A very full day.

Thank God for elder saints, people whose walk with God has included moments that made their heads spin and their hearts sink.  People who have worried about their kids and gotten frustrated with the way things are but still say fervently, "God is love and God is good."  We kind of  needed that this past Wednesday. 

We took Boogaloo to the local ESD on Wednesday to have her speech development evaluated.  It's a pleasant, school like place, and the teacher and the speech pathologist were very nice people who were very good at putting us at ease.  They took turns playing with Boogaloo and asking us questions about her speech, the sort of activities she does, the sort of activities she doesn't do, and the way she does things when she does do them.  They said she is a darling little girl, and there is definitely nothing wrong with her thinking processes.  However, Boogaloo is in the first percentile for four year olds speech wise, and she might be somewhere on the Autistic Spectrum a well. 

I didn't really react then.  They weren't really telling me anything I hadn't already thought of, and they certainly weren't changing the facts.  I mean, I knew something was wrong.  That's why I set up the appointment.  Seth was a bit more disturbed.  Like he's always said, the protective parent in him doesn't want anything to be wrong with his child.  But Seth, in typical fashion, has settled down into the facts, doing what needs to be done and not worrying about what we can't change yet.  On the outside, I do the same, but on the inside, I'm waffling a little bit.  It's not good, and it's not helpful, but here's what runs through my head.

In the high moments, I find myself appreciating how special she is, with or without a diagnosis.  She entertains herself so well.  She has, on top of her intelligence, imagination, curiosity, and strength of will, a real capacity to be happy, and it's fun to watch her exercise it.  I notice some of the things that she does, and I think, "Okay, maybe that's what they were looking at."  And it makes sense to me.  I notice others and say, "Well, that is just typical four-year-old."  In those moments, she comes into clearer focus for me.   

In the low moments, I wonder if I will ever have a normal, complete heart-to-heart conversation with my daughter.  I wonder what she would be like if she were at a normal point in her development.  Will she ever ask me why the sky is blue or where animals go when they die?  These are questions most parents have fielded already, but even though I know she's a curious little thing, I don't get those kind of questions. 

The good news:  We've picked a good preschool.  The ladies practically rejoiced when we told them what preschool she is preregistered at.  And with a good preschool environment, there is a strong possibility that she will outgrow most of her symptoms.  Until then we wait for the staff at ESD to get back at us.  They're going to schedule a couple of observations to see her in her normal surroundings.  We proceed with our lives until they give us some more definite diagnosis and direction (Gosh, that sounds awful.  It's not like our lives have been interrupted.)

It would be easy to swim in all this uncertainty  (That kind of swimming is the only swimming I'm good at, actually.), but God decided to head me off at the pass this time.  After we left the ESD, we drove down to Silverton and spent the afternoon with Seth's grandparents.    Pake and Beppe are some of those people who say "Praise the Lord" with so much quiet feeling that you can't help but wonder what God did for them and does for them.  Sitting in their house and absorbing a little of their perspective in life is often a breath of fresh air after the chaotic spinning in my head.

Beppe sat us down around her dining room table, and told us, "It's okay to be upset about these things.  You give it to God, but then you still have to digest it emotionally, and God understands that.  That's how he made us."  She was talking about more than this particular anxiety, but about all of life's anxieties.  "You know, as a mother, you think, I just get my kids grown, and then I stop worrying about them, but you never do.  You always want to make life better.  But then you just have to accept that you can't.  Only God can do that, and he does.  He really does.  Even now, I see, you just have to trust him."

We told her that the ladies had been particularly happy about our choice of preschool, and she said, "You see? You take that as a sign. God is still watching you, and he's going to be with you.  You are not doing this alone.  We are never alone." 

So I'm digesting.  I've had some help.  I talked to my mom, my husband, and a couple of close friends.  I've caught myself in some pretty silly worries, but I've also had reason to rejoice in some small gains just in the last two days.  She's been using verbs more often these last couple of days, largely because of a conscious effort on the part of her parents to talk about action words.   Today, she told me, without prompting, that the robin was flying.  That's hopeful.  It makes me happy.