We just had our bi-yearly developmental pediatrician visit for Joel. These visits give me such crazy attacks of anxiety and panic that I often wonder if I'd be better off medicated into a stupor. The past couple of visits Rob has been able to come to, which really helps. He can hold my hand and let me squeeze it when I think that I'm going to cry. And he usually comes away with a pretty bruised hand. the doctor is nice, and I know she doesn't mean to make me cry, it's just the nature of the beast. I mean, I wouldn't want to be in her position, telling well-meaning parents that sorry, your son is not going to fit the perfect mold you've planned on.
That sounds bitter. I am, but not really. Yes, I wish things were different, wish he were totally happy and communicative and didn't get made fun of for his tics. But then I see how far we have come, how much progress and potential there is in this kid, and I lighten up. The truth of the matter is, he's very self-motivated. So most of the time, he IS happy because he's doing what he wants to do.
We've just got to work on me, then.
