Sometimes, I get a little panicky, wondering if I am doing all I can to help each of my kids. My third child has special needs which makes his current path blurry in my mind. Will he ever read on grade level? Will he be able to sustain current friendships as the years pass by and peers mature at a faster pace? Will they continue to accept him, or will there be a point when many have gradually turned away? There are times every year when I suddenly feel very stuck because I don’t see much (enough) growth in Brady in some measurable dimension. It’s as though time is standing still.
The truth is time is passing, always passing and yet it can seem like we are stuck, that nothing has substantively changed. As a mother to an autistic son, who lags far behind his peers academically (and socially), I guess these feelings are quite natural. Brady isn’t going to progress at the same rate as others his age — even with all the support and accommodations that are made by the school and our family. The bottom line is that he is an unknown. It can be heart-breaking, and I find myself grieving this fact every so often because, well, I just wish he could read a chapter book. I just wish he could hold a meaningful, reciprocal conversation for more than a minute or two. I just wish he could calmly complete homework without much fuss and stop making whiny noises incessantly. I just wish he didn’t rip up papers, repeat himself daily, or cry over things as a two-year-old would do.
While my typical child progresses, I’m keenly aware that we are still dealing with the same Brady issues we’ve been grappling with for years. My youngest just recently tested up to Brady’s reading level. Perhaps this is when it hits special needs parents – when a typical sibling surpasses the not-so-typical older one who has been struggling for so long. It takes my breath away for a moment because the gap between Brady’s abilities and his siblings appears to be widening instead of closing. I must repeatedly swallow the fact that it (a particular goal I have for Brady) might not happen just as I envision, or it may just take a very long time to get there.
What should I do after I lick the mental wounds I experience from knowing Brady is falling increasingly behind his siblings and peers?
My answer: I step back. I step way back, my friends, and I walk through his journey again. I remind myself of the many, many times I thought we were stuck in cement with no way to step forward.
Only then, can I see how remarkable Brady’s story is and continues to be. His is the story that demonstrates in spades the power of love and support. How mountains can be moved, how concrete can be blasted away, how a child with autism, severe ADHD, and sensory processing disorder can grow and change like other children. Make no mistake, the road is blurry, and you’ll find yourself getting panicky at times because it may seem like nothing is really happening – as if the car you thought was advancing on this bumpy road isn’t actually moving.
Brady was the child who couldn’t attend a ‘normal’ preschool because he was ‘unsafe.’ Now Brady is the child in a 4th grade classroom, enjoying his routine, making friends, and excelling in math.
Brady was the child who only said (actually, he screamed) a few words and threw toys at the members of his family. Today, at age 10, Brady talks loudly in sentences and interacts in play and conversation with his siblings.
Brady was the child who couldn’t sit still for more than 30 seconds. Last week, I was told by his teachers that he can attend to what’s going on in the classroom for up to 20 minutes. Then with a short physical break, he can focus again. This is not the child I observed when he was 6, 7, or even 8 years of age when he struggled immensely to keep his body still and focus on a particular task.
I remind myself of these facts, of how far he’s already come. I tell myself not to compare him to others; that he is on his own uniquely inspiring path towards becoming the person he is meant to be. I can support him in all the ways possible, but he will blossom in his own time, in his own astounding ways.
Being a special needs mother requires blind faith and the ability to continually recognize and celebrate the personal achievements of your child. Every step forward, no matter how small, is still a step in the right direction. Patience, and a sense of humor certainly make the road less worrisome. But really, perspective of the road traveled thus far leads to hope, deep gratitude and the unyielding will to continue on, even when time seems to be standing still.
It never really is.
And neither is he.
A child is like a butterfly
in the wind.
Some can fly higher than
others,
but each one flies
the best it can.
Why compare one against
the other?
Each one is different.
Each one is special.
Each one is beautiful.
This has been a FTSF post hosted by Madra Sikora of www.mardrasikora.com (who supplied the magical photo of the street lights by Tim Wright) and Kristi Campell of www.findingninee.com.
These are feelings I have felt as well. So many points I thought he, or I, would never learn, grasp, accept, do…and then, in almost every case, there was progress and I’ve forgotten how, or how long, in the passage of time. I’ve also shifted and learned where our strengths fall and where my worry is better served, if in fact it is productive to worry at all. But enough about me, this is well said and a testament to the journey. <3
Thank you for your openness. I’m learning to loosen the ropes of worry, to trust that paths will become less blurry. It is such a journey held up by hope and unconditional love. You and Marcus inspire me, more than you may know.
Brady has come so so far. All of our Mrs. M’s kids have. I know it must be frustrating and a bit sad to have his younger brother catch up in reading, and I experience sadness too, when a friend or cousin or whoever says something their kid is doing or used to do that just isn’t in our bag at all yet – and may never be. It’s not easy, but it’s beautiful and you’re an amazing mom and advocate for a cool kid who is growing and learning and will continue to amaze you, I know.
PS Is the photo of you and Brady at Tequila Grande? 😉
Such a gut punch right now. Re-doing his IEP because he has more needs than were previously addressed. Grateful that the teacher recognizes his needs (for once) but still makes me worry that he’s making less and less progress. I know this isn’t true. I gotta seek out and hold onto the progress that he IS making. He’s reading now. He has fewer meltdowns at home. He is spending more time off screen. Little things.
I love that. It never really is standing still, and neither is he. And we are not.
It’s like you said – his story is and continues to be and a lot of it is about love and support. Like his own progress and the way his mama and siblings love him so!