Traveling Back In Time Via the Telephone

I received a phone call from a very good friend this afternoon while my daughters were opening their Christmas presents from Grandma.  I wanted to take it but I couldn't tear myself away from the giggles of glee coming from two little girls who had just received their version of a Red Rider BeeBee Gun in the form of Cuddleuppets. So I let it go to voicemail. When I finally got the opportunity to listen to the message, it was one of those sickening feelings moms of special needs kids get when they hear the oh so familiar story about a child very similar to their own whose parents don't know what to do. It's the kind of phone call I dread but also welcome with open arms.
My sweet friend used to teach in the same district as I did, same job, different school.  She left at the same time as I did as well, for similar reasons. In her message she explained that she has a friend in a similar situation as Imma was. No diagnosis but a big push for a specialized classroom with limited access to typically developing students.  She described the frustration, anguish, and exhausted state that I felt myself in so often when she talked about how the mom who feels lost, confused, and alone. She said she just couldn't understand how they could put her child in a classroom like the one they were pushing for without a diagnosis.  The mom just doesn't know what to do and they were hoping I could help.
Of course, I would love to talk to her and let her know our story.  I don't know her, don't know if she has similar options to the ones I had--which ended up in essentially taking my toys and going home instead of staying and fighting--or if she is in a situation where she will have to go the distance.  But I will do whatever I can to help this family because I know first hand that placing a child in a highly restrictive environment often creates restrictions on their ability to grow and develop while allowing them to participate in a general education classroom can create the opportunity for enormous amounts of growth.
I hope I have the opportunity to speak with this mom soon. I want to reassure her that she has the strength to fight for her child, if that's what she intends to do.  So often we feel hopeless and helpless in situations where institutions tell us what we are going to do with our children.  We should never feel that way. She may have to face the demons I was able to avoid but I will gladly stand with her and fight as long as we have to, if that's what's best for this sweet baby.  I certainly don't have all of the answers but I have learned so much more from walking through the fire myself than I ever dreamed I would before I took those first steps.
A wonderful friend of mine told me when I was beginning this battle, "Amy, you and Brian are the only advocates Imma has and it is up to you to always do whatever you must to stand up for her.  You are her mother and advocate first and everything else must always be second." That is so true. If we don't advocate for our children, who will? The decisions we make today could very well impact them for the rest of their lives so we must be decisive and sure-footed, no matter how jagged and foreign the road we traverse.
Hopefully, I will at least be able to inspire this mom to keep doing whatever she needs to do for her child.  At the very least, she will know that she is not walking alone.  There are so many of us who have walked the road before her and we will walk it again, with her, for as long as she needs us to.