Deep breath.
When I don't have the right place to express things or people to talk to, I end up writing. So here I am. I haven't blogged about Beau in quite some time.
A couple years back, after sharing one of the many positive stories about Beau's classmates at Hansen Elementary, a handful of parents, with older special needs children, told me, "enjoy it now, because once you get to junior high and high school it all changes". I brushed them off as Negative Nancy's and knew there was no way this would change for Beau and his classmates.
Yesterday and today, Beau attended Boost at his Junior High. It's an introduction to Junior High so to speak. I didn't drop him off yesterday, the babysitter did, however, I took him today. I saw a bunch of the boys he had gone to elementary school with, out front. I walked Beau up as his para was there for him. Not a single one of the boys paid attention to him being there. It was like he was invisible. I was slightly saddened but I left thinking, I'm sure once they get inside, it will be better.
Tonight was his 6th-grade graduation party. It had been postponed due to COVID and the kids were finally getting to celebrate. It was held at a place called Palmers which is an outdoor park with go-carts, a large jumping cushion, goofy golf, a batting cage, and driving range. I got there about 15 minutes early with Beau so that it would give him time to adjust and allow him to watch other kids arrive. The moms that were there working the event were very welcoming and all know Beau. He noticed a few boys jumping on the large cushion thing and he laughed because he loves to see things go "up". A boy named "C" came over and asked Beau if he would like to jump with him. Beau immediately said yes and I asked him to make sure that he watched him carefully while jumping because Beau doesn't have the reaction time we do. They jumped and Beau squealed and I got to take this single picture.
It felt good to see Beau with his peers. A few minutes later more kids started showing up and it became very crowded on the cushion (sorry don't know what to call it). Kids were doing backflips and Beau was now in the way and nobody was paying attention to him. One of them was annoyed when Beau "pushed" him, however, Beau was falling over and reached out to this boy to catch himself. I was right close by knowing at any moment I may need to move him. It became unsafe so I coaxed him down as the boys were getting ready to run over to the go-carts which had opened up.
We sat down and Beau became nervous again. Drooling - a lot. Signing "go". I wanted him to wait. More kids showed up and we were right by the entrance. Those same boys that are Beau's "buddies" arrived but didn't notice Beau. Again, I get it - they are best friends and they were focused on getting in and playing and doing as much as they could. The girls who had always been "mother hens" didn't notice him. Again, he seemed invisible.
One of the mothers that were there to drop that group of boys off was so kind and came up and talked to Beau. Her son has been really great to Beau over the years. She really wanted to try hard to get the kids to play and help make him comfortable. She was able to get two of the boys to leave the batting cage to come and say "hi". At this point, I wanted to cry. I was holding back tears. She meant well and she's so kind - but those boys didn't want to have their fun interrupted. Nobody should have to be told they need to talk to Beau. Again - she was being so kind and was trying really hard to help us out, which I genuinely appreciate. But Beau was already anxious. I just had this crazy thought that maybe they would voluntarily come up to him - a bit like "C" had done (granted that only lasted a few minutes anyway).
I guess they were right.
Don't get me wrong. I know 12 and 13-year-olds are just kids. Kids aren't meant to think about others. They were there to have fun. It was their party and they earned it. I don't blame them at all. It's just one of those pivotal moments in this special needs journey where differences are glaringly obvious and it hurts like hell.
IT HURTS LIKE HELL!
We got out of the parking lot after having only been there 30 minutes and I cried. Bawled. Quietly of course. Making sure Beau couldn't hear me. I blared his music knowing that's what makes him happy. We drove around for a while and went and got french fries with ranch because that also makes him happy. I calmed myself down and we picked up Delaney and came home.
I guess they were right.
And then I watched Delaney love on her brother and I thanked God once again, that he will always have his sister as a best friend if nothing else. And I lost it again and went into the back room and sat down and cried while they played.
I snapped this picture. I hate sharing such an intimate moment/picture but this is the only way I can express how hard this journey is. It's lonely some days. It's sad some days. It's fucking hard some days.
I guess they were right.
I don't want my son to be a burden, a charity case, a person that another kid has to be told to talk to, forced to play with. I saw it this morning and saw it again tonight. This is a whole new stage of life for these kids. I love this group of kids and always will. What they have done for Beau and our family since kindergarten AND for the inclusive park has been incredible. Their families are amazing. I'm just sad for him right now. I should've expected it. I was warned but I didn't want to think negatively. I even thought I shouldn't share this because I remember what I thought of those parents that shared it with me years ago. But then I wouldn't be real. I wouldn't be transparent.
I guess they were right.
Beau's nonverbal but he still has feelings and emotions. Imagine how it must feel to be trapped inside your body unable to truly express what you want. He still longs to be loved and interacted with. He wears diapers - so what. He walks a little funny - so what. He drools - so what. He grunts - so what. His smile and laugh will light up any room and he is incredibly joyful, witty, and communicates so well with his eyes and hands. Why don't they want to play him with?
I guess they were right.
I needed this outlet tonight. I needed to express my feelings when I didn't know who to express them to or how to get it out. Give me my evening of being sad and tomorrow I will put my chin up and forge ahead and pray that fellow special needs students will want a friendship with my son. Right now it just really hurts.
Dammit. I guess they were right.
