If this ain’t a message from Him, my inner voice pronounced, then what is?
SPLASH!
I was soaked. Again. Just give up, my voice of maturity intoned. You’re not leaving this pool dry.
It was hydrotherapy session #1, and I still couldn’t believe I’d pushed myself to do this. My oldest childhood friend, who now works as a pediatric OT, had been urging me for months: Get this child intensive sensory stimulation.
I knew she was right. Even the cashier at Kosher Mart had picked up on Shira’s irrepressible craving for sensory input: “Wow, ma’am, your little one sure likes huggin’ you hard,” she’d noted sagely, watching Shira press her body into mine as I struggled to maneuver the cart.
It became a pattern: I’d consider occupational therapy for a millisecond, then my defenses would kick in. I work full-time! I attend play therapy weekly, I have a full day neurologist appointment next month, I go to the park three times a week, and I’ve got three other kids who need my attention. How much more can I push myself?
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
