Rising.

Bubbly has been doing very well in preschool this summer.  I had mentioned before that we chose to send her to a summer program for kids with special needs, a lot of them who have trauma in their past.  There is an on-site therapist who works with the kids regularly and during a ‘crisis’, one we paid for.  The program is only four hours per day, but she has made amazing strides.  She is in her last two weeks there, then she will have one week off before she enters back into public school where the same therapist will ‘bridge’ into her 4K classroom, which we will also pay for.

For most families, this is paid for through the county, for FPD and I, we paid for it out of pocket.  We are the only family in the program with a foreign born adopted child.  The other children, for the most part, came out of foster care.  They are all covered by Medical Assistance.  When we were asked if we could continue to afford this for Bubbly, our answer was…how could we not?  Our children’s lives changed drastically this summer as we all banded together to tighten the belt so that Bubbly could do this.  My kids are awesome.  No summer camp, no big vacation, secondhand clothes.  It’s not easy, but it is SO important.  I wish every child who needed it had access to the services Bubbly is receiving.  I wish every child who had been abused at the hands of Luckyhill had a chance to heal like Bubbly has.  
I finally feel like we are rising out of the ashes.  As of today, there is hope that Bubbly will go into Kindergarten WITHOUT AN IEP.  No diagnosis haunting her.  As of right now, the therapist and preschool staff are confident in her ability to, eventually, function in a classroom without being any kind of huge behavioral problem.  I have one thing to say about that…
CAN I GET A HECK YEAH?!?   
We came, we diagnosed, and for right now, we have overcome.  The therapist, the one who sees her everyday, feels she doesn’t need meds, that she just needed someone who understands trauma.  
There will be setbacks.  There will be regressions.  
For now, there is hope.  
My hope.  For my daughter.  
–FullPlateMom,
who thinks her little wounded bird is more like a phoenix.  

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