So, at five years of age we know this: Emily is left handed. Emily has great vocabulary, but rotten annuciation. Emily likes to roll on her friends. Emily still doesn't sleep through the night. Emily doesn't eat anything green without gagging and puking at the table. Emily only likes one kind of toothpaste: the others make her gag and puke in the sink. Emily likes salami and pepperoni - as is. No bread, no crackers. Emily does not draw. Emily can not tell you the days of the week in order. Emily can tell you the laws of gravity and the various names of astronomical bodies. Emily has a memory that would baffle the CIA....but not always.

So, after beginning to work with the OT and Speech pathologist, we add the neurological assessment, and trek back to Dartmouth. Something still isn't right. In my expert voice , I know this. I have seen lots of children in my career - both typically developing and those with issues. In my mommy voice, I tell myself I am being hyper vigilant and over protective.

And the neurologist confirms what I had suspected. Emily has a slight brain injury. A Right hemiparisis. Words enough to make any mom burst into tears and run from the room. The neurologist suspects this happened pre-natally or during birth. It was enough to make my child's brain have to re-wire some functions and explains alot of her quirky personality traits. She should have been right handed, he says, but the injury forced her to compensate with her left hand. The injury affected her speech - articulation, while leaving vocabulary untouched. The injury affected some motor functions, ergo the low muscle tone and SI.

I am relieved. I am horrified. I go home and after wrestling her into bed that night, I go into my bedroom and cry. My only child is...well, not perfect. My anxiety begins to increase. By the time my husband finds me, I am having a full fledged anxiety attack and talking about how she will never go to college, never have a fufilling life: and it's my fault, I know it, I KNOW IT. I probably put her in her crib too hard and damaged her brain. If I had been a better mother - not the depressed, crazy, rotten mother I am, this wouldn't have happened. If I hadn't been depressed, I would have been more nurturing and her brain would be all right.

I take my medication for anxiety and wait for the episode to pass.

Eight months later, we agree to the testing for ADHD. We are not shocked nor suprised to find that she has this too. She starts medication - it helps her immensely.

I could spends reams on the fights I had with insurance companies to get her treatments covered. Which I did. Everything has been covered, but not without exhausting me at times. I have occasionally had to be the most evil bitch of a mother in the world to make sure things are set and authorizations are in place.

I could spend more reams on the fights with the public school - which we opted out of for 2 years to place her in a small private school. But this year we are letting her go to the public school.

I am terrified. Balls out terrified. She goes tomorrow- we have to put her on a BUS!!! Holy shit, a bus! the paragon of evil! I plan on putting her on the bus, and then driving to the school to make sure she gets off the bus and makes it into her classroom. Neurotic, I know. But fuck it, I don't care. She is my only child.

We have our "Special ed team" meeting on Tuesday morning. I am steeling myself for the fight. Stay tuned...