We've come a long way

This morning, I sat down to read previous blog posts, hoping for some inspiration. For me, writing is a form of therapy that money just can't buy. When I see issues in black and white, it allows my mind to organize them, debate them, see different solutions.

As I was looking back, I reread my I would give him everything I have post. I sat at my desk and cried at the raw emotion of that day. It was such a different time for us. My poor son had little control over any aspect of his life or his behavior.

Just before I had written that post, we made a decision to change neurologists. We felt like we weren't being helped, and knew we had to do better for our son. It was the best decision we could have made.

The new doctor listened to our concerns about certain medications we had tried. She scheduled a critical test in such a fast manner I had to pinch myself to believe it was really happening. And when we got the results, which were not what we were anticipating, the response from the Dr. was swift and effective. The medication changes were implemented in a matter of days, not months. The switch was not without its trials, but everything happened in such short order, we were dealing with his changes in a few days time, not weeks or months.

And the changes in him have been nothing short of miraculous. His brain has been reintroduced to its natural curiosity; his desire to learn and inquire has been reawakened. He's asking questions like "How do you spell Coco?". And he remembers how to form the c and o without any assistance from me. He constantly has a marker in his hand, drawing and writing his name. A short 6 months ago, you would have thought he was deathly allergic to any writing utensil. He actually asked me to read through site words the other night. HE ASKED ME TO READ SIGHT WORDS. And he didn't fuss, whine or complain one time as we went through them.

As I prepare for our IEP placement meeting tomorrow morning, I must remind myself of how far we've come. Because tomorrow, I must go into a room of professional educators and listen to them tell me that he has not come far enough to be successful in the public school setting. They do not have the resources to accommodate his needs. And I will remind myself he is the perfect version of Sammy; he is performing at the exact level he is capable of at this moment. I cannot ask for anything more.