Janey is gradually, gradually getting better. She spends less of her day in bed now, and walks much less hunched over. She is starting to eat a little bit better, and we don't worry all day quite as much about her drinking enough. But it's SLOW. I'm very glad the surgeon warned us it would be, or we would be much more worried.
Yesterday, we went to visit Janey's classroom, to say goodbye to her teacher and pick up her stuff. It was the last full day of the school year, although of course Janey's school year ended abruptly a month ago. Janey was very happy to see everyone! It took her a minute to take in that we were actually in her room, but once she did, she was all smiles. It was wonderful to see. Wonderful both ways---to see Janey happy, and to see her teacher and all the therapists and staff and aides that saw her so engaged with her, so happy to see her. They all seemed to have a special thing they did with her, some kind of high five or dance or saying. It was truly special to see. We will miss Janey's teacher, Miss Jenn. She was terrific with Janey, and so caring. It was not an easy year for Janey, and she was with us every step of the way.
One thing that was interesting was how little attention Janey paid to the other kids. They were happy to see her, and many of them ran over to hug her. They had made her cards, which were great (and which made me see how Janey seems like the only kid in her class that can't draw or write) She seemed to barely notice them. I wonder if this is because many of them seem to operate at a lot higher level than her, or if it's just how Janey is.
Later yesterday, we visited with a woman and her daughter who we'd met because Freddy is friends with a son his age in the family. The daughter is on the spectrum, although on the far other end from Janey. Janey again paid not much attention to the girl.
Some day, I'd like to do a tour and meet in person many of the people I've met through this blog, to talk with them (wouldn't that be wonderful!) and to meet their daughters. I feel like I've never met another family in person with a daughter like Janey. It's a bit of a lonely feeling, that yesterday pounded home to me. The autistic spectrum is very wide, and the edges of it are not as populated, especially's Janey's end, I am finding.
Another feeling hit me yesterday, a bit more positive one. I realized how when I'm not around other kids, Janey just seems like Janey. I don't spend a lot of time comparing her to where she "should" be. It doesn't seem especially strange to me that she doesn't talk much, or that she screams a lot, or that she isn't toilet trained, that she can't read or write or draw. Of course, I wish she could do those things, but that's not Janey. Unless I'm face to face with others that can do those things, even though they have the same diagnosis as Janey, it just seems like---well, Janey is Janey. I guess that's autism acceptance, in a way. It doesn't mean that I don't feel sad that Janey's life is and will be very limited by what she can't do, but I don't spend a lot of time thinking how different she is from others.
The part that does make me angry is how there is so much less help for kids like Janey than there is for kids with less severe autism. There is nothing for Janey except school, nothing. No camps, no respite, no social skills groups, no friends, no lessons, nothing. There is nothing. That has been confirmed by talking with three social workers specializing in kids like Janey in the last month. And it's why I am so grateful for her school. I felt at home there yesterday---not quite as at home as I used to at her old school, but at home. I felt like it was a place where Janey was accepted and loved. And there aren't that many places like that. So thank you, Boston Public Schools. You don't get enough love, but for our family, you've been wonderful.