A little blurb and a poem to share

Okay, so I feel like I am constantly on the phone with therapists, special needs preschool people, nurses, inurance companies, etcetera, trying to get something going for Luke. I feel like things aren't moving fast enough and precious time is just inching away.

The ABA therapist, more like the coordinator of his therapy, says that we should start out slow with Luke, maybe 2 hrs a day with an ABA therapist, that we can contract on our own, and she (the coordinator) would monitor Luke's progress.

So, that is what we are trying to do now-locate an ABA therapist to work with Luke.

I did a little research on the special needs preschools in the county next to ours. It turns out that they have 3 different preschool programs in their county (a little more money flowing into the county, and more populated, I presume). One of them is only for autistic children. Now, that seems perfect, but it depends on what level of the spectrum the others are on. Luke is high functioning and his doctor wants him with typical children as well. So, some thought and prayer must go into that. This would mean we would have to up and sell our home and move to that county, preferably before next school year.

Well, that little blurb ended up being a big blurb, sorry. I did want to share a short story that a kind friend of mine shared with me a while back:


"Welcome to Holland"
By Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child
with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique
experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this…..
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation
trip-to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful
vacation plans. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may
learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your
bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant
comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland".
"Holland?!?!" you say. "What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They landed in Holland and
there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting,
filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a
whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you
would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy.
But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look
around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has
tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're
all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of
your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what
I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of
that dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life morning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you
may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about
Holland.

Take Care,

Courtney