I left you with us about to move away from my small hometown, but there are so many other things to say about our time spent in my hometown.

My parents, Chase's grandparents, still lived in the house I was raised in, and my husband and I bought a house three blocks from them. We had so many hopes that this would be the place where we would raise our daughters. We had no idea that the small town would have so many prejudices against differences. Looking back on my childhood, it was a town that frowned on differences, and any differences, whether they had to do with race, class, or anything that was different than the "normal," were singled out and frowned upon. I did not know that, because my parents didn't raise me that way. We were taught that all of us were the same, and we were taught that differences were good, that variety was the spice of life. We were taught that colors were something you found in a box of crayons, not differences in skin color. We were taught to respect everyone, no matter what the color of skin was, the primary language spoken, nor the ability of learning. Everyone deserved respect. I thank God that this is the way I was raised. My parents were well ahead of the majority of parents in my small hometown.

So, as we embarked on our journey of parenthood and our second daughter's disability, we assumed that everyone would accept her for her possibilities and not her limitations. We were sadly mistaken. It seemed that her special needs, as limited as they were, were such a challenge to the school system that they could not fathom that she would be an asset to the system and the children in that system. We felt that in dealing with her disabilities, the other students would learn compassion and acceptance, that they would learn as much from her as she would learn from them. That, unfortunately, was not the case. The school system saw her as someone who would bring them down (particularly since we wanted her to be integrated into the regular population). We could not see a problem with her being in a regular kindergarten class, especially since she had all of the prerequisites...colors, numbers, shapes, body parts, ABC's, etc. We soon learned that her differences would set her apart and be used to set her apart from the so-called "regular" kids. All we wanted was for her to have a chance to be integrated and to learn in that setting with the "regular" kids. That desire started a firestorm of disagreements that would continue until we finally gave up and moved away to a new school system which would work with us, listen to us, and make mistakes of their own.

We are so thankful, however, for the time that we had in my hometown. My children (we added a third daughter while we were there) were given an opportunity to have a great relationship with my parents. We had no idea that my dad would be diagnosed with cancer months after our move and pass away a year after our departure. My mom would be diagnosed with cancer five years later and pass away in 2001. My children had an opportunity to be so close with my parents, and I would not trade that time for anything. All of the pain that we endured through the school system was worth it, because my children had the close relationship with their grandparents that they will cherish forever. I will be grateful for that time until the day I die.

Chase went to therapy in Amarillo, speech, occupational, physical, for the years that we lived there. As my husband and I both taught school in Amarillo, my parents brought Chase to her therapy twice a week. They got to spend time with the girls on these trips, and my girls still have fond memories of these trips.

Chase did hippotherapy (therapy on a horse), and she still loves horses. This therapy did wonders for Chase. She could talk better, better use of words, better pronunciations, better communication on the back of a horse. I don't know that anyone could explain why it happened, but it was nothing short of miraculous to us. This is the single therapy that did her the most good of any of the therapies we have ever done with her. If you have a chance to volunteer, to observe, or to take your child to hippotherapy, run, don't walk. You will see advances that will astound you.

So, my parent's time with Chase (and with our other girls) was well spent, and they built memories that are priceless. The things that Chase remembers (not to mention the memories that the other girls have) are priceless. Our girls remember their grandparents fondly, and the struggles that we had to endure were well worth it for them to have these memories. I wouldn't change a thing.

The trouble all started when she was ready to enter kindergarten. She knew all of her numbers, colors, shapes, and body parts. She was ready to go to kindergarten. The problem was that we were in a very small school district (the one I had grown up in and gone from first grade--no kindergarten when I started--through twelfth grade). The school district suddenly wanted to put Chase into a self-contained special education classroom, one which contained only one other student who was thirteen years old, was a boy, who had no verbal skills and was known to have violent outbursts. Of course, we were diabolically opposed to this...why would we want to put our five-year-old daughter into a classroom with a young man who was violent? Thus began our legal battle with the school district.

We hired an attorney (he was blind) and an educational specialist (he had significant physical disabilities). We planned for the ARD meeting to come. (ARD stands for Admission, Review, and Dismissal in Texas, which is the meeting that is supposed to be an annual event for parents and teachers to meet to discuss and decide on educational goals yearly). We were familiar with this process, as we were both teachers in the Texas public school system. We had no idea how familiar we would become with this process in the next few years. We met for an extended period of time (approximately 12 hours). Chase was placed in kindergarten for the year. We kept a journal that we passed between teacher and parent for the year, and we knew that getting her into first grade would be a struggle. We knew that the kindergarten teacher was trying to document her way into keeping Chase out of first grade.

