We took our son for evaluation today. He’s 39 months old and still not talking. That’s a little hard for me to write. I try to act like it doesn’t bother me. But it does.
It does, because I worry. A lot. That I’m not doing enough. That working from home and having him here with me, instead of a day care or preschool, is hurting him. Holding him back.
I worry that I waited way too long to see about getting help. That he’s so far behind he’ll have trouble catching up. That it’ll follow him around, this inadequacy of his mother.
And he’s such a bright little boy, too. I don’t just say that because I’m his mother. He understands things that 5 and 6 year olds understand. I can see his frustration when he tries to communicate and we can’t understand him. And it breaks my heart. Daily.
On top of all that, while we were at the school, they had some sort of drill that involved a very long bell ringing. Like several minutes long. And then we had to go outside for a bit. It was close to naptime and the ringing had already agitated him. (Me, too.) And then the bell rang while we were outside. And it was. Really. Loud. And it freaked him out. Poor kid. Then it rang a second (well, third total) time and it scared him even more. Super loud noises have always bothered him. That was a sucky way to end his visit.
So now we’re under the gun to get him help. Quickly. To get an IEP in place and see if we can get him into preschool (which we can’t really afford) and get him caught up. Because regular interaction with his peers is what’s going to help him the most right now.
I just don’t know what to do. Except try to help my son. But I don’t know how. And it’s quietly killing me.
Funny enough, I got a call from the hospital today asking how things went while we were there. So I told the lady how great the nurses in the NICU were. How kind and caring. How they did their best to make sure I could see my boy as often as possible. They always had a rocking chair ready to go so I could hold and nurse my boy.
It was getting my son released from the NICU that was the problem. It took about eight hours longer than it should have. Hours in my new son’s life that I’ll not get back. His first 48+ hours in which I should have been with him constantly. And I wasn’t. He needed medical care and I’m so grateful that he got it. But those extra hours of waiting were unnecessary. And yes, I’m still a little bit angry about it.
There’s more to it, and I will get around to telling the story. But right now I need to find a way to move on. It’s over. Done. I can’t change it. I need to focus on spending time with both of my sons, not getting angry about something I can’t change.
But at least I was able to tell my story to someone at the hospital. And hopefully it’ll change for the next mom whose baby graduates from the NICU during a very busy time.
We managed to get out of the house with both of the boys. We didn’t go far – just to the mall. But it was someplace where we could walk around and let the oldest expend some energy.
The ladies at Williams-Sonoma ooohed and aaahed over the baby. And when they found out he is 5 days old, they didn’t know whether I was brave or crazy.
Funny, neither do I.
I just *have* to get out of the house. Even if I’m tired, there’s only so much you can do inside these walls. And I’m certainly not bedridden. Being forced to get out of bed the day after surgery will do that to you. I had no choice – I had to go and see my son. There was nothing – not an IV, a catheter, a sore abdomen… nothing – that was going to keep me away from him. As it was, it took at least 8 hours longer than it should have to get him back with us. And it probably would have been longer if I’d not suffered a meltdown right in the middle of the NICU.
Let’s just say it was an emotional time, I was exhausted, and I didn’t handle the multiple delays very well. It sucks when the kids who are ready to leave the NICU are kept there simply because the doctor hasn’t made it through rounds yet and the ones that are out of danger are the last ones to be seen. Let me say it again. It SUCKS. I’m still not happy with how that was handled. But the nurses and staff were so kind. And amazingly patient. And awesome.
It could have been so much worse. We were pretty fortunate. We ARE pretty fortunate. I can’t stress that enough.
It’s going to be an adjustment to having two instead of one. But so far? It’s awesome. Both of my sons are amazing. What more can I ask for?
It’s going to take me days to go around thanking everyone. And I will. But in the meantime, while things are still a little crazy, I just wanted to say thank you. So many friends have sent emails, facebook and twitter messages, called us to check in… it has been tremendous. Thank you so much for all of the love and support. We truly needed it.
We’re home, together as a family, and adjusting to having four of us here in the house. Baby Bravia is doing great. He’s just a teensy bit jaundiced, so we’re working to improve that. And he’s still learning to nurse, so we’re working on that, too. But he’s a joy, his older brother can’t get enough of him, and we’re enamored of our two little boys.
