A Bittersweet Goodbye

Physical therapist Wendy, Emma, and case worker Debbie

My heart feels very full today. This morning, we said goodbye to the Virginia Beach Early Intervention Program, the program through which Emma' s physical therapy services have been provided for the last 10 months. Emma's physical therapist Wendy and case worker Debbie came over at 9:15 to do one final "evaluation" to measure her progress and check her development. In a nutshell, Emma passed with flying colors. Gross motor skills? Approximately 18 months. Fine motor skills? Emma is age-appropriate. Self-help skills? Check. Language skills? Off the charts (24+ months). I told you all that she was a good talker! I wonder where she gets that from? Anyone who has ever listened to Chris or I tell a story will know that Emma is doomed to be verbose.

Saying goodbye to Wendy and Debbie feels very bittersweet to me. I have spent months waiting and hoping and praying that Emma would eventually become developmentally normal. I used to watch other moms with their kids and marvel at how easy things were for them, at how their kids picked up a million little skills and abilities so naturally that we have had to fight tooth and nail for. There were times when Emma's progress seemed so slow and her abilities so far behind her age that it seemed a fool's hope that she would ever catch up. But as the months of weekly therapy ticked by and Emma's abilities improved, her therapist began to feel like a friend. Wendy spent time in our home. She loved our daugher. She listened to me jabber on about nothing because I was so desperate for adult conversation. And she helped Emma grow and develop and learn. Now I have a developmentally age-appropriate baby but no therapist to talk to. Wait - was the therapy for me or for Emma? :)

So Emma graduated today. No more physical therapy. And my heart, which has felt so full and heavy and fearful this year, feels as though another weight has been lifted and I have one more thing to praise God for. And praise Him I did, seated at the piano with my daughter on my lap. God told us the day Emma was born that she was going to be fine. And she is. She really, really is. And we'll take it. Even if it means saying goodbye to a few friends we've made on the journey.