pillars.

Maddy had a very important day today. She completed her first ever IQ test. She also did several behavioral tests and Kindergarten testings.

Thank goodness that she is four and has no idea to get nervous for these things. And thank goodness for Dr. MAL (again) for being a constant for Maddy so that she knew exactly where she was going today and who she would be with. Maddy happily greeted Dr. MAL and marched on back to her office without more than a "bye Mommy" to me.

If only things were so easy for Mommy.

She had three hours of testing today. 3 hours of pure brain power. (Okay, they took breaks too...let's not get too drastic) and just thinking about it made me tired. I haven't had to put my brain to work for 3 constant hours in quite some time....and not just thinking but having to answer questions on demand.

My work consisted of filling out the GARS, Vineland, and the other developmental survey that we have done yearly. And after just doing these a mere six months ago....blah...this really should only be a task to do once a year. They are exhausting and after awhile you really begin to question whether or not you know all that your kid can and cannot do.

And then wait.

We eventually ran off to Sam's Club to get some of the monthly grocery shopping out of the way but it felt weird shopping while she was testing. I don't know why.

After the three hours were up, out bounced one happy little preschooler. Ready to turn in the coins she earned for prizes and go to "King Burger" for fries and apples. I thought for sure we would have one grumpy and overtired little girl this afternoon. As usual, Maddy proved me wrong. She was wired! Happy, skipping, chitter chatting non stop. All. Afternoon.

All was well....except...I hate these days. I guess I am an avoidess...meaning I don't like to deal with memories that are challenging. In some ways, I find it best to just push forward and hope that time will deal with those memories and not me. It's a really dumb belief. And I know that I cannot push these things away forever. It's just extremely hard to remember those days. To remember how close we came to losing her completely. To have nothing but the shell of our baby girl. And maybe it's really hard sometimes to see her now and see how amazing she is and just how we might not have ever known this. Not that I sit around weeping all day. I don't. Thank the Lord. But days like today make me face the reality of how close we came.

Justin has the wonderful outlook of being proud and happy to take these surveys and do these appointments because he feels great being able to focus on what she can do NOW and what she did not do THEN. And that's a great point. Logically I know this.

My heart still aches.

Generally because I didn't have time to weep then. I didn't have time to sit and cry. To crawl under the sheets and cry for a few weeks. I had to take action and I told myself that once she was better....once she was recovered and typical then I could find the time to cry.

The only "problem" is that now is that time. And I generally do not let myself cry about things.

Preliminary results were that nothing huge jumped out at Dr. MAL. Most of her little hiccups, if you want to call them that, were age typical. Typical. Something we prayed for. Something we continue to pray for. Justin joked and said "yes! Our daughter is average!"

Dr. MAL was quick but quiet to point out that she is slightly above average.

We will return in 2 weeks once she has had time to score everything. We also have surveys for Maddy's PreK teacher (oh won't she love me tomorrow when I give them to her??) to send in for scoring.

Such blessings and how horrible that my fault is that I don't know how to receive blessings.

This past weekend, Justin and I were eating lunch in a small downtown bread shop. The minute we walked in the shop and I saw the boy in his preteen awkward body and the way he was eating an over sized cinnamon roll, I knew the boy was on the spectrum. I just knew. Then he started talking with his father about history and government and presidents and obviously things that I know nothing about but probably should....I knew. He is on the spectrum. And the good father that he had was right there, eating lunch with him, and asking him questions and gleaning from his knowledge. Making a connection with his son in the best possible way.

It pained me to see them. I wanted to cry. Just sit and cry for this boy and his father. Not because I pity them. Not because I think that I, of all people, could have "saved" his son. But there was empathy and there was beauty in what the boy's father was doing. And how this may be something they do every Saturday afternoon. Or even everyday.

I wish I could put words to the feelings I have. But I don't. Sometimes pain...good or bad has no words.

How am I going to help? How am I going to overcome this overwhelming rock in my stomach from 2010? I don't know. I know God does. So I will keep trusting Him. Keeping pressing in and on. I am forever thankful. These feelings that were stuffed are working their way out. They need to. Ready or not. I gotta face this.