The day we started prep

It was only three short years ago that my angel boy started prep.  A milestone I had both loved and dreaded at the same time.  I was so excited for him to start big boy school.  To wear the uniform and be part of something bigger, but as the days grew closer I could feel the anxiety begin.  The what if’s really ramped up their campaign.  The morning of him starting school my stomach was in knots and the tingle of excitement could be felt cursing through my body.  His uniform looked so smart.

We had it all, the social story, laying out the uniform with the shoes, the school bag.  It was all ready to go.  We took the pictures, the grandparents came over, and as we all piled in the car, ready to drive the 45 minutes it took us to go to his special needs school, I remember thinking how did we get to today.  It was only yesterday that we got the diagnosis and the day before that that he was a baby being born.

My eyes welled with tears, I remember thinking for the first time in 3 years I could take my foot off the gas pedal.  For the first time in 3 years, I wasn’t going to be in fight or flight.  For the first time in 3 years I was handing over the care of this precious soul.

As we made the journey over to the school, I looked out at the other kids all dressed in their uniform, imagining what he would be like when he was a teenager.  Would we still be in this same place or would we be somewhere completely different?

We arrived.  My hand holding his, we walked up to the classroom.  Greeted by other parents and teachers, all with happy and nervous smiles, I let go of his hand.  I let go of taking full responsibility for him and his welfare.  That was the day that I marked a line in the sand for when he began to learn in a different environment.

The parents and I walked out of the classroom and I couldn’t stop it.  The eruption of a howling cry.  The sobs coming from deep within,  making my body shake.  Were they cries of fear?  Cries of relief?  Cries of this isn’t what I was expecting – dropping my son at a special needs school cry?  To be honest, it was all of it and so much more.  It was the howl of my fears that I had not done enough.  That I had somehow let him down.  Not been there enough.  Not tried hard enough.

My husband and my daughter came over and without missing a beat just held me.  Held me so that I could let go.  Let it all go.  Because we were embarking on a new chapter.  One that would have its highest of high’s and one that would have its lowest of low’s and I was and still am prepared to stand by his side every step of the way.  Supporting him in everything he does.

Little did that version of myself know that it would only be two short years until my angel boy would be attending mainstream school.  All of the hard work, the prayer, the blood, sweat and tears had paid off and I would thank my past self for not running.  For not wanting to leave that special needs school and never go back.  I acknowledge myself that I was faced with something few parents deal with – that my current reality did not match the reality in my mind.  I acknowledge myself for being in the oh so hard and sticking it out.  Feeling the fear and moving through it.  Knowing that he was on his path and that the journey would eventually lead us to mainstream.

I wonder what my future self would tell my current self right now?  I think she would say – you wait and see.  This boy of yours will exceed all of your expectations.  Just. Be. Patient.

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