...but as I continued to type, has turned into something different.
So...we had yet another appointment with Dylan's GI Specialist this morning. I'm not sure if you remember, but beginning around 5 months of age, we noticed that Dylan appeared to be struggling quite a bit with reflux. He was originally prescribed Zantac, but besides the fact that it tasted horribly, it also wasn't working very well. Sooo, a couple of months ago, we switched to Prevacid. Along with that costing us $100 a month, it also wasn't working very well. Today we were prescribed Axid. Third time's a charm? We shall see.
Now, I also tried to talk with the Doctor about the possibility of something more serious going on. See, my friend, Angela has mentioned to me that Dylan's symptoms (the extreme arching!) remind her so much of her son Benjamin's. After an X-ray was taken, it was found that Benjamin had duodenal atresia and had to have surgery to repair it. And since the surgery, he has been doing very well.
I was interested in hearing the doctor's thoughts on that, however, our conversation was very short lived as Cassidy decided that she was no longer interested in this doctor's appointment. At all. In fact, she wanted out NOW! She proceeded to open the office door, run down the hallway, open another door, run into the waiting room all while screaming and crying, "I don't want to do this! I want to go HOME! Now please Mommy! HOME!". Um. Seriously? I don't know if it's that this is naturally a difficult age (2.5) or if it's that she is particularly ah, how should I say this, "highly spirited" or "willful" if you will? But whatever it is, it's challenging to say the least.
I was frustrated this morning, as I feel I should have been. I was discouraged. You know what else I was? I was completely mortified. I was that Mom. The one who very obviously could not control her child.
As we were driving home, I peeked in the rear view mirror and looked at Cass. I thought my heart was going to break into a million pieces...gosh, I couldn't help but feel quite badly for her, actually. So much of her life revolves around Dylan. Dylan and his many many appointments. Dylan and his Early Intervention people. I feel guilty. I feel like I'm not doing a good enough job with her. I can't be, otherwise she wouldn't be acting this way. I want to do better, I do. But yet I don't know what I'm doing wrong. And that...that bums me out.
It's that balance. The balance between two children. The balance between fun and therapy. The balance between friend and Mother. I feel like I am always trying to find that balance.