It occurred to me that someone reading this might think that I am always hopeful and optimistic about V, our life and her future. Most of the time I just think that I wouldn't make anyone's life any easier by whining about the way that I hoped or wished things would be or should be. Most of the time I accept and live in the reality of our situation, counting my blessings and recognizing that it is hard to raise a child without any disabilities too, just in a different way. I have not had that pleasure myself, and I tried to share in it vicariously by teaching elementary school for a few years. It's not the same. Those children move on with their lives and most forget you were ever a part of their day to day routines (I think).
Like other parents who are told that their child is not developing normally, I got scared and sad, and grieved for the lost path that I thought we were going to take. I left the world of "This is what happens next in your child's development" and joined the world of "Who knows what will happen next, or when it will happen". I might as well have thrown away the child development book that I studied in college that explained what is typical at 2 years, 3 years, etc. There was no book and no person who could provide answers to questions like, "When will she talk?" "When will she learn to dress herself?" and "When will she read?" My only option was to love her, give her what help I could, and wait to see what would happen. Over time I learned to be her voice and to advocate for her with teachers, therapists and doctors. Sometimes I became really angry and frustrated with them all.
I tried to join a parent support group when V was very young, but came home from each meeting with a headache from the stress I experienced in those meetings. They were years ahead of us in their experiences and I could not relate to the things they were dealing with, but it frightened me that I might someday be able to. So, at that point, I determined that our lives were not going to revolve around V's disability. We were going to have lives that were as normal as possible, and I would do what I needed to do, but not immerse myself in the subject of what was wrong or missing in our lives. That was how I functioned without becoming overwhelmed by how different our lives were becoming from that of my friends. It was lonely and isolating being the only person I knew who was dealing with our particular kinds of troubles. As a single mother, I had no partner to share the ups and downs with. When V was very little, she was included in birthday parties that my friends with normal children held, but as she grew the invitations stopped coming. There were no invitations to come play and no little friends coming over to play with V, just the two of us at home. The children of my friends had grown and moved on to socialize with other children at their own developmental level. V was left behind, and me along with her. I continued to get together with other adults on my own when V spent the weekend with her dad, or I had a sitter, but the strong chance that V would have a meltdown and become aggressive or destructive, kept her from being part of those activities. Peers, outside of school, were non-existent. I could not imagine what it would be like to grow up without friends the way that she had to. I have always recognized that no matter how hard it has been for me to care for her at times, it has always been harder to live in her head 24/7/365. At least I got breaks to live a normal life, to escape stress and frustration. There have been times I have thought that if I had a chance to trade places with her, to give her a chance to live in a body that works as it should while I exist in the one that she has to, I would gladly make that trade so that she could have a chance to have friends, boyfriends, an education, a husband, children, a job, grandchildren, travel, sports....everything she has to miss out on because her body won't do what it was supposed to. I have stared into her eyes, looking for the loving, intelligent soul that I believe is trapped inside and I have wondered if we will finally get to have a real conversation when we get to heaven. I hope so. It would be tragic to never have that chance. I love her and I get to say it every day. She loves me, but never gets to tell me so, so she gives me smiles, hugs and kisses instead.
I try to keep an emotional distance from what we have both lost so that I can hold myself together enough to act on her behalf. If I talk about it too much, my throat gets tight and my body trembles like I am cold and need a sweater.
I try to be okay with the life that V has, but that doesn't mean that I don't miss what it should have been. I should have been sitting at her high school and college graduation while she walked proudly across the stage for her diploma (not certificate), and I should have been taking her prom and homecoming pictures after helping her shop for a dress. I should have congratulated her on her first job and I should be looking forward to her wedding and her children. It's not fair and we have both been robbed of what should have been.
So, if you read my posts and think that you are alone feeling sad, isolated, angry, helpless or frustrated, you are not alone at all. I choose to focus on those things that I can control to maintain my own mental health and to be the best mom I can be, and I look away from all those negative feelings most of the time. But only MOST of the time.
Like other parents who are told that their child is not developing normally, I got scared and sad, and grieved for the lost path that I thought we were going to take. I left the world of "This is what happens next in your child's development" and joined the world of "Who knows what will happen next, or when it will happen". I might as well have thrown away the child development book that I studied in college that explained what is typical at 2 years, 3 years, etc. There was no book and no person who could provide answers to questions like, "When will she talk?" "When will she learn to dress herself?" and "When will she read?" My only option was to love her, give her what help I could, and wait to see what would happen. Over time I learned to be her voice and to advocate for her with teachers, therapists and doctors. Sometimes I became really angry and frustrated with them all.
I tried to join a parent support group when V was very young, but came home from each meeting with a headache from the stress I experienced in those meetings. They were years ahead of us in their experiences and I could not relate to the things they were dealing with, but it frightened me that I might someday be able to. So, at that point, I determined that our lives were not going to revolve around V's disability. We were going to have lives that were as normal as possible, and I would do what I needed to do, but not immerse myself in the subject of what was wrong or missing in our lives. That was how I functioned without becoming overwhelmed by how different our lives were becoming from that of my friends. It was lonely and isolating being the only person I knew who was dealing with our particular kinds of troubles. As a single mother, I had no partner to share the ups and downs with. When V was very little, she was included in birthday parties that my friends with normal children held, but as she grew the invitations stopped coming. There were no invitations to come play and no little friends coming over to play with V, just the two of us at home. The children of my friends had grown and moved on to socialize with other children at their own developmental level. V was left behind, and me along with her. I continued to get together with other adults on my own when V spent the weekend with her dad, or I had a sitter, but the strong chance that V would have a meltdown and become aggressive or destructive, kept her from being part of those activities. Peers, outside of school, were non-existent. I could not imagine what it would be like to grow up without friends the way that she had to. I have always recognized that no matter how hard it has been for me to care for her at times, it has always been harder to live in her head 24/7/365. At least I got breaks to live a normal life, to escape stress and frustration. There have been times I have thought that if I had a chance to trade places with her, to give her a chance to live in a body that works as it should while I exist in the one that she has to, I would gladly make that trade so that she could have a chance to have friends, boyfriends, an education, a husband, children, a job, grandchildren, travel, sports....everything she has to miss out on because her body won't do what it was supposed to. I have stared into her eyes, looking for the loving, intelligent soul that I believe is trapped inside and I have wondered if we will finally get to have a real conversation when we get to heaven. I hope so. It would be tragic to never have that chance. I love her and I get to say it every day. She loves me, but never gets to tell me so, so she gives me smiles, hugs and kisses instead.
I try to keep an emotional distance from what we have both lost so that I can hold myself together enough to act on her behalf. If I talk about it too much, my throat gets tight and my body trembles like I am cold and need a sweater.
I try to be okay with the life that V has, but that doesn't mean that I don't miss what it should have been. I should have been sitting at her high school and college graduation while she walked proudly across the stage for her diploma (not certificate), and I should have been taking her prom and homecoming pictures after helping her shop for a dress. I should have congratulated her on her first job and I should be looking forward to her wedding and her children. It's not fair and we have both been robbed of what should have been.
So, if you read my posts and think that you are alone feeling sad, isolated, angry, helpless or frustrated, you are not alone at all. I choose to focus on those things that I can control to maintain my own mental health and to be the best mom I can be, and I look away from all those negative feelings most of the time. But only MOST of the time.