Developmental Milestones

The last week and a half has been emotional and stressful, to say the least.

Little Man’s birthday party-followed immediately by Halloween-totally took the wind out of me. I wonder during times like that how mom’s with five or six kids do it. (Seriously, you guys are my heroes.) Little Man had his three year well-child exam last week, too. We assumed it would be a cake walk because the husband works at the Clinic and we are friends with most of the staff; so Little Man is familiar with faces and recognizes the clinic as “the place where daddy works.”

To say the least, the well-child exam was a complete and total disaster. Little Man flipped out the moment we made it to the back and started trying to under go the “exam.” He wouldn’t stand on the scale, wouldn’t let them measure his head circumference. He just screamed and cried and freaked out. Even when the hubs came in to try to calm him down. Nothing was easing the situation. Almost two hours later, I left with a puffy faced child, a sore arm (from getting my flu shot), a headache and a recommendation from the Doctor that Little Man see a speech therapist.

The “I can understand less than 50% of what your son is saying so I think he could stand to visit a speech therapist” hit me like a sack of 5 ton bricks. I’m still trying to process that referral and debating on whether or not to actually go through with it. Part of me feels like the doctor wasn’t able to accurately exam my son because he was so distraught at the fact that he was at the doctor. I mean, how much can you really learn about a child in such a short amount of time? Especially when 80% of the time spent examining said child is with him freaking out, flailing and just all out going nuts?

Then again, I wonder if maybe he’s right…and that maybe I’m just biased and stubborn. No one else seems to have trouble understanding him. I mean, he’s three. He doesn’t have a Harvard Education and Scholar’s dialect at this point in time. We’re still working on learning the ABC’s around here. People who actually know our son, know our family and spend time around us, seem to understand him and understand what he’s saying. I rarely have to decipher his sentences and when he’s calm (and not running around playing like a normal child), his sentences seem very fluent and clear. He is vocal. He makes sure that you know what he is saying. And neither myself or the husband really have issues communicating with him.

The doc’s recommendation for therapy sent my mommy guilt mentality into overdrive.

Maybe I’m not doing enough with him at home…

Maybe I messed up somewhere down the line and caused some sort of developmental delay…

Should I be doing something more with him…

Should I have forced him to sit and listen to me read when he was smaller instead of getting on the floor to play cars with him…

Maybe if I’d done that, he’d be speaking a little more clearly and the doc would have understood him…

Maybe…maybe…maybe….

If…If…If…

 Turns out life is full of circumstances like that. Full of moments where we can over-examine things that did or did not happen in the past. Spend countless hours laying in bed staring at the ceiling wondering if the situation at hand is our fault. That’s par for the course when it comes to parenting, I’m afraid. The realization that every. single. decision. that is made is going to impact the lives of these tiny little innocent people is overwhelming.

I’ve had to to steer myself clear of thinking about it and dwelling on it for too long.

Because I’m pretty sure I could drive myself crazy with all of the “if I’d done this different…” scenarios.

Little Man is kicking butt at Homeschooling right now, even though we are only a few days in. He looks forward to it in the mornings and loves the hands on learning games that I’ve printed off and set up for him. Anything that involves him playing games or doing something active piques his interest.

So for now, we are holding off on Speech Therapy. I personally don’t think that he needs it, but the possibility is on the back burner until I get to see him “in action” with his school work for a bit longer.

It’s hard to accept the fact that your child might possibly need help from someone other than you. Might require help that you, as a mom, can’t give them.

If only I could…

If…if…if…

Has your child ever struggled with reaching a developmental milestone? How did you handle it? Did you get help outside of the home?

Linking up with Shell @ Things I Can’t Say for Pour Your Heart Out.