*******This post is probably THE MOST personal and vulnerable I will EVER get. Please respect that. Any hateful or rude comments will be deleted, and you will be blocked for GOOD.
Any mom can tell you that having a child introduces you to a level of love that was unfathomable up until that point. You imagine having a child with special needs and having a child that is typical of development are much the same. It is happy, exciting, scary, thrilling, and so much more.
But having a child with special needs also feels guilty, sad, and almost a tad cheated. Because you have a baby that is just as cute and as tall or as chunky as your friends baby, or your coworkers baby, or that baby in the Johnson's and Johnson's commercial. You have the same boob transformation as any other breastfeeding mama, and the same emotional ups and downs postpartum. You also realize that at some point, those so looked-forward to emails about baby's progress, and the "What To Expect" milestone breakdowns don't quite match up with your baby's.
You spend the next chunk of time pretending. Hovering between denial and anger. Not all mama's have experience working in the developmental disabilities field, but you did. You never expect that it will be YOUR baby. You never think that it's going to affect YOUR life that way. You ALMOST convince yourself that you're only seeing the signs because of your work history. And that may last longer than it should, but you know. You know deep down that something isn't quite right.
You'll have friends, or kiddos in baby groups that are just weeks or months apart in chronological age. And when they're really little, it won't be as big of a difference. They will take a little longer to sit unsupported, and a case can be made that they're just a picky eater. But their kids will get older, as will yours, and the differences will become more pronounced. You start to resent those emails you subscribed to in excitement and eagerness while you were pregnant, that now seem taunting in their subject lines of, "Baby is x months old and is doing..." You may even pop the backspace button off the keyboard once or twice with the force put behind your deliberate move.
Eventually, your anger is redirected to the pedi, who dismissed your concerns as 'kids develop in their own time". The next well-check comes, and you insist that there is SOMETHING wrong. So you get the recommendation to see every specialist and therapist you can imagine. You finally get the confirmation that you were right all along. The only thing that keeps you from dropping to your knees and succumbing to a full-body sob, is knowing that your son is watching you. And while the moment is bittersweet, you can't help but begin to mourn for the child you planned for during those nine months, and every day after they were born.
You'll morn for the dreams of hearing them say, "I love you", even though they will tell you in their own way. You'll cry at the unfairness of the situation. You'll experience more emotions than you have in your entire life put together. But, you'll pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and do what you have to do. Albeit not always gracefully. You will be happy for your friend's kids, and smile at their hilarious talking. But in the back of your mind, you still mourn for this person your baby almost was. You will feel guilty for feeling upset. You will feel inadequate, and wonder if they would've been better off with older, more established parents. But that all melts away when they smile at you. Or hold your hand. Or do something that may seem ordinary to anyone else, but you know exactly what they're trying to tell you. Soon, you'll stop mourning, for the most part, but you'll see your almost little boy every now and then.
If you haven't already, you'll make a point to tell your friends and family about what's going on. Fear of judgement, not understanding, and even pity, linger as you talk. They will try to be helpful and tell you they understand, but they don't REALLY get it. BUT, then you stumble across a story of a mother who had to give birth to a baby that was sick, or worse, incompatible with life, and you feel blessed. You ARE blessed. Every parent is.
But on the flip side, you'll see on Facebook more than one proud mom posting their child's latest milestone, or a story about them talking back ("You don't tell mama 'no'" "Oh, I TELL mama No!"), OR even their kid patting them on the stomach and calling them 'squishy'. You feel jealous that they are talking and walking and eating, and can realize what parts of their parents are squishy. BUT you will soon realize that having a toddler who thinks you're perfect, is kind of perfect.
And that even though you may not have heard them say the words "I love you" when you say the same thing, that when they smirk and pull away (or dive into your arms) that he's saying "I know, mama. I love you too". You start counting the ways he shows you what he's thinking, instead of all the foods he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. He looks at you one night and the baby babble of "mamamama aahahhh ba" sounds like 'mama' clear as day for the first time, and you think to yourself,
"Maybe.....maybe. It's going to be JUST fine."
xo
Erika
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