I've been asking advice from friends I've made along this crazy journey. Friends whom I've grown to trust over time.
I found an email this morning from one such friend.
Her words (I'll be pasting and italicizing along the way) hit me upside the head. Which...ironically...happens to be the best way for truths to sink in. For me.
I had emailed her asking for advice. And venting a bit. That it feels like the heaviest decision is my own. The neurologists (even those I adore) commit to nothing. There is no guidance on placement from them. Integrated vs. Inclusive. They will not say.When asked what Trevy's future will be. They squirm and sidestep with finesse.
After your most uncommon surgical journey (one reason the surgeons won’t predict much) you are now on a very common and well-beaten path of EI to special education. Many will try to hold your hand – as I have. You will decide who you trust, instinctively or with the careful thought process you used for choosing surgery. – Which leads me to think you will continue to make careful decisions.
And it has all been feeling very heavy.
Like Trevy's future somehow rests entirely on my shoulders.
I believe some of the stress of these decisions is based in efforts to get a particular future, fear of getting less than one could.
Like if I make the wrong choice...I will somehow alter the direction of his life.
That it was never really mine to begin with.
Whether he attends a self-contained class or integrated, now and in the beginning, might not matter so much in Trevy’s eventual learning.
I forgot that I believe what I say.
Because if it isn’t working, you will change it. God made you the mother you are. Gave you Trevy.
That we're here. In this moment. All moments before Leading here. Not because of my control. But because it has already been Written.
My wealth of life experience and education is mine because God gave it to me, knew me before I was born. That’s what I believe. And live.