It was about this time last year when we first started suspecting our then two-year old twins might be taking a different path. It was when the word autism became both an alarming word and a possible answer to some of the questions that were going through our minds. It took several more months for us to wrap our heads and our hearts around what to do and where to turn. We eventually settled on the state program that focuses on early childhood development and intervention.
Getting to that point was difficult. No one ever wants to think that they are not enough for their children, that their kids might need something more than home and family can provide. But with no words at two-and-a-half (in fact, a loss of what few words once existed), it was time. And the transition was hard, mostly because you're not sure what to expect and what role to play. The idea of having therapists in the home working with your kids on basic things like language, communication and social skills makes you question yourself. Am I not doing something right? Are we not providing the right environment, the appropriate opportunities to learn? How can I do it better?
But you get over that. You get comfortable with the therapists you see on a weekly basis, watching them interact and realizing they're not doing things much differently than you've been doing. They're just focusing a lot more on specific things, going for repetition and new experiences, reinforcing every step of the way. It's just a more intense form of everyday life. Six months later, those therapists are like friends. They know the boys, their personalities and limitations, and tailor activities to both suit them and to help them grow. They talk to you about milestones and frustrations, about new experiences and opportunities that might be just around the corner. They talk to you about diagnoses and about hopes for the future. They are just part of the journey.
But the boys are reaching another milestone this week - their third birthday - and that means the journey takes a different path. They are aging out of the state program of in-home therapy and going through the process of entering the local school system. It's another difficult transition, mostly because you're once again leaving the familiar and going into something you don't yet understand.
Today was the last day of in-home therapy. Miss Lisa and Miss Kellie came yesterday, and Miss April came today. All wonderful people. Each one has done so much to help both of the boys along this journey. Each one will be missed.
Tomorrow we meet with a new group of people. We've actually met with them several times already, doing preliminary paperwork and evaluations. But tomorrow is the big day. It's the admissions meeting, where the boys will officially enter the school system (we are assuming, based on all the evaluations so far, that they will be qualified and accepted). And they will be entering a new world of acronyms - ARC, IEP and many more.
The questions and the worries come back. Will the services be enough? How will the kids handle it? How will we? Are we doing enough to help them? And perhaps that's the hardest part of every transition. The questions that have no absolute answers. Like any parent, you want what is best for your child. But unlike most parents, you have to rely on so many others to help you get there.
But get there we will. They're our babies, and we're going to do everything that we need to do to make sure they have what they need to grow and to learn, to live a happy life. It's just another bend in the road . . .
