I assumed we had a little more time—time before other kids started noticing the unique qualities of my son. I’m aware of the reactions from adults; they come out in the sympathetic smiles of older women at the grocery store, the judgmental glares from other parents at the park when my son has a meltdown, and those collective sighs of relief from mothers at the pool who are thankful their children don’t face similar challenges.
But kids? I didn’t think they’d react so soon. My son hasn’t even turned four yet! I really believed we had a bit more leeway. I should have wished for more time.
Just yesterday, we were basking in a beautiful family day at the park. Three little girls scampered around the play structure, their brown pigtails bobbing as they giggled and played. They couldn’t have been older than five, dressed in cheerful colors, their laughter echoing through the park.
I noticed them observing my son as he bounced, spun around, and expressed his joy with sounds that only he understands—his way of communicating without fully forming words. Just as he was lost in his own world of joy, it happened.
The girls dashed past him as they had before, but this time, one of them reached out and touched his arm while another shouted, “Crazy!” as they ran off in fits of laughter. In that instant, the world around me froze. It was as if my heart had been dropped into a deep abyss. My son continued his happy antics, oblivious to the hurtful moment, while I stood there, crushed by the realization that he does stand out, and yes, other kids do notice.
Have you ever felt an emotional weight so heavy that it takes your breath away for a moment? That’s what this feels like, folks.
No one tells you about the heartache that comes with motherhood, the overwhelming love that can feel like both laughter and tears at the same time, and the fierce protectiveness you develop for that little being from the moment they are placed in your arms. For those of us parenting a child with special needs, these feelings are amplified. They have to be.
I can’t shield my son from the sadness that exists in the world; none of us can. But I can ensure he knows he is cherished just as he is, that being different does not equate to being less than, and that there’s nothing shameful about it.
As my son slid down with a big grin on his face, I gathered him in a warm embrace and whispered, “You are my sunshine. Before I even met you, I knew I loved you. Mama loves you bigger than the universe.”
Deep down, I believe he hears my words, even if he can’t articulate a response. I trust that my love resonates louder than the misunderstanding of others. And that, in itself, is enough.
For more insights on navigating the journey of motherhood, you can explore this other blog post, or check out this resource for pregnancy and home insemination matters. If you’re looking for the right tools, Make a Mom has you covered.
In summary, parenting a child with special needs can be a rollercoaster of emotions—filled with joy, heartache, and the constant drive to protect and nurture. It’s a journey unlike any other, marked by unique challenges and profound love.