I am done fighting

   I got Pants ready to go meet with Ms. Shuman today. He was excited that he got to go show her his new book and car. Ms. Shuman meet us in the office with two other women. They did an evaluation with him and had a long talk with me. They asked me what Pants had received in therapy and school so far. I explained my problems with finding a good therapist and the problems I have had receiving a proper diagnosis of Pants condition. They viewed videos I had made of Pants progress. The one teacher told me to start recording him every day because I was able to document and capture the Sammy that he will only show to me.
   The other teacher told me that she recommended that he would benefit greatly with a one-on-one teacher. I started to tell her I thought that would be the best situation for both of us but I couldn't find it. The other teacher chimed in and told me that it wasn't fair but I had to fight for the proper care. I looked at her and quietly said I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't anymore out loud, I was trying very hard to keep from crying. What I wanted to tell her was that I knew what she was saying. I had been fighting for six years to get the proper care for Pants. I know the battle, I've lived it. I know I am quite capable of fighting for the rest of my life, if that is what I needed to do for Pants, but I am beaten, bruised and battered and I believe enough is enough. A month and a half ago, I honestly had no idea what I was going to do, but I decided enough is enough. I said I needed help. Long gone are the visits to professionals that left me feeling alone and hopeless. I refuse to fight, I chose to receive.
   I must have been too quiet for two long because the other teacher spoke up. "Okay here are your choices. You can tour a couple of nearby schools that we believe may help. We will set up the visits and I will go with you. You can continue to home school Sammy and we will bombard him with occupational and speech therapy and you can be his one-on-one. What ever you decide, I will get you the help you both need."
   I started to cry at this, which made the other teacher start to cry. That instant, I felt as if they felt bad that they had to tell a mom that her child needed more help than what she could give him and that he was different.
   I could only thank them because I was too busy holding it together. But I wanted to tell them
I am not crying because you told me my son was different and needed special help, I am crying because I believe you when you say you are going to help me find the help he needs.
   Maybe it took six years and many life lessons, but I trully believe I am at the point where I am no longer fighting, I am only receiving.