So while we’re tired. Exhausted. Zombies. … we have so much to be grateful for. It has all been put into crystal-clear perspective for us. So again, thank you for all of the kind, warm messages. You have made this last week even more special. I truly mean that.
Baby Bravia thanks you as well.
Dear Son,
Today you are three years old. It’s hard for me to believe it has already been three whole years since you joined us. You have brought so much joy and light into our lives. You’re funny. You’ll do just about anything for a laugh. You’re charming. That grin where you wrinkle your nose and squint your eyes is so very cute (but I’m on to you). You’re silly. You love to stand on your head and look at things, or use the wrong end of the binoculars to view your world. You’re sweet. There’s nothing better than hugs and kisses from you.
You are my little buddy. We’re together day after day, just the two of us until daddy gets home from work. You’re my constant companion. You keep me company. You want me to play cars all the time. You stand in my chair and run cars on my head while I type away at the computer. You give the best nose rubs and hugs. I hope you always have a special place in your heart for mommy.
You love to help. I hope you’ll love helping with your little brother. I don’t quite think you understand yet what it means. And I hope that it only brings you joy when we arrive home with him just days after your birthday. You and your brother will be exactly 3 years, 1 day apart. But I hope that you’ll always be good buddies.
I love you so much, little buddy. That will never change, even as we move into a new dynamic with our family. Happy 3rd birthday, little man. I cherish these years with you. I hope you do, too.
Always,
Mama
Category: family, parenting, spawn
Tags: child, emotions, end of era, family, kid, kids, mommy, more than one child, motherhood, mothering, nablopomo, parenting, son, the boy 4 Comments
Today I’m just plain restless. There are things I could be doing, but I don’t have the mental capacity to concentrate for long periods. I’m trying, but just not succeeding. I’ve caught up on my Google reader feeds. I’ve read everything I care to on Twitter and Facebook. I’ve cleaned most of the kitchen and about as much of the living room as I can stand. It’s still cluttered and crowded. It definitely needs more “it’s time to get rid of this junk I’m not using” and less moving things around just to make it look a little better.
But I’m sick of it. All of it.
I even have some things to read on my Kindle. And I’ve been perusing our baby registry. But none of it is keeping my attention for long.
I’m impatient. Just biding my time. Do you know how boring that is? I’m going stir crazy. It doesn’t matter if I get out and go to the store. Or go through the mail and pay bills. None of it. It’s all busy work.
I knew this would be a long weekend but GEEZ. Enough already. Either go into labor or something. Please.
As much as I’ve wanted to see Harry Potter, I don’t know if I could sit through it, even. First, I have to pee every 10 minutes so I’d probably miss a lot of good parts of the movie. And since I didn’t already go and see it, I doubt I will tomorrow considering it’s my son’s third birthday tomorrow.
By the way, this time three years ago? I got induced mid-morning. I was still in labor at this point and wouldn’t have the kid until almost six o’clock tomorrow night. That’s right. It was a very long labor. In spite of that, I’d still rather go into labor about right now. EVEN IF it means both boys have exactly the same birthday. I’m that desperate.
Hold me?
Our boy is trying to assert his independence. He’ll turn 3 in about 10 days, so it’s no surprise. He loves to have choices, so we offer him one thing or the other and let him decide. But sometimes he’s pretty insistent that he wants something even when we say no.
Especially when it comes to Go-Gurt. I don’t know if I should be happy we introduced this into our household or not. The kid really loves it. So I let him have one or two each day. But he’s constantly asking for more. And since he can open the fridge, he goes and gets one and presents it to me for approval. In fact, a few days ago he came to me, smiled the sweetest little smile, rubbed noses with me, and then produced a Go-Gurt from behind his back.
He’s a smart one, already learning how to work mama over.
Yesterday was a battle of wills. Every five minutes he was asking for a yogurt, then crying when we said no. It had been that way all day – the whining and battling. We were all getting exhausted from it. Daddy sternly told him enough was enough, and the boy came over to me, whining and putting his head in my lap. Daddy then told him he’d better turn that frown upside down and put a smile on his face. Again, sternly. The instant the word “smile” came out of hubby’s mouth, my son put on the biggest, cheesiest grin you’ve ever seen. It was immediate. I looked at him, then looked at my husband, trying hard to stifle a laugh.
