Jake’s Therapy: Another Chapter Closed

When our first therapist told me that Jake’s therapy would be a marathon, not a sprint, I never expected that some of our mile-markers would be so hard to pass.  We said goodbye to our two therapists from the The Resource Exchange this week as Jake times out of their program in a few days.

Whenever we pass a mile-marker, close a chapter, however you want to look at it, I am left with a jumble of emotions. 

I’m so proud of the progress Jake has made over the last year.  I’m thankful for the help we’ve received.  I’m glad that he’s grown to the point where the next step up in therapy is a viable option. 

I’m also sad to let go of people who have been so instrumental in helping us move forward.  I will be mourning the loss of those relationships and friendships.  I am apprehensive of the next step, even though I’m sure it will be great.

I can’t help but wonder where Jake would have been if we hadn’t got him the help he needed.  Would he be eating anything but applesauce and cheerios?  Would he be able to socialize at all?  Would he be able to articulate anything beyond yes and no?  Would he be so overwhelmed by his malfunctioning senses that things like sand and water would still send him over the edge?  When I think of how far behind he could still be, I am overwhelmingly grateful for the one jerk of a doctor who made me so mad that it spurred me on to make some of the first appointments that led to a Jake’s diagnosis.  Who knew that someone being so dumb could turn out to be so helpful?

At our last appointment today, I sat and watched Jake sit on his knees, instead of in the W sit we’ve tried so hard to break him of, and pick up cottonballs with a tweezer and put them in a bucket.  He pulled apart magnets and laughed when the wrong polarity pushed them apart.  He blew bubbles and balanced on one foot to kick at them.  He layed, tummy down, on Miss Kay’s scooter board and propelled himself around our living room.  He melted down, told me he wanted to go upstairs, cried it out, came downstairs, and told me that he could be “nice now”.

Six months ago, he couldn’t do any of that!

We still have a long way to go and I’m very thankful that Jake will be able to be in the special needs preschool in August.  I’m anticipating good things from that program, even though my mama heart tugs a little at sending my three-year old to school all by himself.

Even though today has seen it’s share of tears over the goodbye’s, I know that we have been skillfully and lovingly equipped in helping Jake overcome his disabilities. 

I can wistfully, but confidantly, close this chapter in our lives.

Thank you, Resource Exchange, Miss Lisa, Miss Jennifer, and Miss Kay, for all your help, support, correction, and encouragement.  You will not be forgotten!

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3 Responses to Jake’s Therapy: Another Chapter Closed

  1. cheekypinky says:

    *confetti*

    He’s come so far!

  2. Laura Jane says:

    Yay for milestones! And new challenges! Well done, mama. Way to push for your boy to get the best out of life.

  3. Bee says:

    Hurrah for wonderful therapists and good mommies! And a backwards sort of hurrah for jerk doctors. The numbskulls at OHSU who officiously informed me that Peter was borderline retarded were instrumental in motivating me to get a better diagnosis. I am so happy to see how far Jake as come with his sensory issues – that is a LOT of work on your part and theirs, and it’s really neat to see how much more fun he can have as a result!

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