The nightmare began when we had a knock at the door from a social worker telling us that there had been a report of abuse with Chase. You see, Chase was not potty-trained, and the school thought that we were abusing her. We made it through that incident with the social worker reporting that the reports were unfounded, and we thought that we were through with that. We continued through that year, trying to communicate with Chase's teacher, but it was clear that we could not talk with her and that she had motives (given to her from the principal) to move in the direction of the self-contained classroom spoken of previously). We continued to try to communicate, but our efforts were met with anger and malice. We were the enemy, even though we were just trying to get the best education possible for our daughter.

We again faced long ARD meetings that spring, and Chase was placed into the classroom of the superintendent's wife for the next year, with less time spent in the regular classroom and more time spent in special education. We tried to continue communication through written means, and it became clear to us that we were in danger of being accused of abuse. Again, we were reported for child abuse through Child Protective Services, this time accusing my dad of sexual abuse. Chase was still not potty-trained, and the report said that it was my dad's fault. Believe me, my dad tried to legally call them to the carpet, but getting that done is very difficult. A judge has to open the report, and that just is not done in a small town.

One good thing that did come of it is that they sent us to a urologist to see why Chase was not potty-trained at the age of seven. He told us that the test commonly teaches children what it feels like to need to use the restroom. It was a traumatic event for Chase...they hooked electrodes all over her genitals before filling her bladder with water via a catheter...but it did exactly what the doctor said it would do. She was potty-trained!! The school called a couple of weeks later to ask when we were going to file our insurance for the procedure, and I told them that we wouldn't be filing our insurance for the procedure. They asked for it, and the bill was on them!! They had to pay thousands of dollars to potty-train Chase...a little bit of sweet revenge. My dad got a big kick out of that.

By the time that we left my hometown, Chase was in a self-contained special education classroom with students that did not speak. Her teacher was great, but she was in an environment which pushed her backwards. It was a good thing for us to move her to a new school system where she could thrive at last.

I have a need tonight to talk about my pregnancy and the birth of Chase. She was the result of the easiest of my pregnancies. Our older daughter was born when I was twenty-three (barely). My pregnancy with her was difficult in that I had headaches (later diagnosed as migraines). I suffered through them and delivered her by c-section when I was a week late. She was breech, and the doctor advised that it would be best. She developed normally and was a normal toddler when Chase was born.

Chase's womb-warming was more difficult than her sister's. I again had the headaches and had my first MRI to make sure that there was nothing wrong neurologically. It was clear, so I was given the green light to deliver Chase by c-section (she was also breech). I developed a hernia during her pregnancy, so I saw a surgeon before her delivery. It was planned that I would have the c-section and the hernia repair at the same time so that they could work through the same incision at the time of delivery. Problems arose when I went into labor the Saturday before I was to deliver on Monday. I checked into the hospital on Saturday evening, and the obstetrician tried to stop my labor with medication. The meds didn't work, and my labor continued. The meds, however, did make me very groggy and sleepy. I don't remember a lot of what happened that night. Finally, at about 1:00AM, the obstetrician decided that the delivery couldn't wait, and he had to call out his partner, the surgeon, and the pediatrician to do the surgery. Chase was born at 1:15AM. All I remember is that the doctor had to slap her around to stimulate her, and it took her a long time to breathe. I have no idea how long it took to get her to breathe, but it seemed like forever. She did finally cry, and she went home with me three days after her birth.

We went to a scheduled appointment with the pediatrician at two weeks, and I told him that she wasn't making eye contact. I did have an older child, and she was different. She was feeding fine, and she was growing, but she wasn't making the eye contact that her sister had made at that age. The doctor poo-pooed me and told me that I was being a nervous mom. He told me to relax and enjoy her. I did that, but I voiced my concerns at every appointment after that, only to be told that I was being a nervous mom. Who was I to question that.?..I didn't have a medical degree, and I wanted to believe that there was nothing wrong. We continued with this doctor until we made a move to Amarillo for my husband's job.

We got in to see a new pediatrician in Amarillo, and I, once again, voiced my concerns about Chase's development. As we voiced these concerns, we got the same advice that we had gotten before. We were being nervous parents, and we needed to relax and enjoy our daughter. More time passed, and I asked the doctor for testing when she turned two. She had sat up at 12 months and had started walking with assistance at 18 months. I finally had to write a letter to the pediatrician when she was two and still not walking, asking for her to be tested. The doctor wrote back in a very nasty letter that we needed to find another doctor. This ended our relationship with pediatricians forever. We have had family physicians ever since.

The family physician that we found ordered the tests that we requested. It was inconclusive that she might be having petit mal seizures, and we put her on anti-seizure medication for a year. She didn't have any genetic abnormalities, no hearing deficits, and there was no visible brain damage on the MRI. Basically, there is nothing that we can blame her deficits on. There is no diagnosis. She had EEG's a year later, and there was nothing that showed up. She probably never had seizures. We were left with no diagnosis, no reason that she was delayed.

