My Wishes Gave Way to A Big Ole Slice Of Humble Pie

I am only one of many parents who have a child with special needs. I am sure I speak for all of us when I say I wish for my daughter to have friends. Even though she may learn differently, I wish for her to go to school. I wish for her to play. I wish that others will want to play with her. I wish to see her smile when her friend says her name. I wish that she would talk too much. I wish for her to make crafts. I wish for her to sing jingle- bells in the Christmas program. I wish for her to be part of a group. I wish for this to no longer be a wish, but a reality.

Going back to the beginning of the summer I began dreaming of a life that provided Ivey the opportunity to achieve all of the above. However, fear of denial and rejection loomed in the path. And of course, the brutal reality that Ivey's friendships with others will just be different. I found myself making prolonged excuses of why I should wait to set out on the road to Ivey's future.

Then this summer my path crossed with a very special person who saw the world vibrant and very much still spinning with Ivey and others like her as vital participants. She posed a very simple question, "Why not?" She also taught me to ask, "How can I make it happen?" Two very powerful questions in the dis-but very much- abled world. So after a little 'coaching' and feather fluffing, I was ready.

I introduce you to the beginning of a LOVE for humble pie.

My wish has been for Ivey to attend preschool just like her brothers. I have longed to see her shaking the daylights out of the jingle-bells while sitting on the stage during the Christmas program. I can literally hear the teachers saying good morning to her as she goes down the hallway to her classroom. So at the beginning of August I pulled together all the gumption I could muster, again asked myself the question "Why not?" and made the phone call. I scheduled to meet with the director of Knox and Walker's preschool.

Before I go on, I must explain why this was such a moving of mountains decision. The reality is this. Normally there can be hoops to jump through to accomplish such a task-school- Literally, heart ache. Quiet frankly, in most instances it is not the 'norm' for a child like Ivey to go to a 'normal' preschool. If you doubt that little fact, look around next time you sit in car line. There are horror stories about parents wanting the exact same things we want for Ivey. In a nutshell, gathering the courage to ask if my daughter can be a part of your group is the utmost humbling experience I can and will continue to endure.

Waiting to go into that office was unnerving. I really tried to go in with my game face on, to no avail, I still cried in the beginning. The proposal wasn't even the hardest part, it was the moment after asking…and this is where I must apologize….I regret ever allowing my mind to think that Ivey might never be privy to true childhood experiences like those of her brothers and that I apparently had such little faith in our village. We truly live among extra-ordinary individuals.

Thank you for the opportunity to give our little girl a true childhood experience. Thank you for being so caring at a momma's weakest moment. Thank you for taking such good care of all three of my children.

Last night as I was talking to a friend about Ivey's first day of preschool she just said 'well she's Ivey', like 'what other option was there?'. I could have squeezed her. If only my 'normal' friends with 'normal' children in 'normal' families could see, for just one day, the magnitude of their acceptance of Ivey in the eyes of other parents with special needs children. Our friends and community have conformed quite well to our 'new' normal. They made it their 'new' normal. They are all heroes.

Yesterday Ivey went to her first day of preschool. One of those "I Wishes" became reality. Another amazing milestone met. A little girl was granted opportunity. And it was the sweetest piece of humble pie ever.