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I remember the first report we ever got back. There were no warm segways into what was printed. Just plain old numbers. Numbers which clearly read the facts. Which all boiled down to a diagnosis. Which was Autism. And it killed me to read them.
I took those first reports, taking my 2 year old and ranking him within the normal ranges of a 11 month old in areas. And I swore that Luke would never see them. I hid them deep in a file folder and closed it. And its been years since I saw them all again.
Tonight was that night, over 3 years later. And though I also get to read updated numbers, letters and reports on how far my Son has come, its still hard. Facing the hard truth as it hits you in the face, yes for me it is hard. And I hate doing it. Especially when its about someone I love more than almost anyone or anything.
I hate that Luke has been put in the position where people are constantly "grading" him and "studying" him. That they're watching the things he does, putting pen to paper and jotting down all sorts of notes about them. And him.
And as we prepare for another huge day of observations, which I dread, I must open all of these notes and circles and grades. I must read them and bring them along for others to read. And once again my Son becomes less Luke and more of a case study. Of a 10:00am appointment on some one's schedule.
So here we go. Round 5 or 7 or even 10. I lost track. I will bring my beautiful boy to you and I will allow you to judge him and talk about him though he's not there. I will express to you all of the things that I worry about every single day. I will tell you in detail about his latest melt-downs and his problems with socializing. I will tell you all of the things that I dont want Luke to ever know because I dont want him to feel bad or wrong or abnormal.
But I do this to help him. I open myself up and I come with my most prized possession and I let you make marks on your papers about all of the things he does that are "wrong". And I only do it because he means more to me than anything. Because there is no door I will not break down in order to help him. No paperwork too long, no therapist too far to reach. I will do anything to help this amazing, smart, sweet, honest, caring, silly boy that I have been blessed with.
I am his Mother and these things are my job. and I am unwilling to fail at this job or to fail this little boy. His future will be better because of how hard we will work together.
But know this, there is no grading system on your paper tomorrow that will show you who he really is. Nothing to register how sweet he is or how much he loves. You may think you know him because of the 35 pages of reports you will have on him but you will never have a clue. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for you. I thank my Father in Heaven that you are there for us. I just hate your tests and I hate your questions and I hate, I hate your jotting pen. Because I hate how this disorder has taken parts of Luke from me. But Im going to get him back. All of him.
So here we go.... again.