Ian was born in Virginia, and that was our home until he
was 11. Not long after his birth, we
were contacted by the early intervention program for our home county. In Virginia at the time, the early steps
programs were run through the state health department, with county
offices. After an initial evaluation,
Ian was assigned 3 service providers. He
had an Occupational Therapist, a Physical Therapist, and a Speech Therapist assigned
to him. Looking back now, knowing what I
know now, it was an amazing devotion of resources and support by the
state.
I can honestly say that I do not believe Ian would be
where he is now, and I do not believe that my wife and I would be where we are
now in terms of having been able to provide the support Ian needed without those
people from the Early Intervention program.
While they worked with Ian, they also had the patience of Job when it
came to dealing with two very stressed out and, honestly, frightened parents. They understood not only patience but had a
level of empathy that allowed them to understand and guide us through those
incredibly stressful early months and first years of Ian’s life. For us, just the understanding that we had
someone we could talk to and who understood what was going on in our world was
so important to us. For many families,
ours included, there aren’t many people who really had an idea what it was like
with a young child with multiple disabilities.
Our friends really did not understand what our world was now like, and
try as they might, our families really did not get it, either.
Early intervention is critical for a child with a
disability. Early intervention is also
critical for the family of a child with a disability. While they will not be able to resolve many
issues, because disability related issues are not issue that can be solved in a
week or a month or even a year, but last for a lifetime, the early
interventionists are shock troops of support.
Something like the Marine Corps, in my mind. Their job is to go in, take a beachhead, get
boots on the ground and begin to get the situation under control. They stabilize that family and point it in
the right direction; they begin to knit the service and support network
together and to begin getting those services to the child and the family. Then, once those first few years are over,
and things are more stable and, hopefully, the family has its respective head
on straight and is moving in the right direction, the early intervention
provider hands that child and family off to the school district, where the long
job of getting that child an education starts. Their job is now done, and they move on to
the next new child and family needing help.
I know this to be true.
We have lived it as a family. I
know where we were when our family was when we first met our Occupational
Therapist. Her name was Carol. She happily introduced herself to us, and we
talked, and talked, and talked, and talked.
We explained everything we knew about Ian and his ‘history’ to
date. We talked about our hopes, and I’m
sure she was able to read our fears and understood our nightmares about the
future. You see, we had a pretty good
idea that Ian had cerebral palsy, as well as being deaf. The deafness did not terrify us. We had friends who had deaf family who were
living successful lives. The CP, on the
other hand terrified us.
I then remember her sitting and listening, and seeing a
little, soft smile on her face when we finished. One that kind of gave you the feeling that
she got it, and we could trust her and she would help us. When she spoke, she said something that
neither of us would ever forget, and it was something that began to push us
away from the possibility of dropping into the pit of despair that we were looking
into.
She told us that she understood, and while there would be
a long road to travel, with ups and downs, it would all be ok. Things would work out for us and for
Ian. She told us that CP was not the end
of the world. She told us that while Ian
would have to work harder in his life to be successful, it was very possible,
and that he could have a good and successful life. While there were no promises, all things were
still possible for our son.
Then she told us something personal, and something that
renewed the hope and began to quench the fires of despair that we were dealing
with. She told us that she had a form of
cerebral palsy. And that her husband did
as well. And she told us that both of
them were employed in jobs that they loved and allowed them to live good, solid
lives. Oh, and their son was finishing
up his senior year in high school and was being considered for football
scholarships.
There was hope for us, for our son, and a reason to move
forward….
