With things in such upheaval, even normally “big” topics manage to get a little sidetracked. I haven’t talked about Tessa’s development since October, nearly 4 months ago.
I still haven’t had her evaluated.
That’s about to change.
I still can’t explain why I’ve been so ambivalent about her given my general gung-ho approach to early testing and diagnosis for autism and developmental delays. But I have. I suspect a lot of the delay has been due mostly to circumstances. The separation, divorce, working, moving Tessa to daycare, it’s all been distracting me. And giving me an excuse to delay. Let’s see how she’s doing. Let’s get her into a new situation and see what happens. She’s progressing, let’s see how she does.
But I’ve finally reached the point where it’s been long enough. She’s 2. We only have a year until her care is turned over to the school system. We need to move and if she qualifies for a diagnosis it’s time to get it.
I know it’s easy to see our pictures and think she’s a typical toddler. But she’s not. And it’s obvious to me. If you asked her, “Where’s your nose?” you wouldn’t get a response. Most likely she wouldn’t even look at you.
Seeing all this, knowing it’s there, having known for a while, I’ve already moved into special-needs-parent mode. I celebrate all her small steps forward. I’m happy to see her develop in the ways she can. I appreciate her good humor when she has it. I don’t push my expectations beyond what she’s capable of.
So yeah. That’s where we stand. The paperwork is filled out. It’s getting sent off. And hopefully she’ll have an evaluation quickly. And hopefully I won’t be kicking myself for waiting this long further down the line.
See that smile? That’s one of our newer developments. Happy Tessa has started to show up more and more over the last month or two. Happy Tessa isn’t the same as Easy Tessa, but there’s something about seeing your child smile when she normally has a vacant expression, it’s special.
And on the bright side? I see less of the gloom and doom, the worrying, the hand-wringing in myself. She is who she is. I want to help her be all she can. And maybe it’s just all the other crazy going on right now, but this feels like something I don’t need to feel anxious about.
I guess she’s not the only one progressing.