Occupational Therapy Bomb

As I walked toward the clinic doors I glanced at myself in the reflective glass. I was wearing sweat pants and my shirt was a tee shirt that looked just as old and tired as my eyes. My hair was tied up in a bun and my face was red from my little fit in the park. I wondered to myself how much longer would we be living like this and quickly thought hopefully not to much longer. My heart was hidden beneath the clothes and the flesh but it was broken in a million pieces and that was showing through every inch of my being. I looked as broken as I felt. I was tryin not to give myself to much of a lecture about letting myself turn into this unkept mom as I opened the door and walked into the clinic, but the words had already begun to flow through my head. How did you get here? Sweat pants really? Remember when you use to get ready for work everyday? Now your screaming in parks and wearing sweat pants in public...wow we need to work on this.

As, I steped into the waiting room, it was odd that I was the only one there. Even the receptionist had stepped away from the front desk. I didn't sit down instead I went down the small hallway to the room we were always in and from just a few steps away I heard his giggle. I leaned up against the wall and as that sweet little sound took my breath away. I needed to hear it again....and within seconds there it was. Julians giggle was what gave me my energy. I was like Mrs. Pac Man and his giggle was the gold coins. It filled my heart like nothing else could.


As I stood in the hallway I took a few more steps toward the room. I wanted to see what was making him laugh that way. As I hid just outside the large door, I tried to sneak a glance without him seeing me. I then caught a glimps of him and Denise reflecting back at me in a mirror. He was playing on a large aqua blue yoga ball. Denise was trying to get him to figure out he could stand on his legs by having him hold onto the ball and then slowing roll him up to a stand. He however thought they were playing and the giggle came everytime he would come up to the stand position and he could see his own reflection in the mirror. I was in awe watching the two of them. He had the strength I always wished I had. He was overcoming all that life had given him so far. Each time he stood without realizing he could, he was telling his abusers they didn't win. I must have stood there for only a few minutes before he caught me watching them.


As our eyes met his face melted from full of joy to a loud cry without tears. Denise turned her head my way and burst into laughter. She and I both knew it was Julians favorite game with me. He knew as soon as he saw me that if he began to cry I would come in and rescue him with a big HUG. And right on cue that is exactly what I did. I picked up my little man and I kissed all over his face. He was back to giggling within seconds and so were we. As I sat on the floor with Denise and Julian, I simply said, "Thank you" to Denise. She gave me her big smile and said," Your doing all the work here. I just take him an hour a week and show you what to do when you get home. You deal with everything else that not every parent, including myself, can understand. The least I can do is tell you take a break when I see you need one." I had no more words for her. I was lost in my own head. I didn't like that we even needed help. I wanted this nightmare to end and Julian to be ours. I didn't want to have to think about appointments other than the ones Julian needed for his rehibilation. I also couldn't share that with Denise. She was Julian's physical therapist not my phsycologist. So instead of saying anything else I just faked a smile and took my gaze back to Julian. We both watched him for a minute or so as he laid on his belly and talked to himself in the mirror.


Then she said,"I know you don't want to hear this but there is something else we need to talk about." Her tone had changed. I knew she was about to hit me with something that she didn't feel good about telling me. I said,"Ok, what is it?" She said," Julian, is 10 months old now. We have been doing physical therapy once a week for 5 months and he still isn't doing a lot of things he should be. He isn't trying to crawl or even roll around. He still is not confident in putting weight on his legs and he doesn't even grab for toys. I think he needs to see an occupational therapist for an evaluation." My heart dropped...another therapist. All I could think is NOT ANOTHER APPOINTMENT. This was our first week of having an appointment almost everyday. How could I possibly fit in another? I knew I had to agree. If it helped Julian it had to be done but every inch of my being screamed NO MORE APPOINTMENTS! But I knew all that mattered was Julian and what was best for him. I told Denise we would set up an appointment before we left that day with an occupational therapist and that is what we did.

On our way home that day, as I tried to stop thinking about the future and only concentrate on that moment with Julian, I listened to him babbled in the back seat. We were talking, well he was doing most of the talking. It was as if he was telling me all he worked on while I was at the park. As he babbled I giggled and my worries melted away. When I would giggle he would smile his little two teeth smile long enough to let me finish laughing and then he would just keep talking. I knew Julian and I understood one another better than any two people could that didn't share the same blood. We were sharing moments in time that only he and I would keep in our hearts. He was my strength and I was his. And I knew we would make it through this and I hoped in the end we would be together. But for that moment I just loved being the one he shared his stories with.