P is for Preschool.
I have essays written about this in my head… essays and letters and speeches and books… about this whole journey, really. But, all I have coherently today is this: Rylie will start preschool in September.
At age 3, things change with the State and Rylie would move out of her current program. She is still 50% of her age delayed… so moving and talking like a 1 year-old. She obviously still needs outside help. In September, she will move up into the preschool program in our local school district where she will continue to receive speech, physical, and occupational therapy. The classes are especially for kiddos with special needs and is geared toward getting them ready for kindergarten.
This child… this child who can stop traffic with her wink and loses her breath when she laughs… this child is ‘atypical.’ Her muscles (including her voice) are not developing like one would expect a normal child’s to… they don’t even call her delayed anymore. Just different. Unpredictable. Funny. Cute. Well-dressed. But, Atypical.
It’s just… hard. It’s hard. It’s hard for me to send my child away because I cannot give her the help she needs. I worry about her teachers (who are amazing and fabulous) and if they’ll love her enough. I worry that she’ll look for me at school and I won’t be there. More so, I worry that she won’t look for me at all.
I thought I’d have more time.
I thought our road would be more obvious.
I thought my child would talk… like everyone else’s child.
I thought I was stronger than I have proven to be this past week.
But, I am human. And, I know that Rylie needs to learn to communicate with others besides me. I know that she loves class and Sunday school. I know that the program is exceptional for Michigan. I know that this is what she needs.
And I know that she is going to have THE COOLEST backpack ever… ’cause her mamma’s gonna make her one.