were people moved by what this lady did and by seeing a child with special needs so upset.

I was so touched but more was to come.

IMG_1108As the train employee returned she handed me a bag. She apologised for the booking mistake, gifted us a whole bag of food from the buffet trolley and called ahead to our destination and booked assistance for us. She then asked what Isaac enjoyed doing and when I said he loves pressing buttons she lead him through the entire train and let him press buttons at doors, toilets and even on her ticket machine.

IMG_1107She turned Isaac’s distress to utter delight. As I walked through the carriage and past the passenger who had give up her seat I looked at her and cried. She too has eyes filled with emotion as she watched my son laugh as the toilet door opened when he pressed the button.

Yesterday I witness kindness on a scale that changed me. I saw not only autism awareness but autism acceptance and compassion. Instead of stares I saw smiles. Instead of rudeness I saw understanding.

My child is not badly behaved or spoiled. He was highly distressed over a simple change that I had no control over. He was told something would happen and that didn’t go to plan. He could not voice what was upsetting him and he was scared we were on the wrong train since we had no table.

I cried when my son had a meltdown on a busy train yesterday because I hate seeing him so anxious and scared, but I also cried at the actions of complete strangers and simple acts of kindness that I will never ever forget.

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I found this bag this morning as I was sorting though our luggage. It reminded me again of yesterday and why I cried when my son had a meltdown on a busy train.

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I am that mother

Today I have the honour of hosting my first EVER guest blog in celebration of Mother’s Day. Geraldine writes on her Facebook page It’s me Ethan and on her blog Geraldine Renton.

This blog originally appeared Here. Go check her out!

imageI am her.
I am that mother that you spy out in the shopping centre dragging a child kicking and screaming.
I am that mother that follows her son while he is running around the park or the playground; yes a helicopter mother- that’s me!
I am that mother that apologies after my son has pushed, kicked or hit your child. I do try to get to my son before he hits but sometimes I am simply not fast enough.
I am that mother that catches your eye because she is singing a nursery rhyme badly and loudly to a child who is trying to hit her.
I am that mother who has dropped to the floor in the middle of a queue in good ‘ol ‘Pennys’ and rocked her son.
I am that mother who has thrown her shopping bags, pushed past you and ran off screaming “ETHAN”.
I am that mother that looks tired…ALL THE TIME.
I am that mother that smiles at your little toddler while they are showcasing their tantrums for all to see.
I am that mother that stops to speak to your child, who happens to be clapping loudly sitting while in his wheelchair.
I am that mother that holds the door for you because the damn door will slam as you try to push your child’s buggy or wheelchair out of it.
I am that mother that picks up your bags because you had to give chase unexpectedly to a toddler who saw something shiny.
I am that mother who see’s your child is having a meltdown and not a tantrum; I’m the one who moves dangerous objects away, talks to your other kids and then disappears.
I am that mother who stares right back at you when you are discussing my child’s behaviours.
I am that mother that has thanked you for all your help; which amounts to staring and pointing, let’s not forget ‘tutting’.
I am that mother who never seems to be embarrassed when their child is throwing (what may appear to be to the untrained eye) a sh!t fit over a bag.

I am that mother that asks you “Can I help?” while your child is screaming, kicking, biting and your other children are just standing still, not knowing what to do, but knowing enough to stand back and to wait.
I am that mother that smiles at you and reminds you to “hang in there”; while your toddler is asking 50 questions, your other child begging for a new toy and your newborn crying.
I am that mother that smiles at your little family as you walk past mine.
I am that mother who is just like you; only different.
I am a mother to three wonderful boys.
Ethan introduced me to the world of ‘mother’.He is my eldest son, yet in our little world he is also my youngest.
Ethan has a syndrome that takes and takes; it will eventually take his life.
Ethan has shown me how easy it is to judge other people, especially parents. He has shown me ‘all may not be what it seems’ – he has shown me a perspective which I feel a lot of us, in our daily lives forget…
This Mother’s Day, remember every single mammy you see is doing her best.
Smile at each other,
Share a look that says ‘I’ve been there too’
Hold that door open,
Pick up the damn bag,
Smile through the tantrums/meltdowns that you see…
Afterall, we are all mothers, some of us are just a little different.

