The parent I want to be

Before I adopted Oscar I wondered what kind of parent I was going to be. Given my own life experiences and history, I wondered if I was going to fall into the Alpha Mom trap. I suspected I’d be able to steer clear of that, but suspected I’d land somewhere fairly near the mark. Close enough to annoy my kid, but hopefully far enough away to save him from too much harm.

Now that I actually am a parent, I spend far less time thinking about the type I am, what with the trying to get us both through the day unscathed and all, but sometimes the issue sort of foists itself on me.

Oscar has been going through more developmental “assessments” this past month. I received his results (actual scores) on them yesterday. They were remarkably difficult for me to decipher at first. I was the girl at school usually in the top percentile of all those fun standardized tests we all took. To this day filling in those answer bubbles makes me happy. Might be why I’ve passed the Bar in three different states. I’ve always assumed my kid would excel at testing, too. Maybe we’re not genetically related, but he’s my kid, right?

I sat reading his results last night not understanding what the numbers meant. I saw the words on the page, but the significance of them was lost on me. The social worker and speech therapist asked me if I had any questions about the results. I think I just looked dumbly at them and asked about the percentile notation. Hoping that being in the first percentile was the highest achievent, but knowing from personal experience that that was saved for the 99th percentile. When they confirmed what I feared, they immediately launched into all the caveats. Factors that could lead to higher scores in the future. Oscar is internationally adopted, maybe he still needs time to adjust to hearing English spoken. He was fairly ill last year, it could have taken a toll on both his receptive and expressive language skills and his cognition generally. He may have had off days when tested.

I’m sure I just looked at them blankly when they asked if I had questions. I had no idea what to say. Nothing has prepared me for this. Somehow I can understand medical journal articles about abnormalities of the corpus callossum, but when faced with the prospect my son might have a significant language disorder, I was rendered mute. The only thing I could ask was the one thing I knew they couldn’t answer. What will this mean for him in the long run? Their turn for the blank stares. At least they gave me the answer that enabled me to believe in their credibility going forward.

So, what does this all mean? Oscar has a significant speech language disorder, one that is more problematic than a simple delay, but no one can tell me how it will impact him. It’s apparently not the same thing as when some toddlers just don’t talk (sorry, Dad, but Logan and Giancarlopaolociaobella rarely speaking aren’t the same; they probably understand what people are saying). Is it related to the “Eye Thing” or the “Brain Thing”? I’m going to guess it is, but we’ll have to see his neurologist and neuro-optho to confirm.

There are some bright sides to this. Oscar will be getting home-based therapy three or four times a week now. And, since it’s such very sucky news? Even the bankrupt State of California is going to pay for a good chunk of it. Personally, I’d be happy not needing these services, but I’m not going to pass them up (especially given how difficult it was even getting Oscar into Early Start to begin with – remember the whole “he’s internationally adopted, he’ll grow out of it” headache?).

The biggest bright side? I’m not concerned anymore about being one of those highly competitive moms. Don’t get me wrong, I know my child is extraordinary. Test results like these don’t change that. They just might make me better realize what’s important. And right now if I had to define importance it would have nothing to do with where Oscar ranks among his peers. It’s far more important to me that I do whatever I can to help him fulfill his potential, which I think is immense.

September 15, 2009 Posted by Oscar and Etta's mom | Oscar, Parenting | 8 Comments