Mei, mother of four-month-old Amy, called to make an appointment in my behavioral pediatrics practice. Her thick accent made it difficult for me to understand her concern over the phone. She arrived at my office with her husband, Yuan, who spoke little English. I learned that they had recently immigrated from China. Although I had a blanket on the floor covered with toys, Mei stood tentatively, her movements awkward and hesitant, until I suggested she put Amy down.
Immediately Amy gave me a huge grin, kicking her little legs that her mother had, with my gentle encouragement, released from her snowsuit. At first Mei sat tensely on a chair, not joining us on the floor, speaking in a somewhat remote and intellectual tone, while she told me her story. I played with Amy, smiling with her as I observed that she liked to be held in a standing position to better see the world. Mei eventually joined us on the floor but did not join me in playing with Amy.
Mei was fully absorbed in describing a scary moment just after Amy’s birth, when she had needed some oxygen. Amy had been in the special care nursery for about an hour before she was reunited with her mother. Multiple doctors had reassured Mei that Amy was fine. She had seen her regular pediatrician for checkups, and he had expressed no concerns about Amy’s development. Yet Mei was convinced that there was something wrong with her brain. Specifically with her ability to relate to other people—it was her social development that Mei was worried about.
[Click here to continue reading this blog from Claudia Gold, MD.]
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