agonizing weeks

The past few months have been long for our family. Very, very long. Sometimes painful, sometimes exhausting, but long, no matter how we look at it.

Tomorrow, our house will have been on the market for 90 days. One month after that, our contingency contract on the “new" house will end. We are working hard to trust God and know His timing is perfect. We believe we are supposed to try to sell, but the weeks are dragging by and our anxiety is compounded by the need to keep the house immaculate for showings. Not easy with a one and five year old in tow.

The first couple months, we had one offer that was terribly low. Many, many others made us their “second choice” should their first fall through. One major concern was the old roof—it was 23 years old, though not leaking. So, we finally increased our price and added a roof. I’ve been asked more than once if we did that because the old one was leaking! Argh! On the other hand, we don’t get quite as many showings in a week now, since we’ve moved into a new price bracket (not by much, but I guess that’s all it takes!). As was our experience before, we are still everyone’s second choice. There is never any negative feedback (thanks to the new roof) and everyone really likes it, but they choose another house every time. It’s disheartening to say the least.

In the midst of this daily stressor in our lives, Little B had what I will call a “disconcerting” or even “harrowing” experience with his therapist. I will save the details for those I am closest to, but it brought out every inch of my protectiveness for my little boy (and my husband's). Every week since that time has been filled with related issues: meeting with the therapist and her supervisor to share a piece of our mind (we did not “reach an understanding” as she had hoped); withdrawing him from therapy; calling around and interviewing another therapist. While trying to get our insurance to consider the new therapist as in-network, we discovered our policy doesn’t cover occupational therapy after all, so we’re on our own now. Not good as the visits are expensive. (And we’re not asking who pays for the previous five visits they said were covered!)

At the same time, I was finishing a letter of complaint regarding the “situation” which I sent to three places: my insurance, the president of the facility where Little B had been in therapy, and also the State Board of Occupational Therapy. Yeah, it was a big deal. I faxed a copy to my pediatrician for her records. You know things are ugly when a pediatrician supports the letter of complaint, agreeing she would have done the same thing in our shoes.

Since we’d been waiting on insurance decisions before beginning with the new therapist, they are now evaluating his records and the 12 pages of specific questions I had to answer; hopefully we will get things under way once more.