Daycare dramas...

So I found my “birth story” on my flash drive. It needs some work; all you anxious readers will have to just wait a bit longer. When I started it initially, I was hoping to write a book some day. Maybe someday I will, but I got sidetracked. Being a working mom in grad school will do that to you. I set it aside because I had powerpoints to make and research articles to write. Last year one of my classes required us to write a “Defining Moments” paper. Naturally, that was Emery. I tweaked my birth story, took out the details, summed it up and analyzed why becoming a mom was a defining moment in my life. In my opinion it’s a strong piece of writing, but I’m trying to decide if I want to “publish” as is, or if I want to combine the two pieces of work to create one HUGE pieces of work. There are certainly advantages to both choices, as is always the case! If I combine them I may have to publish them in separate pieces, just so as not to overwhelm any readers. Combined they currently reach 9,000 words. That’s a lot, in case you were wondering!

While I was trying to make a decision about how or what to write, I was cleaning out my email inbox. Such a daunting task. I tend to keep a lot of emails that are of importance. Eventually roadrunner tells me that I’m operating at 77% capacity and I’m left to dwindle the list again. I came across several daycare emails, and I thought “This is perfect focus for tonight.”

Daycare has been an issue—from the beginning. Let me be clear. I love my job, and I’m good at it. I promise. I never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. Then I met my daughter. Most days being away from her doesn’t overwhelm me. I know how lucky I am; I get holiday and summer breaks. I can be home fairly early most afternoons. Every once in a while, that guilt creeps up. This past August Emery started at a daycare center part time. We felt good about the arrangement. She’d be there two days a week, and she’d be home the other three. She would get the social time with her peers, and they could model age-appropriate toddler type behaviors. We wouldn’t be throwing her to the wolves, metaphorically of course, in regards to her immune system. The first week was so rough. Poor baby cried all day for the first two weeks. I felt awful; I doubted our decision. It hurt me to see her so uncomfortable and sad. But the girls working in her room were sweet. They wanted to learn about Emery and Down syndrome and how it affects her development.

Unexpectedly they were all let go. I was more than a bit surprised because Emery had come to love the place and the teachers. The director gave me her reasoning for the dramatic change in staff; it seemed legit, and I felt like she and I had a good working/professional relationship. But issues started to tiptoe into our days there. I had concerns, and while I addressed them nothing seemed to change. Emery seemed to earn an incident report or more every day she was there. Somehow the only non-walker in the room was scratching and pulling hair several times a day. I pointed out to the head teacher and director that I didn’t understand where this behavior was coming from all of a sudden. Lots of blah, blah, blah from them. I really tried to work things out, but my resentment toward the teachers in her room continued to build. It was such petty nonsense—“She scratched a teacher’s nose today.” Give me a break! Stop carrying her so much, maybe that’s A) why her walking progress has stopped and B) she’s trying to tell you to put her down, since she doesn’t have the words to do so. It was ridiculous stuff like that. We battled about it for months. It never really changed. I was irate the day they informed me that Em had more incident reports than some kids and fewer than others. Really? She was only there 16 hours a week; you mean to tell me that in 16 hours she was that much worse than other 1 year olds (at the time) who spent 40+ hours a week there. Whatever. That’s about when the reports stopped. Maybe I made my point? Two months later I was told by the director that the head teacher was reporting other families were complaining about Emery’s bullying. Meanwhile, I had watched other children knock Em over on purpose and then run away with her toy. No teachers seemed to notice. We were reaching our breaking point.

In March I popped into daycare to find an understaffed room with one teacher changing a diaper behind a half wall. Emery and two other kids were in the room. While the teacher could see, she could literally do nothing because of diaperless child and the half wall in her way. As I approached the classroom I watched, what felt like in slow motion, as Emery reached up and yanked a little girl’s hair. It was hard, and she cried. I don’t blame her. I picked up my pace to intervene, only to watch the teacher yank Emery up from the floor by her tiny little arms and yell in her face. You should have seen the look of shock when she realized I was standing right there. Immediately her tone and word choice changed. My heart sank. I was watching my biggest worry come true. You put your trust in strangers, and you just hope your babes are safe. How could I ever feel like Emery was being treated appropriately and with respect there again? I was sick to my stomach. I demanded to speak to the director, who was on a medical leave. I was so disappointed with that conversation. I understand she was in a tough spot as an employee, but I was disheartened at what she had to say to me and how she said it. She promised a meeting with her, Em’s therapists, and the classroom teachers. Five weeks later, she was still on leave, I had heard nothing from her. We pulled Emery from their care. It was tough; I wanted to believe in them. And I didn’t want to pull Em from some place she loved, but clearly they had no desire to work with me. I had become one of “those” parents; I’ve seen it before. You say the right things to her face, but when she’s not around it’s not pretty. I was not okay with them being unwilling to hear what I had to say as her mother and the expert on Ds. I did not need their excuses, so I cut my ties.

