This weekend I started cleaning out files.  Phoebe’s files.  I cleaned out a file that was no smaller than the size of a stack of about 20 sunday papers.  (a couple feet deep)  From the time Phoebe was 3 and 1/2 years old a paper trail started.  She was developmentally delayed, or ADHD, or asthmatic, and always on the end of the reports…chubby.

In her Head Start preschool, they decided to do evaluations of a preschooler that didn’t fit in the mold of what was considered “normal.”  Even doing an “autism” evaluation stating that it didn’t seem as though she had ASD because she looked directly at the person testing and asked, “WHY ARE YOU HERE?” (Knowing her now–this is pretty funny)  Well, she qualified for speech and language help, physical therapy and a developmentally delayed pre-school through Beaumont Hospital.  I double dipped on the help, as I didn’t think what the school could provide was enough.  They agreed.  Starting at 3 and 1/2, Phoebe went to Beaumont Hospital 3 days per week for preschool, and 3 days a week for Speech and Language.  All the while, I am bringing baby Brendan (still in his carseat) along for the ride.  Eventually, she did Occupational therapy for low muscle tone, and various other muscular issues, and a social skills group to help with her socialization. We were at the hospital therapy no less than 4 days per week.  

Can you imagine the paperwork?  I looked through every piece this past weekend…reliving the panic of a mother who was figuring out just how hard this could end up being.  I remember the feeling of “Why me?  Why her? What did we do to deserve this?” Then I decided…let’s look how far this child has come.  Let’s put a positive spin on this.  She had various speech issues which made her speech impossible to decipher.  Now, I’d literally like to put a sock in it sometimes.  She never stops and is perfectly understandable.  (She’s really understandable when she swears in public- just to annoy me)  In fact her speech is farther along than her actual understanding.  She couldn’t hold a pencil, and her writing was horrible.  Now, she can write, type and use technology faster than anyone I know.  My settings on my devices are constantly changed.

Each year starting in Kindergarten Phoebe had an IEP.  There were 2 per year, not including if we decided to do extra testing or add something to her existing IEP.  Today, she’s in 9th grade (technically).  That’s 8 years of IEP’s (Individualized Education Plans) that are no less than 30 pages long.  The paperwork is unbelievable.

You know what I did?  I shredded everything except for the last 3 years.  I shredded it.  I put it in the past and decided that this is where we start.  Today, we look at where she is and what she can accomplish.  I will not dwell on what was.  I will not look and feel sorry for myself, or feel sorry for her.  Those are emotions I would like to never look back at again.

I will continue to see how far she can go, and in 10 years I’ll shred this paperwork too.