The main thing that I’ve learned about speech delay is that it’s hard.
It’s hard to watch as Wyatt struggles to try and speak.
It’s hard to be on this path, attempting to figure out what is wrong – or if there is anything wrong.
It seems like a mix of opinions from people who have evaluated Wyatt.
Either way, the poor little man has been through a lot lately – and slowly but surely it’s breaking my heart. I just want to take all of the pain away from him. The pain of blood testing, doctors visits, and the countless evaluations. I want to make everyday a good day for him.
Yesterday I watched as my father-in-law and husband walked Wyatt into the Lab for blood testing. I couldn’t bring myself to go in. The last time I left a sobbing mess. So I sat in the waiting room and listened as my little baby screamed and cried. I kept getting up from my chair and peeking in at him to see if it was done. To see if I could rush in and grab him and cover his tear-stained cheeks with kisses. People in the waiting room talked to me – but I didn’t listen. They asked if he was my son. What he was there for. Why they were taking his blood.
I blocked them out. I politely nodded and responded with simple phrases. I didn’t want to discuss my sons medical history with everyone there. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to make sure my son was okay. And then I heard it – a muffled – but clear – ALL DONE.
I rushed to the door and pulled it open. Wyatt was being lifted off of Williams lap and was being safety lifted into his Puppa’s arms. It was over. I could see the sadness in William and his father’s face. I knew it was a difficult thing for them to do.
The next big test is Wyatt’s MRI.
The only day I could schedule it was on Wyatt’s birthday (go figure).