Have I made the right decision?

I am just so tired and worn out with life. There are always too many stairs, and too many bodies (Mainly Elizabeth but sometimes Matthew) and things to carry up the stairs multiple times. There have been too many rainy days this year. Too many days of illness and boys squabbling. The baby cries. The house is a mess. My 4th pregnancy has left me with a continuing bad back, sore shoulders, headaches. I keep losing the plot in my exhaustion. I yell at the children too much. I feel guilty. I start to think there might be something wrong with Oliver - his attention and focus is not great. He still doesn't turn immediately when his name is called.

So to top it off last week the Speech Pathologist thought that there might be something wrong with him. She recommended me to put him into preschool, because that will force him out of his shell or force him to interact or focus just that bit more. I had a week of stressing about it every single minute of every single day. Because I was stressing about how 'behind' he is, I got cranky when he didn't show enthusiasm for drawing, seeing every little thing he does through the lens of a possible diagnosis of Aspergers.

Taking a step back, and trying to view this objectively, I don't think he has Aspergers. I don't think there is anything majorly wrong with him. He is probably just a slow developer/ late bloomer. Like Steve says, if there is any label that anyone would want to put on him, it would be mild. I made appointments with 2 expensive developmental paediatricians. I cancelled those appointments.

He is not going to preschool.

Why?

Because he is happy at home. He IS learning. He is improving. He is spending quality time with me & his siblings. Just this last week we caught a dragonfly. We currently have a cricket in our clear Ferrero Roche box sitting next to the children's breakfast table. He doesn't need to be doing the same things he does at home at a school environment where nobody will be paying him any attention.

I want to be the one who teaches him how to write. I want to be the one who sees his first letters. I want to be the one who witnesses the joy on his face when he can finally read.

Sometimes I so easily lose perspective.