If you’ve known me more than 5 minutes, you know I’m not too private of a person. I definitely don’t show the deepest parts of my life/heart a lot, but for the most part my struggles, my life, my photography is an open book. There’s nothing more comforting to me to know I’m not alone when other people share their struggles and hurts. Maybe someone will read this and not feel so alone.
My 6-year-old started 1st grade today. The weeks leading up to it have been exciting. Picking out new shoes, getting school supplies, meeting his teacher made this mom happy. Then the anxiety hit. The kind that you physically feel in your chest.
My special needs child is utterly alone today in a crowd.
I drop him off with other children trying to talk to him while he stares aimlessly around the room. He’s not having a good day. Oh how I prayed for a good day. On a bad day he’s confused, has more seizures and just seems sad. It was definitely a bad day. Trying to get a smile for pictures this morning was rough. I tried to follow the same routine as last year’s 1st day, but something didn’t work out. Did he get enough sleep last night? Should I have made waffles instead of pancakes? Should we have gotten to school just a little earlier and not been so rushed? What did I do wrong?
I find myself jealous of other parents with typical developing children. Today I turn to a very small group of moms and dads who’s children have the same genetic deletion as mine. Their words bring me comfort when they summarize my heart’s deepest longing and pinpoint the source of today’s pain.
“When I dropped off and picked my boy I from preschool I was so self conscious. He is so obviously different. With the teachers I don’t think much of it, because they know. But the other patents look at me like I’m crazy for how I talk to him. Since he’s non-verbal I can’t just talk to him like a normal child. And I was watching the other kids in his class, talking. I have accepted his disability, and I know that he truly is a special spirit. But sometimes I do wish he could have just been normal. And I momentarily mourn for him, again, and again.“
“Wish I could have just taken him to the bus, taken his picture and waved goodbye and been content with the knowledge that all would be well.”
My only hope today does not lie in his teacher, his aide, the friends I hope he makes or even in myself. But in the fact that God really does love him more than I do and he’s watching out for him.
Hugs to all you moms today and this week who’ve had to wave, hug, kiss, comfort and say goodbye as your children went off to school.
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