Saturday

Saturday was a beautiful day in Aberdeen--bright blue skies, light clouds and a whippy spring wind. Just after breakfast we headed out in the car for Inverurie, the next big town along the A96. As we got into the car we were having a discussion about Adam, who didn't seem to be on top form. He was walking along slowly, with his tongue sticking out. He doesn't usually have his tongue sticking out at 10am--it's something that happens when he gets tired, like 7pm at night. I began the rundown in my mind of all the possibilities, which did not include what was conclusively proven about 10 minutes into our drive: an upset stomach.

Just over the hill past Tyrebagger woods Adam let loose with what little he'd eaten at breakfast. We paused in a bus stop to clean him up, and debated carrying on with the plan of the day. It was 50-50, but we'd already packed the bags so we carried on. In retrospect it was the absolute right decision, but at the time I wasn't so sure!

The reason we were heading to Inverurie was for Adam to have his first appointment at the Children's Bowen Clinic. I will spare you my lame summary of what they do and let you read it for yourself if you are interested. Suffice it to say we're always game to try something new, and we just hoped that Adam's blip on the way would not repeat itself in the middle of the session!

The woman who worked with Adam was great, and he did great. He tolerated her touching him without complaint for the most part, now and again waving her hand away and looking at me as if to say "what IS she doing?" I mentioned that his right nostril is constantly clogged, and she set to work on that too.

I found myself really hopeful, as I usually find myself hopeful when people are working with Adam, but of what I'm not really sure. I know that people seek treatment for their children's disabilities for many reasons: cure, improved ability, better quality of life, etc. I know for a fact that Adam's Down Syndrome will never be cured, and whether or not his Autism can be is beyond my ability to answer. I also know that I couldn't care less whether or not he's ever "cured"--he is Adam, regardless of his "condition", and that's that.

What I do hope for is that through these treatments and daily work with Adam his communication might improve, and that he'll gradually become more independent, and maybe even potty trained. I hope that his nose might unclog, and that he'll be more able to tolerate physical touch and changes to his routine. But in all of this I want to be careful and mindful of the line between wanting to "fix" him and help him. I don't need to change Adam to be "better", I need to help him in every way possible to reach his potential. His potential, not mine.

Anyway, that is what I tell myself, and it is a good reminder with Caleb as well. I don't want to make my children who I think they should be, I want to watch as they grow into the people they were made to be.

No more blips after the morning--we had a lovely day in Inverurie, a great walk in Kirkhill forest on the way home, and two very tired boys at 7:30pm!