Those that know me, know that I tend to be a realist. I am a suck-it-up buttercup, this is your life make it work kind of woman. Even with Bridget, while she has defied any person (including myself) who put a barrier in her way, I’ve always been okay with the barrier. I knew the work it would take to break down any walls. I knew that she would struggle, that there would be battles and that she would do the unexpected.

Like every parent, we all have dreams of what our child’s future will look like, and then we stand back and watch them redefine their life to make it the best one possible. Every parent has to watch at the sidelines as their child grows and becomes their own person. They may decide a different course than we expected (or hoped or thought). They might land on might not be exactly what we expected. We just hope that they will be more than what we are. We want them to accomplish great things, continue to learn and evolve.

I am in a strange place right now, a place where I think the battles may be over. That Bridget has accomplished all she can, and this is the person she has fought to become.

At her IEP meeting, I asked and was given the truth. I have always known that Bridget is my forever 4-year-old. I have always known she will not live independently, obtain her driver’s license, or go to college.

I thought I had come to terms with this life. That I understood this life. That I was realistic in my expectations for Bridget.

It took her most recent IEP meeting to understand that I was wrong. All this time, I was not being realistic but hopeful that someday Bridget would have a vocation. I knew it would not be at 14, or maybe even 16 years old. But I fooled myself, that one day, one day Bridget would have a job. I didn’t care what kind of job, but a place she would go and contribute to her community

That one day she would be a part of the community. Not “her” community, where special education resides and she is safe and has peers of her own capacity.

But the real world, the one we live in.

Foolish really.

That I mislead myself, knowing that Bridget cannot be left long enough for me to truly walk the dog and exhaust him but harboring this idea that one day Bridget would be happy and fulfilled working in a greenhouse for a few hours.

Or a restaurant, as a hostess telling patrons that they would be having pancakes. Even if they were not offered on the menu. Even if she doesn’t have the ability to read a seating chart or know how to count how many people in the party to seat the properly.

Selfish really, because if Bridget had the ability to have a job (even part-time), her dad and I would have a few hours of respite. That I am selfish (and honest) enough to say that if Bridget had a job, we would not have to be vigilant during those hours. That we are getting closer to retirement, and she is getting closer to aging out of the school system and how having her home 24/7 is going to impact our future.

During her IEP it became clear, that a vocational program might not be appropriate for Bridget. That she requires too much supervision, that for all intents and purposes, Bridget will always need a 1:1 and someone to not only lay out a task but a visual schedule for her to remain on that task.

That isn’t reality. That isn’t the real world. That is special education, that ends when she turns 22 years old.

The team did not say it would not happen, that they are working towards a goal of Bridget working in a controlled environment. The premise of her IEP is to give her small wins of independence. Even if she cannot enter the vocational programming next year, it does not mean she never will. I am so thankful for their honesty, that they were willing to bring my expectations in alignment with Bridget’s ability.

But I am that realist, who read between the compassion of the team as I let go of one more dream.

One more hope.