When you go hiking, or rafting or something like that you usually get a guide. Somebody who knows the ins and outs of your route, is trained in emergency response, things like that.
When your 18 month old is diagnosed with “global developmental delays” you get a guide too. Except he or she is called a Family Resource Coordinator. And besides the obvious things of making sure you’re on the right path, if you have a good one, she’ll answer random text messages, call you to just check in, listen to your rants, all while making sure you are as supported as you need to be.
From the first phone call, her voice was calming. She explained the process, not leaving out any details and making sure I understood what would happen. She checked in with via phone after the initial evaluation, and when the report was done, she called me to tell me he did in fact qualify for Early Intervention in every area. She wanted to make sure, before anything else that I was okay with the news. I wasn’t even thinking of myself at the time and here she, who had barely known me two weeks was worried about me? It was unlike anything I’d experienced up to that point. And she never stopped- if I had concerns about a service provider, she made sure it was addressed. My frustrations and concerns weren’t annoying to her- she treated them as if they were her own personal concerns and made sure they got addressed. When I broke down in a massive ugly cry at Hope Sparks’ Christmas party at the Tacoma Children’s Museum, she made sure we got an appointment with a developmental pediatrician a week later. And when the diagnosis came down, again, her first question was “How are YOU?”, followed by telling me how big “the spectrum” is and how lucky S is to have such dedicated parents.
She built such a confidence in me that with his 3rd birthday looming, I wasn’t sure that the predicted route of enrolling him into the district preschool was best. And I wasn’t afraid to say that, so we went through the evaluation process (she even came to the initial evaluation because Ken was working in Seattle and couldn’t get out!) but at the end it didn’t seem like the right decision to enroll him. And if I wasn’t sure how much she cared about our family and our kid until that time, when she stood in the parking lot with me and we had an admittedly somewhat heated conversation where we both cried. I walked away from it frustrated, but then realized all she wanted was what she thought was best for my kid. And she said it was ultimately my decision and I knew him best and she wasn’t wrong- but damn, here was somebody who wasn’t getting paid to answer my text messages at 930PM. She wasn’t gaining anything professionally to come to our private OT appointment….but she kept showing up.
We did ultimately enroll him in private preschool, and came back to the district for K. We didn’t cross paths with her much, but when we did, she always asked about him and how it was going, and it was never in the surfacey making conversation, she still cared about us and him and his wellbeing.
Michelle,
I never appropriately said thank you.
Thank you for always responding to my frantic messages and emails, for never making me feel like a crazy over protective parent, for making navigating this path and world way easier than it seemed. That day at the Tacoma Children’s Museum changed the direction of our lives- his mostly, but it all happened because of you. I didn’t even know what a developmental pediatrician was before you explained it to me. Thank you for recognizing the need in the special needs community for the kind of support you gave. You are a selfless, incredible person who gave hundreds of families a shoulder when they didn’t have one.
Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. Because of you, I’ve never shied away from tackling issues head on. Whether it’s with insurance companies, service providers- whatever. The confidence I carry with me in those situations is because you spent his early years telling me I knew him best, and I knew what was best to do for him.
Thank you for dedicating the last chapter of your life to kids like mine, to families like ours. Thanks for connecting me with people I wouldn’t know otherwise, thank you for never calling me a pain in the ass although I’m sure there were lots of times you felt like I was one. (I wouldn’t have been offended if you had called me one.)
Kristen told me last week at pick up, “He is THRIVING.” I’m not sure she knew the magnitude of that statement, but I got in the car and cried. He IS thriving, and it made me reflect on all the people who have gotten us to this point. And you- you were the first one on a long path. I couldn’t have imagined a better guide- and I will be eternally grateful for you, and your presence in our lives.
Thank you…from the very bottom of my heart.
Love you,
Emily
ahoybluesailor.com 