In my last post, I shared why I desperately want Evie to be able to communicate.
For those of you that won’t/can’t click, the video is a disabled man using technology to communicate that he has not been fed and that he waited and waited. No one came. He was afraid. A woman’s voice asks if he needs help handling the situation.
Nope, he does not. He is handling it himself.
The ability to communicate empowers.
The ability to communicate keeps us safe.
Every morning, I play one of those trust games that you see at team building retreats. I first push my child off and I don’t know if she lands in safety or not. Then I fall backwards, myself.
The truth is that I have no idea whether of not Evie’s team will be waiting to break her fall. And because she is my child and her well being is everything to me–waiting to break my fall.
I trust that no one will hurt her.
I trust that the will feed her and give her water.
I trust that those taking care of her will keep her safe.
When Evie can communicate, I will know that there is a safety net waiting to catch her–even if her team is not there.
If I seem impatient to get Evie communicating in a more sophisticated way, it is because I am.
If I seem obsessed with her safety and care, it is because she cannot afford for me not to be.
If you are tired of hearing about Autism and disabilities and the injustice of it all, imagine pushing your kid off a cliff every weekday morning, every time she is not within your direct line of site. Imagine hoping for the best but never really knowing whether people catch her or not.
Communication will not break the fall. But it would make people working with Evie think twice about not catching her.