The Weak Link

Right now, we're in a sweet spot. After a couple of substitutions here and there over the past few years, we have an assemblage of service providers for Tess who we affectionately call "The Dream Team." Her teachers at school are focused and affectionate, working tirelessly to potty-train Tess and show her life skills, such as washing hands. Tess has two physical therapists, one at home and one at school, both of whom lovingly but strictly push her, in efforts to make her stand and walk. Her speech therapist is always making buttons and other communication devices, and regularly emails us videos of Tess's new signs. Her horseback PT, her swimming PT, her vision specialist—they're all incredible, and they all make a difference every single time they work with Tess. A difference we can see. They're rockstars. We're pretty damn grateful.

But it wasn't always like this. Early on, we had a provider who, though contractually obligated to help Tess, didn't really help. She wasn't a bad person, she just wasn't great. Her heart wasn't in it. She'd frequently not show up, and then have some fuzzy explanation for her no-shows. And then, as winter arrived that year, she started telling us: "You know, I'd really rather not drive in snow." 
Uhhhh, we live in Maine. Where it snows. A lot. Pretty much every winter. 
At the time that this provider was flaking out on us, I had just made a serious life change. Before we moved to Maine, my entire existence seemed to revolve around fighting with people—not only at my legal job but also with everyone around us, about money, over parking spots, while driving. But after we moved, I turned over a new leaf. I decided to let things go. Be less confrontational. Go with the flow.   
"We gotta get rid of her," my wife said about the not-driving-in-snow service provider, after we'd gotten about the third cancellation from her. "She's the weak link in this chain."   I talked her down, trying to give the provider a chance. I said something dumb about cooler heads prevailing and wanting to wait and see. Looking back, I guess I didn't want to offend anyone or be seen as a crazy, unreasonable parent. I was wrong. 
Every day that Tess didn't get services from that provider was a lost opportunity. I see now that we should have cut her loose at the first sign of trouble. We owe that to Tess. She desperately needs these services. We have to be her advocate, because she's never going to speak up for herself. If someone isn't doing the job, there's only one thing for them:  a pink slip.   
A rare sad moment for an otherwise happy gal.When we did finally approach the provider's boss and say we weren't happy and wanted someone else, we got another person. The new provider was willing to drive in the snow. She wrote and mailed us detailed reports after each visit with Tess. She emailed us with stories. She thanked us over and over for letting her work with our daughter. She's like the rest of the team. A total rockstar.  
I only wish we'd made the change sooner. It's hard to think about lost ground, about neuroplasticity and intervention, and how Tess might be different if we'd brought in the new provider immediately.   
So if you're out there, parents of a kid getting services, and you're hesitating or trying to be nice, well, don't. Replace the weak link now. Your dream team awaits.