Give me a D

D is for denial.

I wonder if I’m in denial. I don’t think that I am.

But then I wonder.

I know on a practical level that Charlie is wildly behind his peers. I know that he should be sitting, pulling to a stand, and crawling at the very least. I know that with my head, but do I know it with my heart? I’m not so sure.

Charlie is one now and I think it’s time to start letting him spend more time with other children. I think it would be good for him. I’m not sure how I’d feel about the reality, though. Is it so terrible that I don’t want to watch other kids cruising about the room while mine lies helplessly on his back? Am I being melodramatic?

I’m not sure I’d mind Charlie’s lack of development so much as I’d mind the uncomfortable silence I would undoubtedly face. Perhaps I should just make a t-shirt that says, “I have C.P. Ask me about it.” Ok, I’m kidding about that last one. Mostly.

I guess what I’m trying to do here is be honest. Most of the time parenting Charlie is a complete joy. It’s not perfect, though. Like every parent, I struggle to do the right thing. It hurts sometimes to see children half his age who can do so much more than he can. Worse than that, though, is feeling that people pity me. Perhaps a better t-shirt would read, “Make Understanding, Not Pity.” Maybe I’m in denial, but I think I have a good life. Maybe I don’t get it, but I think there are worse things in life than what I’m going through.

I realize that this is a bit of a ramble. Sometimes your thoughts aren’t completely coherent.

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