Dating : What’s Wrong with My Baby?

Another day has come to an end and it’s finally time for that precious moment of serene calm to take over the house. Kids in bed. Bottles washed. Kitchen sparkling clean. Coffee ready to brew in the morning. I’m going to sit here with my dog, my soft fleece blanket and a pile of unfolded laundry beside me.

The usual.

I feel satisfied with my day until I remember that I’m worried. Stupid brain. We were doing so well.

I have an eighteen month old son who is developing pretty slowly compared to his brothers, and at this point I think the comparison generalizes to the expectations of his age group.

He’s not just slow anymore — he’s officially worrying us.

His checkup is this week. I know it’s finally time to face what’s going on. Part of me is impatient but the other part is anxious.

His doctor will certainly send us to specialists for evaluations. I don’t know for what but I want them all. I don’t want to miss anything. I imagine the long waiting period between now and when I’ll hopefully get an explanation.

If I’m lucky, they’ll tell me nothing’s wrong, he’s just going at his own pace.

I don’t feel like that’s how it’ll play out. Sometimes it’s a mother’s intuition but it could also be a mother’s paranoia. I just want to help him catch up. I definitely don’t want him to fall more behind. I don’t want him to fail.

When the caregivers at the daycare shared their observations, about how he’s not totally ready to move into the older classroom come fall, I felt a pull on my heart.

I felt sorry for my baby. I hated that feeling.

That’s when I realized what people meant when they said small kids small problems, big kids big problems. Except in this case, it was my small kid possibly having big problems. He isn’t talking, not a word. He walks and stands, both only while holding. He doesn’t eat dry foods. If he picks up a little piece of food I put in front of him, he will rub it between his fingers and then, not amused at all, he will toss it over the side of his highchair. Even when he expresses interest in what I’m feeding his twin brother, and he opens his mouth for a bite, he is offended by the texture and spits it out or swallows it after some gagging. He doesn’t respond to his name. He’s irritated easily.

It’s not all negative, of course. I’m just focusing on my concerns right now.

Then I wonder if he’s suffering. If he’s in some kind of pain he can’t tell me about. I always noticed something different about the way he moves or holds his body — he’s a bit stiff. So I wonder if it’s something physical. Maybe it’s both physical and mental. I just need to know and I need to learn how to help him. He needs to see an expert and so do I.

I’ve talked openly about it with my husband. I think he’s just holding out for the best. That our son is just going at his own pace. I’m preparing myself for a diagnosis of some sort. I just want to be prepared. My little Leo seems like a happy-ish baby doing his own thing and I’m warmed knowing that he’s safely surrounded by his family who loves him. Whatever comes of this, whatever it turns out he needs, let me have patience and strength which I pray for everyday.

You know, the usual.