Last Thursday Part Two

Speech Therapy

Thursday it was finally time to take Taters to the speech therapist, so come the afternoon we dragged our weary arses over to the hospital for the initial consultation. Being back there made a few unwelcome memories come rushing back, despite it being a totally different part of the hospital, the smells and the sounds are all the same and I found it hard to be honest.

The appointment only lasted half an hour and basically consisted of us telling them about his issues (no words, communicates through gestures and sounds…) and them asking questions about his birth, play habits, general health, that kind of thing.  Anyway we’re now on a waiting list to see a therapist for some one-on-one sessions and currently none the wiser as to why he doesn’t speak, or how to help him, or when he might speak. No better or worse off than before we went really.

But I’m now more anxious than before. Just going to the hospital has made it official, he is speech delayed. My fears have gone into over drive; what if there’s something wrong with him, some kind of mental issue, will he end up in a special school? Will he be different to other kids and find it hard to make friends? On and on and on my worrying little head goes.

I don’t care what career my son ends up doing when he grows up, I don’t care if he’s covered in tattoos, has a mohawk and lives in a caravan, or wears a suit and tie and lives in a penthouse suite, I don’t mind if he’s straight or gay, I just care that he’s happy. That means absolutely everything to me.

I know he’s a bit different from other kids, in the same way his dad is a bit different from other blokes, but now I’m fretting that there’s something wrong with him… I wasn’t worried before, I’ve met so many mothers who are or were in the same boat, or who know someone else who was/is. I think I need to remind myself of their stories before I send myself into a tailspin!