Caroline’s early intervention appointment was on Friday. We had different people than last time. Nicer people. They always send a physical therapist and a speech therapist. The physical therapist was this girl who couldn’t have been older than 23 or so, and she was super nice and cute and Caroline seemed to like her a lot. So I hope we get her from now on. Because Caroline qualifies for physical therapy, which means she is under the 3rd percentile, a.k.a. “severely delayed”.
(I used to use the actual f-word all over the place here and everywhere, but I am trying to watch my potty mouth since I am now a mom of a toddler and all, even if she doesn’t actually “toddle”. A toddler who gleefully repeats any kind of dirty word as if she senses that she is not supposed to be saying it and neither am I.)
Anyway, she qualifies. Technically that is good news. There is no denying that we need some help, because there is no way she will be walking by 18 months without it. It’s also good news that gross motor is the only area of concern. Once you get into two or more areas, you start having to worry that there are bigger developmental problems lurking around.
I try not to read about what she should be doing because it makes me get all uptight and worried and batshitcrazy (oops, sorry, I had to), so I am not sure exactly what level she is really functioning at. But I will just say that she can pull up to her knees but not her feet, is not at all interested in standing with help (her knees buckle), and it’s only been within the past two weeks that we would go into her room to find her sitting in her crib, or in any position other than lying flat on her back.
It sucked to hear that she is so delayed. I try not to feel like it means that I’ve done something wrong, or not done enough for her somehow, but I can’t help but let those thoughts sneak in. I’m also a little irritated with her pediatricians, because every time I ask about it at visits, they push on her legs and bend her knees and stuff and say that her muscle tone is fine. But the physical therapist said she is low tone, and I know another physical therapist who agrees, and she certainly doesn’t bear weight on her legs very well, so you tell me.
I’m all about the run on sentences, tonight. It keeps me from swearing like a trucker. Sorry if this is unreadable. I’m still a little upset.
I just have to keep repeating to myself, this is good, she needs the help, and we are getting it. That’s what really matters. She’s going to be fine. It’s just the one area. We are doing everything right.
So we’ll be seeing a physical therapist once a week for 45 minutes. It sounds like a good program. Connecticut’s program charges fees on a sliding scale, which means we won’t go broke, and they will even come to daycare to work with her, which means I won’t get kicked out of school for missing a day every week.
This is good, she needs the help, this is going to be fine.
Oh… and I can’t close the post without saying happy Mother’s day to all you mamas out there!