Dear universe, enough, ok?

I shed a few tears this week as we dealt with the Batsman’s diagnosis of an additional speech disorder. We already have autism and occasional asthma on the plate and now there is one more.

Dear Universe, enough, ok?

The tears were not about the actual diagnosis, well not directly.
You see, every Tuesday for the last 10 weeks, the Batsman, with the Bowler in tow and I, have headed off for a session in a preschool sports program. It’s been 10 weeks, 5 different sports for 2 weeks each, enthusiastic and skilled staff about 5 minutes drive from home. We have all loved it.

The Batsman, a little unexpectedly, has reveled in the group sport opportunity. His confidence has grown alongside his physical skills. He laughs and smiles his way through the whole 45 minute session. He listens to a relatively unfamiliar adult and follows instructions. That was most certainly the main goal as we build towards primary school next year.

He has even made a friend. He sits by the door waiting for her arrival at “sports” each week.
So why the tears?

The specialist we need to see for the new speech disorder only sees patients on the day the sports program runs. Of course. The speech work will have to take priority. It looks like the sports program will have to be shelved. So even though I am over the tears now and have moved into action mode, just for a while I mourned that lost little window where my boy was doing something “just like all the other kids”. I feel awful that I must coax him along to more specialist therapy when all he really wants to be doing is kicking a ball and running and jumping.

Cue big mummy sigh.
Tell me, do you ever feel like this? I am sure I am not the only one.

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