My youngest son has been preliminarily diagnosed with dysarthria, a motor speech disorder. I say preliminary because it's not an official diagnosis yet, though the speech therapist is pretty sure that's what we're dealing with. For a long time I didn't think Lincoln looked, acted, or spoke like his age. I hate to be right in this case. As a mother, I want what's best for my children, and I'm constantly berating myself lately. Was that fall down the stairs what caused the problem? Was it because I chose to do my graphics business or dishes instead of sitting on the floor playing with him? Was it something I did during my pregnancy? I hate the what ifs. Right now they're tearing me apart. I could have been a better mother to him, I should have gotten him the help sooner, I shouldn't have taken the doctor's assertions that he was fine at face value. I've got to pull myself together and be better for him. He deserves it.
