Letting Go

This is going to be an emotional ramble of jumbled thoughts and tangled feelings, so bear with me or feel free to move along.

Had the cute chicks' annual ARD meeting this morning. For those of you not familiar with special education, ARD stands for Admission, Review, Dismissal and it's the meeting were students are evaluated for admission to SpecEd, their IEPs (Individual Education Plans) are reviewed and revised for the coming year, and sometimes students are evaluated for Dismissal and mainstreaming. This meeting includes every person involved in your child's education. In the chicks' cases, Diagnostician, Speech Therapist, Occupational Therapist, Physical Therapist, SpecEd teacher, mainstream teacher, principal, and other specialists as deemed necessary. Many of these folks have been with the girls since pre-school. They are very special people and deeply invested in TQ's and BQ's success. They are, in many ways, family.

Today I walked in to see two new faces. These ladies represented the new post-secondary vocational program that was started in our Education Co-op. Last year, I signed Teen Queen up for several vocational programs with the thought that we'd be on a waiting list for several years. In the State of Texas, a special ed student is allowed to attend public high school until the age of 21 at which time they age out, or until they are accepted into a vocational program. Due to a corporate grant and a couple of very generous endowments, this new program opened and  reduced the wait-time for those on the waiting list. My years of wait were reduced to 7 months. After the introductions, Beth, the Diagnostician who has guided the girls for the last 10 years, turned to me and said, "Well, Mom, you ready to watch her walk the stage with her class in May?"

Okay, lump in my throat now, so you can imagine my reaction this morning. I couldn't speak, tears running down my cheeks, and then wholesale bawling. Boxes of Kleenex and little Halloween chocolates found their way to me almost by magic. I had an instant flashback to the last "graduation", from PPCD (preschool program for children with disabilities) to Kindergarten. TQ was five, wearing a tiny little purple gown and mortarboard, standing in front of the audience and leading us in the Pledge of Allegiance in a strong clear voice. From memory with her tiny chubby hand over her heart. Three years prior, she had lost all vocabulary, eye contact and social connections; and now she was reciting the Pledge. Not a dry eye in the room. And then she sang the Panther Fight Song. So here we go again. In six months, she'll be going to Senior Prom and the next month graduating High School and entering a Vocational Program. Wow.

Now some of you may be saying, "What's the big deal? It's a natural thing, kids grow up and you let go." And in normal cases, that is so. With special needs kids, things straddle the two worlds. Neurotypical kids (don't you love all this new terminology?), at age 18, become legal adults and your role in their lives changes dramatically. You are no longer legally responsible for their lives, they are free to make their own choices, and subsequently, mistakes. You can advise, guide, yell, praise, and pray, but you are no longer allowed to control. That legal separation aids in the parent "letting go" of the child. With many special needs families, the parents file for custodial guardianship when the child turns 18; and thus, the parental role continues. We have a line we have to walk, while still legally responsible for our kids, we are morally obligated to "let go" as much as possible.

When our kids are born, we all have a "vision" of who and what our kids will eventually become. Sometimes you get close to that vision, sometimes you revise when you accept your kids have different dreams and visions. And sometimes those dreams and visions are taken from you with a diagnosis. I had to let go of my "dream child" when she was 3 and a doctor told me the prognosis. Basically, I had to go through the stages of grief, letting go of the child I had planned on having in order to embrace and appreciate the child God gave me. And then, I started new plans. Different plans. My goal has always been to prepare TQ and BQ to become happy, healthy people, advancing as far as they can, and many times farther than I ever dreamed. I'm fighting the battle between Momming her to infinity, and giving her wings to fly. Even if it's not that far, I want her to fly as far and high as she can. I'll always be there for her to pick her up and dust her off, setting her back on her feet and encouraging her to keep flying.

So, come May, my beautiful, incredible Teen Queen will end the first part of her journey as she walks across the stage with the kids, sorry, Young Adults, who have had her back for the last 13 years. She'll begin a new chapter, perhaps finding something that will become a passion. And I will let go. I'll also gladly accept donations of Kleenex and Xanax.