Nik’s IEP is next week. I have been in constant contact with his teacher (who gets him, thank God; she really gets him), writing goals and summaries, researching and ranting to friends about “stupid OT’s” who think my kid needs a handwriting goal… again; Nik’s teacher will set her straight.
As far as IEP’s go, I think this one shouldn’t be too bad; Nik’s got a really great team working with him this year. They get him; they have seen the funny, smart, affectionate child I see. They know him well enough to recognize when he is having an off day which is not representative of his potential.
Still, I’m not going to lie; the anxiety is really running deep over this one. We are making big changes, big requests and, possibly, even adding some new letters to the already overflowing alphabet-soup of diagnoses and classifications which are a significant part of Nik’s educational record. We’re losing some services but gaining others…for now. We’re going to be asking for a minimum two-hundred percent increase in one of his services; I expect a lot of push-back on that (thus the reading and research). Over all, though? I’m hoping for good things and easy resolutions. And yet…
He’s nine. NINE. The gaps between my child and his peers are growing so much wider and the fears I have for my his future are taking root ever deeper in my spirit. The emotions are hard to push down.
I see-saw between hope and despair, manic laughter and tears.
My fingernails have all been cut off to keep me from biting them to the quick.
I may or may not have indulged in some emotional eating lately.
It feels like so much is at stake in this particular meeting. This particular year. It feels pivotal and overwhelmingly, intensely…huge.
It’s too much. And I am foundering.