In 2015, we have been approved for new therapies: speech and occupational. What an answer to prayer! We will get 10 weeks at a time, while submitting documentation every 9th week to the insurance board to get approval for another 10 weeks. I need to find two therapists who will join our physical therapist in all the hoop-jumping. I am ready to do the work. I just need some partners.
Adelaide gets a wheelchair in 2015. I am currently in the process of researching our options. I have no idea what I am doing. I feel like a preschooler in a calculus class. I can tell you that they have wheels. And a seat. And I have a belly button.
Next year, Adelaide will most likely attend a special education preschool at least 2 half days a week. I actually have no idea what to expect. I am filled with equal parts joy and dread. I love that she will get new experiences. I hate that I will miss seeing them. I am already praying for a paraprofessional who is willing to send me photos and updates. I am also having a hard time knowing my non-verbal daughter will be out of my view. Things happen to children. Especially those who cannot speak up for themselves. It is not completely insane to be fearful…no, wrong word choice…concerned. Alert. Vigilant? I don’t want anything happening to Adelaide. She is vulnerable.
We meet with genetics in February for a consult. As you already know, Adelaide’s first tier testing came back with nothing helpful. A team will see 1) if Adelaide has any physical markers that jump out and scream fill-in-the-blank disorder 2) if she is a good candidate to get an answer from exome sequencing 3) if the answer is worth what will need to be done. At this point, she is neither having children nor exhibiting a life-threatening condition. We are not sure if additional testing is the right route for us at this time.
I am going on the stand next year in a criminal case. Can’t say anything past that. But my knowledge of legal and judicial affairs is limited to the Judge Judy reruns I watched when I was up nursing Graham every 45 minutes. Nervous is an understatement. My victim’s advocate is the sweetest person alive and the prosecution team is super. I just need to not vomit in that little box place after I say the stuff on the Bible and remember that the truth sets us free…no matter what a jury decides.
Graham starts homeschool kindergarten in Autumn. Like the real deal. We have dabbled in preschool. But I will be responsible for imparting a crap ton of important stuff to a very strong-willed, creative, amazing individual. I do it now, but it will be more official. On the books. Benchmarks typed out. We have been so laid back and just enjoying his young years. I don’t regret it for an instant. He doesn’t know Latin, but he has some mad Lego-building skills. But he does need to learn to write his name before he enrolls in college.
I turn 32 in March. Dave teased that he is going to write Anne of Green Gables anagrams for me to solve. The thirties are a sexy time. But, seriously, my 22-year-old self wanted to be who I am right now at almost 32. Married to an incredible man, stay-at-home-mom to a few kids, and Jesus-lover/follower/believer no matter what happened in the next decade. There have been some conversations this year that started with, “God, I am not 100% sure right now that you love me…” but I know that He does. And has since before I was even created. And will continue forever. I preach it to myself on the hardest of days. And I am enjoying my thirties.
So 2015 is coming. And I feel like the Lord is giving me the word BRAVE. In all these areas…prayer requests, I need bravery. My gut reaction to tough situations usually involves a french fry run. May 2015 be the year of more courage and fewer fries. Or, more courage and *more* fries. I am open to both scenarios.