Friday, June 10, 2011

Recruiting Help

Over the years, I have learned the most essential key to success, as far as I am concerned:  Never be afraid to ask questions, and never be afraid to ask for help.  Having suffered from some version of benign neglect as a child, it took physical space away from my family, therapy and positive experiences to understand that people will help if they can, if you ask.

Starting during the most recent holiday of Shavuot, Raphaela began half-walking, standing with legs straight in the air but remaining in a crawling position, so when she crawls/walks she looks like one of the monkeys at the zoo, butt in the air but just as speedy as before.  My GP does not feel that Raphaela is suffering from a neurological problem or a serious developmental delay; as long as each day brings change in the forward direction, we do not yet need to start physical therapy. My mother does not understand the Israeli HMO system, and though she met my GP, my mother still does not trust her;  I continue to ignore the nagging of "There is nothing wrong with physical therapy, your sister's kids had physical therapy.  Why don't you just pay privately?" 

The staff at the Gan, however, have offered their services, and have declared to Raphaela that now that she is half-walking, they are going to let her get away with pure crawling less and less.  They give her one hand and have her walk to the lunch table or to the activity corner, and though my daughter makes a fuss, she complies and is perfectly capable.  I believe, in my unprofessional un-PT opinion, that Raphaela will walk when she realizes that she can accomplish so much more with free hands.  Then I will spend the rest of my life keeping up with her, and I welcome the challenge.

1 comment:

Amy Charles said...

Yay! You know, unless you're seeing other motor delays, or upright walking seems to be painful or frightening for her, I really wouldn't worry at this point. It's just too early. The GP's cool with it, and I would be too. This is really the age of parental freakout, where progress is measured in weeks, but kids go on their own schedule. I used to worry that mine wasn't _____ faster, but then I'd remember that she'd probably have it down by the time she went off to college.