Left Behind

When we realized that Olivia was delayed, before we had her diagnosis, I worried about how we’d all deal with her being left behind by her peers.

Of course, when she was a baby, it didn’t matter. There weren’t all that many kids around that were exactly her age.

But then my nephew was born just before O turned a year old and those old fears came back. See, when Jaxon was born, Olivia, at a year old, still wasn’t crawling. She’d JUST started showing signs of being able to sit up on her own. I had no idea when she’d crawl or walk. And at that point, I knew that the newborn we were welcoming into the world would walk before Olivia did.

And…it didn’t matter. I realized that no matter when Jaxon met his milestones (and that kid was right on target for everything, heck, he was born on his flipping due date for Pete Sakes!) Olivia wasn’t in any diminished by his accomplishments.

He did walk before Olivia did. He was about 13 months old when he started walking. Which means he walked about four months sooner than O. And again, it didn’t matter. She was crawling by then, which of course made a big difference in my own outlook. She was showing us all that she was doing things at her own pace. By that point, I knew she’d get there. With the therapies we had her doing and all the work we were putting into that kid, we knew those goals would be met.

But as O gets older, as we face down the decision to keep her in preschool another year and postpone the academic challenge of kindergarten, I feel that vague sense of being left behind. I feel like O’s challenges are becoming more obvious.

And that saddens me. Not for me, for her. I hope she doesn’t feel like she’s being left behind. I hope she doesn’t watch her peers head off for bigger, better things and feel like she’s being held back by us, by society, by genetics.

I watch her play with Jaxon, this boy she’s known her whole life, and I love it. I love how she interacts with him. I love how she rough houses with him, that sense of confidence she has as they wrestle on the floor. I tease my brother that the nicest thing he ever did for me was having his son. Jaxon has challenged Olivia from the time he was one year old and she was two. He walked first and she watched, learned and basically decided, “Hell, if he can do it, I probably can to.” And she did.

He’s been playing pretend for a couple of years and she’s watched, learned and now, she pretends too. She tells the elaborate stories of a princess who is locked away but is having a party anyway and needs presents and cupcakes and tea.

She pushes Jaxon around (he’s a short little fellow) and she feels confident running from him or after him.

I want her to have that confidence at school, which is one of the reasons we’re doing another year of preschool. Most of the kids in her class this year are younger than she is. Most of them will be in the same preschool class again next year. I feel like that gives her a boost, a shot of confidence as she faces another year in the same class with the same teachers and the same kids. And maybe by the time the 2012/2013 school year starts and all those little preschoolers become kindergarteners, she’ll be that much more ready, that much more confident, that much less likely to be left behind.

Maybe. This is a mother’s hope and prayer and dream.