Posted on April 1, 2016 by meridith
RR has a lot of things going for her. She’s everyone’s friend, she charms adults, she got a fair shake in the genetic lottery, she’s strong and fast and coordinated, she reads and writes, she’s funny, really funny, she’s thoughtful and kind, she draws like an artist.
She still isn’t fully potty trained. She walks on her toes.
So far we’ve gotten by on the doctors’ assurances that:
1) There are no sensory issues.
2) Many kids struggle with toilet training through 5.
3) Her toe walking will abate.
Our wonderful doctor once wrote:
“Given how utterly fabulous, active, creative and intelligent RR is I do not believe that her tippytoeness is indicative of anything other than her wings not being fully developed yet. Fairy wings don’t typically develop fully until the age of 7, and she is just compensating because she is ready to fly NOW. I would only pay attention if you see her leave the ground, and then only to make sure she doesn’t take flight before she’s mastered it fully and can do so safely.”
You guys. Do you not just love her?
But in a visit today we talked about the two issues combined and tried to zero in on what might be causing them and whether they are related. She thought that a visit to a developmental pediatrician might shed some light. Debra and I have been cautiously watching the (lack of) development in these areas and with a new camp and new school coming, I’d like to make sure we’re doing everything we can to ensure her body supports her development rather than hinders it. Still though. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this point.
It’s unlikely we’ll get in quickly so there’s no point in worrying now. I’m hopeful that they can help bring her back to earth and more hopeful that another doctor will have a breakthrough suggestion on eliminating accidents. And, of course, that nothing else needs attention.
Filed under: Sixth Year | Tagged: best baby ever, chick pics, doctors, introducing rr, milestones, symptoms and scenes | 3 Comments »
Posted on March 29, 2016 by meridith
My dad had another MRI yesterday and has his regular check-in with the doctor this afternoon. In black and white that looks so much less ominous than it feels.
I spend a lot of time crying when no one is looking. Everyone in my family is outwardly (and probably inwardly) managing this so differently that I feel as though I’m grieving five different ways all at once. We’re all grieving for loss, yes, even though it feels like we technically shouldn’t be grieving yet because we haven’t had The Loss.
I see my mother flying like a trapped bird into every wall and window except the open door right in front of her. I see my sister brandishing her essential oils and conspiracy theories. I see my other sister quivering into immobility. I see my dad disintegrating. I see my wife on eggshells, navigating me and the terrible reminder of her own losses. I don’t know how to manage it all.
And it isn’t stopping. It’s only magnifying. My scatter-brained mother forgot to refill my father’s chemo a week ago prompting her to identify a dozen ways in which he was “better.” One sister surged forward proclaiming that obviously there’s another solution to this cancer besides chemo. The other sister tolled the bell of doom, “doesn’t everyone think dad’s just tapping out?”
Maybe. Maybe he made a decision. It wouldn’t be the first time he and my mom have decided to wait on some big news in order to “protect you girls.” I haven’t seen any real improvements from Cancer Dad to Regular Dad. His balance is still shaky, his jokes make no sense, he’s slow as molasses, he doesn’t talk much, he fumbles. It hurts so, so much.
It’s not a competition to see who’s handling it better but I wish we were all handling it differently. I wish we weren’t handling it at all.
Filed under: Sixth Year | Tagged: cancer, coping, everyone else, symptoms and scenes | 3 Comments »
Posted on February 3, 2014 by meridith
It’s a miracle we survived the weekend. RR is pretty even-tempered for a wolverine. In fact, we haven’t even seen much wolverining in the last several months. There are fits, occasionally, but nothing a little distraction can’t fix.
This weekend brought us the return of our early twos RR. The child that screamed without ceasing at the top of her lungs for 30 minutes at a time. The child that could not be consoled or distracted. The child that made us say, with utter certainty, that we would not be having a second child, no thank you. I can almost mark the day those tantrums stopped. All of a sudden two kids seemed totally manageable. It’s a good thing I didn’t get pregnant because yesterday I’d have cried myself to sleep at the thought of another.
I don’t know if there’s a why. We removed the Frosty and Rudolf dvds that we had absentmindedly allowed free access to. We gave her water to interrupt the sobs. We tried putting her in her room (which I don’t dig, given the years I spent shut in my room as a tantrumer). We tried hugs. We tried compassion. We tried food. We tried ignoring her. There was no constant solution.
She cried for 30 minutes in the morning (inexplicably). She sobbed at gymnastics (out-of-character). She threw a colossal fit at suppertime that prompted me to leave the house and Debra to cave in to her demands. I don’t like that. I don’t like any of it. I feel completely helpless and I’d like our reasonable child back. Or, barring that, at least someone who screams AND is potty-trained.
Filed under: Fourth Year | Tagged: coping, how NOW brown cow?, introducing rr, symptoms and scenes | 13 Comments »