If this kid could talk.
“May-me, may-me” he said over and over.
Usually that means “baby”. But he seems to think the very few words that come out of his mouth have many more meanings than that. He was lying on the change table this afternoon. He didn’t want me to touch or lift his legs. When I went to touch his hips, he almost jumped off the table. And then came the “may-me, may-me”. And me asking “What’s wrong, Dec? Does something hurt?”
“May-me, may-me”, as he winces. (In pain? I don’t know). Looking at me with those pleading eyes. “May-me, may-me”.
It reminded me of the moment after he was born. I knew from an ultrasound (just hours earlier) that something might be wrong. As soon as he was free from my body, the first thing out of his mouth was cries. The first thing out of my mouth was…”Is he okay, is he okay?” I thought he might be in pain. I didn’t know what might be wrong. I didn’t know anything at all. I just wanted him to be okay. And I didn’t want him to be in pain.
I’ve noticed recently that when he is wearing his shoes, his left foot turns in a bit when he walks. It doesn’t seem to do that when he’s not wearing shoes. And for him to be “fussy” during his diaper change is very unlike him. Something is up. This is such a tricky age, when he desperately wants to communicate something to me, but it’s lost in translation. I will be calling his pediatrician and/or orthopedic specialist first thing Tuesday morning. (Monday is a holiday here in Canada…our Thanksgiving!).
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