Mama Needs Sleep, Baby

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Well, perhaps 8.5 winks sometime in between 5.00 to 6.00am waken up in between by Nasri who wanted a drink and some manja from his mommy. It was the anticipation of meeting Nasri’s psychiatrist first thing today that caused the sleepless night. I turned and tossed about, played a game of Sudoku in between, changing positions and even beds at one point. It was probably the lights too, glaring into my face. I left them on cos N is away on work and no way will I sleep in the dark when he’s not around. Not until after 5.30, or around about during azan subuh when I’m sure the bad guys would’ve gone home, calling it a day’s or a night’s work.

Anyway, this morning, feeling like a zombie, we drove out at 7.30am, both boys still droopy eyed in the car all bundled for Nasri's 8.30am appointment. As usual, I found myself rehearsing answers for anticipated questions that the psychiatrist would be asking. Then I caught myself counting the number of words Nasri can say now and comparing it against what he could at the last visit. Things that he does better now compared to 3 months back. Oh, and the list goes on. I wish I could’ve added in the list something like “Oh you know Doc, he cracked me up with a lil joke the other day”, but no, none of that. And I wondered, if he could speak, what jokes would my fine boy be telling me? He'd crack me up, I'm sure. Anyway, by the time I got to the psychiatrist's, I forgot all that was rehearsed all the way along the MRR2. The brain was not awake yet I guess. Oh well.

It was an ok meet. Based on the feedback the psychiatrist received from the therapists Nasri has been meeting weekly, he is progressing very well. I sometimes wonder what exactly they mean when they say that. Is an additional one or two words uttered considered “very good” or is it just “good”? Is compliance or additional attention given during activities considered “excellent”? “Good”? Or what? And what’s “Progressing Very Well” all about?

Nasri is apparently (and I agree) responding well with his therapy; “communicating” or relating well with people in his surroundings but requires still, a lot of sensory stimulation, for his periodic phases of hyperactivity and whatever else. Based on her short observation of him today at the clinic, she agreed that his attention span has increased and that he is more aware of the happenings around him. He responds well to instructions and wants to be involved with games or toys that the Abang plays with. We went on discussing games and activities that I should do at home to encourage spontaneity in Nasri, as an added scope that we need to work on. “We’ll see whether this works by the next visit”, she says.

Yeah, ok. The list gets longer. Whatever it takes maam. Whatever it takes.

Psychiatrist says, we are on the right track but now thinks that we need to get his eyes checked. Not for vision or what we call eyesight check, but more of vision control or movement which would probably call for vision therapy, if the assessment says it is required. “Just to be sure”, she says.

Ok. Another assessment, another therapy to add. You’re the Doc. Whatever it takes, you know. Whatever it takes.

The truth is, as stupid as it sounds, my heart was crushed. I wanted the doctor to say, “Your son is fine. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”. I wanted her to say, “He’ll be talking tomorrow. You mark my words.” I wanted to hear, “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and he’ll be as good as new.” And how I wish she''d say, “He’ll be ok and when the day comes when you are no longer in this world, he will do just fine on his own.”

But, she didn’t say any of that. She just said, “He is progressing very well”.

Whatever.

I just feel so tired and worn out all of a sudden. And I feel so sad for my happy little baby who knows nuts about what he’s going through. Would I have totally lost my marbles if I said I feel like running away from it all, turning back time, reverse all that I perhaps did wrong when I was carrying him, just to be sure that things would turn out fine for him? Just one last try? One last chance?

Alahai, that’s overly dramatic isn’t it? It won't happen anyway. Life's not like that; for us to turn back and run and play reversal stunts..

I tell myself yet again, like an overused mantra which sometimes seems like it's lost it's meaning..

"One day at a time, one bridge at a time. You just march on Anedra"

Oh, whatever!

Boy, this mama sure needs sleep!