Previously on SimpsonsLover

We left the progression of the LGBB's lack of crawling on a high, if unanswered, note. The osteo treatments heading in the right direction. The xrays reported to show no abnormalities.

In this instalment, we learn:

• The Paed appointment (with Paediatrician Denny Crane - ok, so that's not his real name but it's what we call him because of certain resemblances) today gave us more questions rather than answers.
• Lolly reeeeeeeeeally doesn't like being manipulated by way of limbs being pushed and pulled in an unrelaxing manner (who does?) and is not shy to advise as much.
• Her fine motor and communication skills are going swimmingly but for some as yet inexplicable reason, her gross motor skills are underdeveloped.
• We're not to be concerned (uh.... yuh, get back to you on that one, but Steve seems to have that down pat).
• We have to take the LGBB to a Paediatric Neurosurgeon asap and also a Paediatric Physio before our next appointment with Dr "Crane" at the end of October.
• Mummy must try not to spend too long Googling sentences like "why can my child carry on a conversation with me but doesn't even attempt to weight bear" and so forth, or alternately rocking in a corner in a puddle of her own wee about all this.
• We must really have left an impression (what sort we'll never know) on the maternity ward staff. We popped round for a visit as we were within cooee of the hospital. Our favourite midwife was there and she appropriately squooshed Lolly's rosy cheeks and blew her hair and got coy smiles from our little poker player, who most certainly was not giving away her hand today, not after the insult she received from Dr Crane. In the hallway, several other midwives stopped to say hi and they still remembered us. Back from when we had Ella and obviously now Lolly too. Remembered Steve was Steve, remembered our surname. It was a really nice acknowledgement. The predictable murmur in my ear of "so are you and Steve planning another one?" put my stomach in instant knots - I'm still pulled by that thought. When we wandered round to see the Neonatal Office Administrator who we also always say hello to if we're in that hospital and who we drop off the annual NICU bed sheet donation on Ella's birthday, we passed a new mummy being wheeled in her bed from seeing her bub in Special Care. She was glassy eyed. Not happy. Not anything. I felt for her so much. It surprised me though and I was able to benchmark my healing progress: I didn't feel envy. Usually I feel envy. But all I could (ashamedly) feel was "Thank GOD.....", just so thankful I'm not in the remotest position of having to cope with the prospect of all that anytime soon. But then I was wistful that I couldn't just click my fingers and pop a baby out.

In other news, the LGBB treated us to a (caught on film) long conversation at dinner last night. Over a hearty meal - which most impressed Dr Crane - of blue grenadier (like, the whole freakin' massive Daddy-sized piece) and a bowl of vegies which she fed herself entirely, oh 'cept the broccoli because that can bite her - the LBGG was able to communicate that she wanted Bazz to come inside.

I was recording a bit of her eating at the table when all of a sudden she turned to me and garbled something (very meaningful by the earnest look). So instead of simply humouring her, I asked her to repeat what she said. Again, she made the same sounds "O'! ....Doh!" with a mock-surprised look, raised eyebrows and splayed hands. Then she looked towards the glass side door to outside and said "Jah'!" I asked "Jazz?" And she repeated everything again, with added exaggerated peering around her highchair suggesting she was looking for the dog. So I said "Would you like mummy to let Jazz inside? Should we let Jazz come in?" and she cheered gleefully. Now I ask you.... is that a child with a developmental delay?

But still, that niggling worry is there. So I am really pleased that Dr Crane, Denny Crane (oh come ON, one of you must have seen Boston Legal and know the type of character I'm talking about), is ordering an exhaustive investigation. He did admit it was unusual to see a child of her age not weight bearing for any significant amount of time, nor even holding on to us when we hold her (hence this goddamn tenosynovitis that still plagues me) - her upper torso is stiff (we call her a bird with broken wings because of the way she holds her arms when we carry her) and her legs dangle limply. Rarely does she wrap her legs around our waist in an effort to assist at all, so she usually ends up slipped down to our knees if we've had to let go with one arm to do something while carrying her.

We'll get there. But 'scuse me while I just stay quiet and/or lay low and/or write copious delirious posts here avoiding the topic for the next two months.