It’s easy to get caught up in the monotony of motherhood, so I cling to moments marked that unexpectedly turn into milestones, even when I least expect it.
This morning as we were waiting in the lobby of the outpatient center for Max’s physical therapist Danielle to come and get him for his session, I expected the hand off to be the same as it always has been since we started this physical therapy journey a year and a half ago: “any updates? anything you’ve been wanting to work on? how are things going at home?” Physical therapy has been a regular part of our weekly routine since Max was born, because he has had some gross motor delays due to his premature birth. These PT appointments have become such an important part of our week, something to look forward to and celebrate because PT is where so much of his growth has happened. If I’m honest, they’ve also been a bit of a reprieve, an hour in my week when I can hand him off to a trained expert who is giving him dedicated one on one time while I can take a break from being in charge of his care.
When Max was an infant, our focus at PT was on tummy time and rolling. Then we worked on sitting, then crawling, then pulling to standing, and eventually walking. As expected, he hit most of these “milestones” months after his full-term-peers; it was hard to not worry about him being left behind, being the only kid in his class who scooted on his butt like a goofball when the other kids were crawling, or who crawled when all of the other kids were walking. With every delayed milestone, he eventually caught up though. He tackled each one in his own time, in his own way, like he always had since the beginning.
Looking at him now as the little boy who walks and climbs and dances, you might never know he had a different journey than any other kid – you might not notice the little ankle braces that stick out above the top of his shoes to help steady him, or the extra bumps and bruises he gets on his noggin from losing his balance and falling into things. Even I forget it sometimes – even I take for granted that he can climb down off of the couch on his own to pick out a book, or that he can walk to his toy bin to put his toys away.
But today’s physical therapy appointment has made me think back on all of his progress, because unlike other mornings, this morning our physical therapist Danielle began her greeting with “so, today’s our last session!” I knew it was coming eventually because Max is basically “caught up” – he has been for a few weeks now, fully mastering walking which was the latest milestone we had been working on. But at the same time, it seems surreal that something we’ve prioritized and put so much effort into these last 20 months is just… coming to an end.
I am so incredibly proud of Max and all of the work he has put into his PT. I am proud of myself for remaining committed to Max getting the best care possible, even when it was a total drag to sit in traffic to make it to the appointments on time or practice our PT homework at the end of a long day.
I’m also reminded of the fear and uncertainty we faced at the beginning of this journey when Max was first born – when we were first told that he could have developmental delays due to his premature birth. We had no idea then what those delays would entail, how they would affect him physically or intellectually – and at times, surmounting them has felt near impossible. But consistency and commitment has paid off, and once again we are suddenly on the other side of that fear which is also remarkable – we have made it to the “finish line”, or at least this finish line. When Max’s potential delays were explained to us, we were told that “premature kids usually catch up with full term kids by the time they turn 2”, so he’s actually even ahead of schedule by that standard. Surely, he will continue to struggle and encounter challenges like every human being does in their lifetime, but PT coming to an end somehow provides a sense of unexpected relief that his delays from pre-maturity weren’t… worse. It’s like I didn’t realize I’ve been holding my breath about this until I could finally let myself exhale today. And I know that all of the resilience he has built during his time at PT will carry over into every aspect of his life, even if he won’t consciously remember this time in his life.
Physical therapy has given us so many gifts – the gift of rolling, crawling, standing, and walking, but also the gift of knowing that challenging times DO come to an end. That during this crazy ride of parenting, there ARE moments of closure and satisfaction and accomplishment, even if we just go on to face the next big hurdle. On a personal note, it has given me a sense of comradery and community as I sat in the lobby of that outpatient center each week with the other parents of children with developmental delays, some more extreme than others. It gave me a sense of connection with at least one other kindred-spirit mom, Danielle, who shared so much of herself with us during our time working with her. It gave me someone to celebrate his growth with, someone who was as personally invested in his advancement as I was. It has exposed me to one of the best gifts of parenting that I didn’t even know existed: seeing someone else who cares about your child cheering them on, rooting for them, and helping them along their journey.
It is true that raising a child takes a village, and I am so grateful to have had an amazing physical therapist in ours.
Leave a comment