N
Photo by Amy Corbett Storchot entirely surprisingly, just a few days after writing about our "normal and quiet" week, Noah somewhat predictably cratered. He came down with a nasty stomach virus, and it really took a terrible toll on his sensitive little system, and he promptly gave back a good portion of his self-regulation gains.

We were treated to concerned notes from his teacher about his anxiety levels, a lot of tantrums, a bunch of moments where we were like, "Oh God, remember THIS? I thought we were done with THIS" as Noah rolled around on the floor of a shoe store because there is NOTHING more terrifying in the world than having to try on new shoes, especially when your mother absented-mindedly suggests that you try on two new shoes at the same time to save a few minutes, even though they are different and don't match and thus completely strip you of your ability to walk, OMG.

Another week, another letter that sends me into an alternating tailspin of introspection and/or agitation. I should probably start having somebody else open my mail, don't you think? This week's baby step of a development in our special needs journey was a letter from Noah's school. Half form letter, half personalized pre-IEP meeting invitation to come observe the classroom environments currently on the table for next year. For kindergarten. Gulp.

Mere hours after I posted a 1-minute, 8-second video equivalent of a Rocky-style fist-pump on the top of the art museum steps on my personal blog, we received a letter from our insurance company, informing us of their Final Determination re: coverage eligibility for Noah's occupational therapy.

The video was a single scene from a birthday party, in which my son is having a great time on an inflatable obstacle course activity. That single scene easily includes a good six or seven "things" that he previously could not tolerate, at all. Six or seven typical childhood "things" that we've never once been able to take for granted.

I truly believe that Noah's current state and success and behavior is directly attributable to the OT he's received over the past 12 months.

So of course, our insurance company has decided not to pay for any of it.