My Out of Sync Child

So it's been a while since I last posted about our journey with A. He continues to receive speech therapy through the school (which is totally awesome, I am super impressed with the services we received at the International School here - way better than anything we got in the States!). They even offered up a return to OT when it was written out of his last IEP. Unheard of in the US public school system where it takes an act of God to adjust a child's IEP. He also receives additional out-of-school therapy thanks to the Special Needs Education Allowance (SNEA) we receive through the FS. This allows us to supplement what he gets in school without having to hassle with insurance that might not cover therapy received at an overseas location.

We are really lucky in so very many ways. A has a diagnosis, he gets plenty of therapy from appropriate sources, he has a loving family that stays engaged with his therapy team, and he goes to a top notch school. And, yet, there are still so many things that can't really be addressed through his current therapies. His proprioceptive behaviors, his inability to relate to other children his age, his complete obliviousness to the world around him.

I came across this the other night, and it made me cry. It really sums up a lot of my feelings about our situation. Except that in our case, A is the youngest child so I am constantly, painfully aware of how different things are. Normally it is not really an issue, A is a happy and loving little boy, and I feel so much joy to be a part of his little world. But sometimes those differences just up and smack you in the face, and I am often not prepared for how hard they hit. I joked about A's behavior at his school concert the other day, but in reality I was heart-broken to see how completely oblivious he was to what was going on around him. As we followed his class out of the auditorium to say our goodbyes and take pictures, I watched as he tried to engage with another little boy in his class who looked at him with such disdain in his eyes. A was completely, blissfully unaware. It made my heart ache. Sometimes the hardest part of parenting is accepting that you have so little control. I just didn't think I would have to face that so soon.