Cooper had an epic fail at speech today. As I type this I am actually shaking my head because it gets worse every single appointment. How? Why? Someone reading this might actually think I am joking. Or exaggerating. Trust me…I am not.
I took Cooper to his speech appointment this morning alone and he did well for the first 20 minutes. Yes, he hopped from activity to activity but we were able to engage him. His therapist loves him and is so great. She cares and listens and is a really great person. I spoke with her about last week and the evaluation by the psychologist. I told her that I am not in the right place to diagnose Cooper yet. And she agreed. She sees too much potential in him and said that we need to focus on language. I agreed.
After 20 minutes or so Coop was done playing and wanted to go on the computer. Mind you we are in a closed room the size of a closet and the computer is outside a closed-door in a room with the lights off. And the computer is off. Cooper has played on the computer twice at speech and LOVES it. It makes him happy. And he even engages with his therapist while doing it. The problem is that he won’t transition away and the appointment becomes a waste. Toni informed me that he needs a break from technology at speech. And I agree. I just knew it was going to be bad.
For the last 20 minutes of the appointment Cooper screamed. He pushed. He rolled. He threw the mother of all tantrums. And in usual mom fashion I said the words that I hate to say…”I’ve never seen him like this.” And it’s true. Cooper is worse every time we go there. So why the hell do I keep bringing him?!? I held him with all my strength on the floor just waiting for it to pass. And it didn’t. So we gave up.
As we left the therapy room, Cooper ran around and screamed. He pushed chairs. Two men were there fixing the heat in the building and witnessed my little angel’s meltdown. I was beyond mortified. As we made our way to the exit I tried to wrestle Cooper into his coat and hat. He went limp as a noodle and did the army roll across the floor. And then the tears started coming. I looked right at his therapist and sobbed. I blubbered something like…”I can’t do this anymore. I hate it. I bring him here and I leave hating my child. He is the worse. Blah, blah, blah.”
She told me that he isn’t the worst. He is bright and is learning. We just need to be patient and give it time. She helped me out to my car and attempted to get Cooper into his car seat. At this point he had been sobbing hard for close to 20 minutes. As I buckled him in he puked all down the front of his jacket. And on me. It was great. Just great.
I don’t think I have anymore patience or time. I need answers. I need solutions. I need my child to be different. Or I need to accept who my child is and learn to live with it. One or the other. Maybe I am the problem and not Cooper. Maybe that’s it.
Lastly, we might have to move to a bigger city where there is more help. We would be closer to family and there would be more resources available to Cooper. Where we live now we have no one. So many questions right now and very few answers.