|In December 2011 (8 mos. old), Tink|
could not stand (even assisted) and weighed
less than fifteen pounds. (She was 6 lbs at birth.)
It wasn't a matter of growing slowly. She simply wasn't growing. And wasn't hitting her developmental milestones.
So we went to specialists and she had lots of blood drawn and we were in the pediatrician's office more than once a month just so she could step on the scale.
We're at it again.
We've had appointments and blood work and x-rays, and a specialist who looked at her and said, "I've never seen this before."
So we're circling back to start again with the pediatrician, which means another round of blood work and a weight check appointment (that includes Puck because he isn't growing as quickly as he should because he doesn't want to be left out. Or something.).
With each appointment I make and doctor's report I get, I can't help but remembering where we were before, when Tink was in physical and occupational therapy. When she was a year old and couldn't stand unassisted. When blood work was so routine to her that she just stared at the tech that drew her blood with an expression that said, "And what?"
She's older now, and much more aware of the pain that comes with drawing blood. Or, as we call them, "pinches." She dreads them. And not only does she ask every health care professional if they're going to give her a pinch, but she recognizes the logo of Quest Diagnostics and whenever she sees it, she asks if we're going to the "pinch place."
Today, no. This month, yes. Next month, too.
It's harder now. She's older and understands more. She knows there's something going on. And she doesn't like pinches.
Neither do I.
It's going to be a long few months, Miss Tink. But we're right here with you.