Yesterday was a big day in our house--a day 6.5 years in the making.  The twins had their last private therapy sessions (at least for the foreseeable future).  They have been participating in developmental therapies since they were about 6 months old.

7 months old and right when we started the whole therapy process.

It is something that has profoundly shaped my parenting, who I am as a mom and how I have spent my time since becoming a mom almost 7 years ago.  I have lots and lots of thoughts about it.  In fact, last year I wrote a blog post over at Live Shamelessly about it, you can read those thoughts here.  At the time, the boys discontinued therapy, but it was only for a month as we ended up starting it back up when the new year started and our insurance provided for therapy sessions once again (we had previously used up the year's allotment).

This time, we are really done.  The boys will be starting first grade next week and with being in school all day, we don't have the same time to go to therapy.  Their delays are minor at this point, so we're comfortable with them only being addressed in the school setting and not doing private therapy as well. 

Easter 2007--At least the helmet made it easy for people to tell them apart!

I assumed that I would feel only utter relief to be done with private therapy.  Since they were 6 months old, I've been driving them to a clinic about 30 minutes from our home for therapy..  For several years, they attended therapies at this clinic, as well as twice a week at our local elementary school.  If you're keeping track that means that for several years, I was loading and unloading them and Aaron in/out of the car 2-3 times a week for therapy.  I would have to pack snacks for the drive there, drinks for the way home,and toys to entertain Aaron in the waiting area.  The school based therapist asked me to pack a toy or game from home for each of them to show her in an effort to improve their repoire with her, so that means I also packed a game/toy for both big boys twice a week.  Add in the ever present diaper bag and it felt like we were packing up our home multiple times a week.  When it was winter and it then required me to outfit everyone with boots, hats, mittens---I thought I might go insane.

Consequently, when I thought about the day that we'd finally be done with all of that, I could only imagine sheer relief to be done.  Done with the stress of being on time to drop them off and pick them up.  Done with the stress of packing snacks and later cleaning up the mess from those said snacks in the car.  Done with the trying to manage four small boys in a crowded waiting room while each therapist gives me a verbal update on what they worked on that day.  Done with the finding errands to run with the little boys to "waste" time while the big ones were in therapy.

James barely even noticed that he wore this helmet for 5 months (23 out of 24 hours each day).

What I didn't expect was to feel a bit sad about it.  I was sad to say goodbye to the therapists, some of whom, we've been seeing for two or three years.  Women who've invested a week of one-on-one time with each of my boys for a few years.  These women have literally shaped my boys' speech as they've worked with them on correctly articulation errors, interrupting, making eye contact, etc.  They have listened to countless stories, played many games, done art crafts and taking them to the sensory gym.  They have dried the boys' tears when they've gotten frustrated in a therapy session.  They have given the boys birthday presents.  They have accepted countless homemade presents and misspelled handwritten cards from my boys.  They have cheered me on in my parenting and when I've held firm despite one of the four boys having a tantrum in that crowded waiting room.

The boys with their speech and occupational therapists saying goodbye.

While I waited to pick the boys up from their last therapy session, I was chatting with another mom there about how it was our last day there.  It occurred to me that this waiting room where I've spent so many, many moments talking with other moms was over.  This waiting room wasn't just full of moms, but it was full of moms who bringing multiple kids there for therapy as well.  They were packing the snacks.  They were also attempting to entertain siblings while they waited.  They shared many of the same fears about their child catching up and closing the gaps on their delays.  Most of these moms, I didn't know their first names, but I recognize them when I'm out and about.  In fact, last night we were dropping off school supplies for Aaron's preschool class when I ran into a mom from the clinic.  I said hi and we talked about how she hadn't been there over the summer as they were trying a different kind of therapy for their son.

As I pulled out of that parking lot, I teared up a little.  I almost couldn't believe it, but I was actually going to miss some of this.  I reflected back at the mom I was when I first showed up here with 7 month old twins--terrified that they wouldn't talk normally or that the helmet wouldn't help reshape James' head.  The mom who agonized over all those progress reports in the early years.  Those early years were painful, brutally painful but they shaped me into the mom and woman that I am today.  This experience forced me to lean into God over the years both for trusting him with the boys' future but also for strength and patience to just make it to all those sessions. 

James, Andrew and I in August 2008 right before James stopped wearing the helmet.

As someone with tendencies to be perfectionist or rely on my own strength, this experience forced me to do the opposite--to except the work in progress that my children are (both with their speech and their behaviors) and to willingly and gratefully accept help from others.  I'm thankful that from an early age, my boys have learned that its okay to need help, to accept help and to admit that you have areas you need to work on---frankly I could still take lessons from them in this area many days.  I'm glad that they have such positive memories surrounding therapy.

For years, I've said that I had always pictured my stay-at-home mom years to be different than they turned out to be like.  One thing way is that I always anticipated that I'd participate in a daytime bible study.  For years, I haven't done it because our schedule has been filled with therapy appointments, but yesterday, when we got home from the clinic, I signed into my computer and registered for my first daytime bible study at our church that starts in September. 

This is definitely the end of an era but I'm excited to see what is next.