Perspective. 

If there is one thing that the VIRAL SAGA known as The Blue Dress, (yep...it was blue) taught me it was that perspective is an individually unique assessment and judgement you make based on preconceived notions about a situation. Individually unique, as in never the same. No two people see the world the same way. Heck, even the same person can see the world completely different from one moment to the next. Which is what I've been doing the past week. 

Last Tuesday, we had the IFSP meeting where I met with Mya's Services Coordinator, and the two people who evaluated her at the beginning, so that we could set some goals for Mya to achieve when she is reevaluated in six months. The weather was kind of crappy, so one of the evaluation team members was late arriving to my house. We started the meeting without her. I was in the process of explaining how some of the things we had talked about with Mya had started to improve. I told them that we were practicing techniques they taught me and they seemed to be paying off. When the meeting started gearing toward Mya's communication skills, I stopped the woman and decided it was appropriate timing to tell her that I didn't completely agree with the assessment I received in the mail. 

On the day that Mya was evaluated, they told me that she scored poorly in "Expressive Communication." I was in complete agreement. She wasn't saying much. She liked to point and grunt or cry for whatever she wanted. To make things easier we mostly just gave her what she was pointing at. But when I received the assessment in the mail it had been marked that she had scored lower in "Receptive Communication." They had marked that she didn't respond to her name (which is sort of true....she has a million nicknames and responds to each person, when she wants to) but they had marked her as emerging in following directions. 

This is where I was caught up. When Ian has a surprise poop, one that I didn't know was there before opening the diaper, and I am out of reach of the wipes, I could say "Mya, hand Mommy the wipes please," and she would do it. Sometimes I would have to say it a couple of times before she did it but she is a baby. In my experience, that is completely normal. She also would get her jacket and both hers and Ian's shoes when I asked her. She'd sit down if I caught her standing on the chair, and even if she didn't, she'd look at me and giggle, and I'd know she knew what I was saying to her but choosing to not listen. She understood me. She understands me. And since I am her advocate and not really looking to waste time and energy on teaching her something she already knows, I started to speak up. 

I was in the process of telling Vanessa that while I agreed with the assessment, for the most part, the one hang up I had was the receptive communication. I had just started getting into explaining how I knew Mya knew what I wanted when the doorbell rang. It was Nadine, the other member of the evaluation team. I excused myself, let her in and we climbed back upstairs to rejoin the meeting. Once settled in Vanessa got back to business and I continued explaining what I knew to be true. Nadine asked to interrupt and said she was confused. To be honest, I didn't really appreciate the tone of the conversation from that point forward. She started to nitpick the things I was saying and I was starting to feel very defensive. Where I look at Mya's understanding, from a Mother's point of view in our daily lives, she was seeing something else. She pointed out that Mya responded more efficiently when I pointed to things or when the direction I was giving was part of our daily routine. This was her observation, and what she was hearing from my retelling of our daily lives. Her perspective. 

At that moment, and the following half hour, I couldn't see that it was her perspective. All I felt was judged. When she said "Mya responds to pointing but not words," I heard, "You are doing it wrong," and the feeling of falling into the wrong category swept me. I felt shamed. And ashamed. And I did, what I know is the worst thing I could do for my psyche, I internalized all of my feelings and questioned everything about what I am teaching my kids. I doubted my perspective based on the perspective of another. 

A stewed for a few days. Afraid to bring the subject up with anyone, as Mya's therapy is still a bit of a sore subject with family. Then I talked to my sisters about it. Somehow talking through it made me start to realize that there is no "wrong" or "right" in any of this. I do what I perceive is the best thing for my kids, and when I stepped back I could align some of my insecurities with the facts and realize improvements could be made. 

When my perspective changed and I could see that some changing wasn't something that meant anything other than trying a different way, we tried to dissect whether our behaviors were causing Mya's or whether it was the other way around. We talked about little steps we could all start taking together to try it a different way. We could reflect on how far she had already come and how absolutely genius she is (that view will likely never change). And I could be open with myself, I could say, that other person's opinion of the situation does not change my view of it, but pushing aside the insecurities is important to see the true vision and sometimes that means stepping outside your comfort zone to see a larger part of the picture and reassessing your judgement then. 

My pride took a hit for a few days. 

But then I seen the bigger picture, about this situation, and maybe even about life. There is no definite RIGHT way to do this thing called "parenting," and most of the WRONGS are just a different perspective, but not necessarily wrong. 

So now, I point. But I also walk Mya over to an object. I give her choices. I model words. I play a little more than I did. I let her show me her side of things a little bit more and--BY GEORGE....has this little chicken developed her squawk. Tomorrow it will be a week since they were here, we are talking about all sorts of things. On Friday, she strung the words "Go" and "Pool" together to tell me what she wanted to do for entertainment. On Saturday morning, she asked me for help, with her words! By Saturday night, she had followed a conversation I was having with her brother about him needing a drink and before I could ask her to help, she went over to him and gave him water! She is an absolute genius. Mom's perspective of course. 

Only GREATNESS, my Little Diva. 

Prep work

I'll be honest and admit that I was naive to think the process of getting into the Early Intervention system was going to be quick. Not knocking it at all, but it is a government program after all. Which means there is a lot of procedures, paperwork and meetings that need to happen even before therapy can start.

It has been 21 days since Mya was evaluated by two therapists from Sunny Days, Inc. In the last three weeks, just implementing some of the tips we received, she is already improving her skills. She has started to mimic sounds and words, where before she let us do all of the sound-making. She is standing up from the ground. Her balance has improved and she has started to move her leg position, when sitting on the ground, when we use verbal cues. Oh, and she also became a BIG cousin. (Not completely irrelevant, because you truthfully do not see how far your baby has come until you see her help change another baby's diaper.)

