Choices...

I'm not even sure how to begin about how overwhelming this week was! Not only did we find out that Carter got accepted at West Gate school, but we got to tour it too. At the meeting to find out which school he was being placed in and going over the IEP plan for his school year, we sat and listened to 13 people discuss their findings during their assessment. This was devastating and overwhelming for my husband and I. On a daily basis, we only deal with what is in front of us; we do not dwell on the past or the entire picture as a whole. We look at our son in all of his perfection and we only see a little boy who is happy, loved and smart. But in this meeting, we heard his life's story in the words of professionals. All of our realities were painted into a picture so blinding, that my eyes hurt. Half way through, I had to shut down. I watched my husband playing with Carter on the floor with one of his therapists and blocked out the words around me. On my son's face was nothing but smiles and happiness. He was unaffected by the terms being used and he didn't care what disabilities they categorized him into. I had to grab that happiness and hold on tight in order to make it through. I only allowed myself to answer the yes and no questions that were required of me. I had to put up a wall to protect my heart. As if this wasn't hard enough, we went yesterday to tour his classroom and school. I had in my mind what I imagined this would be like and I prepared myself for it to be difficult. But no amount of preparation could have equipped me for what I was about to experience. No number of days, weeks or years ever make this journey easier. Coping skills get stronger, but they do not get easier. So as I walked into his classroom, I noticed first that they had lots of sensory toys and activities. On the far wall, was a small fish tank with little fish (one of Carter's favorites) and there were 3 aids and a teacher in the room. Most of the children were eating lunch and a few were sleeping on soft mats. All such wonderful things. But in the midst of all these things I was so happy to see, were also very real and very startling things. Half of the children had severe physical and mental challenges. In this classroom were children who had similiar disabilities as my child, but seeing them with a bystanders perspective gave me a much clearer view on my son's needs. This is not what I wanted for my son; this was not part of the plan I had always imagined for him. I am surprised my heart is not physically broken and irreparable at this point but somehow, some way, it keeps beating and recovering. I managed to keep it together even though my thoughts were in shambles at my feet. I'm not sure how I made it through the rest of the tour as my heart screamed in pain. This is the school I wanted for my son for almost a year; I knew full well what it would mean. But seeing it for the first time, threw my system into shock. I am left with many questions that I didn't think I would have. I wonder if Carter will always be in a special needs school. I wonder if he will always need equipment to help him stand or walk. I wonder if he will ever call out for me using "momma" or if he will ever tell me what he thinks about his life. Will he always be in diapers and need around the clock care. Who will take care of him when I can't someday. Many of these things, I know I shouldn't even think about at this early in the game...but I can't block them out and pretend it won't be something we face someday. This is real, this is what it is. I spent a lot of the afternoon in tears, even though it was my birthday. I couldn't talk about the tour without bursting into tears. Trying to describe that dark place in my fears to others, kept resulting in inadequate descriptions and words. There is no clear way to explain what I felt like or how I feel now. I have 9 days to digest this pain and rebuild it into ways I can handle. I have no choice but to give this new challenge a shot. I have to put aside my own pain and fears. I know that January 23rd will entail lots of motrin and tears. How I will get through this, I'm not quite sure. But just like the decisions and experiences over the last 3 years, I find ways to do it. I'm a mom of a special needs child...it's just what we have to do. There was no choices made in the way my child came into this world and there are no real choices in making things change. I only have once choice and that is to grow a thicker skin and run through the fire yet again. The blisters and damage will heal; I will heal.