We entered the public school system when she was about 2 1/2. She received home visits from a therapist, and we took her to physical, speech, and occupational therapy twice a week. We loved the therapists, and she made much progress during this time. She entered school when she was three, and we were satisfied with the help that she was receiving. She continued with this, and when she was five, we were ready to put her into kindergarten. This started a horrible experience dealing with the public school system in a small West Texas town.

So, we made it through the holidays. Chase cleaned up on her "Wizard of Oz" items. She got numerous things, from a Glenda that glows 24/7 (thanks Teresa!) to a nice Tinman ornament (thanks Cousin Lauren!). The holidays have always, always meant so much to Chase. She embraced Santa Claus from an early age, although it was at a distance, and she loves Christmas more than any other. Santa was great from a distance, because the very sight of someone dressed as someone else has always terrified her. From Chuckee Cheese to Santa to Mickey Mouse, she has been terrified about who might be behind the costume, but she has also been excited about the possibilities of the characters. She believes that Dorothy went through the storm and that Santa is capable of delivering the presents, and the possibilities that she believes in are the things that keeps the magic alive in our family. It is so much fun to buy for her and to anticipate her reactions to the gifts that she will receive. It makes the season magical. It makes us all believe in the miracle of Christmas.

Now, we embark on a New Year. Chase is going to become an adult, as far as the school system is concerned, and we have to figure out how to navigate through this uncharted territory. It is an uncharted territory that we have to navigate for her, and it is a responsibility that is unprecedented for us. How do you decide your child's path? Parents aren't supposed to have to decide this for their children. Parents are supposed to raise up their children to choose the path that they choose. How are parents supposed to choose that path for them? It is a question that parents of children with disabilities have to ponder. I don't want to choose her path. It has been thrust upon me to choose her path for her. What an awesome responsibility! I don't want for her sisters to be burdened with her path. I want to be able to make her independent of her sisters. How do I do that? Who do I choose to take responsibility for her when her dad and I are gone? Right now, it is her Uncle Andrew and Aunt Laurie. It had been on my side of the family until my mom's death. Then I was able to see that they wouldn't have her best interests at heart, and I would rather her be with family that will love her until the end.

It is a curious thing wondering who will care for your children when you die. You tend to think of people to care for your minor children. It is easy to think of that. That is a finite thing. You die, and someone else will be responsible for your children for maybe ten years. It is a very different thing to think of someone making decisions for your child who will never really grow up. It is a lifetime responsibility. You don't want to pick someone who will put your child into state care. You want someone who will think about what's best for your child, someone who will think about what will make your child happy, someone who will love your child the way you would have loved her.

There are so many questions when you find yourself a parent of a child with a disability. You find that parenthood extends through your whole life, and raising your child to be a productive citizen is only the beginning. Your responsibilities extend far beyond that. Your responsibilities extend to the end of your own life. You have to stare into the face of your own mortality and decide what will be best for your child in the future. It is an awesome responsibility.

So, last night was all bliss with Chase, and this morning she woke up in a funk. Those mornings are the longest...it is only about 45 minutes, but every one of those minutes is felt completely and very slowly. This morning it was a jacket issue. She seems to break zippers frequently, and this one is missing the pull for zipping it up. She decided she couldn't wear that jacket and wanted to wear a hoodie. The only problem with that is that it was 20 degrees out, and she had to have a heavy coat. The minutes began to drag. Then I turned off the lights on the Christmas tree so that we could see the bus pull up out front. That's when I became the "Wicked Witch." (Everything has a Wizard of Oz reference, seeing as she watches it every single day of the year.) I quickly became the "Flying Monkey," a step up from "Wicked Witch" when her spirited display of anger escalated. I don't always handle things well, and this morning I turned into a yelling "Flying Monkey." Forgive me, sweet Chase. We will have a better afternoon.

Well, I have been wrapping presents for the girls, and I have quickly realized that Chase has many more gifts than the other girls. I think that it is because it is so much more fun to see Chase unwrap gifts and to see her delight at each gift...she is so full of joy, especially at this time of the year. She loves the story of Christmas and delights in the lights on the houses, the nativities at the churches...her joy is so wonderful to see and to give all of us a chance to relive it through a child's eye as she does each and every year. I think that is why she has more gifts under the tree. We all delight in seeing her live out the Christmas story each and every year and it gives us all so much joy that it doesn't matter that she has the most gifts, because it gives us so much joy to see her delight in the morning that it is a gift to us just to see her joy. We see the true meaning of Christmas in sharing her joy every year, and it reminds us what is important to remember throughout the rest of the year. Hopefully, it will carry us through the rest of the year, and we will remember her joy until it is time to celebrate Jesus' birth again next year!! Chase reminds us of it the year around, and we need to listen to her all year long.