Not a Fair IQ

I had a ton of ideas of what I wanted to post about. None of them seem important. None of them seem relevant for the day.

We had one of many, many meetings at Alex’s school again Tuesday. This meeting was with the school psychologist and social worker. Neither of us knew what was coming our way. In fact, we thought that they would just tell us the results of some testing and how it may change the course of what Alex’s IEP was, based on how he learns and then we’d move on. We thought they just wanted to talk with us without the rest of the team so that we had time to ask specific questions, etc. We thought.

After dancing around what she wanted to tell us (which was painful to watch), the school psychologist finally told us why they wanted to pull us in separately. It would seem that they were being caring enough to allow us a little private time to digest our son’s tested IQ. It would seem that the results confirmed what we had told the school (new to Alex so they’re getting their bearings getting to know him), that Alex has global impacts of Cerebral Palsy. Duh. His IQ tests in the Developmentally Disabled ranges. Tears.

I don’t know. It’s not like it’s completely out of the realm of what we knew about him. We always knew he was developmentally delayed, but delayed suggests that changes can be made with a lot of hard work. Now, it's disabled. That's different. Maybe it’s the first qualifier/quantifier that he’s actually had. Maybe it’s hearing it. Maybe it’s that it crushed our, my last hope for him. The hope that I would find the magic door that unlocked all that I knew was behind those eyes. The magic door that would unleash consistency with his words, sentences, demeanor, intelligence. Maybe it’s just yet another blow in a storm of blows that have beat us down since he was 9 months old. Maybe we know how to pick ourselves up of the floor all too well. Maybe, really, maybe that it’s just more proof that it’s completely unfair that he has been dealt these cards. It’s just not fair.

It’s not fair that I’m crying again. It’s not fair that we’re mourning – again. We mourn his loss of an opportunity at a normal life. We mourn our loss of hope for what his life could have been. Should have been.

He’s innocent. And it’s just not fair.

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