Mr. Holland's Opus

The past several days have been particularly trying with Oliver.  He seems to have regressed some in his communication skills.  Even though he has very limited speech skills, he has been able to communicate his needs and his wants increasingly well since the beginning of the year, and even before then.  He would grab my hand and take me to what he wanted, gesturing with purpose.  Now he seems aimless, as if he either doesn't know how to tell me what he wants, or he doesn't even know what it is he does want. It's frustrating to say the least, for both of us.  Along with that there seem to be more autistic like behaviors occurring, hand and finger movements in front of his face, more frequent spinning, banging his head on the floor, hitting himself when he's frustrated, shaking his head back and forth repeatedly for no apparent reason, hyper focus on the wheels of his cars and just cars in general, etc.

Last night I was discussing this with Andrew, he agrees with my observations, and he understands how frustrating it is.  Oliver walks around making this high pitched whining sound because he wants something but can't communicate it to anyone.  I admitted I'd had a little break down, a few minutes of crying because I feel so lost, and Andrew decided he wanted me to see this scene from Mr. Holland's Opus.



(Watch the video from the 1 minute marker, to the 2:17 minute marker for the exact portion Andrew wanted me to see.)

It's heartbreaking to watch this mother unable to communicate with her son, and to watch her son so obviously frustrated because he can't communicate with his mother. 

It's also heartbreaking because, aside from the fact that Oliver can hear me, and he does have a small (but increasing) vocabulary, that boy is Oliver, and that mother is me.

That scene, from the minute markers I specified, was like watching a scene from my own life.  That little boys sounds, actions, the tantrum of frustration, all of it was like watching an imitation of Oliver.  The mother's own frustrations and her meltdown over them was like seeing myself in a mirror. 

"Show me. Show me what you want. Do you want dessert?  This?"  Every day, countless times each day I am saying this to Oliver, guessing at what he's gesturing to, or looking for.

"I don't- I don't know what you want."  Every day, countless times each day I fail at deciphering his attempts at communication.

"I don't know what he wants! I don't understand what he's trying to tell me! I don't know what he wants, or what he thinks, or what he feels!"  I have fallen apart, and uttered these exact words.


She goes on to yell out of frustration that she wants to be able to talk to her son.  If you replaced that with, "I want to understand what he wants, I want to help him and I don't know how to help him!  I want him to talk to me!" then it would have been a very accurate duplication of my own moments when the frustration builds and builds and then breaks me to the point of sobbing over Oliver.

I have held Oliver, crying, like that mother held her son.

I don't break down every day, but that scene of the mother trying to understand what her son wants, and her son throwing a tantrum because he is frustrated that she doesn't understand (and that tantrum is just so much like Oliver's own) is a daily occurrence, often several times each day.

On a good note, I made some calls today, and Oliver now has appointments tomorrow morning for Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy.  I am so excited and thankful for this development!