Our first Dance

The month of September brought a change of season and it was not only outside our window. Something was shifting in Julian. He had beat his way through broken bones, being bounced around in social service and even the nightmare of teething. He reacted poorly to getting immunizations and he struggled through learning how to roll over. During his 9 months of life he had fought more battles than most and so far he won all of them. He was my hero. I admired all the work he had done to survive. I watched him every day in amazement of his strength. I was proud of all he had overcome and I loved that I got to watch it all unfold.

For months Julian refused to roll over or even move at all. Each time his physical therapist taught him a different way to move his body he cried or threw up, sometimes both. It was almost as though fear would over shadow his need to move each time he tried. I would watch him week after week in physical therapy and wonder what he was thinking during the process. Often times he would start off happy and full of laughter but at the end of every session he was an unhappy baby and I was a worried mommy. I imagined his fear regularly. I almost felt it most days. Just the idea of moving his legs made him wince. His bones were broken for two weeks before he was taken to the doctor and what that told this innocent child was moving my legs hurts to much. Now even though the bones had healed the damage all those days of pain caused his psyche hadn't even begun to heal his emotional wounds.
Julian won the first battle by finally rolling over. Both his physical therapist, Denise, and I thought crawling would soon follow because he had figured out that moving gave him some sort of freedom. But it had been a month since he first rolled over and each time we went to physical therapy, Julian still kept refusing to move. During our first physical therapy session in September, Denise asked me if he was moving at home more than he was with her. I told her I hadn't seen much movement from him except that he rolls over in his crib at night and I wasn't even sure that it was intentional. Her face was full of concern about Julian's progress. I wasn't sure where her thoughts were but I knew both of us were worried about where we were in this movement game with Julian. While most children at 9 months are crawling and starting to try to walk Julian still enjoyed his slug pose. He usually still just laid on his back or tummy and never seemed to want much more.
As we both watched him through his session the concern just grew in both of us. By the end of the appointment Julian was once again crying and I was just as frustrated with the process. As I began to gather our things and put Julian's sweater on him Denise, dropped the bomb shell of a life time on me. She said," I think there is something else wrong with him. He should be moving more. We may need to run some more tests and think about occupational therapy as well. He is giving me signs of a drug addicted baby and that wasn't tested a birth. Do you know if mom was a drug user?" My heart sunk as I looked at her. I responded with a simple head shake to say I had no idea. I looked at her and then at Julian. By this time his tears had stopped and he was grinning ear to ear letting all six teeth show. As I glanced back at her she said," I know this seems scary to you but we have to figure out why he isn't moving. I will request his X-rays from the originally injuries to see if I see something there. I don't think its his bones, I think it is all in his head. So maybe the extra occupational therapy could help or if we find out mom was drug addicted we might have a bigger issue." I was in shock over the drug addiction comments and hated the idea of another therapy but I also knew I would do anything if it meant helping Julian. I told her to let me know what she needed and I would do it. I trusted Denise. She seemed to be the only one in this mess that saw me as Julian's mommy and more importantly I also knew she had Julian's best interest at heart.
As I packed us into the car to head home Julian's chatter began. He had already forgot the tears that fell during physical therapy. He had moved on to telling me more stories. As my mind race about if my child had been drug addicted or what more therapy meant for us emotionally and physically, Julian bounced around in his car seat with a cookie in his hand.
Without thinking I reached down and turned up the radio. I think I was trying to drown out my own thoughts. Then without thinking I began to sing along to the radio. As I sang I glance in the rear view mirror only to see Julian bobbing and weaving in his seat as if he was dancing to the music. I giggled and asked him if he was dancing, he gave me a cookie filled smile and giggled and then kicked his feet as if to say this was his favorite song. It was then that I got the idea that music might be what got this little munchkin to move.