Sometimes when I go to moms groups in the community or to storytime I feel very alone in having a child that is different. I know that there other children with special needs out there. I just don’t see them. They don’t attend the groups or go to the library storytime. I know it’s hard to get out with a baby, period. Then, when you have a baby that is different, it makes it even more difficult. There may be special equipment to tote like wheelchairs or walkers. Not uncommonly there is the issue of being overscheduled. Lord knows, a therapy schedule can really restrict opportunities for outings. Then there are the comments - the unthinking, insensitive comments that people make out of a place of ignorance. Those comments can make you feel like never leaving the house in order to protect yourself and your child from that surprising sting of hurt.
More than a handful of times I have left groups of typical kids in tears. Not because of the children. It’s most often because the other moms focus on how Kaia is different. I know my daughter is different. But there is so much more to her. She is a typical child to me. She has a whole host of features that are beautiful and stand out on their own merit. I will never forget the people, who upon first seeing/meeting my daughter, didn’t focus on how she was different physically (her cleft) - people whose first question wasn’t “when will she have surgery?”
So, on the rare occasion when I have seen mothers out with their children who are different, who have a physical disability or other quality that sets them out of the typical range of development, my heart sings. I feel a kinship with these mothers. I know how hard it can be. But no matter how hard it is, I feel strongly that it is important that Kaia get out in the world. It is so meaningful for my daughter to see typical kids playing and for her to have the opportunity to interact with them and learn from them. She studies them with a scholar’s concentration at playgroups. I also know how important it is for them (and their mothers) to see her – to realize that there are people whose abilities and appearances are different and that they belong in this world too. So I’ve persevered in making the effort to get out in the world with my daughter. She deserves it and so do I.
And, please, when I joyously share at storytime that my daughter, at 16 months, is learning to stand independently, or at 18 months, that she is learning to walk and it is an extremely exciting time around our house, or at 15 months, that she made her first sign, feel free to celebrate with me. I am not bemoaning her development and achievements, I am rejoicing in them.
And to all the mothers of children with special needs, please come out, come out wherever you are. I need you, my daughter needs you, and all the typical children and their mothers need you. Heck, the world needs you.
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Oh, I love this post! I so related to your experience of leaving playgroups crying. I remember being at a playgroup once when Jackson was around 10 months old (and not crawling, pulling up, babbling, able to feed himself, etc.) and actually going to the bathroom and crying DURING the playgroup.
And I think you're right. It is hard for a lot of parents to get out and about with their special needs children, and there are others who just don't want to face the stares, comments, etc. I've met a couple of moms whose children have severe CP who have told me such.
You're also totally right, though, that's it's good and necessary for Kaia to get out and it's good for others to see children who look or act differently. My typically developing daughter has been with me countless times in the waiting room of Jackson's therapy place, and she's accompanied me to all of Jackson's special needs playgroups. She doesn't even seem to notice that there are many "different" looking children there, because she's used to seeing them.
Another thought I had is that if you start looking, you may find more special needs children than you realize. There are so many (like those affected with autism spectrum disorders) who look like every other kid. My son, for instance, looks like just a regular child (only a trained geneticist would notice certain distinct features). But if you watched him and observed his behavior, motor skills, and his inability to talk, you would know that he wasn't your typical child. So, keep an eye out. You'll probably spot some children who fit into this category, and your can shoot their frazzled mothers a sympathetic smile!
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