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.