This is what it means to be a special needs parent.
Do you see this? This is a picture of me. My son, Anderson, scribbles a lot. Sometimes he spends nearly half an hour on his creations. Yet, with limited verbal skills, he’s never told me anything about them. This picture came home with a note from his teacher that said he was drawing “mom”. I lost it. I cried because I never thought to ask him what he was drawing before, I cried because of his intentionality, I cried because I am so proud of him.
This is what it means to be a special needs parent.
I had to check Anderson out of school during his lunch period. I maneuvered the stroller with my other son inside to get to Anderson and his class sitting on the far end. As I took his hand to lead him away, his classmates yelled, “Bye Anderson!” They continued with their goodbyes as we made the awkward trek all the way across the cafeteria. I told my husband the little anecdote from the day and he started to cry.
This is what it means to be a special needs parent.
As special needs parents, there is a steady undercurrent always flowing beneath the surface. The stream is filled with stress and fear. Stress that we aren’t doing enough, believing enough, stress that others aren’t either. Fear over their happiness- are they happy? Fear over friends- do they have any? Fear over their current struggle- when will they get over this hump? The undercurrent holds both today, tomorrow and the days far, far ahead. The undercurrent is not something we visit every day, but it’s always there. And it flows and flows and is powered by love.
And then something that may seem ordinary to another is extraordinary to us. And the current bubbles up and shoots through the surface. Because the stress and fear are real and so is the love. When we get these assurances that our kids are okay, that they are happy, we can see how much they have to give and how they are finding their way. And simultaneously, so are we. As we carve out a path together, we start to see our own more clearly.
This path alongside them is twisty and lovely. For all of the stress and fear flowing beneath the surface, we arrive at overlooks now and again and the views are stunning. When these moments come, we see just how lucky we are. For others may not know the constant undercurrent that rages while parenting a child with a disability, but they also do not access to views we do—and they are extraordinary.
This is what it means to be a special needs parent.
