Sienna runs from one side of the room to the other, shouting loudly, while chasing her sister. They both erupt in laughter. I stare at them and observe Sienna. The looming pressure hits me like a truck.
How can this document capture her personality? How can I possibly predict her needs? I reflect on all the changes that have occurred over the past year. I sigh. Even more daunting is the thought that this is only the beginning of her educational journey. Our first IEP meeting.
What the heck is an IEP? I had never heard that terminology until I entered this world. This world is full of acronyms…..IEP, PT, ST, SLP, OT, AIU, etc. It can overwhelm you. An IEP is an Individualized Education Plan. Sienna will need one every year. This 20+ page legal document is a requirement every year. We have to make her needs clear, and we have to spell out the accommodations that she will require.
For instance, we found out that Sienna is aspirating not so long ago. All of her liquids are thickened. During snack time, this will be crucial. While the other toddlers in her class are drinking water or milk, Sienna will need juice. Sienna won’t drink water. It spills out of her mouth. The taste of juice wakes up her mouth and stimulates her muscles to drink. I know that sounds crazy, but it is our reality. I have tried thousands of times to get this child to drink water. So, I am sure it will seem unfair to a bunch of 2-3 year olds that Sienna gets juice while they drink milk or water.
What else will she need? Tomorrow, she will be evaluated by strangers. A speech therapist, an occupational therapist, and a physical therapist will all make determinations about the services she will receive for the next year. They will make this determination after one brief meeting. Since Sienna cannot make her needs clear, that’s my job as her advocate. Again, the pressure looms.
Tomorrow, we will say goodbye to the folks from Early Intervention. Most of them have been with us since Sienna was 6 weeks old. On her third birthday, our professional relationship with them will be terminated. It’s impossible to understand the emotional connection I have with some of these people. They were there when I wasn’t ready to accept the diagnosis. They have watched me grow in advocacy. They have seen Sienna overcome countless challenges.
This is just another part of this journey that others don’t think about. I find myself using the acronym IEP around friends and family. I forget that they don’t know what that is. Most of them have typically developing children. They have never found themselves in this situation. Their children don’t require exceptions to deal with behavior, health & safety, transitions, and learning.
The only thing that feels within my control right now is spelling out her needs. I create her one page profile sheet. I spell out her strengths, weaknesses, and what works for her. Keep in mind that she is only two years old.
As I feel the pressure, a little voice in the back of my head reminds me that she is going to the same school Haley attended. She will be surrounded by the same love, support, and inclusion that nurtured Haley into the beautiful soul that she is. This school will do whatever we need to make sure that Sienna is safe, happy, and that she flourishes. It’s going to be okay. I can relax knowing that for the next 3 years that is our future, but just like saying goodbye to EI, I know that we will have another transition in three years. At the end of the day, our family is the only permanent fixture on this journey. We will never stop advocating. Tomorrow is only the beginning.
