My little boy is not a big talker, at least not yet. As all children do, we have our well visits every few months to check growth and developmental progress. These visits have always produced some anxiety for me. To be honest many things produce anxiety when it comes to raising a child and some even provoke fear.
At his 15 month appointment I knew we would have to discuss his language development among many other things. He was still only saying “dada” for the most part. On occasion there were other “words” but none that were consistent. Mothers all know that by 15 months there should be at least 3 words. This is what the books and emails tell us and there were not and I reported this to the doctor.
He seemed unconcerned mostly since all other areas were within normal expectations, but advised that we obtain an evaluation from early intervention. After looking up the number online that same day I called and was greeted by a pleasant woman who took some basic information and explained we would receive a call do take the rest of the details and schedule the appointment. I took a long deep breath as I hung up the telephone.
It took some serious convincing that this was just an evaluation and if there was an issue he would just receive the help he needed to get back on track, but I got there eventually. Like my usual worst case scenario building extravaganza I ordinarily chose to put myself through, I ran through each awful prospect. Perhaps it is a need to prepare myself or remind myself that it was completely out of my control. Either way, I was afraid for him and for myself.
With society telling us how much we should fear in the world and even in our own homes and backyards, it isn’t any wonder when I put myself through the wringer wondering about the what ifs and could bes. It is exhausting and counterproductive and yet I do this to myself. Why? I truly believe it is a luxury and a curse of privilege.
When I imagine mothers of children who don’t have enough to eat or a place to live, a lightning bolt of guilt runs through me each time. I am lucky enough to not know what it is like to truly deeply fear for the wellbeing of my child. I try to remind myself of this feeling each time I run a worst case scenario through my mind. But the thing about fear is the irrational component that leaves us with that unsettled feeling we just cannot shake. So all we can do is keep going or allow it to cripple us.
So we keep going and I am happy to report that Brenton had his evaluation and all went well. His communication skills are low but within normal ranges. So we will attend a music class at the evaluator’s suggestion to spurn his language development.
Just last night I pointed to myself and said “mama” and pointed to him and said “Brenton” and he smiled and pointed to himself and said “Bretta”. In that moment immense joy and pride washed over me and filled my heart. That small amount of remaining fear I held onto even after I was told he would most likely be fine just melted away. My evaluation was complete.
