Where does one start when she hasn't blogged in over half a year? I don't know, but I will try. I've had friends ask me, "Why don't you blog anymore?" and I usually blow it off as not having time or energy. The thing is, I've got lots to say. I love to write. I have sweet little dumplings to blog about. It's not until recently that I realized why I've been hiding. Life has been too raw and too real at times, and I don't know how to hold back with the emotions and feelings that I have. I fear scrutiny from both people who know me and those who don't. But here's the thing -- the other day, I came across a blogger whose son also have global developmental delay. Her blog drew me in, and I couldn't be torn away. For so long, I've felt so alone in this journey. And now to know there are others out there whose children are similar to Teddy makes me feel a little less lost. When I think of how her blog helped me, it makes me wonder if maybe I should blog more to help myself and to help others? I don't know, and I'm not going to promise more blogging at this point, but what I do know is that I'm going to try to give an honest report of what we've been up to lately.
I'm still married and still in love with Mr. Walter. He works a lot, and I hate it, but I know we couldn't have the life we have if it weren't for him and his strong work ethic. He turns the big FOUR-OH this year so we're in the works of planning a fun vacation of some sort, one without kids, and that makes my heart go pitter-patter so fast! We both need a break, and I'm thinking somewhere tropical could be just what's in order.
Baby Teddy. I suppose I should no longer call him Baby Teddy since he'll be two years old in August. He's still my sweet little baby boy though in so many ways. He still does not walk unassistated -- he can cruise furniture and walk holding our hands. He was non-verbal for so long, and he just now has started to repeat a lot of words we're saying. We're continuing physical, occupational and speeh therapies through the state's early intervention program, and we also do physical therapy and speech therapy through other providers through our private insurance. Thursdays are the only days we don't have an appointment; we are busy!
People ask all the time how Teddy is doing. There are some days that I can focus on the positive -- he's had no regression, he's not a fussy child, and he keeps showing improvements. Two weeks ago, Teddy had tubes put in his ears. In two weeks, Teddy will have a follow-up MRI. This won't solve any mysteries but it might be able to provide us with some comparison of the brain injury from two years ago.
Some days though, I get down and focus on the fact that no one knows for sure what the future holds. We don't know if Teddy will ever catch up with his peers. We don't know when he will walk on his own or when he'll talk. I don't mind talking about his delays, and I don't want anyone to ever be afraid to ask about him. It's the unanswered questions that plague my mind and my heart. The truth is, I sometimes feel incredibly burdened by the fear of all the unknown, but I also remind myself to feel blessed that he is a survivor who fights a battle every day with a smile on his face.