She completed her physical, a requirement from the program, yesterday. The doctor said she is healthy as can be, and very smart. She pointed out the fish decals on the wall and was obsessed with telling me which was the blue, yellow, striped and spotted fish. All without using any words, just her gestures. The doctor agreed that Early Intervention will help her find her language so that all of those thoughts and ideas can be verbalized and shared with the world. She supported me fully and gave me a thumbs up for being in tune with Mya's needs. Which left me smiling. She gave me some things to ask the GI about and put in the referral for Mya to see an Audiologist, just to ensure that she is hearing okay.

Two doctor visits and three weeks later, and we have just one more step before she can start her therapy. Today I met with our Services Coordinator. We spoke about our routines and what I expected of the program. I signed more paperwork. And we found out, that the costs of Early Intervention are based on income and family size. Based on these things, we don't have to pay a single cent for her to get the help that she needs. (Thankfully, since services cost $110/hr!)

The next step is our IFSP meeting, which is on Tuesday. We will sit down with the evaluation team and our services coordinator and we will put together a plan and decide for sure which services Mya would benefit from, how often they will come and how we can better help her when we are home. The thing that stood out, in the synopsis of this meeting, is that we have total control over how much/how little a part this will play in her life. If we think that the recommended therapies, or the amounts of time they propose we spend helping her reach her goals, don't line up with our vision or routine, all we have to do is say so and we will work to make up the difference. It makes me feel a little more in control of the situation, which is something that I need to feel as a parent.

So that's our next step. After Tuesday, they will have 15-30 days to start her first therapy.

Emotions are definitely leveling out some, and dare I say it, I'm actually excited to have her start. I've seen the improvements thus far and I know she is going to catch on quickly. Plus, it is a little free education into Child Development for me, and Lord knows I'd love to improve my knowledge on the subject.

The Beginning...

I contacted Early Intervention, and two days ago they came to my house to evaluate Mya. She performed like a show pony. They asked me about her medical history and when she hit certain milestones. She showed them her tricks and her new walking skill. She played games, engaged and laughed. She was herself. She was shy at the beginning and then, she took a real interest in one therapist, buddying up to her to get some extra playtime. Aside from her not responding to me when I called her name (hello----she’s a Diva, she only does that when she is interested in talking to you), I thought the appointment went swimmingly well. When they finished the evaluation and they were doing their calculations I started to feel a little like I may have wasted their time, when the therapist finished what she was doing and said, “Well, the good news is….” [The rest of the sentence filled me with more emotions than I expected.] “Mya qualifies for the program.” I laughed a bit. I felt light. I felt like someone had finally heard my concern. And then I felt a little water in my eye, realizing that this meant that my worrying was for something and there is an “issue.”

They went on to explain to me that she had been measured as advanced in the Social/Emotional & Self-Care category, things that were pretty obvious to those who knew Mya. She tested average in two more categories and she was delayed in gross motor skills & communicative expression, also pretty evident in our daily lives. They were very upbeat as they explained the next steps, and how they believe the program will help Mya strength her muscles so that she would begin to develop closer to her actual age. They reassured me that I did the right thing by contacting them, and that the pediatrician had let us down by ignoring the issue when Mya wasn’t standing independently at her 15-month appointment and they showed me some ways to adjust the way that we help Mya, so that she is forced to work the correct muscles to stand and walk.

Very excitedly, I absorbed a few different techniques at the evaluation. I showed Angel & we began implementing them immediately. We’ve started to correct her when she sits improperly, and we are working to find a word to signal to her that she needs to change her position. Instead of giving Mya our fingers for her to pull up from a crawl to a stand, we stand behind her, place her hands on the floor so her head is leaning forward, adjust her feet and spot her from her midline as she engages her muscles to lift herself up. [I couldn’t believe my eyes when, within just one day of doing this, at a party she fell on the dance floor, put her hands and head forward, she turned her own feet, engaged her core and stood up on her own! Again, I had tears. It gives me so much hope.]

We are at the very start of this. I’m scared, but who wouldn’t be? We’ve had to develop a thicker skin in the past couple of days and we are struggling ourselves to explain that this isn’t a diagnosis of something being “wrong” with Mya, it’s a course of action to help us help her so that she doesn’t fall behind. She has no cognitive delays. This is just a different path, with more help, that she has to take to make sure her quality of life is what it should be. It doesn’t lessen us as parents, it shows we care enough to bite back on our pride [and fear] and help our daughter, even when those around us don’t agree. She is a whole, beautiful, kind, loving and funny baby, who needs a little hand learning how to use her muscles properly, so that her body can get on track with her development. And we know that she is smart, she is a quick learner, so I have no doubts that she will be improving her muscle tone, as she learns to use them properly with the right help.

Maybe there just aren’t enough words to make it make sense to others. Maybe in the end it doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else because we are her parents, and we are doing what we think is right for her.

In a couple of weeks we will sit down with a few different people and come up with an Individual Family Service Plan (IFSP). We’ll talk about the goals that we want Mya to reach and the goals the evaluators want to see and we’ll put them in writing. They will decide what kind of help they think she will benefit from the most, and then a therapist will come to our house a couple of times a week and they will work with us, as we go through our daily routine and will suggest ways to incorporate Mya’s exercises into our everyday lives. I’m looking forward to sharing how this all plays out. And I’m looking forward to looking back and seeing this a just another blip on the first few years of our lives as a family, a small anecdote that the Co-Valedictorian (Ian will be the other, of course!) can share in her College Graduation Speech, where she recounts her small start and the first hurdles she had to overcome, that helped to shape her character.

Mya Girl --- I Love You, Baby!!