On Our Way Back Home

All weeks are doozies, and I tried so hard to write this earlier in the week, but that was never going to happen. Friday morning finds me with a headache, so I’m enjoying coffee while the three boys enjoy Daniel Tiger. I feel like I’ve learned much this week, and some of it sends me spiraling into the future or reeling into the past, but mostly it sends me here. This place for silence, for the most part, and reflection, for the large part. A couple of months ago, I deeply needed help in a ton of directions, so I sent out calls for help. I called the pediatrician to get Sawyer and Rider in for well visits. For Rider, this led to overdue blood work and much-needed vaccines. For Sawyer, this led to yet more calls, to a surgeon, to Early Intervention, and even to Rider’s daycare, to get paperwork settled for Sawyer to go there too, on a case by case basis. I called for my overdue dental cleaning, and that led to a tiny sealant and not tiny root planings.

Then, there was the mental help call for help. I got more therapist recommendations than I knew what to do with, although I did know what to do. I sifted and sorted and met with and chose. In the beginning, I think I needed mental help for more urgent, what I initially thought were selfish reasons, although asking for mental health help when you’re feeling in a crisis is never selfish. Now it’s settling into a longer term plan, with EMDR assessments, options for in-office, on Zoom, and while going for a walk, and the slight head pressure of knowing it’s all unraveling and happening, and it’s ok. It’s supposed to hurt, I think. And it’s also supposed to be gentle. And the thing is, I get to pick & choose the best way it can feel, to heal. Isn’t that magic?

So, that brings us to this week. I know I had mentioned a surgeon and this is a TMI moment, but I have to be real on my blog! At Sawyer’s well visit, the doctor couldn’t 100% confirm he knew where Sawyer’s testicles were (you can’t make this stuff up), so the next day, there was an x-ray at the hospital. Lo and behold, there they were! Healthy looking, but were they too high? Who can tell? So then we went to yet another hospital surgeon, all the way in Springfield, all for the surgeon to spend three minutes confirming that Sawyer’s testicles are actually fine, and very retractable, and all that for $286?! Well, the peace of mind (or is it piece of mind?) is priceless, anyway. So, back to this week. Root planing, part 2 (it’s actually all one planing but they can’t do it all at once for insurance or comfort or maybe Novocaine reasons). TWO sessions of therapy on Zoom, because Cassidy had a business dinner for one and the other was meant to be on Zoom. Rider’s well visit. And I actually listed those all backwards from the most recent to the first of the week, but the week opened with Sawyer’s Early Intervention (Reach) evaluation. I was nervous.

It went perfectly! They spent two hours with him and came to the conclusions we wanted them to come to – that he needs services for gross motor. He passed speech, cognitive, social, fine motor with flying colors, at age level or above. So we are having someone work with him on gaining the confidence and skills to walk. I was nervous that they would pick him apart, find problems I didn’t know or think he had, or not see him for all that he truly is. That is NOT what happened. They were magical and made me feel seen. I’m excited to see him progress with walking, but really, I can’t wait for the first time he stands up for a bear hug I’ll envelop him in.

This week dug deep. I think a lot about how many appointments fill our days and weeks these days, and it’s a little daunting. It means time and money, and being scared and out of comfort zones. It also means help and healing, and new experiences. Yesterday, it meant letting Sawyer go to Rider’s daycare so Cassidy could be at work and I could do all my appointments. That was a big step. And of course, it went perfectly. I told him where he was going, and he said, “Okay.” I dropped him off, and since he’s a new kid and a baby and was wearing Santa pajamas, all of the kids crowded around him. He ate, played, and even napped in a crib where an almost stranger put him down for a nap, and he whimpered for a second, and then fell asleep. Can you imagine?

I thought about him napping at daycare, while I was in the dentist chair. I thought about filling advent calendars, and of family hugs. It was calming during the scraping. So much literal and figurative plaque this week. It’s no longer hiding. It’s been brought into the daylight, and dentist chair light. It’s being talked about. And we’re better for it. We straighten our backs and smile wider. We communicate better, and just.. are better. And we don’t have to figure it all out, or even half of it. For now, maybe, we can reflect in silence and applaud the progress that we’re making, and the help for what has been ailing or incomplete. In this wide world of people who mostly want to be better people and see better things and do helpful things, and be both askers and answerers of calls for help. We can do and be both in this life. A beautiful, beautiful thing.