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Special Needs? I’m Still Just a Mom
I share stories about my family’s journey with special needs, but let me be clear: I’m no expert. You might know someone whose child has Down syndrome or a dad whose son is on the autism spectrum, but that doesn’t mean they truly grasp what it’s like to care for a child who is tube-fed or relies on a wheelchair. Just like you wouldn’t expect someone battling cancer to fully understand schizophrenia or assume that a person without legs knows what it’s like to be born deaf. Yet, when you mention your child has special needs, people often think you’re a walking encyclopedia on every single issue related to disabilities. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work that way.
Most of us aren’t medical professionals, therapists, or special educators. Well, unless you happened to stumble into those roles by chance, which I certainly didn’t. I never dreamed of becoming a teacher or a nurse; my childhood didn’t include friends with disabilities. I honestly have no clue where kids like my daughter went to school because they certainly weren’t in my local classrooms. There was one girl at my church who had Down syndrome—she was delightful, always smiling, and her parents were wonderful. But I was the odd one out, dealing with my own quirks like psoriasis and a speech impediment that’s now diagnosed as a phonological disorder combined with an articulation disorder.
I never expected to have a child with disabilities. My family was obnoxiously healthy, and the thought never crossed my mind. I was just a mom, welcoming another baby into our lives—the last one, in fact. I envisioned college road trips in my late 40s, but life had other plans.
I was just a mom who experienced the joys of early crawlers, walkers, and talkers. When my daughter Maura showed delays in her development, I assumed she was just a late bloomer. I was a mom who had to figure out blood draws, appointments with geneticists, and various therapies, all while navigating the uncharted waters of special needs with no instruction manual—except for that infuriating “Welcome to Holland” essay that left me more frustrated than enlightened.
I spent countless nights scouring the internet, searching for answers to my child’s issues, making lists for doctors, and feeling torn between the fear of receiving a diagnosis and the fear of not getting one at all. I was thrown into the chaotic world of special education where I had to learn the ropes while they were literally on fire. I met incredible people along the way—many of whom chose the professions that helped my child thrive.
And let’s not forget about my other three kids who needed me just as much, all facing their own unique challenges.
I’m an expert on Maura, and I know our specific challenges inside and out. I’ve learned more than the average person about everything from constipation and seizures to developmental milestones and genetic tests. I could practically earn a degree in speech therapy based on sheer experience from countless sessions for both myself and my kids.
But I still don’t know what it’s like to raise a child with severe mobility issues or profound autism. I don’t aspire to be a teacher or a therapist, nor do I have any desire to be a nurse.
What I do have is a wealth of peripheral knowledge about special needs because Maura has broadened my horizons. I’ve connected with other parents facing their own hurdles, and we’re all just trying to juggle life—dishwashers that need unloading, Halloween costumes to create, and morning wardrobe battles. There are dads who balance the mundane with the extraordinary, embracing it all as their version of normal. Some moms have told me, “I can’t imagine not having a diagnosis,” while others share their struggles with topics ranging from tween attitudes to finding stylish jeans that aren’t “mom jeans.” And let’s not forget the dads who know every lyric to “My Little Pony” and “Frozen.”
At the end of the day, we’re still parents. We’re experts on our unique journeys, but we’re still just moms and dads. I may know a bit more than most, and so could you if you take the time to listen and learn. For more insights into the world of parenting and home insemination, check out this post here.
In summary, while I’m an expert on my own child and our experiences, I don’t claim to know everything about all types of special needs. I’m still just a mom, navigating this journey alongside many others.