My Creative Voice

Trying to add value, make sense of what's coming next and keeping things going in the same direction.

>Happy Tears

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>Well…

So my son got his second psychoeducational assessment today. In our home, on his medication, relaxed and feeling fine. I was amazed. I got the best news that any parent of a child with special needs can get – there is hope. Now that sounds kind of negative as well. Didn’t we have hope before ? Well, yes and no and here is why.

Thomas’ first psychoed did not go well. He was not medicated. He had to be taken for three weeks to a new environment that he never appeared totally comfortable in. We were trying to wean him off dolls and the psychologist was using them as a reward. This created more anxiety when Daddy came to pick him up. Thomas did not want to cooperate and the psychologist didn’t seem to know how to work with him. At the time, we thought things were going well. Then the results came in. The psychologist’s two conclusions ? That my son was borderline retarded (her wording not mine) and that he was afraid of his father. Both of these observations were not helpful and none of her suggestions were either. They did provide a foundation but we were going in the wrong direction because of her. The testing did little to alleviate my fears for Thomas’ future and did more damage I think in hindsight than it helped. I saw the window closing on Thomas’ future and that caused me great anxiety. No – Thomas’ life is not all about me. No – I do not make his woes my whole life. No – I was not willing to accept this. No – I did not accept it at all. Just while writing this and after discussion with the psychologist this morning, I’ve come to realize that this has been the major part of my stress issues for the past two years. That damn report.

I let that report dictate my son’s future. I let that report decide where things were going to go for my son. I let that report change the way I looked at my son in that I allowed it to make that window smaller. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong and yet I let myself believe it. She had the education. She was the professional. I knew it was wrong and I let it beat me. But maybe not as much as I thought. Once the report had been delivered, I immediately put Thomas on the list for ErinOak to do an assessment. I knew the wait would be long and I knew that report was wrong. I would wait to prove it. And the wait was worth it.

Hallelujah my son is dyslexic !! Hallelujah he has memory issues !! Hallelujah WE CAN WORK WITH THAT BECAUSE HIS INTELLIGENCE IS NORMAL !!! Why is that a big deal you ask ? It is a fault of mine. I value intellgence. I link a good future with a certain amount of intelligence. The first report relegated my son to “Would you like fries with that ?” . Now that line of work is honorable, honest work but I resented that being his only choice. I resented that window being shut. I resented his choices being taken away. I let that damn report steer me to thinking that way.

Now another thought occurs to me. I am letting this new report shape my thinking as well. Not about my son as a whole. I love all parts of my son. Some parts more than others but overall he’s a kid I enjoy. I like his imagination. I like his cuddles. I like his acting. I like his unique thought processes. I think the way my kids’ mind works is kind of cool. I won’t like him any less or any more based on this report. What has changed is the stress about worrying about his future. Thoughts of his future besieged me. The uncertainty was driving me nuts. I realize that all kids futures are uncertain. I get that. But something about his was just off the map. I just couldn’t put my finger on what the issue was. This was it – the sentencing of that damn first report.

What this new report gives me is hope. It opens the doors back up. It gives me something to work with. I realize that no matter what I will do everything for my son. I will support him in whatever he decides to do. Report or no report, he is my son and I love him. I will do whatever it takes to make him happy and a new report doesn’t change that. What it will do is give me more ammunition to fight the school with. They had started to write him off. They started to tell me that this was all he could accomplish. They started to believe that report and they started to falter in helping him. They stopped seeing his future as it could be but rather what they thought is should be. That just won’t do.

Now I have the proof. I told them all along that I had problems with that first report. I told them all along something was missing. I told them all along that my son could do more. And now I can prove it. Now they will get back on track to the future that is waiting for him and not one they feel he deserves. He deserves whatever he can get out of life. He deserves to be whatever he wants to be. I’ve told him he can be a doctor, a nurse, a mechanic, a baker.. whatever he wants. And now the school will know it too.

I called my friend to tell her. I couldn’t stop crying through the happy tears. My son has his future back and what a bright and shining one it is. My boy. My heart. Damn reports.

Author: Elizabeth Plouffe

Writer, communicator, entrepreneur, tea enthusiast (bordering on fanatic) who enjoys helping others connect. Cookbook reader, cottage lover, book devourer (apparently I make up my own language too) and seeker of the ambition to exercise.

One thought on “>Happy Tears

  1. >Just a note to say that I am thinking about you and missing our gripe sessions. Who knew we wouldn’t even be able to make time for that!!!Love your last blog by the way…happy tears are the very best kind.

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