I looked around and I saw babies and toddlers and teenagers with magic in their eyes as my boy clung to me for dear life. I looked into to the sympathetic gaze of my lifelong best friend and my eyes welled up with a thousand tears I had never cried.
It’s not too late to get the special needs child you love something amazing this year.
Society looks at autism and sees a deficit, when in reality the real deficit is in our own neurotypical thinking.
As I read the words “Stage IV high risk neuroblastoma,” two worlds collided within my mind. He has cancer. This little, adorable, sweet, beautiful five year old boy who has nonverbal autism, also has stage IV cancer.
I want to write; it replenishes me. But some days my own mind will not allow me the release. I am left in an emotional state of paralysis, where I can’t seem to find my way out of the rabbit hole. But I am beginning to discover an elite group of therapists who specialize in my particular affliction; my fellow mom writers.
There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.
All of the fears that you have buried deep-down in the belly of your subconscious are suddenly summoned out into the open, to be confronted and discussed among a group of professional strangers. If that’s not a recipe for an emotional overload, I don’t know what is.
We know that, undoubtedly, there will be hard times. There will be uphill battles. And we agree to fight this good fight until the bitter end. But where is this metaphysical bitter end? And how do we know when we have arrived.
My interview questions now tossed aside, I confessed the challenges I’ve been facing as a newbie special needs mom.
Watching films that portray our personal situations and histories can be difficult, but when they’re real and raw and honest and just get what we have been through, it’s worth it.
There are no words.
He has no words.
I have no words to describe his hugs.
Like looking through a pair of binoculars as they come into focus, we saw our pixelated lives become clearer and brighter before our eyes. We had stumbled and fell face first into the one thing we weren’t looking for, clarity.
Questioning, seeking, confronting, hearing, and accepting a diagnosis has not exactly been a picnic in the park for us, so can you please not make this part harder on us than it has to be? The last thing we need right now is to convince you of something we, too, are struggling to accept. We are working full-time to support our children through this, so please don’t make us work for your support too.
So if we cannot possibly learn how to identify each individual’s invisible disability through self-education, then what can we possibly do? Well, I have good news for you. The answer is free, and you don’t even have to google it. It already lies within you. Instead of looking for the disability in others, look for the humanity within yourself. It will not fail you.
f you are truly concerned that a special needs parent will not feel “special” enough for the lifelong task they’ve recently inherited, then perhaps, instead of insisting that none of us are special, tell them that they sure as hell will be.
Pervasive. Permanent. Petrifying.
The paradox of motherhood stained my cheeks for a brief moment before being swept away by an aloof and apathetic hand, eager to shut down the inner conflict. I didn’t know what to feel.