At our Mother’s Day gathering, my son was getting amped up in the extended family’s game of monopoly. I could see he was progressively getting more worked up about little things and I was on high alert.
So when he bumped his head on the game table and lashed out at the family member nearby, I sprang up. I saw this coming. There’s not much downtime when you parent a child with special needs. Even when things are serene, you’re always listening, checking, waiting. Times that I might otherwise take for granted, like a shower or using the bathroom and leaving my 7 year old unsupervised for a few moments? Risky.
And at a party, the stakes feel especially heightened. The other kids don’t understand why he’s so loud. The adults pretend not to notice when he acts belligerent or speaks rudely. And I feel so embarrassed, so defensive. I want to explain… it’s his ADHD, or it’s because he’s hungry. Or it’s because the party energy dishevels him. And maybe no one cares. But maybe they are waiting til I leave the room to sneer and roll their eyes. I’ve heard it all from the thin walls of another room. I know some people think they would do it better. I know people watch my son and blame his parents — they’ve told me as much.
I’m certain my parenting has impacted my son along the way — because of course it has. But I also believe I’m parenting my son in the best way I can. I’m doing the best that I can every damn day. Would other people do it differently? Sure. But they weren’t given my son. And I believe I’m the mom he needs. I bring out the best in him, and I love him through his worst.
As I sit at another doctors office for another behavioral assessment today, I think about the challenges and how parenting a child with special needs is a “hard” not even found in the dictionary. It’s a daily tug of war at trying to keep the household peace while trying to empower my child to learn and grow. It’s thankless. It’s daunting. And it’s 99% what you don’t see at the party or the public setting. It’s at home, where he feels comfortable and safe with the people he knows loves him unconditionally. That is where the growth really happens. And that’s where we can all live and support each other without fear of judgment or condemnation from people who truly do not understand.
Yesterday I took my son home from the party and I cried. It was Mother’s Day and I felt like a terrible mom… yet again. I wondered what the folks at the party would say. “Bad mom. Bad kid.” And I wished… like I always do, that things would get easier. And today I sit at the doctors office and fill out more forms. I pray for a miracle or a magic pill — not for my son but for this world we live in. A world where a kid can be different and still thrive. A community where a child struggles and people lean in… not out. And a time when people ask “how can I help?”
That’s the world I want to live in. And that’s the world where my son will go far.
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