It’s Official

After 5 years, innumberable doctor’s, therapist’s and specialist’s appointments, blood tests, x-rays, MRIs and on and on, Precious is no longer “developmentally delayed with a suspected developmental disability” but is officially developmentally disabled (aka ‘MR’) and we have the psychologist’s report to prove it.

I wasn’t surprised when I heard the results, but I cried in the appointment, and later that night, I cried and cried so much that I burst a bunch of blood vessels in my eyes. The next day at work, my co-workers and boss were looking at me with concern, but there was no way I was ready to talk about things. I still have told only a tiny handful of people for fear of the waterworks overwhelming me.

What is this diagnosis other than a piece of paper? It doesn’t change anything and my child is exactly the same as the day before the appointment  The only differences are that we have something to work with when we meet with the school board on Monday to determine where to place Precious next year, we have to get serious about getting her Registered Disability Savings Plan (in Canada) set up and our will amended, and I suddenly feel a lot more patient with my daughter.

Strange, right? Rather than feeling the need to push her even more, I feel a sudden serenity about things. I don’t know how long it will last, but I keep thinking that if my child is developmentally 2.5 – 3 years old, she is incredibly enriched, and is doing so well. I mean, she speaks in complex sentences, has been toilet trained for almost two years, sleeps through the night, and even plays a little piano – with the correct notes and rhythm! Rather than feel frustrated with her behaviour, I’m giving her a break and letting her be a little.

All the therapies and directed play, gymnastics and piano lessons will continue, and hopefully my softened attitude will continue, too. She’ll succeed at things in her own time.

6 Responses to It’s Official