I’ve been writing this blog entry in my head since yesterday. It should have had some catchy title like “9-Month-Old Turns Into Beaver, Gnaws Off Boobah” or “Hey, What’s THIS Cord Do?” or even “Baby Defies Physics – Teleports Across Room”.
In it I would tell about how my son gave his daddy a birthday present by finally cutting a tooth on that day – and biting my finger (and later my boobah) to prove it. I would tell about his fauxhawk hair that is constantly sticking up, and how much he looks like his daddy. I’d say that he’s finally saying “ma-ma-ma” and “da-da-da” but doesn’t mean it yet, but he does turn his head when his name is spoken. I wouldn’t forget to mention that he’s able to pick up a piece of finger food and propel it more or less to his mouth.
Instead, “There Is Something Wrong With My Son”. I’ve just become one of ‘those’ parents whose blog is no longer about the simple joys of rearing a child – the sleepless nights, the frazzled mornings, the zombie diaper changes – but instead about the simple joys of rearing a child With Something Wrong With Him.
Now, granted, it’s too soon to say EXACTLY what is going on with Little Man, but there is no doubt there is something amiss. To my chagrin, by going back and looking at videos and pictures I shot months ago, I realize that this is something that has been going on since June at least. I just didn’t notice because it never occurred to me to think my child was less than perfect. Also, Little Man wasn’t crawling at the time.
Little Man can’t straighten his legs. When he’s picked up, he keeps his legs tucked up. He won’t bounce or try to stand. The little things he did that I found so endearing were actually a Sign of Something Wrong – the way he would put his forward knee into my hand like a stirrup when I held him on my side, and the way he puts the bottoms of his feet together, and the way he crawls with his feet up in the air, instead of along the ground. Now I question every cute thing he does. Is that a Sign of Something Wrong?
The pediatrician is calling this “spasticity”. Now, I’ve looked that up, but after the first couple of hits I stopped looking, because if I read too much more, I’m going to be blaming myself for every time that Little Man fell off the bed.
Who am I kidding? I already do. I feel like this is completely my fault. Preventable, if I’d been a better mother, if I’d kept him in a crib instead of co-sleeping, if I’d checked on him more and made sure he wasn’t slowly creeping towards the edge of the bed, if I’d taken more vitamins, if, if, if.
There are too many if’s for this post, so I am going to end it here. Thanks for listening.
PS – If the struggle we’ve had today with simply trying to get all these tests and appointments scheduled is any sign of things to come, I may very well go completely grey in the next few months.