Grady had his OT and Speech evaluation this afternoon. I answered all of the questions, they observed and played with and evaluated him. He is low-tone (which we knew), and he has proprioception and sensory issues (which we figured). The OT was concerned with his vision (which we were in the "early days," but after two appointments to the pediatric opthamologist we kept being told he was fine...grrrr!) - and they gave us the name of an optometrist that is excellent in town. His eyes are probably healthy, but the low tone appears to be causing vision issues. I am thankful for the insight and the referral, but frustrated that the previous "expert" just brushed us off.
They gave me a lot of information as they shared the results of the assessment. In the end it turns out my eighteen month old is developmentally 8-10 months old. We still do not know all of the causes of these delays, but the issues we do understand we are going to tackle and pray that they improve. The therapists were so kind and gracious, and they explained how we will
proceed once all of the paper work and such is taken care of.
I tried to stop myself, but the tears just quietly poured out when they explained things to me. I felt exactly how I felt three years ago in the NICU with Cole, when we had a big setback, and they took him off his food again. I remember sitting at his incubator just crying, and the NICU OT, Ashley came over and just let me cry with her, an almost stranger. The same sinking, can't hold back the tears any longer moment happened again, this time over my youngest and in front of two strangers.
The thoughts pound in my head and in my heart. Why is what I have done as his mommy not enough? It is so disheartening today to know that I have done "my job,", but that it is still not enough. We read, we sing, and we don't watch very much tv. We go to the park and the zoo. We snuggle. I nursed him for fourteen months. I have pushed for every referral/appointment I could get without looking like a crazy mom (and even still pushed when I was doubted). I have investigated any potential "diagnosis" that I think may fit so that we can have the most early intervention possible. It feels like I have failed somewhere, even though I can see the facts on paper.
The tears still flow too easily right now, taking the place of the words that are scattered and awkward and not enough.