After seven moves in ten years, here we are. Moving into a neighborhood that we have
carefully sought out. Moving to a city
in which we are near family. Moving to a
school district from which our kids will graduate. And, finally, moving to a state with adult
services that can support our special needs child when we are gone. Our last PCS.
I have heard a great deal being said about special needs
families in the military. I have heard
we use EFMP (the Exceptional Family Member Program) to cherry pick assignments. I have heard we try to bypass EFMP to
continue getting needed assignments. I
have heard there are a higher percentage of kids with special needs in the
military population, with little explanation or research as to why that is the
case. I have heard my child is a burden
on a system lacking medical expertise and funding. I have heard our service members stay in just
for the health insurance our special needs children desperately need. I have heard our service members get out and
use their family as an excuse as to why they couldn’t keep going.
I can’t speak to all of that and I certainly can’t speak for
all special needs military families. I
can speak for our family and for myself.
I can say this life has been unnecessarily hard on my special needs
child. Our son is eight and we are going
on our fifth school district; our fifth determination of eligibility for
special education services and our ninth IEP.
Over the years we have not used EFMP to get ‘good’
assignments. We have done everything in
our power to keep checking boxes so my husband’s career could progress. For many of us that means researching areas
and finding providers that will work that the EFMP office may not be aware
of. It means sucking it up for a year in
a school district that cannot or will not meet your child’s needs or follow
federal law. It may mean living apart
for a year, or two, or three so your spouse’s career can keep progressing while
your child can keep some semblance of stability and proper care. It can mean homeschooling when the Air
Force’s War College is located in a state ranked the worst in the country for
education, and from personal experience the worst in the country for special
education.
I think this is typically the point at which a multitude of
keyboard warriors say, “Military life clearly doesn’t work for your family’ or
“You signed up for this and knew what you were getting in to.”
Did my spouse sign up for the military? Yes.
Did I marry someone I knew was a career military man? Yes. But
we did not sign up for this.
We did not sign up for a disabled child that would need to
stay in one state long enough to get on a Medicaid waitlist. We did not sign up for a child whose
educational needs are so significant that some public schools cannot safely
accommodate him. We did not sign up for
regression and mania and mental breakdowns with every move. And my husband, who had already been in the
military 16 years when our son was diagnosed severely autistic at three years
old, certainly did not sign up for a life in which moves and deployments could
set back years of progress for our son.
While we didn’t sign up for a child with special needs, we
wouldn’t change it and he blesses us every day.
Naysayers would be right about one thing, though. Military life (as it currently operates) does
not always work for a family like mine.
We have made it work; sometimes to the detriment of our child, when
the therapy and psychiatric waitlists are longer than our eleven month
assignment.
And for families like ours the choice to stay or go is not
always so black and white. Some of our
service members retire well before their careers would be over to give their
special needs child a forever home and some certainty. Some separate for the stability and to be
closer to family for help and hope to God they can afford healthcare for their
child with preexisting conditions in the civilian world. Some choose to stop
checking the boxes and request stabilization, often knowing they are kissing
their careers goodbye. And some keep
going, picking up the broken pieces with every move or working ten times harder
so their child will thrive. Military
parents of special needs children do not always feel like they can continue
serving their country and their children’s needs simultaneously. Every new assignment and every additional
year can feel like a choice against your child.
It can feel like another year or two that they are set back on waitlists
for needed services.
Had my spouse kept climbing the ladder, we looked into the
future and saw not one or two more moves, but at least three. And probably another remote and a possible two
years of living apart. And at least
another four years before our son could get on a Medicaid waitlist (lists that
are often 5-10 years long).
I don’t write this for pity or justification, but only to
point out a few growing trends. The
military as it currently operates cannot expect the retention for which it
aims. They cannot retain service members
if they cannot retain families. As
leadership has families that are younger and younger and as more military
children present with special medical and educational needs it may be time to
change the model. Families only have so
many moves in them before they say, “Enough”. Between school years, staff jobs, command, and
back to school, and staff jobs and command (all one to two year assignments)
families, even with typically developing children, face issues with continuity
of education and stability.
We are done picking up the broken pieces of an incredibly
resilient autistic child who has been shattered time and time again by the
anxiety and uncertainty of this life. This
is our last military move.
