Dear Doctor

Dear Dream Developmental Doctor,
I'm not sure if you have children of your own or not, but every time I mention your name, people tell me that you know kids, and that you help families. I worry that they have built my hopes higher than I should get them, because I look forward to our appointment with you more even than I looked forward to my ultrasounds.
I know that it will be hard to hear what you have to say, and I know that it will hurt to name our son's pain, but I cling to hope that you will know how we can help him. My hope scares me. It embarrasses me. I am not one well aquainted with high hopes, and they fit me like someone else's clothes. But I have a little boy who is struggling mightily, who has gone from difficult to heartwrenching behavior, who seems like his own skin feels uncomfortable, so for him I have to hope. He needs me, and I need you.
What can I do to help you help us?
What can I tell you, show you, give you?
I have read and researched, I have bought books, I have blogged. I have taught children for 14 years. I have wrestled my lovely boy in a struggle for peace since he was born almost four years ago. I have watched his every stride forward, his every plateau, his every setback. I have kept journals and records and files about his medical health, his sleep, his issues. I will do or try or let go of whatever you tell me to help him. Just, please, consider all the many, endless possibilities of what troubles him, and the gazillions of possible ways to help him, and map out the best course for us, so we can try. There are so few hours, so many constraints, for two lost parents and one struggling little boy, the boy we call our rooster. We will do the all the hard work, just please tell us which work to do. I know it's not an easy task, but I have seen the look on people's faces when I tell them we have an appointment to see you. They have faith. Faith, that's higher than I can reach these days, but I come to you with my hope in my hands, and I bring you my sweet boy.
Respectfully Yours