Tomorrow we go to the doctor. I am very thankful that we didn't have to wait until the twenty second of September. I hope this is a whole lot of nothing, and just something he will quickly grow out of, I find myself scared.
I'm afraid. I want him to see this beautiful world, and I want him to navigate it well.
My biggest immediate fear? Tomorrow brings no real resolution. That we end up with a lot of wait and see. After that? I'm afraid I'll want to see progress so badly that I'll interpret things that aren't anything into something. I'm afraid that I will keep my son at arms length, because of the feelings of fear he conjures,that I will perceive him differently, I will love him, no doubt, but each interaction, diaper change, bath, feeding, holding, playing, will be so weighty,and imbued with such longing for him to be ok. Of course I will accept him and love him no matter the outcome, I will just need to work on dealing with him, without constantly worrying that "he's still not..." or "when will he?" Hopefully none of this will be necessary, hopefully they will diagnose him as delayed, and give me a timetable.
I am afraid, but I'm hopeful. And I'm not afraid of that.