This week we are starting at home services. It kind of scares me, because (honestly) you feel judged. I remember when we had Early Intervention Services. The mad cleaning before the nurse arrived. That was hard enough. But now we are bringing someone in to help us with Bridget’s behaviors. Her compliance.
Because we are messing it up.
It’s the truth.
We are failing her. We have her in special education. We have her in therapy 3-4 times a week. Yet she last night she went to bed without dinner because she refused to eat what I presented her with. Because she wanted Fruit Loops and I cooked a dinner. She wears her hair in a bun every day because otherwise the meltdown isn’t worth the fight. She can dress herself but we give in and “help” too often.
I’ve written about this before, on how by helping Bridget I am really stemming her quest for independence.
I want her to be independent. I want her to be able to navigate friendships. I want her to be able to go to the store and buy groceries (and not just Pop Tarts). I want her to be able to go to a restaurant and order her own meal. And pay for it.
I want her to live on her own.
Which is a dream. A dream I acknowledge may not come true.
But if I don’t keep that dream in mind the smaller gains will not be possible.
So we will accept the in-home help.
We will do better.
I will also admit that it is times like this I doubt myself and kind of not like this life.
So I will accept the help.
Because if I don’t then Bridget will never be independent.
And that means I failed her.
I will not fail her.