It hit home for me today when I went to a Zumbini class (a music/dance) type of class for parents and their young children. I looked around the room at kids much younger than Alex and saw them dancing, walking, coming up to me and talking. While it was great to expose Alex to this type of environment, I couldn’t help but feel out of place.
Just like I used to at baby showers…
It broke my heart a little and for a slight second, I had to fight back tears. I kept looking at the clock. It’s a feeling that most special needs mamas can identify with, and it is one we want to get over…yet we struggle with it daily.
Avoidance.
There are moments I’ve avoided recently, I won’t lie. It feels eerily reminiscent of when I used to remove myself from those aforementioned baby showers when I was going through infertility. But this time, I’m avoiding social get-togethers with other parents and their “typical” children.
The play-dates. The busy park. The evening BBQ. The reunions with friends and their non-developmentally delayed children.
Zumbini was a step in the right direction, but in all honesty, it’s so hard to relate. I can’t understand what it’s like to just have a typical child hitting typical milestones, because my special needs mom brain is going a mile a minute with things like…
Will my child’s seizures return?
Will he be able to talk…eventually…ever? Will he ever say “mama” to me?
Will he be able to socially interact with other children and understand social rules?
Will the gait trainer that I just ordered to help him walk be here in less than 6 months which is what they told me on the phone? 6 months? Really? Please God, let the gait trainer get here sooner than that.
Will the $10,000 therapy bill that I just got it the mail be covered by my health plan or not?
Is my 50-hour-a-week corporate career keeping me from enough time with my son?
Will I ever be able to have more children? How in the world will I have any more time?
Why is his anti-epileptic medication so ridiculously expensive?
How can I keep up at the pace we’re going with 6+ therapies/week, plus all of his other appointments?
Will I ever get a free moment to myself?
This is pretty typical…the types of things going through my head on a regular basis. It gets lonely. You begin to feel like no one can possibly understand what you’re going through.
With all of the suicides in the news recently, I’ve wondered if these people felt alone…like they were the only people on the planet at this very moment that felt that way. That no one could relate to them. That they were alone.
Of course, I’m sure it is much more complicated than that. But, I have to think that maybe this feeling of being alone is a symptom that could contribute to a bigger problem.
I want to tell you, whoever you are – whatever you are going through, you are not alone. This phrase is used a lot in the infertility community, and even on the homepage of the Resolve.org website, it’s literally the first thing you see.
You are not alone.
There are so many other people out there who feel exactly like you do, and just because they aren’t right next to you, it doesn’t mean you’re alone. Just because they aren’t talking about it, doesn’t mean they aren’t experiencing it.
I’m in a few Facebook groups with other women who have struggled with infertility, as well as a very, very wonderful community called CHASA.org (Children’s Hemiplegia and Stroke Association) of other parents who have had a child with a stroke.
The Zumbini class helped me realize we’re all more alike than we even know. If I had left early, I would have missed out on the opportunity to interact and meet the other children and families. I’m sure there was another mother in that class worried about her child – for another reason completely, a reason that I most likely wouldn’t understand, because I am not in her shoes. Perhaps she has something else going on entirely – a family member with Alzheimer’s, a sibling with cancer, a friendship or relationship that is ending. Perhaps she just suffered a miscarriage. Perhaps she is battling secondary infertility.
I think it’s easy to look around today and see what is missing. To see how we are different. To avoid circumstances that remind us of our differences. But remember – everyone is fighting some kind of battle. We’re all dealing with something, and just because some people’s differences are outwardly apparent, it doesn’t mean that other people aren’t fighting internal battles. If we start pushing fear aside and instead focus on the potential, who knows what may happen?
We’re all the same – we really are. Remember, God created man in HIS image (Genesis 1:26).
The next time you’re in a Zumbini class, or the park, or a play-date, and there is a child in a wheelchair or orthotics or who has Down Syndrome, take a moment to include them. Encourage your children to be friends with any child, and not shy away from those that are a little different. They are people just like you and me. They have things they love to do (Alex loves music, dancing in the kitchen, blueberries, swings!) and they want to have friends, too. He literally waves at all the kids at the beach when we go – he’s definitely going to be a social kiddo. While some children may have a physical disability, I can assure you, they may be just as smart as every other kid at that playground.
And if you have a little extra time, ask that child’s mom out for a cup of coffee. She may be feeling a little lonely, too.
John 13:34: A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.