I realized I don’t share as much about Max on the blog as I do about Fletcher – largely because so many of our universal strategies are most often used with Fletcher.  Max is no less of a presence at our family, though.  He does everything on his own terms – always has.  I’ve said this before, but neither of our kids fits neatly into a box.  And we wouldn’t have it any other way.  We’re pretty certain that Max has said “you can have your typical child-sized box, and let me show you where to put it.  Don’t mind me while I’m over here carving my own path.  No boxes allowed.”

We navigate a lot of unknowns with Max which for me often translates into worry and anxiety.  Beyond some genetic, sensory and communication things at play, we know how incredibly bright he is and so desperately want to let him unfold in his own time while struggling to not force him to HAVE to check the boxes established by societal norms.  He seems to get there when he’s ready.  (There isn’t a checkbox on any form for that!).  

Max challenges us to think differently and has unapologetically propelled his parents into the roles of fierce advocates, detectives, researchers, protectors and challengers.  Despite having few words, he has the wisdom of someone who has been around for a while and the grit to get his needs met under any circumstance.  The way his mind works is absolutely fascinating.  You have to experience it to really know.  He is as charming as he is headstrong and has this spry little way of winning the hearts of those who cross his path, even while he’s gently pushing them out of his bubble.

I’m not sure anything could have prepared me for how rich parenthood would be with our kids – but especially Max.  It’s not without challenges, certainly.  But the rewards are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.  Three years ago I wasn’t in a place to acknowledge or even realize the rewards.  We were barely surviving.  Everything felt hard with both kids.  But with time and lots of therapy comes wisdom, growth and the ability to take a step back in order to appreciate what’s behind you, in front of you, and what progress really looks like.

Today, for example, was progress embodied.  You see, it wasn’t long ago that Max couldn’t wear shoes and socks and was so gravitationally insecure that he needed to be carried, worn or bundled securely in the stroller at all times.  The poor guy struggled and at the time we didn’t understand why.  There was no playing at the playground (because it was an anxiety-ridden experience for him), no experiencing the world around him from the perspective of standing on his own two feet, and things like walking into therapy were a heart-wrenching production.  Every. Single. Time.

Gradually with the help of OT and craniosacral therapy we got the gravitational security figured out and then the shoes and socks.  And then he was more willing to walk on his own, eventually running, jumping and now even galloping.  But never could he walk the whole way into or out of therapy.  The task was far too overwhelming for him.

We’ve been adding more distance incrementally and that often includes a meltdown of sorts which is hard.  But then today it happened.  He got out of the van with a purpose.  He marched himself into the building like a man on a mission and headed straight for the therapy gym.  He even let me lead us on a quick detour to fill my water bottle without getting derailed.  I was preparing for damage control of epic proportions for altering our normal routine – but it wasn’t needed.

On the way out it was the same thing. We put his boots and coat on, he said goodbye to his speech therapist and off we went.  Down the hall, to the right, out the doors, and to the van.  Not a peep.  I couldn’t believe it.  We were there just yesterday for OT and he was beside himself about walking down the hallway after therapy.  Today?  Not a problem.  

For some this might seem like such a small thing, but for us, it was a victory to be celebrated.  I gushed over how proud of him I was and he sat tall in his car seat with a smile that spanned the width of his cute round face.  He did it and he knew… he was beaming.

2022 has been big for Max already.  He whispered two words together during OT yesterday, has actively participated in his virtual learning groups for the last week and a half (which he seems to love), identified and named two colors during a virtual session with his classmates yesterday and has been a really good sleeper.  I can’t even find the words to describe all of the emotions wrapped up in this one little paragraph.  Things are on the move for Mr. Max.

When I lay with him at night I can really see it.  He’s clear, connects differently and is more deliberate in his actions. 

Most nights he turns towards me, holds my face in his hands for a little while, looks me directly in the eyes and flashes a sweet little grin as if to say “Don’t worry, Mom.  I have this all figured out.”  It melts my heart unlike anything else can.

I’ll take that reassurance from now until forever.  There’s nothing like it.

Here’s to a year of victories for all… big or small.