Ethan's 2nd grade class had their Christmas party yesterday morning. Like all good stay at home moms, I came to the party to watch the kids do their thing. In Ethan's class is a girl who has special needs and who is part of Drew's significant special needs class. During the party, the kids all sat on the floor in a circle and played a game that involved opening a wrapped book but doing it following the direction of a poem. When this girl's turn came, she listened carefully to the directions and then with the help of her aide, shakily walked to the middle of the circle, chose a book and unwrapped it. While she was doing this, I was just looking around the room and I noticed all these women standing there clutching their hands and with an "isn't that so special" kind of look on their faces.
In an instant, I went from enjoying the party to feeling irritated. I usually don't get irritated or offended easily and I am generally pretty easy going. Someone could walk up to me and tell me they think I am dumb or ugly or whatever and honestly, it wouldn't phase me. However, when it comes to this stuff, I can't be so zen and I get irritated. While I appreciate that people mean well, I find it somewhat condescending and patronizing to have people fawning over anything a kiddo with special needs does.
It is the same irritation I have when people tell me, "you are blessed to have a child with special needs" or "those kids are such a joy!" You might as well give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice in it while you are at it because I am irritated, irritated, irritated!!!! Both of those comments almost feel to me like someone trying to offer me some sort of consolation prize for not having given birth to a typical child. As if they need to somehow assure me that it is okay that I didn't get that precocious, Gerber baby that all mothers secretly desire. How do I explain to a well intentioned person that what they see as a blessing and God at work to me sometimes feels really hard and like God is on strike? I certainly don't remember jumping up and down in the motherhood line yelling, "oooh, oooh, pick me, pick me."
Plus, my child may have special needs and he is a joy but he is also a little boy who sometimes gets mad or has tantrums. To make it all sound so rosy to me somehow undermines how difficult this journey really is. How hard it is to hear predictions about your child's future, diagnosis, i.q. test results and then to have to figure which of those "experts" yammering in your ear you want to embrace and which to ignore. To consider your child living at home forever and to try and figure out what is going to happen to them when you die. All those things, not so rosy.
I have probably now scared you all away from ever saying anything to me again about my son. Go ahead and talk to me about him but please, when you are coming at me with a cliche or platitude, maybe think again and think about something specific to him to tell me instead. I love my child dearly and think he is the most fabulous thing in the world and I really, truly don't need a consolation prize.
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