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Wednesday, July 31, 2013

I Suck at Structured Play


That’s the short of it. 

Sophie had her two-year well visit back in April.  She has been what is considered slow to talk and/or acquire language.  I haven’t felt alarmed about it, though as a parent, I would love to hear her little voice putting more words together.  Thankfully, we have a very laid back pediatrician.  She suggested that if Sophie wasn’t progressing or making a significant effort within the next two months then we might contact Early On, just to have her evaluated. 

This seemed reasonable, and is exactly what we did.  In late June, two women came to our house to evaluate Sophie.  When it comes to her receptive language skills, she tested out of the book (the book stops at a five-year level… at that point it is assumed the child is ready to begin school).  I know Sophie is intelligent and observant, but watching her follow through with complex tasks and questions blew my mind.  Her young brain has been very busy taking it all in. 

When it comes to her expressive language skills, however, she tested “just under” what is considered normal (although later it was talked about how she is nearly a year behind on her language development, so who knows exactly where she falls, although it is most certainly not in the “normal” range).

As a parent, I have struggled with labels and how they are so quickly thrown onto children at every turn.  I realize these labels are meant to have a constructive element: they allow children to qualify for certain services, give parents some relief in knowing what their child may be struggling with, etc.  With a label like speech delayed, however, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve somehow not done things the right way, or played with her enough, or, or, or…

Beating myself up is useless and counterproductive, I know.

Then there’s the part of me that wants to justify how awesome she is.  “Look!  Look at the puzzles she can do!  Look at her hand-eye coordination working with tools, screws, latches, etc.!”  Eli can’t do most of the puzzles that Sophie sits down and does easily.  He struggles with fine motor tasks that she breezes through.  Clearly, they’ve developed particular motor skills at vastly different rates.  But because Eli never stops talking it’s as if he gets a pass on the other motor skills.  And because Sophie’s “delay” is something that is quickly noticed as being absent, well, she doesn’t fly through.

On the day of the evaluation, a plan of action was laid out for us.  The women that came to visit us were so kind, and clearly understood how hard it can be to hear that your child is delayed.  They didn’t pressure us to accept their help or services and assured us we could take all the time we needed to decide how we wanted to proceed.

We didn’t need time to think about it.  Of course we are accepting their offer of help.  Why?  Well, why not?  What made me agreeable to this intervention and offer is that it is all based in fun.  We will not be drilling Sophie, or otherwise overloading her with language in the hopes that she’ll just get it one day. 

Instead, we have a speech pathologist that comes to our home and plays with Sophie, modeling techniques that we can then use with her.  It’s only been two weeks, and I can already see improvement in Sophie’s attempts to say words. 

This doesn’t mean it’s easy.  There are very specific ways to play with her, techniques to use, music to listen to (more on that in a moment).  I’ve had flashbacks to the days of physical therapy with Eli for his torticollis.  He was three months old when he began PT, and there was a rigorous schedule of stretches I had to do with him each day.  It was miserable.  I spent most of his waking time stretching him, and making him do tummy time.  When I didn’t do the stretches as prescribed, the therapist would berate me and make me feel like a terrible mom.  Needless to say, I switched to a different PT office, where things improved.  Still, it was hard to spend my free time with Eli doing things he so very clearly hated.  I just wanted to hang out with and enjoy my baby.  Instead, I had to reverse the months of muscle tightness that had built up in his neck because he was jammed in my belly with his head cocked sideways (asynclitic is the technical term).

When I look back, the PT seems easier.  I didn’t have to fake anything, I just had to do it.  With Sophie, the play is very specific, and there are certain techniques we need to implement (silence, listening, waiting for a response, trying to get her to use eye contact with us a lot more).  Then there’s the music.  On our first home visit, the pathologist handed over a CD of kid songs that are meant to encourage participation, repetition, and speech development.  She handed the disc over with a warning: “These songs are going to drive you crazy.”  I knew this before she opened her mouth.

I’m just not that mom.  The one that plays kid-centric music, cheerful sing-alongs, etc.  We love music in our house and listen to it all the time.  Just not necessarily “kid music.”  We’re just over one week of listening to this devil music on a daily basis.  The kids have slowly gotten into it and I, of course, have the most annoying song on the disc stuck in my head every night at bedtime.  I want to choke the guy that sings the Puppy Song (I refuse to look at the playlist and learn the actual title of the song).  It is, naturally, Sophie’s favorite song. 

So it’s slow progress.  My initial resistance to playing “a certain way” has begun to wear off (though it is hard for me when things are less spontaneous, when I feel like there is a purpose to play other than play itself), I’m dealing with the music (okay, and even like two of the thirteen songs on the disc now), and most importantly, feeling less caught up in the labels and tests and feelings of inadequacy and more focused on what matters: Sophie.

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