A snapshot: Life a year after having a "23 weeker"

A week ago (on October 14) my little JAM and I packed up and headed off for our usual morning physical therapy session.  What I knew, but he didn't, is that this Monday would be a bigger day than usual.

After he was encouraged to walk and stand, and pushed into all sorts of trunk-turning positions on an exercise ball -- that is to say, after we'd worn him out entirely -- he grabbed a cat nap, I grabbed a coffee, and we drove down the road to another office.  The Developmental Pediatrician.

This was our BIG appointment. We were told to expect it to take two to three hours. For us it took four hours.  It would be a snapshot for our doctor of where EXACTLY our son was now. This would help her catch anything that might otherwise be overlooked. This is also where a couple of studies that are following Jonathan get a chance to check in with us.

A psychologist came in and measured JAM's receptive, expressive, problem solving, fine motor, and gross motor skills.  JAM did a terrific job. He's on track or above (for his adjusted age) for nearly everything. He's got a long way to go to catch up to his actual age, but I'm still mighty proud of him.  His performance was true to what we are seeing at home.

He's significantly behind in gross motor skills (measuring as a seven month old would -- he should be more like an eleven month old or higher). We expected that with his multiple abdominal surgeries, though. And his tummy is often in pain, so he's not very willing to turn his trunk and learn to move from sitting to playing on the ground.  This is a known issue, and this is why we have him in PT.

He's a month behind in receptive skills (measuring as a ten month old), but part of that is because he doesn't yet respond to "no." THAT, in turn, is because (since he doesn't move around yet), I've never had to TELL him "no."

So, in short, we're pleased.

Want to see what a baby born at the cusp of viability looks like as a 15 month old / 11 month old (adjusted age)?

JAMin' with the sisters.

DARN CUTE, that's what.

Take note, nay-sayers.  These kids are so worth the fight.

The last two hours of the appointment, JAM finally got to take a catnap on the sheet they'd laid out for him, and I spent time talking to dietitians and nurses about his weight and height. That deserves another blog. In short, though, we have started a series of tests to discover why he is not growing well.

Frankly, I think it all comes down to JAM's dad, Steve.  For one, he nibbles at Jonathan's neck and feet all the time, tickling him with his stubbly beard and making Jonathan roll in fits of laughter. How can we expect him to grow when we're continuously nibbling at him?

And then, also, there's Steve's direct command.

 "Don't grow," Steve says to all our children, "You're not allowed to grow up! You have to stay cute and little forever."

Ella is particularly disobedient in this regard. As a six year old she is quickly outgrowing clothes made for an eight year old. She'll glare and roll her eyes when Steve gives this command and say, "But daddy! I HAVE to grow."  Her height, like her attitude, is quickly growing to that of a young teen. In her determined defiance we would not be surprised if her final size tops six feet.

Mimi laughs and giggles and promptly forgets Steve's command not to grow, as she frits around the room stuffing home-made crowns on all her dolls and on her father's head. She can get away with much, including growing a little bit. Her cute demeanor makes us forget her disobedience.

Yep, dad, I'll stay small. Whatever you say!

Frankly, Jonathan has been the only obedient child of the three. He really loves the world and wants so much to just soak it all up. If daddy says don't grow, he won't grow. (I should have used this as an example to the psychologist of how he really DOES understand the word "no.")

Okay, like all kids he pushes the limit.  He rebelled a little last weekend, stretching his size three month onsies and giving us an excuse to pull out his six month outfits. He heard that babies a year younger than him might soon be giving us hand-me-downs, and decided to stay just ahead of that curve. I don't blame him. At this point, it's a matter of pride. Stay cute and little, but not SO little that the other kids can beat you up. I get it.

Anyway, all this nonsense and utter obedience worried the developmental pediatrician, and no less than four preliminary tests were ordered. The biggest scariest one happens tomorrow.

I am grateful that the pediatrician takes all this so seriously, perhaps it's not just obstinate obedience. In either case, I have asked Steve to stop giving his command on "no growth." We knew Jonathan was good natured and easy going, and now it seems that all this obedience is causing no end of trouble.