Fishing Derbies, Vacations, Proximal Stability, and Ordinariness

Most of you parents probably know the situation: You go with your kids to the park or the pool or Mommy n Me gymnastics and you start making small talk with the other moms. Pretty soon you're asking and answering and comparing everything about your little ones. How much did he weigh? Epidural or natural? How many dirty diapers a day? How many teeth? How old was she when she slept through the night? What program do you use? Does he crawl yet? Walk yet? Read yet? How many words does she know in sign? English? Spanish? Portuguese?

For the most part I've enjoyed the camaraderie of these types of conversations. Perhaps I was even a little smug. For better or worse I thought I had a one up on many moms because I had this scientific knowledge of what was "developmentally appropriate" for kids at certain ages and, for the most part, my boys were coasting along just fine. However, I also recognize that these conversations are at least a wee bit competitive.

Jeff notices this as well. Particularly if I come home from a mommy get together thinking (in spite of my aforementioned "expertise")that one of our sons may be constipated, needs a hearing test, or is dyslexic because he's not reading prior to kindergarten. I exaggerate. A little. I've never been much of a fisherman (fisherwoman?), but Jeff lent me a this good analogy. He likened these conversations (Competitions? "Convertitions?" Ha!) to a fishing derby.

Then there was K. And I dropped out of the derby. Or at least I've tried to. I know that I cannot, should not, compare my little girl to her same-aged peers. I must only compare her to herself, which is something I remind myself of every day. It's a challenge, but it's getting easier. For example, I can go to the Rec Center where every other woman is either 8 months pregnant or has a child under 12 months and not feel like they are aggressively flaunting their healthy children. Yay me.

We were blessed to be able to go on a short vacation to Waldport, OR for a few days. At the last minute, I decided to invite a colleague/friend and his family along on our trip. So glad I did. We had a wonderful time and I was able to relate to these friends in way that I'm not able to with any other parent. Their first child, about 3 now, has Downs Syndrome. Though it didn't feel like your typical "fishing derby, " thank God, we were able to relate to each other about therapies, alternative treatments, life changes, expectations, and the feeling you get when your friends' kids are meeting developmental milestones like they're going out of style. Thank you, Carpenters.

Waldport was perfect. Forest. Beaches. Clamming. Crabbing. Leisure. It wasn't hot or crowded there. Keira did great (except that I had to hold her during much of the drive). She enjoyed the breeze on the beach, smiling, then having to catch her breath. She tolerated everything, including the two toddlers there, with apparent ease. I found a few tricks that helped keep her regulated when we went into crazier environments (adult ear plugs cut in half, wearing her on my chest, laying her on the seat in a booth, facing the back rest, with a bright colored sticker to focus on in front of her). Since we've been home, my mom hasn't noticed her startling at all. We hope to go back there again.

Last week we celebrated, celebrated when Keira got sick. She had a fever and went to the doctor who told us she had an ear infection. I held my breath and then she got better. Just like that. Sick just like any old baby sick. No hospital. No ICU. No emergency. Milestones!!

Our OT and PT both believe that Keira has begun a new developmental phase again. She's getting so much stronger. She holds her head up for longer and even looks back and forth. She's rolling more and more, usually from her back to her side or her side to her belly. She's reaching and grabbing, sometimes, for toys or faces. She lays on the floor and kicks, bicycling her legs, alternating side to side. These things are all so hopeful in terms of her eventually being able to sit upright, walk, etc. So exciting, and scary to hope at the same time, too.

The OT and PT are particularly encouraged because K is using more core strength and less of her superficial muscles (did you know there was a difference?). The OT's mantra is coming to fruition. "Core stability for distal mobility," she always says. It's so true. Apparently it's really hard to play the piano, for example, if you can't hold up your head or your torso. If you can't sit upright, you probably don't have the muscles to help you raise your arms or the muscles in your arms to control your fingering as precisely as necessary. So what we are beginning to see is that now that K has more control in her stomach, back, and neck, she reaches more, kicks more, and looks around more. Hopefully, eventually, this will even extend to her seeing better, playing with toys, and crawling.

In the past couple of weeks, I've been a little restless, I think. Things are feeling, dare I say, normal. I have lots of help, though it's mostly because they want to be here, and I surely appreciate it, and not so much because I need it. I'm making dinners and doing some chores and working almost as much as I did before Keira was born. I'm enjoying watching the boys enjoy their summer, both of them seeming to be in new developmental phases of their own.

Liam is big enough and mature enough to be trusted with Keira duties for 5 or 10 minutes at a time now!

A few times I've found myself without anything pressing to get done. That freaks me out a little. Which is probably why I have started an art project, begun thinking about Keira's first birthday party, made Christmas lists for the boys, worked on photo albums, and have been contemplating participating in the Living Christmas Tree and teaching dance this fall.

Lazy summer morning. 

Eek. Those are all things that I love to do. They make me feel like me. Or at least they did before Keira was born. It's exciting that I may be getting back to the ordinariness of life, but I don't want to get in over my head. I need to pace myself. I really don't know what is around the corner or what Keira's needs will be and I could really regret filling up my schedule again. I suppose it's continually a balance (which every parent has to do, really), between a) being available and around and ensuring that I do not become overburdened or tired, and b) diving back into life as I have known it and doing what needs to be done to make Keira a part of it, rather than standing back from life as I know it for fear that Keira can't handle it, which, in turn, would make us more distant from the community that supports us.