Ummm, That's Not the Kind of Special I Had In Mind

Well, there's been a good bit of stuff going on in the month since I've posted. It's one of those things that I had to get my head around and get sorted out before I could write about it.

It all started at the end of January when we had Will evaluated by a psychologist. Not because we thought there was anything wrong with him, it's just one of those you have to do when your child is prescribed Ritalin. I was kind of dreading it. What if she thought I was some crappy mother who just wanted to medicate her child into submission because I was too lazy to deal with him? Or worse, what if she thought he didn't actually need Ritalin and somehow got his prescription revoked? Or what if she thought he needed Ritalin, but only because he was being raised by crappy parents??? I would like to say I was worried about nothing, but it turns out, I was just worried about the wrong things.

Will's problem isn't crappy parenting (or if it is, her report didn't mention it). His problem is that he has speech delays, ADHD, and visual/motor delays. Speech and behavior, I knew about, visual/motor came as a surprise. I didn't really even know what that means. Turns out, if your kid can't hold a pencil properly, can't trace shapes or draw faces, and can't put together a puzzle, they're "low-average to boderline" on their visual/motor skills. Borderline what? What line are we bordering here? Nevermind, I don't want to know. We'll just say he's low-average. So, if your child is low-average (screw you, borderline) the therapist will recommend that he may be a candidate for special needs preschool.

And if you're like me, you will first get incredibly angry. "Special needs?? What the hell is she talking about, special needs? She is obviously stupid and incompetent. She was wearing black acid-wash jeans for christsake!!" Then you look up the special needs preschool program in your school district, just to prove she has no clue what she's talking about. Then the bile starts to rise in your throat when you realize that the description of the kids that may qualify perfectly matches your child. Then you cry. A lot. Then you wipe the tears and snot away, square your shoulders, and start sending facebook messages to everyone you know that can help you figure out where to start.

So that's where we are now. I've submitted all the paper work to have the boys evaluated for the special needs preschool. Hays doesn't have the speech delay that Will does, but he's right there with him on visual/motor and behavior. He isn't ADHD, but he doesn't listen and follow directions like he needs to. The school speech therapist that's been working with them for a couple of months doesn't think they'll qualify for the full preschool program, but she thinks they may qualify for some afternoon therapy sessions. If they do, they'll attend a private preschool program 4 mornings a week, then get a couple of therapy sessions a week. I've gone from praying that they won't qualify to praying that they do. I want them to get all the help they need so that they'll be ready for kindergarten. I don't want school to be a struggle for them, but they've got a ways to go before they'll truly be ready for kindergarten.
And I'm getting past the "special needs" label. It's hard. Nobody wants their kid to have problems. It's hard to face a developmental delay. It feels like a huge failure on my part, like I let them down by not doing something I should have. But I have to let that go, because ultimately, it's not about me. It's about getting them what they need. And they need a little more than other kids. They had a harder start than most kids, and I have to keep that in mind. The earlier a child was born, and the more they went through after birth, the longer it will take for them to catch up. Instead of worrying about labels, or worrying about what other kids can do, I have to focus on Will and Hays. We are blessed by the fact that we know a lot of people who can help us figure out what they need and can help us get it for them. We are not alone in this, and that is incredibly reassuring.