Compensating: I am not going to define the word, you can look it up in the dictionary or on wikipedia.
Yesterday was the highlight of my year so far, after spending 2 hours with a developmental pediatrician who just "got it". She managed to understand what our life has been all about and how much loss we have been facing, the beauty of having Zoé in our life and her reality. How Zoé navigates her world in a way that none of us can come close to understanding.
How she has had to become malleable, pliable to fit in a school, in a world that is so different from the world her peers live in.
Yet, she has known no other way.
But nothing fazes her. I have said it countless times. What do I know, actually? Maybe she does suffer from social anxiety, maybe she frets about not being able to swing on the monkey bars like her classmates, maybe she wishes she could draw and write and read as fast as her friends.
And maybe not.
What I know is that Zoé has mastered the compensating skills like none other.
"I am in clinic" you are disrupting my play when I come into her room while she cares for her stuffed animals, stethoscope in hand.
What does she know about clinic, oh let me tell you, that is a word part of her lexicon, her jargon. Should a 7 year-year old need such a word? Well, Zoé has gone to numerous "clinics" where you see a plethora of specialists, where you are the center of attention, where doctors probe you and touch you, and poke you. So when she does the same to her stuffies, that is her way to compensate, that is her way to diffuse the woundedness, to make normal what should not be normal. Maybe I am being too wordy, you'll have to excuse me, but I am still elated by yesterday's meeting with Doctor Amazing (Will keep her anonymity, not sure she wants to be featured in the blog.)
Old Post I forgot to publish...
Yesterday was the highlight of my year so far, after spending 2 hours with a developmental pediatrician who just "got it". She managed to understand what our life has been all about and how much loss we have been facing, the beauty of having Zoé in our life and her reality. How Zoé navigates her world in a way that none of us can come close to understanding.
How she has had to become malleable, pliable to fit in a school, in a world that is so different from the world her peers live in.
Yet, she has known no other way.
But nothing fazes her. I have said it countless times. What do I know, actually? Maybe she does suffer from social anxiety, maybe she frets about not being able to swing on the monkey bars like her classmates, maybe she wishes she could draw and write and read as fast as her friends.
And maybe not.
What I know is that Zoé has mastered the compensating skills like none other.
"I am in clinic" you are disrupting my play when I come into her room while she cares for her stuffed animals, stethoscope in hand.
What does she know about clinic, oh let me tell you, that is a word part of her lexicon, her jargon. Should a 7 year-year old need such a word? Well, Zoé has gone to numerous "clinics" where you see a plethora of specialists, where you are the center of attention, where doctors probe you and touch you, and poke you. So when she does the same to her stuffies, that is her way to compensate, that is her way to diffuse the woundedness, to make normal what should not be normal. Maybe I am being too wordy, you'll have to excuse me, but I am still elated by yesterday's meeting with Doctor Amazing (Will keep her anonymity, not sure she wants to be featured in the blog.)
Old Post I forgot to publish...
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