Pathways to preschool

A couple weeks ago Brian was in Dallas, and I was spending the morning with the kids like usual. I had just settled Patrick down for his morning nap and came back downstairs to get Hartley set up doing an art activity. I pulled out a princess coloring book that my aunt had given her along with a jar full of crayons. She gravitated towards her art supplies like she always does; I love that crayons and markers have an almost magnetic force over her. I figured now I was set up to do the business of my morning - return a call from the Neuro Developmental pediatrician at Children's Hospital that Hartley's pediatrician referred us to.

A cheery voice on the other end of the phone chirped what seemed like a million questions related to Hartley's development. As the princess coloring book lost its luster I began doling out princess stickers. As usual none were ending up on the pages of the coloring book. Princess after princess found her place stuck on Hartley's little white table. 

I talked about Hartley like she wasn't there, which I hate but it's sometimes unavoidable seeing as I make these calls during business hours. And even though I feel like I've discussed her development ad naseum, every time discussing it with someone new just feels draining. Our conversation concluded with the lady on the other end asking me to have all of Hartley's records faxed over to her so they could review them and call me back to schedule an appointment. I hung up feeling a little worse than when the call began honestly. 

In that moment I felt so tired. Brian was gone so I knew after the kids went to bed he wouldn't be there to talk to me about the phone call. I had been feeling like Hartley was progressing but not as quickly as her peers so I was feeling "the gap" widen. I repeated my mom's words to myself, "it might get a little worse before it gets better". I took a deep breath and reminded myself to enjoy Hartley. My mind was bogged down with these little worries that sometimes seem unavoidable but I need to remember to enjoy my beautiful, quirky 2 year old. 

A short time later I glanced down at my phone and realized I had missed a call. Hartley's service coordinator, Carole, had left me a voicemail. She calls from time to time to check in about how Hartley is doing and if I miss her call I usually just call back without listening to the voicemail but that day I decided I would. She said she was calling to discuss "an opportunity for Hartley", and I knew exactly what it would be. I actually wasn't disappointed that they would be inviting Hartley to Pathways to Preschool, a camp of sorts to get the kids ready for Special Ed preschool in the fall. Honestly, around this time I was starting to realize that things were stalling out a bit and things were actually getting more challenging than usual. The scripting had increased and she was talking in a lot of gibberish. Her ability to listen and focus weren't so hot. And while I know these lulls will happen, quite frankly, they are never fun.

As soon as I called Carole back and she extended the invitation, I accepted. I didn't even attempt calling to discuss it with Brian first. It was much more of a "just tell me where and when and no matter what, Hartley and I will be there". 

I did ask Carole if she'd ever heard of a child being invited to attend Pathways and then be found ineligible for Special Ed preschool. She said she hadn't ever heard of a case like that and that she thinks Hartley will be eligible to attend Special Ed preschool this fall. 

I'm certainly not holding her to this, and I'm still constantly saying that we don't know for sure that Hartley is eligible. Her little team will be surprised if she is not eligible to attend but nothing is final; we still have assessments ahead of us. 

This week, however, Hartley and I started Pathways. 

Yesterday morning was a little nerve wracking. It actually felt like the first day of school for yours truly. I placed my cup of coffee on the kitchen table along with my bowl of special K. Normally I scarf down my breakfast because I usually have about a minute to eat before someone needs something. But I felt too nervous to eat so for once I didn't mind avoiding my breakfast and rescuing thrown sippy cups or lost toys instead. 

I dressed Hartley in an outfit I bought her earlier this summer. For some reason I put a lot of thought into what outfit she'd wear, and I picked a certain one because it reminded me so much of the outfits my mom used to dress me in as a little girl. I remember my mom having my siblings and I stand on the front stoop wearing our backpacks standing next to one another for a first day of school picture. Thanks to Pinterest these pictures have evolved to always include a chalkboard which a caption of the day. Well, I knew Hartley would never stand or sit facing the camera and holding the sign but of course I attempted it anyway.

As we got into the car I realized I didn't have the princess CD with me so I played my Justin Bieber CD (judge away, I like what I like). Hartley actually sang along to "Sorry" in her sweet, soft singing voice. I had my notebook with written directions in my lap and thought about how one of these days I should probably join the rest of the world with using a phone gps instead. 

As I read the last direction, I could see the school pop up right in front me. I took a deep breath and figured now was as good a time as any. I've actually never left my 2.5 year old in someone's care that isn't family. Yes, I realize that makes me sound crazy but I just had never gotten to it, I guess. 

