The Emotional Roller Coaster of an IEP

There are parts of parenting that stretch you. And then there are parts that break you open and rebuild you entirely.

This is our story.

When It First Started

Our journey began in preschool.

Our child’s teachers gently began sharing observations: impulsive behavior, emotional dysregulation, difficulty with classroom management. At first, it sounded like “big feelings.” We met. We strategized. We tried different approaches.

But after several conversations, we realized this might be bigger than occasional emotional outbursts.

So we pursued an evaluation through our local public elementary school.

They did not qualify.

If you’ve been there, you know that moment. Relief and confusion wrapped into one. If they don’t qualify… then why is this so hard?

The Hard Middle

We made a difficult decision.

We divided our child’s day:

• Mornings at their current preschool

• Afternoons at the public integrated preschool through the elementary school

The hope was that additional exposure and observation would identify supports that could benefit them long-term.

For a child who is easily dysregulated, this plan was not simple.

We removed their much-needed nap.
We interrupted their lunch routine.
We added an extra mid-day transition.

And for our family? It meant five school pick-ups and drop-offs a day. Meetings taken from the car. Packing endless extra snacks. Paying tuition for two preschools for six months.

It was exhausting.

But we would do anything to see our child succeed.

By June 2025, at the end of the public school year, we felt hopeful. The feedback was positive. No additional services were suggested. We believed the plan had worked.

Kindergarten felt exciting.

The High Before the Drop

After the first day of kindergarten, our child told us, “This was the best day of my life.”

Our hearts soared.

We felt so proud. So relieved. So hopeful.

Then the emails started. And the phone calls.

Explosive emotional outbursts.
Inability to sit in groups.
High highs. Low lows.
Unsafe hands.
Impact on teachers and peers.

After a few months, we met with administration and created a 504 plan.

But we also knew something important: We didn’t want to rely solely on the school to have the answers.

We scheduled a full neuropsychological assessment.

We wanted clarity.
We wanted data.
We wanted to empower ourselves to advocate effectively.

When Your Child Says They Don’t Like School

At the same time, something even harder began happening.

Our child started saying they didn’t like school.
They didn’t want to go.
They were afraid of disappointing us.

Heartbreaking doesn’t begin to cover it.

They described feeling like their body and brain wanted different things and weren’t aligned.

Our brilliant child was asking for help.

And we were ready to find it.

The Diagnosis

The neuropsych evaluation revealed many things we suspected — and many we didn’t.

In that doctor’s office, I cried as my child described what it feels like to live in their brain and body.

The report confirmed a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).

It didn’t surprise us.

But receiving the diagnosis is still hard.

Knowing the challenges they have — and will face — with this disability is hard.

As a mother, I want to keep them safe. That’s my job.

But this is bigger than me.

This diagnosis forced me to grow. As a parent. As a protector. As a human.

It revealed parts of me that need extra support and love, too.

Moving From 504 to IEP

With the neuropsych report in hand, we met again with school administration.

This time, we were aligned: our child needed an Individualized Education Program (IEP).

Not just accommodations — but an environment intentionally designed for their success.

And here’s where something shifted in me.

I’ve talked to countless parents through Inclyousion Sports who have shared their stories. I knew our education system isn’t designed for all children.

But knowing and feeling are different.

And now I felt it.

Reading the IEP

As I write this, I have just finished reviewing our child’s IEP.

The gratitude is real. I advocated for this. I know this is one of the strongest tools available to ensure they receive appropriate support at school.

And still…

To read about their beautiful personality, followed by language identifying “risk of bullying” based on behavior, is devastating.

To see goals in place to reduce negative self-talk and to increase their love of school is heartbreaking.

No parent dreams about reading those words.

And yet, here we are.

What I Know For Sure

If you are in this process right now, waiting for evaluations, sitting in meetings, crying in parking lots, refreshing your email, I see you.

The IEP process is an emotional roller coaster.

Hope.
Grief.
Relief.
Rage.
Gratitude.
Fear.
Strength.

Sometimes all in one day.

But here is what I know for sure:

We are the perfect parents for our children and we will figure everything out as we go.

That doesn’t mean we have all the answers.

It means we are willing to keep showing up.

To ask hard questions.
To challenge systems.
To learn new language.
To model self-compassion.
To advocate for inclusive environments, not just for our own child, but for all children.

This journey is deeply personal for our family.

And it’s also why Inclyousion Sports exists.

Because every child deserves to feel successful.
Every child deserves to feel understood.
Every child deserves an environment designed with them in mind, not as an afterthought.

If you’re on this roller coaster too, you’re not alone.

To join our community of caring parents in a supportive space designed with your child in mind, join us in an upcoming sports program by clicking here.