How To Build A Better Diaper

Moe is a boy. And as such, he likes to do one thing most boys enjoy doing, and that is sticking his hands down his pants. He has no sense that he shouldn't, so why not? Generally, we just shout "hands up!" and he takes his hands out and moves right along.

Generally, I wouldn't be too concerned about this but it has caused a pretty serious problem at night. As Moe is going to sleep, he will (even through his pajamas, which are one piece and zip up the back), try to put his hands down the top of his diaper. This then folds the top of the diaper down. Then, somewhere between midnight and 2 am, Moe pees. The diaper, in its folded and crumpled state, does not contain the urine, and Moe gets soaked and uncomfortable.

For the last two weeks, this has happened almost every night. Moe cries. I change him. We fall back asleep, usually fairly quickly. Sometimes in the morning this happens again. Some nights, he's going through three pairs of pajamas, and three diapers.

Obviously, this is problematic. Moe and I are both on a pretty serious sleep deficit. Jelly sometimes wakes up as well. And let's not dwell on the affect this is having on the environment with all the extra laundry and diapers.

We are seeking solutions. I tried giving Moe melatonin, thinking that if he fell asleep quickly, he would not have as much time to mess up the diaper. This actually worked, but, as generally happens with melatonin, he woke up on his own in the middle of the night but instead of falling asleep after a quick diaper change, he was up for hours.

Jeff has tried to engineer the problem. First, we put some regular underpants over the diaper, thinking an extra layer might help. It didn't. Next, Jeff put some stiff tape on the top of the diaper to keep the top from folding over. Instead, Moe was able to use the top of the diaper as a kind of handle and ended up just moving the whole diaper around. It leaked.

Last night, we started by putting painter's tape on the diaper, covering the diaper fasteners as well. We figured it would help but not be hard to change in the middle of the night if necessary. This failed within minutes.

Jeff followed this up with masking tape.

I can't comment yet on the success of this. Last night was a nightmare, as Moe had a pretty serious meltdown, from about 7-9. He was exhausted, but unable to fall asleep. He was in full sensory seeking mode, and we tried every calming technique we knew. Some would work for a bit, but as soon as we even mentioned going back to bed, he'd scream again (hooray for receptive language?!). We broke down and attempted to give him melatonin, but by then he refused to chew the tablets.

We had some of the liquid stuff, so after a quick dosage calculation (if 10ml is 2.5mg, how many ml would be 500mcg?), we got him to drink the stuff. I'm not sure it even mattered at that point, as he was already starting to slow down. We stopped hearing from him some time after 9:30.

The good thing is both kids slept in until about 8:45 this morning. Moe's diaper had a little leak, but Jeff insists this was not a failure of design, just length of wear. Further testing needs to be done.

Compare and Contrast

After Moe was diagnosed with autism, I had to learn to stop comparing him to the other kids we knew. It took a while, but eventually I tossed out the milestones books, and replaced phrases like “should be able to” with phrases like “his own path” and “he’ll get there when he’s ready.”

An intensive one on one early intervention program necessitated leaving Moe’s regular play group, so I had fewer opportunities for direct comparison. Moe then moved directly into an autism preschool class, his peers all occupying the elite portion of the spectrum that allows them to be in this class. So most of the kids I see on a daily basis are also autistic.

I do still keep in touch with some people from the mom’s group. Many are friends, and I see their kids occasionally. Last week we all went out for sushi, and it was one of the first times since Moe’s diagnosis that I did not have to fight back tears as I heard the stories of what their kids were doing and how they were preparing for kindergarten.

It helps that I have a typical two year old as well and can finally relate. Actually, she’s what my husband and I call “hyper-typical.” She breezes past milestones with the greatest of ease. She plays with toys exactly as the toy manufacturers suggest. She doesn’t eat the crayons or play-doh. She speaks at the level of some three and four year olds and plays well with others.

I’ve learned to stop comparing Moe to his little sister as well.

I have recently started to become close with some of the moms from Moe’s class. I have many online connections, but these real life connections are building close friendships I haven’t felt since I stopped going to the play group. We chat as we pick up our kids from school, meet for coffee or breakfast, and exchange long emails when our kids have finally gone to bed for the night.

And once again, I find myself comparing. I am filled with such hope when I learn that one kid started talking at age five. Another finally just learned to use the toilet. These things are possible! I read the stories and books, but there’s nothing like hearing from someone you know to make you feel like it is possible.

I also compare the other way. One kid recently showed his mom the word “x-ray” on his iPad after he broke his arm. Another kid is finally speaking in sentences. The list of achievements goes on and on, and I am thrilled for them, but I also think “Moe can’t do that.” And I forget all about what Moe can do, and all that good stuff I learned about getting there when he’s ready.

But Moe has a way of reminding me. A few nights ago, as we were getting ready him ready for bed, Moe started saying “mom” over and over. At first I wasn’t sure. Was he just making random sounds? Was he saying he wanted “more” swinging? And then, as if he knew I doubted him, he looked and pointed right at me.

Moe will point or touch pictures or items to make choices but this was the first time in over two years I can remember him pointing like that. We were so thrilled with this that later that night we asked him to give a kiss to each of us in turn, first Mom, then Dad, then little sister Jelly, which he begrudgingly did, but did nonetheless.

And all of that good stuff that I learned came flooding back. And my heart was filled once again with “on this own path” and “when he’s ready” and lots and lots of hope.

And most importantly, with so much love for my perfect little boy.

Originally posted at Hopeful Parents, where I contribute on the 14th of every month.

You Can Thank Me Later

Things are busy here. Appointments are being made. New therapies are starting. I have spent a lot of time on email and phone coordinating. That doesn't leave a lot of time for writing.

I apologize. So please accept this gift. You can thank me later.