The Chew Stick

Peanut butter and jelly and a hot mug of peppermint tea should do the trick. That’s what I eat when my stomach is nervous and rejects the idea of any other source of nourishment. This morning it stubbornly refuses to settle down. I cannot decide if it is a result of nerves or a flu bug of some sort. Probably nerves.

Last Friday Kai’s teacher pulled me aside to talk to me about an “issue” in class. No parent wants the quiet confidential chat in the corner of the room. Sometimes it occurs just outside of the classroom door. It means your kid did something he was not supposed to do, signaling the “Uh-oh” response in every parent alive.
In this particular case, Kai apparently decided to lick the length of his neighbor’s arm at circle time last week, picture a deer at a salt lick. “Yuck!” I said. “What did the kid whose arm he was licking do?” I believe in natural consequences. I hoped she would tell me that the kid yelped, “Grooooooss! Kai is licking me!” and Kai would then stop. Either the kid didn’t mind the impromptu cat-like bath or his teacher didn’t want to get into it, because she gently waved the question away as if a sudden puff of smoke had blurred her vision.

“Kai seems to put a lot of items in his mouth,” she went on in a soothing soft tone. “I spoke to the assistant director about this and the licking. She wondered if maybe be might have a vitamin deficiency?”

“Yes, we’ve also noticed that Kai is very oral and puts everything in his mouth at home. For some reason we’ve also noticed an increase in the mouthing of different objects in the last week or so.”

His teacher listened intently and nodded her head in agreement. I love his teacher. She has smooth cream colored skin and bright hazel eyes. I imagine Kai pressing his cheek into hers enjoying the velvety sensation against his own rounded cheek. Her boys are grown. I can tell she sees the magic of childhood with experienced eyes. Openly embracing all of the children, she tries to frame even the most horrible behavior in a gentle manner.

I went on. “I don’t think it is a vitamin deficiency though because he had a ton of blood work done when we brought him home a year and half ago. Plus, he is a really healthy eater and takes a multi-vitamin already.” She didn’t quite look convinced, but at the same time I could see she wondered if she should press the issue.
“I’ll call his pediatrician and check up on it, see what she says. We have noticed this issue at home too but when we asked his doctor about it she felt that it was a result of being in the orphanage for the first two and half years of his life and that he is developmentally trying to catch up since he was never able to go through that phase of mouthing objects as a child.”

“Oh,” her eyes widened with patient understanding. I didn’t really want to be talking about it all here suddenly. I don’t like to think about Kai in the orphanage. I felt flooded with memories of visiting the orphanage days after getting Kai in China. How he screamed with grief when he mistakenly thought we were bringing him back. How we aren’t sure how he came out as adjusted as he is. How we were told he was taken home by a caretaker often. How he called her mom. We met the caretaker that day and we have a picture of her with Kai, her eyes looking straight at the camera, not smiling. Did she want to adopt him? Could she? How tough it was to see his steel barred crib, with just a wooden slab to sleep on and imagine him there all that time before we arrived. How most of the children in the orphanage had a range of special needs and this overwhelmed and scared me. How my reaction of fear flamed up, my face hot with shame.

Sensing my pause she said, “That sounds good. You let me know just what you hear from her.”

I left the classroom holding Kai’s hand, lost in my own thoughts. I would call the doctor as soon as we got home. I would get this stored out. The thing was, Kai DOES put a lot into his mouth. I jokingly refer to him as our little goat when I talk about it to friends. I laugh about it, but at times it has been frightening. It isn’t just the small parts that you have to worry about. He once was playing in his room with Elizabeth and she came running to find me. Kai had bitten the night light bulb and broken it. Luckily no one was hurt. For Christmas I bought him a huge dry erase board to hang on his wall in his room and color on. We opened it up, and in about one nano-second he was putting a nickel sized magnet into his mouth. It came with the board and I didn’t notice it until that moment.

After I unpacked Kai’s bag and put the snack out, I dialed the pediatrician’s number. After explaining the situation to the nurse, she consulted with the doctor and agreed with my initial reaction. No, his blood work is fine and recent enough, but it is probably a delay as a result of the orphanage, talk to his speech therapist and she should be able to help you.

I did, I spoke to the speech therapist, my sister and my mom, well I left my mom a message. It turns out that my sister helped the most. She recommended something called a “Chew Stick” for Kai. Basically, it turns out that some kids need a lot of oral stimulation. They call it oral motor. These kids need to get a lot of exposure to chewing in order to feel regulated. Apparently, if I provide enough opportunities for Kai to get the chewing and exploratory mouthing in, then he should be able to “catch up” to where he should be in this regard developmentally. His speech therapist thought it was a good idea as well.

So, I ordered one for him as an experiment. It arrived last Thursday. I will admit, I felt a little skeptical about the whole deal. Despite all of my reading about the brain development and delays associated with being in an institution like an orphanage for any length of time, I just wasn’t sure I bought it. When I gave the chew stick to Kai and explained that it was meant for him to chew on or put in his mouth, and he could do so as much as he wanted to, he went right to it. I mean immediately, like a dog to a bone.

At first this validated me and I felt like a good mother. “Ok, well he obviously needs this, so good for me for finding it and getting him one.” But that thought quickly turned into, “Whoa. He obviously needs this. Is this a problem? Are there more delays the doctors missed? Does he have sensory issues? How long will he need this chew stick?” And those thoughts were quickly followed by, “He looks like he is autistic, like he has a disability or something, chewing that stick. People are going to wonder what his problem is. “ And that was followed by a rash of self-bashing for thinking such thoughts. My mom is a special education teacher. I have an endorsement in special education and have worked hard as a teacher and as a parent to not discriminate, to value how we are all different learners, value the diversity of the brain. Here I was getting paranoid about my son with a chew stick! Again, I felt fear balance by shame in regard to my first gut reactions.

Today is the first day he has the chew stick at school. Hopefully it helps and isn’t a distraction. I have been so humbled by this experience. It can be really tough to do the right thing with your children. Goodness knows I am trying my best, but some days the negative self-talk that can kill you. I understand in the grand scheme of things, this whole chew stick deal is small beans. Kai is a sweet, loving, healthy young boy. He’s been doing find in school and his vivacious personality is contagious. Everywhere we go, people remember Kai. He is such a huge blessing in my life and has already taught me so much.

We’ll see what happens. It may be that the extra mouthing exposure will help to catch him up in this instance, and then that will be it. We may find out that there are other adjustments in other areas that we need to make down the road. We’ll have to wait and see. I would be lying if I said that I am not really all that concerned. Still, for today, I’ll drink some peppermint tea, take a few deep breaths, write a little more and pray that the day went well. Then I’ll pick him up and I’ll hold his hand in the parking lot and come home.