May 13, 2008


Tomorrow morning Husband and I will take The Swimmy for a developmental pediatric assessment to confirm what I’m sure we already know – she has some form of ADD. We will spend hours answering questions while she plays special games and answers some questions of her own. This is after filling out two separate packets of questions filled with behavioral assessments, teacher supplied opinions and academic standing, socialization assessments and family medical history. I even had to try to remember about my pregnancy and her birth.

In two weeks we will get the doctor’s professional opinion and recommendations. She will either be labeled or she won’t.

There’s a part of me that wants to hear the label because it means we can define all the issues we’ve been seeing these past six months. And that means there would be a plan. A focus. Some answers. But the other side of that is recognizing she actually has a little part of her that is broken. And that makes me sad.

As a parent you wish for your children a life that is pure and loving and free of challenges (aside from the ones you put in front of them). You look at the little girl wrapped in a soft pink blanket laid on your chest and you don’t see group socialization classes, medication and routines followed religiously.

My daughter is sweet and kind and bright. She is a vivacious introvert and loves to dance. She loves fairies and butterflies, her family and any animal she can think of. She loves to swing and play and laugh. She is scared of bugs but not of being on stage. She is sassy and silly and wonderful and I swear she floats when she walks. She is all of these things wrapped up in a soft and sparkly pink ribbon.

I am scared she will lose some of these things. I am scared that she will think she is broken. I am fearful that she won’t understand “different” isn’t the same thing as “bad”. But really? I want her life to get easier so that she can enjoy it. I want her to have the skills to be a good friend and a strong girl. I want her to have the structure to make good decisions – not just easy ones.

It’s been a long walk to get where we are right now – standing at proverbial fork in the road. And tomorrow we will take one more step before we know which way to turn. So, G-d, if I could just get my foot to feel a little less heavy, I’d appreciate it.

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2 Responses to “Labeling”

  1. Kim H. Says:

    You know, I’ve read many a post here – and I’m convinced that if anyone can handle this situation with grace and poise… it’s you. No matter what happens – she’ll know that you’re there with her every step of the way, and really that’s the only thing kids need.
    You’ll explain just enough to her for her to understand, but not to much where she’ll feel so different from all the other kids.
    Keep your chin up, and everything will work out according to his plan…

  2. MereCat Says:

    I’m sorry you are going through this. My mother is a first grade teacher, and she would say that it’s a blessing that if there is a problem that it can be handled. Your daughter will enjoy life far more than she will struggle thanks to good care. It’s going to be okay.
    Thinking of you.