The power of the people

April 20, 2010 at 1:48 pm 5 comments

     Of course there’s no one on earth that thinks about C as much as I do. It’s my job, and beyond that, it’s my obsession. I consider it my responsibility as his mother to do everything I can to help him navigate this world in which we live. Sometimes that means I have to intervene on his behalf, and sometimes it means I have to let him go ahead and fall down knowing that later I’ll be there to help pick up the pieces.

     I don’t expect anyone else on the planet to give C that kind of thought or attention, and it always sort of amazes me when someone else does. And when an entire group of people does, well, paint me one grateful Mama.

     C is having a bit of a crisis in terms of his CSP (see here). It’s gone to a whole new level that required some additional intervention at school as well as home. After going right back into school yesterday upon picking him up and seeing the condition of his head, I was near tears in frustration – not with C, not with the school, but rather simply with C’s fingers, which have taken on an independent life of their own in the torment of the wounds on his body.

     I started with his teacher, who immediately jumped on board with the proposed interventions and noted the potential issues that might arise with the other kids because of them. She already had a plan. Then we went to the principal’s office, who agreed in less than two seconds with what we needed to do next. I then fired off an email to all the specials teachers and C’s special ed team telling them what was happening, and was pleasantly surprised with an inbox full of emails voicing support and assistance in whatever he might need.

     Still, I was worried this morning. Starting with the first kid who harassed him when he walked onto the playground wearing a forbidden hat, C was on the edge of a complete breakdown. Anxiously, I left him at school, fighting the desire to pick him up in my arms and take him back home never to have to face another child again. The knot stayed in my stomach all morning until lunchtime, when I went back to check on the progress of his day.

     I walked by C’s classroom and peeked in the window. What I saw made my eyes fill with tears. There alongside the wall sat his occupational therapist, staring intently at him, having I’m sure just given him the fidgets she suggested trying one more time. There she sat for 30 minutes on a day she wasn’t scheduled to see him, probably delaying or skipping her own lunch to keep a special eye on C, just like I would have done.

     I left again, even without talking with C. I knew he was in good hands; there were all kinds of people watching over him, guiding him along in his day. I don’t know if C’s head will come home untouched today, but I know his heart has been touched, even if he doesn’t realize it.

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Entry filed under: autism. Tags: , , , , , , , .

Goodnight, day This job of mine

5 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Shivon  |  April 20, 2010 at 1:58 pm

    Thank God for everyone at the school. I know how much it means to have somebody that cares at school. I also know the knot, along with the overwhelming urge to grab him and go to a “safe” place. I hope the fidgets work today. Super big hugs your way!

    Reply
  • 2. therocchronicles  |  April 20, 2010 at 5:39 pm

    It’s so nice when someone who works with them actually CARES and goes the extra mile. They never know just how much it means to us, unless they have special kids of their own! I hope the interventions work–his poor head!

    Reply
  • 3. pixiemama  |  April 21, 2010 at 11:22 am

    The stress these kids face is unfathomable, unconscionable and unacceptable. I want to gather them all up in my arms and take them somewhere safe and loving.

    Ditto for we parents.

    love.

    Reply
  • 4. robinaltman  |  April 21, 2010 at 4:29 pm

    You have such a lovely way of looking at things. I sit here picking my eyebrows as I read your post, so I’m not a very good example. I’m also having a hell of a good time with my already bloody cuticles. If I can find a little extra seratonin for my brain, I’ll pass some along for C.

    Reply
  • 5. Scott Baird  |  April 25, 2010 at 10:17 am

    I just now figured out that your What We Need constituted a blog. The professional layout threw me off; I thought you were writing in a professional journal. Well done. I’ll now read through the rest of the blog, because I have learned much from the couple that I have read. Quick thoughts about Power of the People. Renee and I would NEVER have survived guardianship of Calvin without a fantastic staff and both of his schools; Calvin’s CSP portion of OCD has really upscaled now that he has acne – will contact his behaviorist asap. Thanks, my friend.

    Reply

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