Theo, the late bloomer

You begin hoping – and, perhaps, praying – that your child is developing normally from the moment you see two lines on the stick.  At first, there aren’t too many clues: a blob on an ultrasound that your OB tells you looks great, a racing heartbeat, the constant weight gain, perhaps a blood test or two.

Then the baby arrives.  You still don’t have a lot to go by.  You measure development in number of diapers or minutes of feedings.  You check the books (when is the bellybutton thingie going to fall off?) and you sigh in relief when your pediatrician assures you that everything is normal.

But as you emerge from that newborn cocoon, and start leaving the house again, that is when you will notice them.  The Other Babies.  The ones who were born around when your baby was.  And that, friends, is when the Milestone Race begins.

It can be gross motor skills, like in my boys’ case.  Or it could be fine motor skills or language.  There isn’t a lot to go by that first year, so you look at the charts and at other babies and if you’re lucky then it all just ticks by like it should.  And if you’re unlucky, then you’re stuck waiting.

You act nonchalant about it, that your baby is the only one not rolling over, the only one not eating solid food, the only one not crawling.  You can say truthfully that he is making progress, it’s just at his own pace.  But in your heart of hearts, you wonder.  And worry.

Is it something I’m doing or not doing that is keeping him from hitting those milestones?  you ask yourself.  Was he swaddled for too many months, or not given enough tummy time?  Is there something wrong??

He’s just a late bloomer, you insist when people inevitably ask how old he is or whether he’s crawling yet.  My older son was the same way.  But it’s still hard. Everyone is frustrated, even the little late bloomer himself.  You still wait anxiously, especially when the date your older son finally did such-and-such-a-thing has come and gone.

And then it happens.  He rolls over.  And over and over and learns to sleep on his belly, praise the powers that be.  Or the knees move forward and off he crawls, much to everyone’s delight (except the cats, who have to move faster to keep their ears and tails out of reach).  The first sign of communication -“clap, clap” – charms the whole family.

That particular long-awaited milestone is ticked off, the date happily noted in the baby book.  For at least an instant or maybe two, you try not to look ahead for the next one.

Instead you decide to just bask in the glow of that satisfied smile and remind yourself that he’ll get there, one baby step at a time.  And that every achievement is absolutely worth waiting for.

Because before you know it, you’ll be begging him to slow down, come back, be small and snuggly again, even though you’re oh so proud that he’s off and running.