Our Land – The Itsy Bitsy Purple Spider

I have a relatively new friend that I’d like to share with you via today’s Our Land contribution. Erin, from Musings by Mama is warm, compassionate, writes magical words of beauty, inspiration, and love, and is one of those mamas you know would have you laughing after dinner, while relaxing on the porch with her. Plus, if you’ve got a special event planned, she can come sing at it! She’s a for real wedding singer! (I know! Like Adam and Billy – which you know how I feel about that, but better!!). Anyway, sorry for the distraction, because she’s truly amazing. Here, see for yourself:

Our Land – The Itsy Bitsy Purple Spider

Arrrr Matey!

A few months ago I wrote this.

I was a few months away from dropping Evan off at school for the first time. A few months away from the first time I would be away from my son for more than a few hours at a time, multiple times a week.  A few months before I was back teaching children with special needs and Evan, our child with Williams Syndrome, would be attending school with children who do NOT have special needs.

I was nervous.

Fearful.

Uneasy.

I have known one of the teachers at Evan’s school for a long time and I trust and respect her very much.  This did not stop me from questioning all the ways that Evan could struggle during the day.  It did not stop me from envisioning what would happen when the children had free play and Evan was given the opportunity to “do his own thing.” Would he sit in the corner with a wheel and spin it…gulp…..alone?  Would the kids look at him funny? Would the teachers feel he was too much of a burden?? How on earth would they get him to sit during group activities? Would they understand him when he tried to communicate?

Goodness. I am actually ashamed I thought some of these things. Oh…shame, such a filthy, unnecessary emotion.

Peace out Shame!

I’m here to give a little update. Um. In a word, I was wrong.

And I am THRILLED that I was.

Out of all the changes that have happened in my life in the last few months, the one that I worry about the least is Evan’s school placement.  He is loved. Well cared for. Given attention. Challenged. Prayed for. High fived. Hugged. Allowed to learn at his own pace. They bought E a special seat so that he can sit with the other children during lunch and be on their level. They “spot” him when he goes up the staircase to the classroom, and they use the technique his physical therapist showed them so he can become more independent.

Yea. I know. I was really wrong. And I should have known better. I work in a school that has incredible teachers.  Teachers who love the children like they were their own. Teachers who believe in the potential of each child in their class, not just the gifted students, but everyone.  I know there are plenty of teachers out there who are conscientious, loving individuals.

I think as a mama bear of a child with special needs, your worries take a deeper hook on your heart.  Your ability to “let go” and trust others with your child is hindered by your knowledge of all the time spent on therapies, feeding techniques, practicing consonant sounds, or knowing just the right amount of support to give when he climbs the playground equipment to let him be independent but also to keep him safe. You think, “how can someone else just know all of those things about my child?”

Back to the itsy bitsy purple spider.  I went in to pick Evan up on Halloween.  I noticed that there are baggies in all the kids’ cubbies, and I could see that they were filled with a few pieces of candy and some other small treats for each child.  I sort of absent mindedly thought to myself, “I guess Todd or I will be eating the candy, since Evan can’t. Oh well.” Then I saw this little black and purple stuffed spider with a top hat in Evan’s cubbie. I thought for a second that it might be another child’s so I turned around to ask one of the teachers if they knew whose spider it was so I could return it to its rightful owner.  Evan’s teacher came over and said that she gave it to him because she knew he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the other treats in the bag due to his hypercalcemia and his immature chewing pattern (that we are working on!). My stomach soared, my lip quivered. She gave him a spider. Because she wanted him to feel thought of. She wanted him to enjoy Halloween to the same extent the other children were. Even though he would have no idea that mommy and daddy ate his Milky Way. But that doesn’t matter. She took the time to think of Evan outside of the classroom. To pick up a stuffed spider on her shopping trip.

That hook on my heart has loosened. I know it is possible for others to care for Evan. No, they are not his mother or father. In a perfect world we could take care of him at home long term. But honestly, even if we could, that can’t last forever.  Evan loves people. He thrives on human contact. As one of the presenters said at the Williams Syndrome conference this past month- “Those with WS have a social hunger.” Our dreams for him include his being able to be as much a part of society as he is able and wants to. This requires time spent with adults and children who do not live in his house. Without us hovering over his every move or choice.

I’m here to tell you, it can be okay.

Sending your child to daycare, school, activities with other children- It can be pretty great. Your child deserves the chance to  show you that he can handle it. He deserves your trust.

I still miss him. I still worry. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.

Evan’s first day of school

But the look of joy on his face when I mention school is pretty darn fabulous.

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See? I got all choked up, too, having had such similar worries and reliefs when Tucker first started school. Like I said, Erin is awesome. Here’s a bit more about her: