This morning at a meeting with Eloise’s educator at our local Early Intervention Centre, I realised something.

I still havent come to terms with Eloise’s Autism. 

The moment Eloise turned 3 just a few days ago, I felt mounting pressure at the fact that in just 2 years, Eloise will have to be prepared.. for school.

Late last year, I made the decision to keep Eloise at daycare, instead of moving on to a Pre-school. The daycare centre has a pre-school programme, so I thought keeping her in a familiar environment will help her transition to the pre-school programme. She also has a support worker employed to help with Eloise’s care.

The childcare centre have apparently decided, without involving me in the decision, that Eloise will not be going into the pre-school room until next year.

It hit me.

Eloise is different.

But in my mind, the only thing that tells me, is that it is infact more important for Eloise to be moving up to the Pre-school room.

Sure, the moment she moves up there she will have a meltdown. She will sit in the corner all day, line up toys, refuse to participate, and be extremely upset.

But what will happen in 12 months time?

She will have a meltdown. She will sit in the corner all day, line up toys, refuse to participate, and be extremely upset.

Her Autism isn’t going away any time soon.

In a conversation with one of the centre’s office staff, the moment I mouthed the words “special school” tears started streaming down my face.

Am I so discriminative that I can’t handle the thought of Eloise going to a special school?

And again, at a meeting with Eloise’s educator at the local Early Intervention Centre. The moment I mouthed the words “special school” tears started streaming down my face.

From the moment she was born, I wanted to send her to a private school. I was even considering having her baptised catholic (she is baptised Christian) so she would get into the best schools in our area. There’s not much point now. Even if Eloise doesnt need to go to a special school, she will most probably be needing the extra support of a special class.

I don’t know why it bothers me. It just does. I thought I had let go of the dreams I had for her, and created new ones. I suppose I hadn’t caught up to Kindergarten yet.

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