Parenting = 24/7. Right? I mean, babies go to bed, take naps and when they're older go to school and that allows for some free time, however we are never truly off the clock. And when you have children your days get longer and your nights get shorter. That's pretty much how I felt after Lennon was born. That poor kid didn't stand a chance from the day he was born... as much as I was absolutely consumed with love for my baby boy, my miracle, if you will, I was totally and completely consumed with worry about my baby girl. And knowing what I know today, this absolutely pains me to write.
How was I supposed to do this exactly? Having 4 months to prepare for baby number 2, while planning a move that overwhelmed me to no end, all while being thrown into a full blown search for answers for Anabelle left me feeling all kinds of lonely. And there it was. I was lonely. I mean, my husband was amazing and supportive and the best daddy ever, but I really did a number on myself with it came to the "why" and the "how" of it all. I wasn't very good at expressing my fears or worries, which often led to me holding it all inside. That and I felt burned. I recently learned about The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and the one that stuck out the most was "Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood". I wish I knew this back then and that I would have had the guts to tell a couple people to seek first to understand what I was going through. Guess I do now.
Anabelle often screamed at me when she was mad. I mean, loud, high pitched screaming. It was as if she was frustrated because she couldn't communicate her feelings and so she would just scream. And every time she did it I felt as if everyone was watching me. I was "that mom" who let her kid have tantrums and scream. I worried so much about that shit. Most a days I felt like screaming myself. I would be lying if I said I never did. As much as I was told Anabelle was developing in a forward moving progression and she was doing great I constantly wondered if somehow I was missing something. I felt helpless during her visits with specialists, like I was sitting on the sidelines with Lennon and thinking that he would be our talker and we would never have to go through this again. It was almost as if I had jinxed myself.
I got a lot of suggestions and recommendations of what I should or could do for Anabelle, but nobody had any answers. When Anabelle was being assessed for Regional Center they sent someone to my home to observe her and to ask me a few questions. She was a kind woman and she was one of the few who really got Anabelle. She told me to take my time in finding a great preschool for her and that she would be fine. She just needed to be allowed to develop at her own pace. Why was I in such a hurry to move her along? Oh yeah, because I was the only one who could translate for her and she struggled with communication. If I could just fast forward to a day where her struggle was over I would have done it in a heartbeat. Still would.
Over the next few months I continued to take Anabelle to her speech appointments and with Lennon in tow we would sit quietly while they worked so hard on her expressive and receptive language. Small phrases that consisted of 2 and 3 words that so many children her age were uttering without any interventions at all. What was that like, I wondered. I had no concept of what it was like to have a "typically developing child". I remember having conversations with Eric that ended with me asking if I was ever going to have a conversation with my daughter. An actual conversation. I hit a wall and just couldn't see it. And then, as if she knew I was hitting a wall, Anabelle had an amazing and memorable day at speech.
For some reason Anabelle really struggled with the word "I". She had never said it. No matter how many times her therapist tried to get her to repeat it, she didn't. Couldn't? Wouldn't? It just didn't happen. When Anabelle wanted something she would just say the word, rather than "I want" or "Can I please have..." For example, "nanas" mean she wanted to nurse and "lechitas" (spanish for milk) meant she wanted milk. Her speech therapist was determined to get her to say "I" followed by want and then the item she wanted. After several attempts of trying to get Anabelle to repeat after her, she made a series of sounds, "ah ah ah ah" which Anabelle finally repeated. And then the therapist, without skipping a beat, said, "I"! And Anabelle did it! She repeated after her and said, "I"! Eric was there that day and he and I both cheered and I cried. Who would've thought that such a small milestone would instill such an emotional response? It was amazing. And it was the sign of hope that we all needed.
No comments:
Post a Comment