I woke up the other morning from a dream that I’m still pondering.
Dreams seem very fluid in my mind but when I try to recall enough detail to string together a coherent retelling things get… sketchy. I guess what’s relevant is that I was with Becca, talking with her preschool SLP, asking questions about some new approach to help her with language development, looking for an opinion on whether or not she thought it would be beneficial.
She was kind but blunt, and said “look, you’ve done all you can.”
I remember feeling gutted in my dream, so much so that I woke up - still feeling gutted.
I have struggled for almost three years to find the balance between researching, fighting, and advocating for Bex and just letting her be… herself. Because as much as I believe that there is this fantastically inquisitive mind bound up in a swirling brew of fragmented language I also know that this kid is so special in spite of her challenges. She is so happy, so loving, so kind - and at the end of the day, all of that is enough.
There is a desperation in not leaving a single stone unturned, not giving every consideration to every intervention that might help Becca fully unfurl. I want so much to strip away the burden of articulation and vocabulary and pronouns and verb tenses and articles so that she can just be.
Then I remember, again and again and again, that she is doing just that. She is being: loving, and curious, and naughty, and already entirely herself. I remember that Becca doesn’t feel this same desperation; that it’s my sense of fear and sadness that drives me to keep searching and fighting and advocating.
And then I wonder when the day will come that someone finally says “look, you’ve done all you can.”