Looking back, I am sad Emery doesn’t spend two days a week with her peers, but it couldn’t have been any more right for us to leave! She has been healthy since her last day there. They were germy looking kids, and I know kids can be germy, but these kids always looked sick! Since she was finally healthy her development started to grow again. She added more ASL vocabulary; she says more words. And she’s walking, well, toddling around everywhere!

Emery’s been at home since the end of April, thanks to Auntie Ashley for all that she’s sacrificed. I am thankful for my summer break with my lovebug, and I’m even more thankful for my sister’s sacrifices to help provide care for Emery. I started looking for daycare in March, planning to start in August. Holy moly! What a headache! We needed fulltime care, and daycare centers in can be pretty pricey.

We found one daycare center that we liked and that was in our budget, and I was excited initially. Granted I had to hunt the director down because she did not return our initial phone call. I chalked it up to losing the message or being busy with end of the year stuff. No big deal; I called back. We got things squared away and scheduled a tour. They seemed a bit timid about taking on Emery’s disabilities, but I assured them she was not all that different from other kids. She was just reaching her developmental milestones at a slower pace, meaning that she’d still be on a sippy cup instead of an open cup, and that we were not even discussing potty training yet. I was told she could not move to the next room (3 year olds) until she was totally accident free. I nodded and agreed, all while laughing inside. It didn’t matter to me; truthfully, I just needed care for August through May. She will probably be going to preschool through the school district the following fall, and what did I care if she stayed with the 2 year olds for three months past her third birthday.

They had two openings, and we were third on the waitlist. One family had been on the waitlist for almost nine months, and the director did not expect them to still need care. She explained that she would call with either a yes or a no the first week in June. During the second week of June I called because I had not heard from her, do you think she has returned my call? That answer is a no. Here’s the kicker—they have another open spot in that room again to start in a few weeks. Logically speaking, say the two ahead of us accepted both spots, that means we are now first in line. Have I heard from the director? Of course not. I’m not the paranoid type, but I’m pretty certain my beautiful daughter is being discriminated against. I cannot prove it because they can always make some ridiculous excuse, of course. Just say no! Just say from the beginning you don’t think this would be a good fit. I have so much more respect for that. Blowing me off just makes me mad.

Do you think that’s the only time daycare has blown me off this summer???? We turned to in-home daycare in hopes of eliminating drama and exposure to excessive germs (5-7 kids, rather than 10+). I was in contact with four women, phone and email, who all said they had openings and wanted to meet, go over contracts, answer questions, etc. Two stopped returning emails after the initial conversation when I tried to set up a face-to-face interview. One never returned my phone call, or my email to verify she received my voicemail. The fourth lady was plain crazy!

She had an excellent website, and our first phone conversation was 40 minutes. We chatted about daycare, Emery, and her life. It was nice. She said she wanted to meet us if we thought she might be a good fit. She picked the day and time. She said more than once that she was sure she wanted to care for Em, if we’d have her. Hubby, Em, and I showed up at her place on designated day and time. As we approach the house her carport was full of junk. It was a total mess. I told Nick I was having reservations now; he calmed me. She frantically appeared at the door claiming her daughter was ill and she needed to take her to an urgent care clinic immediately. She apologized profusely for not calling in advance, but she stated she had been preoccupied with caring for her daughter. Of course we wished her well and left after she asked that I call back in a few days. In the meantime, her website disappeared. Like vanished!! No google searches were locating that bad boy. So I called three days later, but this time I called from my home phone instead of my cell phone. Not for any particular reason, but maybe subconsciously? She seemed surprised when I said who it was. She was friendly and apologetic. I asked about her website, and she said she had been doing some work to it, and would finish up that night and republish it. She selected the next date and time for another meeting. We went to her house again; this time I told Nick I had a bad feeling about it all. Her car was in the driveway with the windows down. Her door was cracked and we could hear people inside. We knocked and rang the doorbell for 15 minutes, no answer. I called her number and it was mysteriously out of order. We left, angry and annoyed. The website never reappeared, still hasn’t to this day. I told Nick it felt like a scam, except she didn’t get anything from us. Not last names, not deposit checks, zilch. It was so strange.

With these circumstances it’s hard not to feel like Emery’s extra chromosome has brought out the crazy in people. Do they think they are letting me down easy by just ignoring me? That is worse! If you are unwilling to experience something new, or understand that disabilities don’t always mean major changes, then I don’t want you watching my kid anyway. Ignoring my calls, emails, and knocks is letting yourself off the hook easy. You might think that you are trying to spare my feelings, but really, you just don’t have the courage to look me in the eye and tell me that you are discriminating against my daughter. It is easier to have respect for an individual who states up front their concerns, worries, and fears. These can be addressed. How about a trial basis? Being close-minded to my daughter, to our family—well that is something YOU have to live with!