This is Big G:
As many of you know, Big G isn’t the easiest child in the entire world but really, is any 4-year-old easy?
I spent a lot of time telling myself that all preschoolers do weird things. They have control issues–whose preschooler doesn’t have a 15-minute tantrum when you change his sheets or sing the bedtime songs in the wrong order…right? Right?! Plus, try describing his odd behavior to somebody without accompanying video: “So my kid does this thing where he jerks his head and talks to the air. Oh, and he swats at invisible things, too.” It sounds crazy, like I’m overreacting about my kid pretending.
Except he’s not pretending. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s not pretending.
I finally caught it on video and e-mailed it to my sister-in-law, who just so happens to be a pediatrician. (Handy, ain’t it?) My brother called to tell me she needed to show it to some colleagues to get their opinions. Ha ha, Peter, very funny. You totally got me that time.
Except he wasn’t kidding.
The general consensus is that I need to take Big G to a pediatric neurologist. If they rule out seizures and Tourette’s, we should probably go to a child development specialist to rule out an Autism Spectrum Disorder.
I’m trying to be strong. Nothing is concrete. All I have at this point is an inkling that something might be off.
But my heart is breaking.
I’ve spent a little time trying to decide why I’m so upset. After all, we have no official diagnosis, and even the possible diagnoses aren’t really that bad. I even wondered if I was upset that I might have a less-than-perfect child. Am I worried about how much work that would entail? Am I that shallow?
I’m not. I just want my child (perfect or less than) to have a perfect life. Logically I know that’s not possible, but if I had my way my son would never be mocked, hurt, upset, rejected…any of those terrible things that make life hard. And let’s admit it–anything that sets a child apart is cannon fodder for his or her peers.
I knew motherhood would be hard.
I never expected it to rip my heart out of my chest.