Noah's having a little bit of a time change hangover. Although he's sleeping a little better through the nights, I don't think anyone informed him that he should be sleeping an hour later and taking naps on schedule.
Since Noah hadn't taken a nap before his occupational therapy today, he wasn't the best participant. Julie tried offering him some peaches, motivating him to get his hands to his mouth with miscellaneous little gadgets and by sprinkling some on his fingers. He tried maybe for a bit but he wasn't really having much of it. Next week I'll have to remember to take some Costco pumpkin pie with me, that is Noah's number one food motivator. I still don't think he'll get it to his mouth on his own, but he might try harder for pumpkin pie.
I try so very hard to camouflage my worry about Noah's future, although I'm sure that his therapists can detect at times how uncertain I often feel. Maybe my brave face isn't working like it used to. I try very hard not to let on that part of me that aches for Noah to recover completely grab hold. That is still possible as all things are possible I suppose, yet I know realistically that Noah is different than other babies his age and may continue to be different his entire life. I'm trying everything I know how to help bridge those gaps in his motor skills. I can't help that feeling of wanting so desperately to fix it all for him. I have no magic wand, no genie in a bottle, no secret potion. All I can do is turn it over to God.
Noah's uncle stopped by briefly to pick up some things, and for a moment I felt like Noah had the ultimate life protector. His uncle Paul I think would be fierce when it came to protecting his little nephew from anything he could. His humor about Noah being different lifts my spirits, and reminds me that his tribe will take care of him. Between his uncle's good humor and his daddy's Noah stands to inherit a super funny personality.
His daddy knew I had a particularly rough day, a combination of so many elements. Chris never misses an opportunity to make jokes, just like he did when we were in the NICU at Children's Hospital announcing our arrival daily on the 4th flour as ladies lingerie. Tonight he was getting out a new trash bag to put in the kitchen trash can and turned to me all serious and said "Hey look at the new Costco trash bags. They are ribbed for the trash's pleasure." And Noah, when you're old enough we'll explain that to you, I promise. I cannot help but chuckle and instantly things don't seem quite as serious as it did moments before. I have to just keep remembering always laugh often.
Love,
Stacy, Chris & Noah
