I’m going to apologize in advance if I start to ramble here. Because I probably will. Because I’m feeling a little bit defeated and I just want to write until I magically feel better.
Think it will work? Let’s hope.
Wyatt had his 18 month checkup today. He’s still a little bigger than average, except for his head. I will always thank him for his small head. Always.
He’s doing so well. He’s active and independent and hilarious and healthy. But he doesn’t talk. And this point, we’re officially planted into “speech delay” territory. Part of me wants to scream at the doctor that there’s nothing wrong with my kid. I can see that he’s trying to talk. He’s putting more and more together everyday. I know he’s going to get it. It’s just going to happen on his own time. When he’s ready. Why are we freaking out over this? He’s perfect, dammit.
But I don’t want to ignore it if he really does have a problem. The first step, apparently, is to see an audiologist. I can tell you right now he doesn’t have a hearing problem. Maybe a listening problem. But the kid hears just fine. But hey, if you want to waste my time and money at a specialist, why not?
And after that, they recommend having someone from the school system come to our home and do an assessment. I don’t know why that bothers me so much. I guess I feel like I’m on trial a little bit. Someone is going to come here and tell me all the ways I’ve gone wrong. Maybe I didn’t read to him enough or talk to him enough or play with him enough or sing to him enough. Maybe I let him watch too much TV or let him play with toys that weren’t educational enough or traumatized him every time I’ve gone to the bathroom by myself with the door shut.
Maybe I actually am just a terrible mom and I didn’t know it.
I don’t think that true. But this is the crap going through my head, because I just feel guilty. Not to mention frustrated, scared, pissed off, and sad.
I know I’m overreacting. It’s not like he has cancer. Or a brain injury. Or is paralyzed. In the grand scheme of things, this is going to be small. I know. But he’s my baby and when something goes wrong, even something little, I’m allowed to worry. I just have to freak out and get worked up and then let it go. It’s what I do.
What I do know right now is that my kid is amazing. Even if he did just try to sit in a toy dump truck and keeps stuffing toys up his pants legs.
Just look at that perfection (I don’t care if I’m biased)
If your kids have dealt with similar issues, I’d LOVE to hear from you. How you handled it. What brand of wine you drink. Whether or not you’re willing to send me cupcakes.
I also accept donations of cookies and pie.
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