The Evolution of a Number

A little over 3 years ago I sat in a cold therapy clinic with my precious Little Bug and was handed a number that was meant to define him.  And in a lot of ways, it defined both of us for a long time.  That first number really cut deeply, and that experience has always stuck with me as one of the lowest points in my journey as a special needs mama.

Over a year ago I got another number for Little Bug.  There must have been more in between these two, but these are the two numbers that I remember.  Again, it cut deeply.  But unlike the first number, I didn't let it define me as much; in fact, I think it actually spurred me into bigger, bolder action.

Today I clutched my Little Bug's hand as we marched back into that first clinic room for a new number.  I admit, my eyes went immediately to that mat where we first started this number game and I got a bit panicky.  I didn't want my amazing son in this room.  I didn't want this to be the place his development and progress would depend on.  I didn't want to have this woman (who I can't be sure, but very possibly was the same woman who evaluated him 3 years ago) look me in the eye and give me a number meant to define my son.

But if my son has taught me anything over the last 3 years, it's to be brave, suck it up, and jump into the hard stuff with a smile.  So I did.  And he brought me to near tears over and over today as she put him through the physical evaluation because he ROCKED it.  Every skill he had was busted out in fine form and at the end of our eval, I knew no matter what number she gave me, it wouldn't matter.

This kid is a fighter.  And no matter what number she threw at us, the knowledge that he was going to continue to progress and make strides and hit milestones was going to be way more important than the number on his assessment.

For the record, it was 30 months.  Little Bug is 49 months old.

She gave me the number and paused, waiting perhaps for some sort of reaction that she didn't get.

"This isn't anything new to you, is it?"

No.  It isn't.  But unlike the last couple numbers, this one didn't cut deeply.  It stung for a moment, but then rolled right off.  Because this time, the number isn't going to define anything about any of us.  Little Bug has proven that he won't let anything stop him, and I have total faith in him.

I have faith in him.  Something that only recently I have come to see is a huge part of this journey for all of us.

I don't see a child 18 months delayed.  I see a child who battled his way up ladders until it became easy for him.  I see a child who regularly threw up on himself and then with tears in his eyes went back for more sit ups.  I see a child who trips over his own feet a couple times an hour and always, ALWAYS gets right back up and starts running again.  I see a child who wasn't strong enough to grasp a toy in his hand who climbed up a tube slide today before scaling a rock wall.

The number has evolved for me.  It's really no longer relevant.  They can write 30 months on paper and throw it around in meetings all they want, but for Appa and I, it's clear the number game has changed.

Thirty months means nothing to me.  I have a 4 year old, and he is a strong, positive kid who is working hard at reaching his max potential.

Tonight, I am proud.