Waves

Sometimes it seems like everything in my life comes at me in waves . . . waves of satisfaction, waves of dissatisfaction, waves of working way too much, waves of working much less, waves of feeling like I'm doing everything right, waves of worrying that I'm not. I'm in the midst of a wave of worry. I knew it would come . . . When we had the surge of motor development for Sammie B a month or so ago, with the rolling, cobra, etc., I knew that child development happens in peaks and plateaus, and since we'd hit a peak, I knew what was coming. I thought by expecting it, I could prepare myself. (Someday I might actually learn that my control freak, prepare myself, defense mechanism ways never ACTUALLY "prepare" me; when life throws something sucky at you, it doesn't matter if you saw it coming . . . IT STILL SUCKS).

Anyway, per my usual, I thought that if I prepared myself for the plateau, that I wouldn't allow it to worry me. But, no such luck. Maybe it was the bad experience at the mommy & me group that threw me into this state of worry again. I don't know. I hate it.

When we realized Sammie B was motor-delayed, I sought out SO much information. We found fabulous doctors, we found fabulous therapists, and I learned as much about "low-tone" kids as I could. I tried to throw all my expectations out the window, but sometimes I discover that I just rewrote my expectations, subconsciously, based on what I was learning. So, I knew she wouldn't be walking at 14 months, but I figured "okay, so she'll be a late walker, we can deal, she'll probably walk by 2." I didn't tell anyone, but I guess I'd written some stupid imaginary time line for her in my head -- I figured she'd crawl by 15 months, walk by 2. She'll be 15 months (actual, not adjusted) on Christmas Eve, and as that date gets closer, I feel a bit discouraged. We don't seem to be that close to crawling. I hate myself for having these expectations, and for feeling let down that we aren't meeting them. It is destructive to me, and not fair to Sammie B. She's on HER TIME LINE, and I do know that. But I can't help it. At the end of the day, I KNOW it doesn't matter when she does these things, but sometimes, the waves of worry come at me and I can't stop them.

We actually are starting to think Sammie B will just not be a crawler. She HATES that position (though she's tolerating it better these days) and her shoulder girdle is where her tone is the weakest. So, she may go straight to walking. So be it. But then, I find myself wondering, in spite of myself, WHEN that will happen, and writing those damn time lines in my head. And then rewriting them. It is a terribly vicious and destructive cycle. I told B tonight that maybe I needed to do something symbolic -- write "time lines, expectations, etc." on a piece of paper and rip it into tiny pieces -- to symbolize purging those thoughts from my life, but easier said than done. The Buddhists may have it right . . . desire just may be at the root of suffering.

B and I talked a lot tonight about how I'm feeling, which was good. I think sometimes, we are afraid to tell the other when we have these moments of fear and worry, because we don't want to drag the other one into it if the other is in a better place. That's not good for either of us, and we know it. Tonight, he reminded me of all the things Sammie B is doing that once felt impossible. God, I remember the day we left our first evaluation with the PT from the Regional Center. . . she couldn't sit unassisted, even in a tripod for more than a second or two. Slowly, those seconds turned into minutes, and now . . . she can sit with NO hands. Things like holding herself up in cobra used to be IMPOSSIBLE and now, not only can she do it, she enjoys it, and smiles from ear to ear when she does it.

Our nanny told us that Sammie B did fabulous this week tolerating the quadriped (crawling) position, and she did great in PT with it too. But then today, she would NOT let me put her in it, and I felt so defeated. I HATE those moments of defeat. I HATE that I let myself feel defeated, and I get so angry at myself for looking at my beautiful little Bean, smiling her brilliant smile (well, not so much during the quadriped attempts, but otherwise, smiling) and feeling "defeat." It is an ugly word. I don't like feeling it, and I don't like admitting I felt it.

I wish I knew more moms going through the experience we are going through. Because it is HARD. I'm sure some of the worry and questioning and panic is normal for any mother. I'm sure some of my feelings are unique to me and my personality (which makes me feel like, "okay, I've worked hard for this, why can't I MAKE it happen." . . . that what I struggle with sometime, I feel like we work little Miss Sammie B so hard with all the PT/OT and exercising, and I just WANT to make things happen FOR HER and it stinks that I cannot.). Its a shame the mommy & me group flopped. I thought that would be such a wonderful support system for me. My only real daily connection to moms like me now is that I have found many many great blogs about other kids in various types of early intervention therapies, and I am finding great comfort in them. It is almost like my own little support group, only I guess it is a little one-sided! I have met a few moms whose kids are also in PT, and those are relationships that I value. . . but life gets busy, and sometimes its hard to find time to connect.

I'm trying to just think of the worry as a "wave" like other things in life, and know that this too shall pass. It will.