Last Thursday we went to our monthly group physio appointment. The hospital run these sessions largely as a screening exercise to check that all their NICU graduates are progressing normally. It is also a good way to catch up with other mothers and babies, some of whom I met when Talia was in the NICU.

At each session, the staff deal with each baby in turn. We were one of the last to be seen, and I put Talia down on a mat and offered her some toys while we were waiting. She immediately started crying. I don’t know whether it is the lights or the smell or what, but she transforms from a placid, happy baby into a wailing, uncooperative mess every time we go. I also find these visits stressful, partly because of Talia’s reactions, and partly because it becomes ever clearer how far behind she is falling compared to babies of similar corrected age.

The first thing I am asked is “So, what does she do?” It’s a question that almost reduces me to tears, because I want to focus on the positives – how much she has grown recently, how much better she is sleeping, how her smile lights up the whole room, how she brings so much happiness to everyone who loves her.

But I know what sort of things they are asking about, and compared to the other babies there, she doesn’t do very much. She is 5.5 months corrected (8.5 months actual) and shows no signs of wanting to roll yet. She doesn’t automatically reach for and play with toys, or bring her hands together often, and she doesn’t play with her feet at all. To make it worse, she becomes so distressed in the physiotherapy room that I can’t even get her to show them how much better she is at tummy time these days.

In the back of my head there is always a nagging fear: what if there is a medical condition underlying her slow development? At Thursday’s session I am finally brave enough to ask this question to the physiotherapist. Thankfully she does not see any indications of cerebral palsy at this stage, but tells me she feels Talia would benefit from one-on-one sessions in addition to the group sessions, starting next month. As she explained it to me, without some assistance to develop her gross motor skills, at some point Talia will become frustrated because mentally she wants to progress but physically she is not capable.

Back home after the session, Talia returns to her calm, sunny disposition and waggles an arm at me in an unco-ordinated fashion, almost as if she is telling me to take it easy and not worry so much.

Hey, even Einstein was a late developer, and he turned out all right.