The following day more than made up for it. He had one of his quarterly check-ups by his TCS team and they all agreed; Garrett is about 3 months advanced in all 5 areas of development. That's not 'advanced' from what they were expecting, it's 'advanced' period, in spite of his postulated set backs and hurdles. Boo-ya.
For my own recollection: He says good, mama, bu-bye and "hey dada!", he pulls to stand (even against something flat like a wall, which I'm told there is a distinction) and cruises. He uses the pincer grasp, makes lengthy social eye contact with good interaction and plays well with 'purpose' toys, like ones that have push button, fitted and stacking features.
Like the 100 other times we've been to the International Craniofacial Institute, we mingle with families managing similar syndromes. But for the first time, I was on the other end of an awkward situation. For the first time, Gus was nervous and afraid of the other kids.
There was an extremely vivacious, animated, loud, 7 year old girl with a tracheostomy. We weren't able to understand 90% of what she was saying through her trach, and the sound frightened Gus. He kept trying to hide behind me. I distracted her and we chatted about her favorite TV shows. Then a bright little 5 year old boy came in, and Gus asked The Dreaded Question,
"What happened to your face?"
There is so much pain in those 5 words. No matter how centered and forward we live our lives, that question is like a kick in the gut every time. A time-stopping reminder that instantly drains all the happiness and color out of the room, if just for the few moments it takes to catch our breath and shake it off. And now we were the offenders.
After all these years, all this time to think about it, after all my talk and hypothesizing... I didn't know what to say. As the parent, the one with the info, I've always taken the lead, explaining exactly what it is that make my children look different; "Do you feel that bony ridge under your eyes? It's your cheek bone! My little boy was born without his". But this little boys parents didn't say a thing. There's always the chance no one heard him, right? I didn't know what syndrome their son had. I didn't know what to explain. I froze. Gus saved the day with a shrug of his shoulders and invited the little boy to play with his Spider-Man and Venom action figures. His new friend was just as nonchalant, and off they went. I still don't know what would be the perfect thing to do/say. Maybe by the next time I'll be ready. We better.
But now we're home and recuperating from the excitement of the last several days. We even broke ground on our garden...
But soon it became all about...
And eventually it was more like...
There was an extremely vivacious, animated, loud, 7 year old girl with a tracheostomy. We weren't able to understand 90% of what she was saying through her trach, and the sound frightened Gus. He kept trying to hide behind me. I distracted her and we chatted about her favorite TV shows. Then a bright little 5 year old boy came in, and Gus asked The Dreaded Question,
"What happened to your face?"
There is so much pain in those 5 words. No matter how centered and forward we live our lives, that question is like a kick in the gut every time. A time-stopping reminder that instantly drains all the happiness and color out of the room, if just for the few moments it takes to catch our breath and shake it off. And now we were the offenders.
After all these years, all this time to think about it, after all my talk and hypothesizing... I didn't know what to say. As the parent, the one with the info, I've always taken the lead, explaining exactly what it is that make my children look different; "Do you feel that bony ridge under your eyes? It's your cheek bone! My little boy was born without his". But this little boys parents didn't say a thing. There's always the chance no one heard him, right? I didn't know what syndrome their son had. I didn't know what to explain. I froze. Gus saved the day with a shrug of his shoulders and invited the little boy to play with his Spider-Man and Venom action figures. His new friend was just as nonchalant, and off they went. I still don't know what would be the perfect thing to do/say. Maybe by the next time I'll be ready. We better.
But now we're home and recuperating from the excitement of the last several days. We even broke ground on our garden...
But soon it became all about...
And eventually it was more like...
I guess the squash, corn and tomatoes will have to plant themselves.
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