We’ve read and been told by a handful of people that giving kids with severe speech delays (and other developmental issues) fish oil supplements can make a world of difference. Sometimes we wonder about the wonder-drug-like claims made about Omega-3 fatty acids, but at this point we’d face a strong north gale and pee into it if we thought it would do any good.

So after doing our typical obsessive amount of online research, I went to Whole Foods and picked up some fish oil in liquid form. There is no way in hell and Georgia that J-Man is going to take pills or eat those chewy things that some egghead thought kids would actually ingest. Unless they can bake it into a tortilla chip, eating it is out.

I lucked out and found a liquid that required only 2.5ml (half a teaspoon) to get to what is generally considered a therapeutic range for toddlers. That’s less than the Reglan (reflux med) he takes, so we were hopeful we could get it in. About 5ml is his breaking point we’ve discovered.

Supposedly, the therapeutic dose for toddlers is about 500mg of combined DHA and EPA per day, though there are no definitive studies about this. God knows I’m not a doctor, so talk to your pediatrician first, preferably one that has a clue about supplements. I did learn to be careful about one thing, though. Some Omega-3 supplements contain Vitamins A and D, so be careful since above-recommended levels of those can be toxic.

The first couple of days we tried masking it in his applesauce but that was a total bust. He is super-sensitive to taste, and probably smell too. The shove-it-in-before-he-has-time-to-fight-it method looked to be our only shot.

Yesterday, I got the fish oil into an oral syringe (thank you Target for our endless supply of them) and got it in him, though not without some ju-jitsu from both of us. It’s strawberry-flavored and it doesn’t smell or taste that bad to me. Mary thinks it smells like an abandoned fish market. It does have an aftertaste, but ‘after’ is the operative word there. After it’s in him, I don’t much care. I gave him some iced tea to wash it down and he seemed OK with it (which is all relative).

It’ll take a while to see any difference, assuming we do. If it doesn’t, I guess we’re on to burnt offerings and word-saying. Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that. It’s probably against our HOA covenant.

One of the things I’ve noticed about being a mom of a special needs kid is that people think you did something to cause your kid to be that way – or that you DIDN’T do something, and that caused your kid to be that way. Either way, it’s the mom’s fault. I do my best not to listen to those types of people, because most research shows that special needs aren’t caused by something the parent has done… but occasionally, it still gets to me.

So I ask myself: is it because I work outside the home? Does he not speak because we had to have his tongue clipped at two-weeks old? Is it because I’m not a very talkative person at home myself? Did I do something wrong during pregnancy? Could I have prevented this from happening if I were a better mom?

And so it goes. There is always that negative little voice in the back of my mind saying those things. Tim says he gets the same little voice, but I truly don’t think he gets the societal pressure I feel when we’re out and about.

If you met my son, you would soon want to hug him and squeeze him and call him George. If he liked you, he might even let you do all that, although the George thing might confuse him. He is the most loving child I’ve ever seen (and we have extra-cute nieces and nephews, so we have seen them in action as well). He tries very hard to get us to understand what he can’t say, and is quite inventive in figuring out how to communicate without words or signs. He’s beautiful and funny and caring and impish and mischievous and brilliant and loving.

I just wish everything wasn’t so hard for him.