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The Meeting


I walked into today's meeting telling myself I was ready. I had done the prep work, reviewed the paperwork, packed my hope along with my notes. I told myself, this time, I’ll just lean in. Maybe even relax.


That was wishful thinking.


These meetings—let's just say it, they’re always a lot. You go in wearing two hats: one as a parent, the other as an advocate. And no matter how prepared you feel, you're never quite ready for the emotional whiplash. The fight to make sure your child gets what they need never truly ends.


I thought we were wrapping up. I asked a question. Just one. But that one question pulled a thread that unraveled the entire tone of the meeting. Suddenly, we were talking about next year, evaluations, timelines, paperwork, the race against delays. Appointments that take months to book. Plans that need to start now. I made a call today and the earliest appointment I could get was July.


I don’t know why this is so hard. Or maybe I do. It's because there's this fragile line we walk—between trusting the system and being ready to battle it. Between hope and fear. Between advocating and surrendering.


The truth is, I trust myself more than I trust anyone else to fight for him. I’m not saying the team isn’t doing their job. I’m just saying I’ll always feel like I have to be ready for when they don’t.


I cried in the car. Not for 30 minutes, but it felt like it. I couldn’t focus the rest of the day. My brain was scrambled eggs.


Still, I’m hopeful. I’m thankful. I wouldn’t change anything about this journey—not the sleepless nights, not the planning, not even the hard parts—because it brought me here, and he is here.


But today wasn’t what I expected. And for a minute there, I thought I was going to hyperventilate.

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