Being “Special,” Part 2
Dear readers,
Thank you for following this journey with me! For newer subscribers, I’m sharing this early post. It’s been the one most “liked” and commented on, so far.
Parents of kids with special needs run the gauntlet of public scrutiny along with their children. My first really unpleasant experience was when Theo was attending kindergarten at a public school. The kids were running around while waiting for the doors to be opened, and parents were standing back waiting to see their kids securely inside before taking their leave.
I was smiling to see Theo running around with the others, yelling happily, though the others were interacting with each other and Theo was not, when I heard a boy’s voice say loudly, “There’s dumb Theo.” I zeroed in on the boy with the scornful expression and then on the man he was speaking to. I looked from the presumed father to his son and back again. The man had an unhappy look but didn’t say anything. He avoided eye contact with the boy and everyone else. The boy repeated what he had said. Again, I waited for the child to be shushed and corrected, and again nothing happened. Theo had not heard, thank goodness. If the father didn’t correct the son, could I correct the father? I was too shocked and hurt to say anything; maybe the father didn’t know how to react in that moment.
Much later, when Theo was in middle school, I was on my own at the supermarket maneuvering my grocery cart toward the exit when I saw a family group preparing to emerge from a checkout line. The mom was shepherding a tall boy who looked familiar to me, probably from one of Theo’s schools. The boy looked good-humored but was not really looking where he was going. I’d had many trips to stores with Theo trying to get him to focus on what was in front of him. This harassed-looking mom was trying to look out for her son and anyone who might be in his path as well as keeping track of her grocery bags and other kids. I slowed down as I approached, smiling and hanging back so that they had plenty of room. The mom looked up and seemed to melt with relief. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled a little, too. Unspoken fellow mothership flowed between us.
These are hard stories, but there’s another side to being the mom of a “special” kid. Yes, there are fears and anxiety and real dangers, but there are also joys so intense they feel supernatural, discoveries and surprises. How could I ever have guessed that at times I would be in awe of my own son, that I would admire him?
Next: How Not to Care Too Much: Caregiving and Mental Health