Joshua, Part One

I've always struggled with whether I should write about this or not.  It's not a secret; if you've seen us face to face in the past two years you know about what follows.  But I've come to a place that I feel the need to share about our son.  A place to talk about the goings on in our family that I often don't feel like talking about face to face.  If you know me well, you might be shocked that I withhold in daily conversations.  I'm a pretty open book about anything and everything, but when I recently realized that I don't even share with Mary, my close friend and neighbor whom I spend every day with, about most of this, I was surprised.  But she wants to know.  I think most of our close friends do.  And the task seems more surmountable on the "page".

I'll start at the beginning.

From the time he was born we never worried about Joshua.  He ate great, he slept great, he GREW, he hit all his early developmental milestones.  He never got sick.  We just knew he would be the easy one, medically speaking.  This compared to G, who by the age of 2 had 6 specialists trying to figure out why he wouldn't eat, grow, stay well, and meet those developmental milestones.  (All of that was fixed at age 3 by starting a daily injection of human growth hormone. Turns out he has an ectopic pituitary gland and can't make it on his own.)

Joshua, 6 months old, days after arriving in Morocco.

However, while worrying about G and trying to figure him out, Joshua started slipping.  We looked up at 18 months and realized he wasn't talking.  Only babbling. He had no words.  Not Mama, not Dada, not "no." G was a very late talker, so we thought maybe he was just a little behind. He interacted with us, was affectionate, and laid back.

So we weren't too worried and he got pushed to the back burner as we traveled home to the States for a month of R&R, the family dog bit G and he had plastic surgery, we found out about the growth hormone issue, I had skin cancer removed, etc, etc.

By 21 months, back in Morocco, I knew something was wrong.  He still wasn't talking.  We took a trip to Brussels. We figured out G's new medical stuff.   We re-potty trained G after his trauma with the dog. Along with Joe, I was busy working at the Embassy.

21 months. 

At 22 months, he still wasn't talking.  It makes me a little sick right now writing out this timeline.
Looking back, I can't believe we let it go on this long.  But at the time, everything else was screaming at us while Joshua played quietly and sweetly in the corner. I took him in to the Embassy medical unit when the doctor was at post doing visits and I think it's fair to say he was alarmed.  He made plans to send Joshua back to the States for a full work up.  We would leave after Christmas.

To be continued tomorrow...