Continuous progress

Sometimes, it’s not easy to see progress day-to-day.

This weekend, our Fae’s grandparents came to visit:a relatively infrequent occurrence due to distance. As such, it really brought home just how much our daughter had actually improved since their last visit (a few months ago, before she began school). Back then, she was just beginning to speak, but had few words, and those she did utter were often only really understandable to myself and her father. (Although I think the excited yell of “granma!” as they arrived made the whole trip worthwhile on its own!)

On this visit, however, she was understandable to them, and would even respond to questions (especially “would you like some of the cake grandma made you?”, would you believe?) She would give instructions, address them both by name, and partake in conversations – some of which admittedly only made sense to herself – in a way that was deeply reassuring after all the worries we had at one point when it wasn’t clear she would ever actually speak.

And although we knew her speech had come on, and she was much more interactive, it only really hit us just how much progress she’d made when we saw her with her grandparents. Because the progress was so gradual, we hadn’t really registered it as it happened. It’s like watching a child grow: you don’t notice from one moment to the other, but then one day you will notice your tiny baby has been replaced by the long-legged child that is climbing halfway up the stairs via the bannister, and wonder where the baby went. 

Today, we went to see our fae in her first school I play. I admit, I cooed when she tottered onto stage in her ballerina’s costume. Our coos of delight soon turned into howls of absolute, uncontrolled laughter: She was part of a “silent choir” using sign language to accompany the words of a song, and spent most of the first act busily trying to ‘encourage’ the child next to her to sign along with “Santa Claus is coming to town”. This she did by signing emphatically at him; and, when that failed, batting him with her hand. I felt for the poor boy, but I am assured they are friends and typically interact in this way. (I feel the teachers may have taken the view that, if they can’t ‘encourage’ the kids this way directly, then using her as a proxy is as good a method as any.) For her second act, they played to her strengths: they told her to stay in the ballerina’s outfit and twirl on the spot. That was it: honestly, she can, and will, spin around all day,.

It struck me just how grown-up my daughter looks: she seems more like “almost 11” than “4 going on 5”. She wore the ballerina costume like she was born to it. She tries to care for others, in her own way, and sees the best in her peers. Her smile lights up the room.

So, despite the stress and heartache that it causes us to keep her in good spirits, it’s worth it. It’s worth every therapist appointment and bill, and every antidepressant I have been prescribed and failed to remember to take (Seriously, who remembers to take meds every day? How do you do it? I tried the “give your cat a treat at the same time” thing, but I forgot the treats as well, and the ones I got my cat didn’t like. Then when I did remember and have treats she did like, she wouldn’t come down because there was a chance of running into my daughter….)

I was told today that my daughter was a credit to myself and my husband, and.. well, yes she IS, but more importantly: she is a credit to herself, and that’s all we can ask, really.