I’ve been up a lot the last few nights. We head to Mayo in a few weeks again. This time it’s for lots and lots of testing…developmental testing. George will be the big 3 in April, and that’s when he graduates from Infant Development into a school-district led program (if he qualifies and we decide to go down that route).
So why am I a hypocrite? Trust me. I didn’t come to that conclusion easily. And it’s not something I enjoy admitting, but I think it’s true. You see…I’ve been so busy planning for George’s future, that I forgot to let him live today.
Let me explain.
George doesn’t handle illness well. He dehydrates quickly and goes down hill fast. You can ask our speech therapist who was here last week when he became sick. He went from fine and playing to physically ill and very little response in a matter of minutes. By the end of the week, we were in the hospital. The culprit? Strep.
Which is funny, because we had his tonsils and adenoids removed in August to try to help with limiting his strep infections. We’ve had 3 positive strep tests since. I shudder to think what it would have been like without the surgery though.
So, now what.
We need to start making decisions. Like, do we send him to preschool? Are we going to send him to school? Continue speech therapy in a school setting? And I became so wrapped up in planning out his future, that I forgot about today.
He’s a little boy, and little boys want to play, and get muddy and make a mess. They don’t worry about developmental scores, school choices and speech therapy. They want to play with the calves, tease the puppy and make their brothers miserable.
I spent so much time reading about what could happen, that I missed what was happening.
I can’t promise that I won’t spend any more late-nights with tears in my eyes as I watch George sleep. I can’t promise that I won’t go into overprotective mother-hen mode again. But I can promise that I’ll try to let go of my planning tendencies and embrace today for what it is…another day with my children.
No, I can’t forget what the statistics tell me, I can’t pretend that there are not times when George is truly in danger…but I can’t forget that a life without living is hardly a life at all.
I’ve read the statistics, but I forgot one thing…God hasn’t finished writing George’s story yet. And those are the only statistics that matter.