The Process

\\\\\\\\ Those opening slash marks were typed by Jack.  He is currently playing at my feet.  And by playing, I mean continuously unplugging the battery charger to my computer.  When being lured away redirected to play with other toys, he can often figure out what his Mommy is up to and then comes THE squeal.  That would be THE squeal that breaks glass.  After said squeal, I often check our front porch to take inventory of all the neighborhood dogs that have spontaneously appeared. 

Anyway, this post isn't about my Little Siren.  It's an update on his big brother, Emmett.  Last month we got a call from the place in Birmingham whose waiting list we'd been on for close to 12 months.  Due to a cancellation, we were being scheduled to start the diagnosing process with Emmett.  I only took a few pictures from our first visit.  Ross and I were able to make the first trip together.  To the right, are pictures of Emmett entertaining himself on the drive to Birmingham.  The top shot shows him playing with my necklace.  The second picture shows him making some of his usual hand motions along with his cute little smirked face.  That dimple coupled with those big ole' blue eyes, can render this mama helpless. 

Upon arrival, we encountered one of the highlights of the trip for Emmett.  That's right we got to ride an elevator.  Joy abounded for our Little Man.  We exited the elevator and checked in.  Below is a picture of our view from the waiting room. 

Thankfully we never waited for long periods of time. 

I couldn't help but look around at the others in the waiting room and wonder what their stories were.  I'm sure that there was a level of connectivity that would have quickly surfaced had we had time to talk.

Our first visit was with a speech pathologist.  She asked me and Ross alot of questions.  We then stepped out into an observation room so that she could begin her testing with Emmett.  It was really cool to be able to watch.  I knew the questions that he could answer. Of course there are the questions that he could answer and then there are the questions that he would answer. Ross and I had prayed that above all, those testing Emmett would be able to get an accurate picture of him.  We simply trusted that our prayer was being answered.

One thing that you can know for sure is that you won't have to guess when Emmett is finished.  He'll let you know.  That's just what he did for the lady below.  He began saying "Aw done" and "Dee end". 

 It was decided that we should take a lunch break and try again later.

 Being in downtown Birmingham, we walked to lunch.

We literally feasted on Jim 'N Nick's Bar-B-Q.  Those cheddar biscuits...oh glory.

We returned to the clinic for more appointments that included meeting with a social worker and continued testing with the speech pathologist.  I so wish I had a picture of Emmett getting his hearing checked.  He actually sat in the sound booth with headphones on and tested beautifully.  Our day ended with having Emmett's vision checked.  We left the clinic with a three-year-old with dialated eyes. 

Make that a very tired three-year-old.  It was a long day for our Little Man, but he did so well.

He slept most of the way home.

Our next day of appointments didn't go so smoothly.  The date coincided with Ross's office opening, so this time it was just Emmett and me. 

 

Our day started with a psychiatric evaluation.  I answered question after question.  Meanwhile, Emmett was evaluated thru playing.  At one point, he came over to me.  I encouraged him to return to his testing.  He turned around, completed the task at hand, sat in his chair and said,"Mama,...you happy now?"  I had never heard him say that.  I looked around at the others to see if they had heard the same thing.  I then looked back at Emmett and said,"Yes, baby, Mama's happy now." 

I mentioned to the psychiatrist that Ellie Kate had been a strength for Emmett and if we needed to confirm this Ellie Kate herself would come and share all of her data that she had collected concerning Emmett. The doctor went on to say that she had recently been at a conference where the speaker said that he wished every delayed child could be given a big sister.

That appointment lasted for a good long while.  I had already heard some "Aw done"s and "Dee end"s.

Our next appointment was with an occupational therapist.  I left the room to observe on the other side of the glass.  I could quickly tell that this appointment was over before it even started.  Instead of stacking blocks, Emmett would throw them on the floor and say,"Dee End!"

By this point I had been told that our 1:00 appointment had been cancelled due to the doctor's sickness.  I suggested that we break for lunch and try again later.

Emmett and I went to lunch.  We returned to give our time with the occupational therapist another try.

I was feeling "Aw done" by this point as well.

Bless their hearts, those girls tried and tried to entice Emmett to participate in their testing.  After much prompting, he would occasionally comply.  One of them told me that she knew that he could do more than what she had seen.  It didn't end well.  He took off his shoes and repeatedly said "No" as I drug him out from under a table and back to the waiting room.

Our last appointment for the day was with a nutritionist.  Emmett was resistent again. This mama was emotional.  The nutritionist asked me my name and I cried.  I accepted a tissue, wiped away my tears, and promised myself that I could cry all the way home if I would just finish up here.

We completed our last appointment and then we headed home.  Emmett was asleep before we ever got out of Birmingham.

It's funny how I'm always caught off guard by my own emotions.  I guess I psych myself out to think that I've hit an even keel.  No more highs.  No more lows.  Just steady.  I go from mountain top floating to give me a butterfly net and my own pasture at break neck speed, making every emotional pitstop along the way.

As I sat answering the psychiatrist's questions, I would think,"We aren't talking about my child. Emmett is fine.  No delays.  He's just who he is."  Of course, I would come back to reality and realize that we were indeed talking about my child.

The Lord has been ever so faithful along this road.  The truth is that Emmett is the Lord's.  Ross and I have only been entrusted with this important, little soul.  I'm reminded of James 1:17,"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  Emmett is our good and perfect gift sent to us from our Father. Period.

If you are around Emmett for any amount of time you will see that he is unhindered by the opinions of those around him.  He is who he is in more than just a three-year-old little boy kind of way.  He has a freedom about him that I will never personally know. 

 I have a fear that I must continually give to the Lord.  It's Emmett's future.  I know it's bright and promising.  I know the Lord will guide and direct each step along the way.  But the hard part for me is that Emmett won't be three forever.  I don't know what things years down the road look like.  I want to shield him from curious looks.  I don't want a cruel word ever spoken to or about him.

My fears often seem loud and over powering.  That's when I'm thankful that God is consistent, never changing and His Spirit gently reminds me of His promises.  HE DOES NOT CHANGE.  My emotions are haywire at best.  They are all over the map.  Sometimes it just ain't pretty.

But in the midst of it He wraps heartache in mercy.  He brings people into our lives to walk along side of us.  He opens doors that we didn't even know existed. Only He can produce something worthwhile out of pain. And even louder than Jack's squeal in my ears, John 1:16 rings true in my soul,"From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another."

We go back at the end of the month for a diagnosis and recommendations.  Thank you, thank you, thank you for your prayers and kind words.