It's been 11 years since I graduated high school, 10 since I got married, 9 since my mother got sick, 5.5 since I became a mother, and 4 since my mother died. And I still ask myself, almost daily, "What am I doing?". What on Earth made me think that I could be a good mother? Sure, I wanted what most girls want. I wanted to marry my high school sweetheart, have babies, and live happily ever after. But what on Earth made me think that I would be blessed with that? Now look at the mess I've made. I have a special needs child into whom I've poured my entire life, but don't think it's been good enough. A 3 year old daughter who mimics her brother's every move, and is in constant competition with him for attention. Aside from one or two friends, I have no real support system to speak of.
When a child isn't meeting his or her developmental milestones, doctors, therapists, specialists, and teachers all look at the parents and tell them that they are the child's best advocates. That the child's progress depends on the parents. All of the previously mentioned professionals told me that they never worried about Ethan because he had me. I never agreed with this statement, and now that Ethan has stopped progressing....guess who feels like the failure.
I know that parents who have children with special needs go through a grieving period. They go through grief for the child and life that they wanted and expected, but never got. I'm not sure how long this period is supposed to last. I have a hard time grieving for two reasons. One is that I feel like grieving for the loss of my imaginary typical child means that I'm giving up on trying to help him. I'm not good with accepting Ethan's behaviors as behaviors that can't be fixed, and one of the reasons that I've poured so much time, energy, and money into his therapies is to try to ensure that he can function in society one day. Accepting that he will NEVER be typical is accepting defeat. A 2nd reason is that I feel like I have no room to grieve. I have several friends that have carried children that they later had to bury. What right do I have to walk around grieving the "loss of my child"?? None.
I don't plan on anyone reading these horrible remarks; I'm sure that they would think that I was the worst mother on the planet. But since I don't have anyone else that I can talk to I'm hoping this blog may be cathartic for me.
