Bittersweet

This is my first late night blog post. It's 1:30 in the morning and I just can't sleep.

Little Miss Corinne turns the big 3 on Thursday. We have big plans- lots of family and friends coming for a much anticipated Fish Party (no sushi, sadly. But a fish shaped cake, at least). We're all very excited about the big day, but it is also bittersweet, because in the world of Early Intervention services, turning three is synonymous with the end. Wednesday is the last day our "friends", as we call them, and rightly so, will be coming to our house.

We've been preparing Corinne for this week for awhile. We made a "goodbye book" and talked a lot about it to help her understand that this phase of her life is ending and school is beginning. Gift cards have been purchased and thank you cards have been written. And although I spent a lot of time drafting and personalizing each one, I still don't feel like they quite capture the depth of our gratitude. How do you even begin to thank someone who has given you the gift of a happy, mostly well adjusted child? Corinne is like a typical three year old in every sense of the world. She's active and inquisitive. She runs and jumps and does splits and spins. She asks questions about any and everything. She's silly and clever and makes us laugh every day. She tells us often that she loves us with words and affection. She is the ultimate autism success story, the best case scenario that we ever could have hoped for (there is actually a therapist in her playgroup who is new this summer who thought Corinne was the "community child", the normal kid invited to group to be a sort of role model for the special needs kids. She couldn't believe Corinne is on the spectrum, based on what she was seeing. Can you imagine how much it makes my heart smile to hear something like that?!) How do you ever pay someone back for making that happen? Sure, Corinne is an extraordinary little girl who has overcome a lot. Sure, Pete and I recognized the problem early and got help asap, and have made "fixing" Corinne our number one action item for Loser Family, Inc. But more than anything Corinne is who she is today because of the efforts of these wonderful women who have come into our home and our lives and have loved Corinne and worked tirelessly with her as if she were their own child, not just another kid in a long string of kids that make up their work day. Through what appears on the surface to just be play, they have taught her how to interact with and enjoy the company of others. They have taught her (and us) how to work through her frustrations and fears. They have taught her to be confident in her speech and her movements. She looks forward to their visits and has her favorite games with each of them. We see each of them at least twice a week, in a nice laid out routine that has been familiar and comforting for Corinne. This had been our life for the past year and a half. We have shared with them our success stories, our fears and concerns, and our proud moments. It's so hard for it all to end. On the one hand it feels like this is the natural progression, that it is ending just as Corinne is ready for the next phase, because Corinne really is so ready to start pre-school in a few weeks. But on Thursday morning when we wake up and Corinne asks "Momma, what we doing today?", expecting a list of "well, first Debbie, then Denise's playgroup, then lunch and nap, then Gayle, then Dadda comes home...", it's going to seem so strange to say "I don't know, baby, what would you like to do today?" (thank God Diane and the girls are coming up on Wednesday night for a few days, which will help ease us through this transition. I only wish we could both slosh back a couple bottles of wine!) As hard as it was times to be locked into such a structured schedule, I am going to feel a little bit lost without it, and a lot lost without the people who comprised it . I have become as attached to Corinne's providers as she has. I interacted with them more than my own friends, hell, more than my own husband! It's like having a good friend move away (hint, hint, S@L!). You vow to keep in touch, but it just isn't the same as hanging out with them. You feel an empty spot in your life where they once were. And you all know how I feel about people I care about leaving my life. More "essences" to add to the little jar.

So that's why I'm up and blogging in the wee hours of the morning. It's going to be a difficult and emotional week (not to mention my pregnancy hormones are raging as it is, but that's a topic for another post), but at least I can look forward to what's next. We feel so optimistic about Corinne's future, so for that gift, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you Denise, Debbie, Gayle, Stephanie, Katie, Jamie and Monica (and Laura and Kerry, who moved on a few months ago, but were just as big a part of Corinne's success). We will never forget any of you for all that you have done for Corinne and for our family.