Enuresis, anyone?

Let's talk bladder control, shall we?

Here in The Mom Cave, we get down and dirty with our discussions. And, yes, that's right. I'm really going to write an entry about bladder control, a.k.a. enuresis (which is the term I hear allllll the time). It simply must be done--for my sanity as well as for the sanity of special needs parents walking the path behind me.

In fact, I think this post can spawn a slew of other posts under the heading:

Things I Did Not Consider I'd Be Doing When I Became a Parent (or something to that effect).

Number 1: Buying diapers for my ten-year-old.

It's not his fault. I do not blame him in the slightest. Many children with autism struggle with toilet training. Due to sensory processing delays, feeling the urge to use the bathroom may not come easily and could use the help of an occupational therapist. I was very proud and happy when our older son became day trained at the age of six.

We're still battling night training.

Flowers. In my next life, I want to smell of nothing but flowers. Because in my current life, I seem to bathe in urine and then bleach. Urine. Then Bleach--with a little extra fabric softener thrown in for those sheets and pjs that become soaked nightly.

Whoah, daddy, the amount of money we've spent in pajamas...

Our basement has mounds of laundry--the soiled sheets, the mattress pad, the chuckie to keep the mattress from being soaked. And, parents, please, I hope you have that mattress in a cover.

We've gone through a set or two of sheets and pjs a night.

We diapered. We double diapered. We double diapered with a liner. We went larger. We went smaller. We used rubber pants until he outgrew them. We used this brand and that brand then the brand that every person swore was the brand to get for special needs.

Nothing worked.

Yes. We tried the pee-pee pill. We tried a couple. They didn't work on his fragile digestive system. Drat.

Oh, and just for kicks, school breaks inroduce to our household a cousin to night enuresis, a daytime enuresis that happens along with the regression of skills due to the disruption in his therapy. It usually comes to stay for the week, or perhaps it lingers for an extra day or two once the routine of school has returned.

What's that saying about house guests and fish? They stink after three days? Enuresis never smells good.

Yet, along with the smell and the disgust that comes along with cleaning up after this issue is the realization that it can't be fun being the person who is suffering from it.

I wonder if it bothers our son to wear a diaper nightly? For, while he can't speak, he can certainly SEE. He knows that nobody else in the house wears diapers. Does that bother him?

I know it looks like he doesn't have emotions, but he does. He just can't express them.

What a terrible way to have to live.

I'm pretty sure that I can be reduced to cleaning urine and feces all day, and it wouldn't even come close to the feeling of being forced to live a life without dignity.

I think--no, I know it is such a thought that powers many parents like me on a daily basis.




Thinking of my fellow SpEd parents during Spring Break time! (Ours is next week) Good luck!


This entry was written in response to the letter prompt "E" in the Blogging A to Z Challenge April 2012.

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