We walked in and she held my hand so tightly. All these various emotions churned inside me: nervousness, pride, excitement. I hoped I was keeping up a good poker face as I talked to Hartley about how much fun we were about to have. 

We got to the classroom, and every couple seconds she looked around to make sure I was never more than a foot away from her. For the brief 30 seconds I had walked to the corner of the room to plop down my diaper bag, I immediately heard a familiar voice screeching, "MAMA! MAMA!" 

"It's okay, sweetie. Mama just had to put down her bag. I'm not going anywhere!" Lies. I knew our time was numbered. 

We walked around the classroom exploring our new, primary colored surroundings. We spent most of our time playing with a box of plastic kitchen supplies and toy food. She was having a ball playing independently. She pretended to cook, and I watched wondering when they'd herd the parents out like cattle. 

Once all the other students arrived, we did circle time. I always wonder if the little plastic chairs are truly able to hold adult weight because Hartley always wants me to sit right next to her. We both sat in our teeny plastic chairs, and I rubbed her back so she'd remember I was right there. 

We sang the welcome song, then the wheels on the bus. Everything was going smoother than I expected. Then, it was time. 

I can't even fully revisit the moment I had to leave her because it was awful.

Hartley cried. She screamed out for me. Then tears started pouring out of me, too. I grabbed my diaper bag and ran out of the room at the ushering of our service coordinator.

I was the first parent out the door. I was the only one crying. My child was the only one screaming at the top of her lungs for her mom. 

I breezed through the colorfully decorated hallway to the room the moms were supposed to go to. Both of the service coordinators had the most empathetic looks as I tried desperately to look like I wasn't tearing up. It was embarrassing but in that moment I felt too upset to be too embarrassed. 

They sat us down and had us do a crafting activity. So that actually helped me a lot. Crafting is my happy place so I just engrossed myself in the little book they had us make. It was definitely a little awkward. Even though we had gone around the room introducing ourselves, it certainly doesn't feel right to ask what exactly is up with the other kids. But I can't lie, with the exception of the children with physical disabilities, I desperately wanted to know. I wanted to know if anyone's child was like Hartley because so far I have no friends with children that are "like" Hartley. I wanted to feel like I could talk to these women. Did anyone feel a little weird about all of this? Or maybe I'm the only one? What are these moms struggling with? To they have some of the thoughts and feelings I have? Well, yesterday I wouldn't learn any answers to those questions. But today, I did. And for the first time, I felt far less weird and alone. I actually was quite proud of myself today for cheering on my fellow moms. 

I was that lady who hopped up from her seat to reassure another mom, "you are not failing your child". Yes, I beat the service coordinators to the punch. I have repeated to myself many times "Page, you are not failing Hartley." So I was very quick to tell a fellow mom what I often need to hear. I actually never knew how comforting and yet heartbreaking it would hear to hear another mom say, "I think I'm failing my son".

The truth is, we are not failing our children. We are actually doing so much for them. I told her how sometimes I know that I'm supposed to repeat a phase a thousand times for Hartley to get it but that I get so tired of hearing my own voice that sometimes I just want to stop talking. I told her how relieved I am that starting this fall I won't feel like all of this weight to be this perfect mom 24/7 won't rest on my shoulders. Hartley will have teachers and friends she gets to learn language from instead of just me. The feeling that your child is struggling and you don't feel totally qualified to help them is awful. So I often remind myself of all the fantastic things that I do for Hartley and that helps me feel better.

While I've spent the last couple mornings in uncharted territory with strangers, Hartley has done extremely well.

The first day she substituted Carole in for me, and she stayed very close to her during her mom-free preschool time. I'm incredibly grateful that Carole acted as mom to her, and I know it was invaluable to Hartley.

Day two Hartley blossomed a bit more and she made a new friend. She followed around a little girl name Sophie. She actually sat and sang during circle time. When they brought the kids back to the moms, Hartley's face lit up at the sight of me. She smiled a gigantic smile and sprinted full speed into my arms. The room let out a collective, "awwww". I'm sure everyone is now well aware that my child and I are ridiculously attached to one another - and who knows if it's a healthy amount. 

As we drove home today I felt very proud of us both. We are both taking on something completely new, and we are both trying our very best. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it's hard. And so far our like practice preschool kind of seems like both at the same time. 

I hope the rest of Pathways goes as well as the first two days went. I hate even using this term but I can't find a better one so - I hope this early intervention is helpful. 

And I look forward to coming back on here to share more of our little school adventures. 

I also realize I'm way past due on a Patrick update as he is developing insanely fast all of a sudden. But that is for another day and another nap time :)