I’ll Make a Deal With You

So let me start by saying I am not worried.  Truly.  Well, maybe kind of.

Last week we finally had the non-shot portion of Belén’s one-year well baby checkup . Have I mentioned that I hate those checkups?

While I love the opportunity to ask questions and receive guidance from a real life medical professional I hate the fact that it feels like an oral exam that I cannot study for nor do I have any control of the outcome.

This is probably due to the fact that her well baby check-ups have led to a CT-scan for a head growing too rapidly, an ultrasound on her hips for being a first born female breech baby and then all of the HSP-related doctor’s appointments we have been to in 2010.  You know you visit the doctor too much when you walk in and the receptionist says, “Hi Belén.”

Last week’s visit went okay.  Little B is tipping the scale past the 22 pound mark and is well over two feet tall.  The original measurement of her head had her in the 101st percentile but when the doctor remeasured it it went back down to 99th.  We are sure it is all of those brains…except…

Mixed in with the doctors 20 questions, she asked if Belén says any words.  I asked if sounds like ma ma ma and da da da counted.  She said, well you know, like she sees something and she calls it by its name.

I looked at Andy.  Andy looked backed at me, both racking our brains for a word she says.  There was that one time I swear she said donkey…but that didn’t stick.  I think I have heard her say, “all done” and very briefly she did the signs for “more” and “all done, ” but none of these things does she say on an ongoing basis.

And to be fair, I am not always good about talking with her and coaxing her to talk back.  Believe it or not, I usually do not talk often in the comfort of our home.  Andy and I don’t talk just to talk and generally save our verbal cycles for words that need to be said.  Neither of us are fans of filling perfectly nice quiet time with useless chatter.  I know this is not the best environment to develop a baby’s verbal skills so when I remember, I try and emulate those people I do know who are constantly talking in an effort to stimulate the vocal chords in Miss Belén.

She makes noises and sounds and communicates with “uh uh and reaching” but no consistent words.  And clearly she knows what we are saying, “Hey, Belén, go get your shoe” (she comes back with her shoe), but nothing of the English language comes out of her mouth.

So I didn’t realize this was a problem until our pediatrician said that they look for one word by 12 months and six words by 18 months.  I likely don’t need to remind you that she is nearly 14 months…nothing.

I remained cool but of course my internal mommy alarm clocks were going off.  Oh no, my child should be able to say one word and she cannot!

The minute the doctor left the room, Andy turned to me and said, “she’s fine, honey.”  I turned to Belén and said, “CRAY-ON.  CRAAAAAY-ON.  Belén, can you say crayon?”

“SHOE.  SHOOOOOE.  Belén can you say shoe?”

If Andy didn’t literally roll his eyes at me, I am sure he did internally.

Andy said to Belén, “Belén, you might as well start saying words because your mommy is going to be all over you until you do.”  I half smiled and said, “ha ha…B, he’s right.”

So ever since then, there is a whole lot of “What does a doggy say?”, “Belén can you say CAT?” and repeating words over and over.  My mom swore she heard her say “green” yesterday and Andy and I heard her say “All Done” a few days ago.  The problem is that she does not use those words again at a later date.

My friends tell me I should not worry, but alas, I am a mother…and there is something my child is apparently behind on, I *might* worry a bit…Argh.

I keep thinking back to the fantastic book recommended by my friend Sara, A Girl Named Zippy.  Zippy does not talk until she is nearly three years old.  They think that perhaps a staff infection she had in her ear when she was a baby caused brain damage.  It wasn’t until she was camping and her father told her she was too old for a bottle and took it away that Zippy finally decided to use her words and tell her father, “I’ll make a deal with you.”  She then proceeded to say that she wouldn’t use the bottle when company was around.

So every time I start to spend brain cycles on Belén’s lack of coherent verbal thoughts I start to wonder if maybe she is a Zippy.  She lets a word or two slip out now and again and once she sees our reaction, she knows she is using it correctly, so perhaps she files it away inside her 98th percentile-sized brain for a future complete sentence.

But until she tells me “Mom, look, I’ll make a deal with you.”  I will continue to try my darndest to persuade her to talk.

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Tagged as: A Girl Named Zippy, talking, well baby checkup