Today was my meeting with the People at Bre's school. We went over her tests and talked and........
Is it bad that I'm disappointed that there is nothing they can do for her?
I mean, it's good news. Really. Sort of.
No, it really is.
Because she's smart. Which I knew, but she's smart in the way that she really doesn't need any help. She's actually on the high end of average on many things that surprised me (like vocabulary comprehension and memory). She knew things that I think even surprised them (like that fish can fart). She only fell below the level on one thing but it all averaged out to the fact that she's fine.
I could see her teacher's shoulders drop and hear the frustration and shock in her voice when she asked what else she could do. And I felt it too.
Something is clearly getting lost in the translation for Breanna. She does so well one-on-one but she gets in that classroom and she's just.... lost.
There is very little that we can do for her now that we aren't already doing. I guess we have to just wait and hope that she catches up. That something in her will snap in place and she'll be able to perform on paper in class the way she does at home.
In the meantime I have to make an appointment with her neurologist just to make sure that she isn't having seizures again. I haven't noticed anything but some of her fogginess could be attributed to seizures or even some residual left over from her medication. It's only been a little over a year since we stopped all meds.
It's frustrating to have hope that something will change for her and to then have it yanked away. It's not that I wanted her to have a learning disability and it's not that I'm not grateful that she's OK. It's that I am now at a loss for where to go. It's that I am now more worried than ever about what happens to her next.
When I was pregnant with Bre, we referred to her as The Lump Unknown.
She had been rather unexpected and being young and stupid, I didn't know when my LMP (last period) was. On an ultrasound I had, up in the one corner was a little notation, 'lmp umknown'.
My mother, in a rare friendly moment, laughed because she knew that I hadn't wanted to find out the gender. She pointed to that little notation and declared her future grandchild The Lump Unknown. It stuck.
With David, he was the sprout, Houdini (for his uncanny ability to run and hide every time they wanted to listen to his heartbeat- even during labor), spud, or muppet.
With this one, it has been The Worry.
I want to change that. I think this one deserves some better reference then that.
Baby's heart rate- 152
Blood pressure- normal
Answer for the vertigo and such- "Dehydration and could you please for the love of.... just stop worrying so much. Find some way to de-stress. Please."
Right. And I thought he knew me.