"It's Normal"

Two words that seem insignificant in some contexts, possibly a backhanded compliment in other contexts, but sometimes, hearing those two words can certainly make some weight lift from one's shoulders.

While I'm not so naive as to think that one day we're all going to just wake up and Henry is going to be a typically chatting and moving 2-year-old, hearing his physical therapist remark that his separation anxiety reaction was "normal for this age" was truly a big thing for me to hear.

We started off in the occupational therapy room where Henry had a fairly good time playing.  He started off, as he usually does, very clingy, very whiny, and not wanting to lose the reassurance of my presence (this was also the first time since I went back to work that I took him to his sessions).  But when it came time for PT, it all fell apart.

He was nervous and agitated as we neared the PT room (which is a giant playroom filled with all sorts of toys and equipment with which we adults could go crazy for an evening after drinking...), and became even more disconsolate as our therapist took him over to one of the toys to begin.  Then I realized that I left all of our stuff down the hall in the OT room, so I ducked out to go retrieve them.

I could hear Henry howling at the top of his lungs all the way down the hall, into the OT room, then back up the hall toward PT.  When I returned, his face was contorted in utter despair, fat tears streaming down his cheeks.  He desperately reached his arms toward me, and when therapist Jen put in him the platform swing (something he usually likes), he made every attempt he could with his skinny arms clawing at the air to get to me, giving no thought to the unstable platform or the 3 inches of empty air between the swing and the mat on the floor.

He clambered toward me, crawled in my lap, and buried his face in my neck, wailing as if the world was ending.

That was when Jen reassured me that his reaction.... was normal.  The separation anxiety that kids feel at this age was typical, and Henry displayed something typical!

There are definitely some regrets over pulling Henry out of daycare.  He doesn't have the daily social interaction anymore with other kids and adults, with structured routines and other daily activities.  His social anxiety levels have climbed because of the insulation of living at home and not going to school every day anymore, and while I don't have any hard data on causation/correlation, I have to believe that his lessened exposure to other people is a significant contributor to his nervousness.

But given his age, his body size, and his developmental stage, he likely would've found himself in that limbo -- he's still cognitively an infant in many respects (and in some physical aspects), but he's otherwise physically a toddler.  The Toddler Room next door to the Infant Room was where he'd have gone had he been on the typical developmental track, but those kids would've run over him like trains.  The likely course would be one of the special ed rooms but I have no idea what the pricing structure for that would've been, had it even been an option.

So to hear that he's doing even one thing "normal" felt like a relief, a brief respite.  We'll keep going to as many social functions and services as we can to keep Henry from becoming too socially withdrawn, though it's hard.

"Keep sending him up."