The Phone Calls We Take

I have been on countless phone calls in my lifetime. 

There was a time in my youth where I loved getting all the phone calls on my birthday, relatives singing happy birthday to me on the other end of the line.

There was a time in my teens where I loved getting calls from my friends. The type of calls that invited stretching the cord as far as could around the corner, kicking my legs up against the wall and gabbing endlessly. 

The time in my 20’s where I graduated college and moved around a bit, making calls to search for new apartments, getting calls from new friends who wanted to head to happy hour.  

The call I made to tell everyone we were engaged. The call to announce our first pregnancy. And the call to announce our daughter would be a big sister.

The call to proclaim we’d be moving home, to be closer to family, when we welcomed our second bundle of joy. The call to let everyone know we were now a family of four, fortunate enough to have welcomed a baby boy.   

Shortly after welcoming baby number two, I started to lose the joy in the calls. The calls were losing their magic. The dynamic was shifting. 

There were less calls to enjoy happy hour, a few calls to meet up with fellow moms, and more and more calls bearing scheduling and responsibility; I was evolving into the family administrative executive. 

This transition is tough and unpredictable for any new parent, no doubt, but throw in the added concern that something isn’t right with your second child’s development, and well, you’ll never put that phone down.

There was the call to make the one year physical exam, and the discussion of developmental delays.  The Dr. suggested waiting until fifteen months to make any decisions, but gave me the number to our local early intervention in case I wanted to call sooner. I called sooner. 

After calling early intervention I called my husband at work, and in a fit of tears, admittedly defeated, I told him my gut told me to call and I was awaiting a call to schedule a screening.  The call back from my husband was him declaring he just called Children’s Hospital to get the ball rolling, we were going straight to the top. 

The prescreening calls came back from early intervention, and Children’s Hospital, and we set dates.  The developmental medicine center called to let us know it would be twenty-six weeks until their first available appointment for a neuro-psych evaluation, and assured us this was great, because the younger the child the sooner the availability. 

Only twenty-five weeks until they’d call back to confirm.

From that point forward, the calls only got more plentiful, more stressful and frankly more unwanted. The calls to begin scheduling routine EI visits at home. The calls to add OT, SLP, music therapy, and center based group therapies.

The calls to our babysitter, and to solicit family, to help care for the neuro-typical child, or keep her busy, while we focused on our son.  The calls when someone had to reschedule or rearrange a day. 

Then the call to schedule the parents only chat that revealed the official autism diagnosis.  What do we do now? Do we call friends and family and announce this, like you announce a pregnancy? Or does it just come up in conversation? How do you address this?

Those thoughts were quickly overshadowed by the calls to interview ABA providers. The call to schedule the chosen provider’s evaluation. Then the calls to fit in the hours they could initially offer, and the calls to fight for more.    

The calls to the pediatrician. The calls to the allergist. The calls to the dermatologist. The calls to the division of immunology. The calls to the primary and secondary insurance companies.

Then came the calls to schedule all the meetings to prepare for the integrated preschool evaluation. The call to schedule the IEP. The first day of school, and the silly thought I’d be freed from most of my calls. 

The nurse called and called- he’s broken out in hives; he’s scratching himself so hard he’s bleeding; he fell and it’s a good size gash; we’re not sure if he’s getting sick but he’s agitated and won’t stop kicking and screaming.  

Thankfully, in between all these calls, there are calls from people reaching out to make sure we are okay. The calls to let us know the improvements are evident. 

The calls to invite our little traveling circus to tag along. And while I’d say the majority of the calls are still unsolicited reminders of how truly overwhelming this all is, I know it’s all going to be okay, this too shall pass, and so the phone line remains open.

Written by, Jill Logan 

Jill is a self proclaimed left hand-turn, road less traveled kinda gal.  She’s a wife, momma, animal and ocean lover, and is always on the go!

Interested in writing for Finding Cooper’s Voice? LEARN MORE

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.

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Finding Cooper's Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you're never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village....all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to my page!

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