Last night it hit me with full force how these past two weeks have been a long needed victory laps for ghost child. Normalcy doesn't really exist when a significant amount of your time is spent on a child with special needs, especially in testing or diagnosis. If you are aware of your concerns, knowledge of the process, and aggressive in diagnosis, it takes about a year. Us, eight months of concentrated pushing. Years of voicing concern. We have arrived to healing. Now therapy with therapy homework. It can be all consuming and finding balance in a new normal is imperative.
Pulling ghost child home was the best decision. I feel a lot less pressure in her care with flexibility and non compete with the school system on her needs. We are integrating her speech goals as opposed to shoving them in at the end of the day and trudging through them on weekends. I am watching her self regulate her modifications, gaining confidence, and taking charge of her learning. Not just education. She is reading voluntarily with enjoyment. Memorization has been a nightmare. She has committed on her own to learn two verses for Awana. She wants to know what her units are, have input on her the "extras," and knowing her speech goals. I know it can only last so long on this hill. However, when we dip again, remembering that the upswing follows will be easier. We can breathe. The biggest moment of exhale came when family members remarked on her changed behavior (for the better). She isn't on constant over stimulation since I don't know when. She hugs more, recovers more, pushes herself more. I was truly worried about her being able to handle being flower girl. Not because she wouldn't want to be. Rather trying to process it all plus the struggle of language being too much. Ghost child had her victory. She was excellent with her special flair. Ghost child celebrated and danced with a joyous gusto that we have only had peeks of until now. It was contagious. I feel full the impact of what it takes to run our large family daily. I never fully took stock of how much extra it took to manage her disorder until it wasn't much of an issue. No more holding my breath. Exhale.
This isn't how I imagine things would go as a parent. When we were in the trenches of testing and diagnosis, imagination takes a nightmarish turn. Especially, when it got thick of "no's" and we need to test more. It makes it hard to breathe. That tiny ball of hope that our gut was right was the driver to continue to find answers. We made it to the exhale.
Namaste.
Namaste.
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