This time next week, we’ll be less than 24 hours away from some answers. Hopefully.
There are now only seven days between us and the hospital appointment which may shed some light on why my 21 month old daughter is still not walking. Or standing.
Since the referral I’ve flitted between absolute unerring hesitation that there is nothing wrong with my child, and the unquestioning certainty that, actually, there is a problem.
Part of me thinks “mother’s always right” and the doctor’s being over cautious. My non-toddling toddler just isn’t quite ready yet. But another part of me – the part I don’t want to listen to – accepts this may not be the case.
I see her stumbling steps and look back at the past six months which have seen her lurch haphazardly around furniture, desperate to walk. I see a child who, despite the claims of many that she, “Simply can’t be bothered”, is actually bothering very much. I see a child who has now given up crawling because she knows it’s not the done thing for children her age. I see a child who is stuck and cross and left behind, watching.
But all is not lost.
Earlier today, there were steps. Proper steps. Three tiny steps between her mother and father. Sturdy, sure and very real.
I see hope.