Never Give Up

 

I found this tonight amongst a bunch of scrap paper that Sophia had scribbled on. Sophia never used to like to color. Never used to like to draw. She avoided it at all costs and became irritated when anyone tried to help her - teachers, therapists, sitters, but mostly me. Writing was the thing we noticed that she was so behind in that led us to her evaluation, and then we really learned a lot about what was going on with her. She has had therapy 2x a week since September of 2008, she had preschool where teachers worked with her, we hired an OT major to work with her for 10 hours a week this past summer, and still, she struggled to trace the letters in her name, let alone independently draw them. One day a few weeks ago, I gave Sophie an old notepad, half used. And then there it was. Something clicked. She drew things on every page and then came and asked me for another notepad. She all the sudden had a voracious appetite for sketching. She brings notepads in the car with her and sits at the kitchen table, drawing, sketching, writing. When I saw this piece above, unsolicited, a piece of scrap paper with all 26 letters in order on it, some correct, some not so much; my heart filled with joy. It has come to her. Was it the therapy? Was it a teacher? Was it her time? Yes. Lately I have become concerned that Zach may have a cognitive disability. A close relative insinuated recently that it was wishful thinking on my part that I don't believe that Zach has cognitive challenges. Mind you, I love him so much, and no matter what label anyone sticks to him, I will never love him less. I asked a therapist to comment, and she quickly diverted the conversation. I am sure it is an uncomfortable topic. I am not sure if she did this on purpose or not. But I began to question this more. This unknowing seems to take the wind out of my sails. Then there was tonight. I was hastily cleaning up, found the pile of scrap paper with scribbles, with the alphabet hidden in the middle. I was just about to dump the whole pile of scribbled scrap in to the recycling bin, when something made me stop and look through it. I had begun to think after all we have done with Sophia that nothing would ever get her to write. I remember thanking God for the keyboard, knowing how proficient she was becoming using it to play games. And voila. Last week Zach uttered a decent number of words spontaneously that we have never heard him say before .... and haven't heard since. Zach does not understand the concept of exchanging ideas or thoughts, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think. He doesn't say much, but that doesn't mean he is not understanding the information being presented to him. Sometimes all this therapy doesn't feel like it is doing much because of my perception which might not be reality. It's easy to feel like it might not be worth it. I am glad I have Sophia as a reference. She is writing! More importantly, she is trying to write. I often wondered if the reason she wouldn't even try was out of fear, knowing that it was so difficult for her. Could this translate to Zach? I think so. I am glad that the Big Guy upstairs sent me this little wake up call to see that indeed, all things are possible. I just need to keep my eyes and ears open. Oh yeah... and never give up. And I will gladly accept scrap paper or notepads if anyone wants to make a donation. We are beginning to run short!