Ready, set, go…
As I collapse into bed after a long day filled with so many tough moments, I am thinking back on the seven times I said “yes” to that school psychologist.
Adelaide had three assessments this morning. And I spent a solid eighteen minutes saying “no, no, no” to questions about my almost 4-year-old. Pages filled with zeros. She actually scored so low on the first three tests, we didn’t do the fourth. Only seven out of four hundred. She can do seven things.
I was prepared. I have gone over these results hundreds of times with parents. But now I’m the mom. The one who feels like I failed my little girl. The one who carried her for 39 weeks and grew her and fed her. And fed her outside my womb for 1.25 years. And I’m the same person who hasn’t taught her to use a straw or put exactly five pieces into one of those wooden puzzles. And I kept saying “no, nope, never” and the “yes, once, last month” utterances were few and far between.
But we were both brave. She more than me. She’s the one who will start school for the first time. Get diaper changes from someone other than mom. Be away from her toys and books and plethora of sensory chew toys that were created to just be toys until she baptized them with saliva and fire.
And I’ll be learning to let other people see her flourish. Teach her what I’ve been unable to plant in that sweet pixied head of hers. I’m taking the chance that I’ll miss firsts. A kind paraprofessional will tell me what I didn’t see or cheer on. And I’ll hold back tears until we’ve reached the van and loaded the wheelchair and exited the parking lot.
Because I’m not selfish for dreading these future times when I will not have the memory and photo and video of a praise-the-Lord-she-finally did it milestone. I’m a normal mom, despite my unusual circumstances. I want to see my baby grow. And I’ll learn to celebrate those moments, and I’m looking forward to having more than seven “yes, uh-huh, yep” answers this time next year.
We have a list of 393 negatives to flip. And now we have a whole team of caring adults to share the burden and the excitement. What a way to start September.
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