In about an hour I leave for a meeting. I have gone to this meeting every year for 17 years. For many years it was an necessary evil that I had to endure. Quite a few of those years I would end up in tears of frustration, anger, and sadness. But eventually this meeting became a time of chatting with trusted friends, grateful that things are looking up.In about an hour I leave for a meeting. I will never "HAVE TO" go to this meeting ever again. I will never be invited to this meeting again. No more discussions about goals achieved. No more angry outburst amongst a group of adults with with same objective but different methods. No more laughs and hugs when we decide that all is as it should be and it is more than we expected.In about 45 minutes I leave for a meeting...for about 3 hours I have been crying. A good friend reminded me I don't like change. I hate when he does that. He has this habit of telling me the truth even when I don't want to hear it. I hate change...I hate letting go...not being in control. I still stamp my feet and yell, fall on the ground kicking a screaming, and hold my breath until I turn blue. (OK maybe I am only doing this in my head, but those of you who know me know I AM doing it!)I want..I want..I want! In 33 minutes I leave for a meeting...and like always, temper tantrums never get me anywhere. So I will dust the chain smoking ashes off of me...put down the chocolate... wash out the coffee cup. (My coping mechanisms) I will hit spill check and send. I will wash my face and grab some tissues just in case. I will leave for my meeting.This is my last IEP...last child study team meeting...last year of Samantha's formal education. She will graduate in June 2010. No more meetings.

*I wrote this about a year ago…it turned out to be a great meeting! We were all so pleased with her progress and chatted about all the programs available to her. Her teacher had become my trusted friend, her school a second home where all both knew her and loved her.

Three day latter I was told that her teacher was being transferred. Soon I was informed that her class was no longer because of budget cuts. The only school option was so inappropriate for Sammi that it hurt to watch. Her case manger was n't part of this department. And eventually I learned that all post high school programs were dependant on our Governer’s budget and availability. (Meaning not likely anytime soon) The residential placement that we had decided was best for the whole family (not an easy decision) had a waiting list of about 20 years.

Watching a grown woman fall apart is never a pretty site. So in December... 2 state agencies, and the public school system decided that we qualify for emergency residential placement. It may happen this summer.

So I just took her off the school bus for the very last time. (45 min late because they had the wrong address.) Eighteen years went by in a blink of an eye, today isn’t a good day. But tomorrow will be a lot better.