Like anyone, I am guilty of comparing. In the last couple months as Elliott has been outperformed by babies six months his junior in the mobility category, comparing has led to worry and uncertainty.
Before he turned one, his lagging behind in gross motor skills was easy to chalk up to him "taking his time" and having a "why bother" personality. As he inched his way toward 15 months, with only an army crawl under his belt and no chance of standing even supported on his own, we decided to ask for an assessment from the state-funded early childhood intervention program. Last week they came to observe Elliott for an hour to see if he qualified for services. It only took a few minutes for them to determine that he did indeed qualify. Granted, Elliott wasn't willing to show all his skills to the therapists, but hearing them say that he was performing (gross motor skills wise) at the level of a six month old was a blow. It made me ache for him. Will he always be behind? Will kids make fun of him someday? Will every new development be a big, painful effort?
One of the toughest things about having kids is knowing that there is no possible way to shield them from all the hurt and difficulties of life. I want my amazing, beautiful children to grow up without troubles or worries or pain. But I know there is just no way, and it makes my heart ache, especially to see the challenges beginning so early. I look at Elliott's 100-watt smile and I get a lump in my throat. How can he possibly be so darn gorgeous, so insanely happy, and so far behind? But I look again and know that I wouldn't want him any other way.
The physical therapist who came here wrote up a formal assessment of Elliott and on it she listed the "positives" about Elliott and his situation. They were, "1. He is a happy child, 2. He has supportive and loving family, 3. He has a strong big brother role model." Elliott may never be on track with his skills or he may be the next Michael Phelps. It is futile to compare skills, to try to measure up. We never know how the day, week, month, year will unfold. But we do know this moment and that precious child who holds us in it. We know he is exceedingly happy and we all love him dearly. In that, there is just no comparison.
3 comments:
This is a beautiful reflection that inspires and challenges. You have invited us into our own dark tendency to compare, and at the same time you have liberated us to measure what matters most. We love you Amy...and yes, we anticipate what our Heavenly Father has in store for your wonderful Elliot.
Oh Amy, I know first hand how you feel. All of my uncertainty came in a flood 15 days after Nathan was born and has been spread out over 2 years now. I think the most important thing is to never give up or withhold teaching and opportunities. Have high expectations. Elliot will reach for them and eventually achieve your goals. Be relentless!
You're making me think about how handicapped we all really are--how we're all way way behind in development in some capacity. How other people are smarter, wiser, better with money, better with people, better with words, more detailed, better memorizers, more succinct speakers, more thoughtful listeners. And I figure that we could spend the rest of our lives focused on our handicap/s. We could become absolutely besotted by them.
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