Two days at UW, multiple appointments, testing, interviews, and finally a team meeting around the conference table. The final report – Eby’s sensory differences are significant, he has some speech challenges , and trauma is still a big factor influencing his life.
As I listened to the team talk about their findings, my hope drained away. I wanted to hear something I didn’t already know – something I could hang my concerns on, something that would seem solvable. I sat in the room thinking, “I filled out loads of paperwork, waited eight months for an appointment, and spent four days on this trip, only to find out the same old stuff.” I was holding back tears when we left.
I was so disappointed that I finally cried on the drive back to Kathleen’s. You’ll chuckle, but I told myself, “Feelings come and go. I’ll feel better in a little while.” (Thanks to Dan Siegel and The Whole-Brain Child: 12 Revolutionary Strategies to Nurture Your Child’s Developing Mind.) It took slightly more than a little while, but I did feel better that evening.
The team meeting was such a disappointment, in part because it was cut short due to a scheduling problem on their end. I had so many questions I was unable to ask. Thankfully each department: OT, developmental pediatrics, speech therapy, psychology, and nutrition, will send us a detailed report of their findings. I’m hoping that many of our questions will be answered.
I recognize that I put too much hope in this assessment. When I got the results, I felt a familiar weight fall back on my shoulders. That feeling that his healing is fully my responsibility crept back into my mind. Then a dear friend reminded me, “Remember, you can’t do it. Just Jesus.”
How right she is.
My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ my righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest the frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name. On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.