I want to thank you...

Yesterday, I poured my heart out here with all of my fears about my son being a late talker.  I asked for help.  I asked for sanity.  I asked for suggestions.    And all of you out there simply delivered.

Here are a few things I learned from yesterday's post:

1.       Einstein may have been speech-delayed.  (The jury is still out on this fact.  I found sources stating both that he was/wasn't speech-delayed.  Either way, in my research I found lots of famous scientists who also were thought to be speech-delayed.  Which means The Incredible Hulk might be a nuclear physicist.  So, there's always that.)

2.       The phrase “speech-delayed” scares the ever-loving crap out of me.  Even though no one used that phrase (other than me ad nauseam in the previous item.)   Even though that phrase doesn't even describe TIH.  It still scares the ba-jesus out of me.

3.  I forgot to mention several things about TIH's history in my post.

- For one, his hearing is fine - probably too good.  Receptively, we have no concerns.  He responds to multiple-step commands, dances to music, can mimic the sound a lion makes – all of that kind of stuff.  Though, everyone who mentioned this is totally right – these things should be considered when dealing with late talkers.  

- Someone also mentioned how ear infections can play a role in kiddos who aren’t speaking yet.  The good news is, TIH has only had two of those – ever.

- A few people mentioned socialization.  We have no concerns about his socialization (other than the fact that he bites his friends.)  At his 18-month-old check-up, I had to fill out this survey about his social behaviors.  They explained that it was an early screener for Autism Spectrum Disorders.  The survey confirmed that he’s developing typically.  However, if social deficits existed, it would also explain the speech thing – so, anyone who mentioned this was spot on as well.

4.       I also forgot to mention my amazing godson.  When I saw him at Thanksgiving 2010 (he almost 15 months at the time) he wasn’t saying a whole lot of anything.  The next time I got to see him was the following summer and he was a. talking. machine.  Then a few months later, at this year’s Thanksgiving, he was reciting entire (complicated) passages from Despicable Me.  He’s a little genius kiddo.  After talking to my sister-in-law about him yesterday, I felt better immediately.  He went through such an amazing transformation in just a short time.  It gives me hope for TIH.  Several of you readers shared similar stories and they all helped to ease my mind so much.

5.  Don't read Amazon.com reviews.  During my aforementioned Albert Einstein research, I stumbled upon a book called The Einstein Syndrome which is about late-talkers.  I read some of the reviews of the book which were basically a bunch of horror stories of children whose parents thought their late talking was "just a phase" and all of the kids ended up having severe problems.  The problems referred to were in line with the author's assertion that late talking is an early warning sign of future issues - drug addiction, suicidality, criminality, and a bunch of other REALLY FUN STUFF.  I want to purchase a copy of this book and burn it.  I also want Amazon.com to know that NO - these reviews were NOT HELPFUL.

Lastly, can I just say?  I love the Internet.  Seriously.  I love you guys.  I love you for reading.  I love you for never judging me (openly) about how freaking insane I am.  I love you for all of your knowledge and wisdom and support and prayers and encouragement.  I love you, most of all, for allowing me to put myself out here, time and time again, and not ever making me feel sorry for it.  I just can’t say it enough.  You are all my shining stars.  Thanks again.

When you say nothing at all...

This post started out to be a very, very different blog post.  Good thing I procrastinated because now it has a much happier ending.  Well, if not happier, at least humbler.  If that's even a word.

The Incredible Hulk has been quite an amazing little mover.  Motorically speaking, he's nailing all of his milestones.  This kid is more coordinated than I ever will be.  Not that that's really saying anything.  At 9 months he's easily navigating his way around our house.  Crawls, pulls up, stands momentarily (before he realizes he has no idea what he is doing and comes crashing down), picks things up with the pincer grasp of a surgeon - honestly, I'm so impressed by that.

But in the talking department, he hasn't really made any movement at all.  Sure, he babbles, he'll say "ba ba ba ba" indiscriminately.  He makes lots of adorable little noises (some of which kind of sound like chatter) but definitely not what is described in the books.  And, being the overachiever I am - this worries me. And though, I have absolutely no worries about his hearing or socialization, I still found it concerning that many of his same-aged baby friends are waving to each other on the playground, saying "bye bye," and asking for "ma ma" or "da da" (knowing full well who "ma ma" or "da da" is.)

