It’s been really strange going back and writing all of these Therapy Thursday posts. Reliving that raw emotion. Those feelings of huge failures. Of tiny victories. Those hopes and dreams. That, over the course of a year, have turned into more than I ever could have imagined.
From the time Renee started working with Lucas up until about May, my Lucas did it. He ran that race that I was talking about. That marathon. He friggin’ finished that bitch.
Is he done with therapy? No. But is he over the hurdle? The mountain? Yes.
Renee. This woman. She walked into my home not knowing any of us. Changed my world. His world. She taught us how to regulate Lucas. Not just emotionally. But also physically and cognitively.
And especially, while my love of Lucas never needed to be learned, she taught me to understand my little one’s struggles.
It was like she walked into our world and spoke for him. The way Brittany had promised to do for him. But Renee was even more. She was translating. Explaining. Leading me down a path of understanding of Sensory Processing Disorder. Holding my hand as a mother.
And slowly over our course with her, I now KNOW my boy. I know him inside and out. I know how his brain works. What makes him tick. And most importantly, I know how to reconnect him to his world whenever he gets dysregulated. Basically, Lucas loses the ability to think and speak when his cup gets full. When regulating his senses becomes too difficult. As soon as he is regulated, the language comes back. The ability to process returns.
Regulating Activities have become the name of the game.
For Lucas’ whole life, I always felt like I was banging my head against a locked door. Just begging whoever it was on the other side to open up and let me in. Please. Please. Please. There are not enough tears in my body to mourn that closed door any more than I did.
But then, this girl. Renee. She walked up and handed me a key. And no, that boy on the other side of the door didn’t open it on his own for me. But I put that key in, turned the knob, and watched that closed door open. And what I found on the other side was nothing that I ever expected.
I found a little boy. A two year old. That was gentle, and kind. And full of Love. A boy who loves to talk and play. A boy who lives to interact. He’ll meticulously show you every single toy car he owns. He’d rather read a book, or color, or explore a playground with you than alone. A little one who wants to be held. And carried. EVERYWHERE. A boy who will beg his daddy for 5 more hugs and kisses before he leaves for work. And if we’re ever talking, and I am not just staring him in the eyes, this boy will grab my face to make me look at him. Lucas longs for connection. He seeks it out.
He has a heart that is soft. A will that is strong. And a spirit that melts me.
Now don’t get me wrong, we still have a long road ahead of us. And there are many times that I run face first into that locked door. But now. Now I know how to unlock it. I know how that key kind of sticks. Because it is MY door. I know it.
Lucas’ language came alive. And now there are times when I have to pinch myself when he’s talking my ear off. When I find myself saying,
“Hold on Lucas. I am doing blah blah blah.”
I mean, did I really just tell him to hold on — to stop talking? And mostly, I am reminded of this road he took. This path he hiked. And I just want to drop to my knees and stare at his little mouth moving. I don’t even need to know what he is saying. I just want to breathe him in. This life that is so a part of my world. So a part of THE world.
Since May, Lucas has no longer needed speech therapy. His language has blossomed beyond his age. I will never forget Amy, the one who started it all. And then Renee. As soon as she regulated my little lost boy, the speech just poured out of him. Now his therapy is really just to work on sensory processing and re-teaches him to properly process his world. Making him a little less sensitive and teaching him how to self advocate.
In future Therapy Thursday posts, I am going to be sharing a bunch of sensory games and tips. As well as regulating activities that can work for all kids and babies. Not just sensory kids. Throughout a given day, I use most of these tricks with Lucas. But Brooks and Roman respond really well to them too.
Thank you for reliving this journey with me. For allowing me to therapeutically recall this story. It’s not over, but the future is bright. For us, we’re so thankful and blessed to have a story that’s seemingly ending beautifully. But through it all, I’ve found a connection and understanding for any momma — any child — out there with similar struggles, smaller struggles, or bigger struggles. Stay strong mommas. Stay strong sweet littles.
Just when you think you’re not fit for this world, your world will fit you. If you can just find the way through your story.