Cathy Glass - Saving Danny

Presently Reva dried her eyes and was composed enough to continue. ‘Danny cried a lot as a baby. I thought all babies cried, but my husband, Richard, said his other two children hadn’t cried as much as Danny did. He was married before. Danny’s my only child, so I had nothing to compare him to. But I became exhausted – up most of the night, every night. Danny didn’t seem to need much sleep. I read all the books I could find on parenting. I felt I must be doing something wrong, and if I’m honest Danny’s crying scared me. It seemed as if he wanted something and I should be able to work out what it was. He was out of control when he screamed, even as a baby, and there was nothing I could do to help him.’

‘Didn’t you have anyone you could talk to?’ Terri asked.

‘Not really. I discussed it with my mother when we spoke on the phone, but she said babies often cried for no reason. She lives over a hundred miles from us, so we don’t see her very often. She’s not a hands-on grandmother. Richard’s job was very demanding – it still is – and I’d given up work to look after Danny, so I got up in the night and did most of the parenting. I do now. I tried to keep Danny quiet, because if Richard went to work tired he couldn’t function. I couldn’t function either. I asked the health visitor about Danny’s crying and she said it was nothing to worry about, that it was probably a bit of colic. The gripe water she recommended didn’t help, and Danny kept crying for large parts of every day and most nights until he was eighteen months old. Then it suddenly stopped and he became very quiet and withdrawn. He had some language by then and was starting to put words together into little sentences – you know the sort of thing: “Daddy go work”, “Danny want biscuit”, “Mummy cooking.” But he suddenly stopped talking and would point to what he wanted and make a noise instead. I tried to encourage him to use words, but he would stare through me as though he hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.’

‘Had anything traumatic happened to Danny at that time?’ Terri asked.

‘I’ve wondered that, but I can’t think of anything,’ Reva said. ‘Danny was with me all day and night. I would have known if something had happened. There was nothing.’

Terri nodded. ‘OK. I just wondered.’

‘Although Danny had stopped talking,’ Reva continued, ‘and was very quiet for long periods and all night, he’d started having tantrums. He would throw himself on the floor, screaming, and bang his head on the ground, the wall, a cupboard – any hard object within reach. It was frightening, and when I tried to pick him up he’d lash out, kick and punch me, pull my hair and bite and claw me as though I was attacking him and he had to fight me off. My beautiful baby boy. I was devastated. He’s stopped the clawing, but he still does the other things when he’s frustrated and upset.’ Reva paused.

‘At school we do all we can to encourage Danny to use language to express himself – if he wants something or is upset,’ Sue said.

‘So do I,’ Reva said a little brusquely. ‘But it’s different at school. There are other children here and Danny has respect for you. At home it’s just him and me, and he doesn’t have respect for me. He does what he wants, and if he won’t talk to me there is nothing I can do about it.’

‘Does he talk to your husband?’ Terri asked.

‘Sometimes, a little. But he only sees him for a few minutes in the evening, and at the weekends, when Richard’s not playing golf. Danny doesn’t talk like other children his age do. He doesn’t have a conversation; he repeats what you say or nods or comes out with half-sentences and words that don’t make any sense. Then he gets frustrated because you don’t understand what he wants, and that leads to a tantrum. Yet he can talk to George or himself. Danny would rather talk to himself or his rabbit than to me.’

‘Does Danny smile or laugh or show his feelings?’ Terri asked.

‘Not often. His expression is usually blank. Sometimes he’ll suddenly laugh but it’s not at the right time or in the right context, if you know what I mean. He can laugh loudly – cackle – for no obvious reason. He does it in public. It’s so embarrassing. It’s impossible to know if Danny is happy or not, and he doesn’t show physical affection normally. He’ll let you touch him sometimes, but only on his terms. He let me hold him in the playground just now and carry him into school, but I can’t remember the last time he let me cuddle him. It’s as though he doesn’t want or need anyone else. Not even his mother.’

‘I’m sure he does need you,’ I said. ‘But he has difficulty showing it.’

Terri and Sue nodded in agreement.

‘But other children kiss and hug their mothers,’ Reva blurted, her eyes filling again. ‘I’ve seen them in the playground kissing and hugging their parents goodbye when it’s time to go into school. Danny just turns and walks away with his classroom assistant. She has to tell him to say goodbye to me. He shouldn’t need telling. Other children don’t, but Danny seems to have no empathy or feelings. If I cry in front of him, he just looks at me.’ Reva was in tears again.

‘I’m sure Danny does feel things,’ Terri said seriously, looking at Reva, ‘just as you and I do, but the difference is Danny can’t express them. It’s a trait of autism, if that is what Danny has.’

‘And he does love you, just as other children love their parents,’ I added, trying to console Reva.

‘How can you be so sure?’ she demanded, taking another tissue from her bag. ‘You’ve only just met Danny. Wait until you know him better, you’ll see. He’ll be as cold to you as he is to me.’

I didn’t reply. Reva was very upset and didn’t mean to be rude.

‘Sorry,’ she said after a moment.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I can appreciate how upsetting Danny’s behaviour is for you.’

‘Have you fostered anyone like him before?’ Reva now asked, wiping her eyes.

‘No two children are the same,’ I said. ‘But I have seen some of Danny’s behaviour in other children.’

‘Do you think he is autistic?’ she asked me.

‘I don’t know. And it would be wrong for me to guess.’

‘The education psychologist is the person who should make the diagnosis,’ Terri put in. ‘I’ll speak to your husband about it.’ I saw Terri glance at her watch. She had to leave in fifteen minutes to go to her other meeting. ‘We still need to talk about contact,’ she said. ‘But before we do, are there any strategies you’ve found particularly helpful in managing Danny’s behaviour that you would like to pass on to Cathy?’

Reva shrugged. ‘Not really. I just do what Danny wants to keep the peace, but that doesn’t always work either.’

It won’t, I thought but didn’t say. Boundaries for good behaviour are essential for all children; as well as socializing the child they show them that the parent cares, whatever syndrome or condition the child may have. I knew Reva had developed some strategies for managing Danny’s behaviour, although she probably didn’t realize it.

‘You taught Danny how to put on his clothes in the correct order,’ I now said to her. ‘That’s important. Without it Danny would become frustrated, which could lead to a tantrum. So that’s a useful strategy.’

Reva looked at me thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t really thought of it that way.’

‘And you’ve taught Danny a workable bedtime routine that includes him washing his face, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed,’ I said. ‘These are all strategies that help him to cope with daily tasks that are simple to us but not to Danny. You taught him all of that.’