Thursday, February 14, 2008
Speech Therapy, Scrapbooking and Swimming...
I know that this is a strange combination but it really sums up our past month.
Firstly speech therapy... where do I begin? I was informed yesterday by the speech therapist in the boys' hospital group that Mitchell doesn't have verbal dyspraxia he has a language disorder (Harry is to be assessed next week). She said that he uses a lot of learnt phrases to fill in the conversation (which I have long known) and that he really doesn't understand a lot of what we are saying to him. We have now been told that he needs more intensive one on one therapy than the hospital can provide. The funny thing is that just at the beginning of term we got to the top of the public waiting list for our area, but the speech therapists agreed amongst themselves that the boys didn't need two seperate speech therapists ( due to possible confusion for Mitch). So now we are back at square one. Up until now we have paid for a private therapist through our health insurance because the boys weren't deemed to have a significant speech problem initially. Then when we were referred to a Paed when the boys were 2 1/2 years old, he felt the boys needed help with speech and got us into this hospital group and on the Child Development Unit waiting list for ongoing assistance during schooling.
Last night I just fell apart. How much more can I take? I am so tired of never getting a break - it is just one thing after another. I said to my friend yesterday that the moment I went into premature labour there has never been a day without worry - and I am just so bloody tired. I know I shouldn't complain and things could be so much worse, but I feel at breaking point. I don't know what to think. What does this mean for Mitchell? Does he also have an intellectual delay? Will he ever understand? Will speech always be a battle for him? And then how is it that one speech therapist (who has seen him for over a year)has said verbal dyspraxia with good receptive skills and another (who has seen him twice)says no this is wrong he has a language disorder and has poor receptive skills? How as the mother do I know who is right? It's not a rollercoaster - because that has a start and end - this is a merry-go-round where I am forever trapped waiting for the next calamity to strike. How do I get past my tears? And how do I know what to do next?
I DO know that tomorrow I will get up and the boys and I will face whatever challenges are ahead, but I am just so tired.
Now on a lighter note (thank god I hear you cry) scrapbooking - for those of you that know me well you would realise that I LOVE scrapbooking! If I could do it every day I would! Anyway, it seems like the gods have been conspiring against me over the past week because Harry has decided he doesn't want to go to bed. So our nights consist of Kev and I playing tag team putting Harry back to bed until he falls into an exhausted slumber. Now this would be okay except that he insists on screaming endlessly in a pitch that can decalcify the bones! I have no idea why he has started this... maybe it is just a stage, but boy is it exhausting. So by the time he falls asleep I feel to tired to contemplate anything creative so there goes my scrapbooking... However I have manage to complete one layout for the Scrapbooking 4 Less Scraptacular competition - it is of Mitch looking very grown up and serious at Port Vincent.
And finally swimming. I have had great intentions for months to get the boys into a swimming class more for the exercise than anything - maybe it will exhaust Harry so much he will beg me to let him sleep (I dream). But I just can't seem to get motivated. The boys love the pool and so do I - although I have been known to frighten small children as I clamber into their wading pool with both boys. Kev on the other hand doesn't like swimming or pools or the beach at all. Which makes it an interesting exercise when we go to the pool and he doesn't want to swim. Because let me tell you there is nothing more difficult than watching two little children at once in the pool! So for the moment I have decided to put this into the too hard basket. Sounds un-Australian doesn't it. Maybe my boys will be scarred for life with the knowledge that they didn't learn to swim until they were four years old. Or maybe they will be scarred by the mental image of me in bathers! Who knows. I suppose that's the interesting thing about parenting, you never know what is going to happen and how this will come back to haunt you in your dotage...
With much love,