How did you meet me?

Did you meet me many years ago, a child innocent and free, more interested in dolls and card games than school, influenced by the beliefs of my parents more than the media, eating food that others made me without thinking of the cost or how it was cooked? Had you met me then you would have known a very different person to who I am now. The innocence of childhood is long gone now.

IMG_1323Did you meet me in high school, a teenager preoccupied with my puppy fat and how to avoid being bullied? When it felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders as I struggled with French homework that made no sense and tried to remember the periodic table of elements. A time when friendship was someone to stand beside at break time, when my view of life became tainted by smokers in the school toilets and the pressure of exams made me cry. The confusion of my teenage years is long gone.

Did you meet me at university, a naive student who had yet to taste alcohol or party right through the night? The novelty of living alone soon forgotten when the loneliness and homesickness set in every night. When a determination first set in to achieve and my views of child development were rose tinted and way more fantasy than reality. When I let my world fall around me as the first person to ever call me a failure spoke into my life. Had you known me then you would have met an insecure and way too innocent student ill prepared for the reality of a full time career in teaching.

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 Did you meet me when I first fell in love, a believer in happy ever after, dreamer of happy families? When I consumed myself with wedding planning and being with my lover more than anything else because life suddenly seemed amazing, and bright and exciting again after the failure of university. Did you perhaps watch me walking down that aisle full of hope and love and a belief that together with my new husband life would be everything we wanted and more? It takes so much work to keep that spark, excitement and fire going. But the depth of love has not gone cold. I pray it never will.

Did you know me through those wilderness years of bitter disappointment, early pregnancy loss and grief of infertility, when darkness could overshadow me so suddenly I felt like I was being devoured? You may have met someone so negative at times, so consumed with their own pain it was difficult to see the hurt in others, someone so emotional and yet appearing cold in order to protect my heart from pain. Someone trained in child care yet avoiding anywhere children could be found. Someone who worked four and five jobs just to keep busy so as not to face the uncertainty of life. The pain of those years and the volume of tears may have subsided but the lessons learnt run deep inside my heart.

Did you meet me during the exhilaration and thrill of the birth of my babies when I wanted to scream my story out to the entire world and explode from happiness? Did you send me a card or buy a gift for my children? Or at some point on my journey shared with me as you bore children at the same time, experienced teething in your children as I did in mine or liked my children’s photos on social media? There is nothing more bonding for woman than sharing experiences of their children. I may have bored you with stories of their funny faces, silly antics and baby smiles. The beauty of those years will live long in my mind.

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Did you meet me through the agony and pain of realising my children where different, of never ending appointments and devastating diagnosis? Have you journeyed with me through autism, neurofibromatosis, vision impairment, faith, sleepless nights, developmental diagnosis and fighting the system? A mother so emotional yet determined, so overwhelmed yet so focused, needing to learn but struggling to cope. Have I poured out my heart to you in person or online craving that knowledge that someone somewhere cares and has been here before to show me the way? Have you seen me tell someone else it will ‘be OK’ and you wondered where or how I can find that confidence from?

My heart has been changed now. Compassion has taken over. Where there was once judgement there is now empathy for others. Where there was selfishness there is love. I am not the child, teenager, student, wife, or mother I used to be.

Life has a way of changing people. Disability has a way of changing people. Children have a way of changing people. Faith has a way of changing people.

Everyone’s journey is different. Forgive me if in the past I judged you, acted selfishly or was aloof towards you.

How did you meet me? You met me on my journey and my journey isn’t over yet. Bear with me as I keep on walking.

It has been lovely to walk with you for some of the way.

Thank you!

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