Today we’re honored to share a guest post from preemie mom, blogger, and businesswoman Stephanie – read more about her story at Urban Flowerpot or check out her shop of handmade creations.
I don’t write a lot about what goes on in your personal life these days – I did, after all, document every moment of your birth and first couple years. That’s a fairly decent prologue to any story.
Most of what comes next is yours to share when and if you choose. However, motherhood is my part of my adventure and finding the balance between us both is delicate.
I am writing this because I want you to know how hard I’m trying and how hard my heart keeps breaking. I want you to have the services you need now – not later, NOW. I don’t like making phone calls (which you’ll probably know by the time you read this) but I have – and will – make dozens for you. I will fill out any chart, circle choices, jot down notes, and take you anywhere you need to go.
You are a child with special needs.
What this means yet, I don’t know. Only that we have to change our approach to parenting and watch the world around us for possible triggers and help you work through situations that come your way. You have a sensory processing disorder which seems to stem from anxiety. I’m still learning more as I watch you in new situations. I guess I have a year twelve months to compile my notes.
I’m bringing Papa into my story now because he is the other major player. He might not be making the phone calls but he is at work making it possible for me to be here with you. He lives for the moments when he can bring you a box of bakery cookies and stay home and game, sing songs, and chase you. You both have a separate bond (as well as a shared one with me). That is important to us. I love when you two share your jokes with me…and that you have your own thing together.
Earlier this week we went to the early intervention clinic for another evaluation (sensory-related). I don’t have any more answers than I did before other than we need to see a behavioral specialist. Their answer to me, however, is “twelve month wait.” Not a year – they correct me – twelve months.