Hubby’s face was turning red as he tried not to laugh. It took only seconds before we cracked up. Things went from super-serious, you-need-to-stop-whining-child to full-on tears running down our cheeks. I have never seen that child change his demeanor so quickly. It really was hilarious. By the time we finished laughing, everyone was in a better mood. And our sides were hurting. A lot.
Do you know how painful it is to make a 9-months-pregnant woman belly laugh?
Totally worth it.
STILL not caught up. Treading water. There are dishes in BOTH sides of the sink. The baby seat is still lost in the jungles of our garage. I still haven’t managed to complete some web copy and I desperately need to get it done. Also? Knee deep in resumes.
The work stuff is a good thing. Really. Trying to get as much done as I can before I take time off. But I swear my days are getting shorter and I just can’t quite find the time to finish everything. Especially with a clingy, demanding 2 year old attached to my hip.
Son’s hearing test was fine, so that’s a positive. They didn’t get to test each ear individually, thanks to his aversion to ANYTHING on his head. But it appears to be within normal range so they’re ruling that out as a reason for his speech delay. He’s never had ear infections or injuries, so we were pretty sure that was the case anyway.
Next steps, more evaluations.
And to add to the misery? Next week they’re paving our lot. Which means I’m either stuck in the house all day or stuck OUT of the house all day. No in between. Joy. Whose idea was it to pave just days before Thanksgiving? I really despise our management company. So much I might even name them one of these days.
Went to Java Mama today so the kid could have some fun while I worked. It was great, except for the other boy who kept pushing everyone and giving them headlocks. I mean, hugs. And even with repeated requests for her to WATCH HER DAMN SON, the mother was too busy chatting with about 10 friends and watching her baby in a stroller. That she could have taken IN the play area so she could watch her son more closely. Which she needed to do.
I never know how to speak up in those situations without getting so angry I make no sense. I fume and bite my tongue, unsure of the appropriate thing that will let her know her son’s behavior is NOT acceptable when it causes MY SON to hit his head. I am new to these waters, since it’s usually just me & my son hanging out at home. How do you handle misbehaving kids when their own parent seems content to ignore their bad deeds?
I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to just take a day off to enjoy things and be with the boy.
This morning we went to Fisherman’s Landing to check out Tackle Days. Hubs was working, so we stopped by to say hello. My son loves the tackle shop and spent several minutes dragging me around and pointing out all of the cool stuff. Rods. Reels. Lures. He especially likes the swimbaits.
On our way back to the car, we stopped at this really cool fountain. It’s a recent addition to the landing area, next to Pizza Nova. The boy loves it. He stood there looking for quite a while. And splashing. He even got me a few times, which was — of course — hysterical to him. We didn’t have anywhere to be, so we just sat there for a while and played. Usually I’m rushing him off to whatever else is going on. But not today. It was Mommy & Boobah day.
I did eventually tear him away because I had to get something to eat. But after eating, we went to Target and wondered around. His favorite part? The dollar aisle. They had some wooden trains and he would have stayed there the rest of the afternoon. We did have to make our way for a nap, finally.
These are the days I want to file away for when I’m old and gray. Here’s to making more memories… soon with BOTH sons.
I haven’t done one of these posts in a while and I think it’s time. As we approach Thanksgiving, it never hurts to contemplate your blessings.
Tonight my son and I walked to the store. He helped get himself dressed, even halfway putting on one shoe. As we walked, he pointed to the stars and babbled. I’m pretty sure he was pointing out the various constellations to me. Or maybe just thinking “Ooooh, pretty!”
He helped me push the cart around the store. And even picked out the kind of string cheese and graham crackers he wanted. My favorite part? While we were in line at the cashier, he was dancing to INXS. And doing a darn fine job according to the guy in front of me, the bagger and the checker. I’m smiling just thinking about it.
We crunched leaves on our way back. Every time he stepped on a downed, dried leaf I said “CRUNCH!” and he giggled. Then we passed through the gate and the star-gazing began again.
I am amazed at how big he is. How quickly (almost) three years have gone. How independent he is. How much of a little personality he has.
And I fall more in love each time. And I am so very grateful.
