The Northwest Fog

I have never seen such dense fog before as the one here in Seattle. The fog here comes and it stays, making all things gray and confusing for a long time. That's pretty much how I'm feeling these days, foggy and confused; colorless and dense. In the midst of dealing with Rebecca's and Victor's birthday parties and the visit of my parents for my big 40th birthday (all happening within the next 3 weeks), we have to figure out moving by the end of April.  Of course, we are the pickiest people when it comes to getting a house, even if it's a lease, so God knows if we will be sleeping under a bridge if we don't find the perfect house within two months!  Also, Victor needs to be registered for Kindergarten by the first week of February and it's all pending on what area of Shoreline we move to, this is if we actually stay in the Shoreline area (!!!!).  OK, these issues would not even be worth mentioning and I could probably handle them with my eyes closed, if it wouldn't be for the big BLACK cloud hanging over my head, almost as thick as the fog outside.  The truth is that I'm overwhelmed by the process we have started as of the first week of January, Frankie's evaluations to enter the school system before his third birthday in March.  The big "Developmental Preschool" cloud has settled in and it's not going away.

I'm convinced that Frankie is making great progress but can't help to wonder if this is good enough to prepare him for school, other kids and more hours of hard work; seriously, I don't really want to know the answer.  Is it denial?  Is it a defense mechanism? probably yes, but regardless of my denial or acceptance, the issue remains the same.  I don't have answers, I only have questions.  When I'm driving in this thick fog, I can only see the car right in front of me....Just like that, when it comes to Frankie and the fear of "special ed" and all that it implies, I can only see as far as today; tomorrow is still blurry.  Even when I try to see farther than that, my mind starts getting clogged and confused.  When I see a child with any kind of handicap, physical or mental, even developmental, I find myself looking away.  I look away so I don't feel sorry for them and for their parents;  perhaps, I look away so I don't feel sorry for Frankie and for myself.  Realistically, I haven't had time to feel sorry at all but this was the decision I made the first time I was told we were dealing with Autism.  I figured that I had to skip the "feeling sorry" stage so I could get to work right away.  Now that we are getting prepared to face one of society's solid institutions, the education system, it has made me realize how scared I really am. I'm scared of not being able to protect Frankie, and myself, from the rest of the world - from those people who are supposed to help us but might end up not doing so because of ignorance. More than ever I look up to the heavens and ask God to give me the strength to face reality -  I ask him for the fog to dissipate so I can see clearly what needs to be done for our little guy. Frankie is counting on us for help, even if he doesn't know this yet but WE, as his parents, are counting on an education system that hasn't quiet figured out yet how to deal with the special kids in the Autism spectrum. "Special Ed" might not be the right fit for Frankie in the long run but only time will tell; fortunately, time is all we do have at this point.