I know, I know.  You're not supposed to compare babies.  But, I can't help it, okay?

I thought the absence of "speech" had to do with the fact that TIH has a significant case of ankyloglossia. Ankyloglossia is a fancy way of saying his frenulum is located at the distal end of his tongue which is an even fancier way of saying he is "tongue tied."  In fact, the whole reason we are having a frenulectomy performed next month is so that he won't have speech problems later in life.  So, at TIH's 9 month appointment when the subject of baby babbling came up, I came armed with the defense that he was probably having some difficulty because of this defect.  Apparently not.  According to our pediatrician, the ankyloglossia is "not that limiting," but assured me I shouldn't be too worried if I didn't have concerns regarding his hearing or socialization.

The rest of the "Well Baby" visit was downhill from there.

Me: So, even though he's not saying the typical "ma ma" "da da" kind of stuff, that's completely normal right?
Him: Ummm...well, it can be.
Me: (horrified expression)
Him: (begins to do physical exam on baby in which he waves to him and baby doesn't wave back)
Me: (more horrified expression)
Him: (notices eczema) Continue to use the cream twice a day everywhere, but only do it once a day on these places on his face.  What kind of lotion do you use on his face?
Me:  (has only been using prescription cream once a day) Okay, I can do that.  I don't use lotion on his face.
Him: Start using lotion on his face.
Me: (mortified expression)
Him: Are you nursing still?
Me:  (relieved) YES!  And he's doing GREAT!
Him: Pay attention to see if the eczema breakouts have any correlation to what you're consuming in your diet.  You'd be surprised what can come through the breast milk.
Me: (jumps off a cliff)
Him: (shouts as I plummet down) Oh!  And you should probably be reading to him more, too!

So, for the next few days, I walked around feeling very defeated and basically like the worst mother in the world.  My pediatrician who always is able to put my mind at rest about stuff instead handed me a long list of things I feel like I've been doing wrong.  (And honestly, that isn't what he did at all, but leave me alone in my little pity party, right now.)  And now, the pressure I had already put on myself and TIH had quadrupled in strength since the doctor's appointment.

That pressure is going to eventually kill me if I don't just CALMDOWN.
The "Mompetition" out there is pretty bad and there's no escaping that.  But, sometimes, I think the worst of it is that which we do to ourselves.

I was complaining about it to my husband during bath time, telling him how lucky we are that TIH is such a great baby and of all the things that I can go wrong when it comes to being pregnant, having babies, and raising them (it is a miracle that any of us are even here, honestly) - we really got lucky that he just happens to be a quiet little mover with a (totally treatable) birth defect.  It was at this moment that my husband stopped talking and we both listened a little closer to the babbles coming out of TIH.  Babbles that sounded distinctly like "ma ma ma ma..."

Sure, he wasn't talking to me, but he was saying something.

Then, I was changing him the other day (TIH hates diaper changes) and as he cried, I could hear some of his little babbles sound like "uh ma, uh ma, uh ma" and he reached up so I would pick him up. 

Yesterday, TIH was home with my husband (because he's sick again, not that that should come as a surprise to anyone) and when the garage door opened my husband said "Hey, buddy, mommy's home!"  My husband swears that he immediately started whining in his "I don't feel good" kind of way, but that it sounded like he was saying "ah ma, ah ma, ah maaaa."

I don't know if he's saying mama yet or not.  I'm not writing it down in any baby book or bragging to any of my friends.  One of the best pieces of advice I ever got from a friend and fellow mommy was to relax about all of the "developmental deadlines."  "He will walk.  He will talk.  He'll do it all.  Just let him do it in his own time."

She's right.  I need to just. flippin'. relax.

I can compare him to other babies all I want, but then I think of friends and fellow parents I have who have watched their babies undergo serious and invasive heart or lung or brain surgery.  Of the mommies who aren't sure their babies will ever talk or walk.  My heart twists in my chest when I hear of another baby taken too early because of some strange medical problem that doesn't even go on the same scale as something as silly as ankyloglossia.  I bet those people don't care if another kid is already walking or talking or writing his dissertation on War and Peace. 

I have a friend who has an adorable little guy with some very rare and special needs and not too long ago she recommended this book to her fellow "special needs mommies."  I think the title pretty much says it all:

Shut Up About Your Perfect Kid


So, I'm shutting up now.
He's fine.
And he's calling for "ah ma ah ma ah ma..."