I didn't hide my tears, either. That's something a bit new for me. I've always been taught to be strong. Hide the emotion. Hide the bad. Carry forward. Failure is not an option.
Besides, I didn't have time to address my feelings. I had children to house and feed. I had bills to pay and had two children on the Autism spectrum who needed every bit of parenting energy I could give them. So I stuffed those emotions down deep. And I moved forward.
So what brought it on these recent bouts of tears?
Was it the follow-up report from the doctors after my youngest's emergency surgery in December?
Was it my oldest's beautifully insane prom experience?
Was it the excellent IEP meeting last week?
Was it healing, as I reduce some of the toxic demands on my life, and focus on my health and my children?
I think it was all of the above -- and then some.
Am I ready to be hauled away to an asylum? Is it time for the pretty white jacket that reaches around back?
I suppose those answers are debatable. But more likely it's my response to the trauma of years as a special needs parent.
What? That sounds negative? Dramatic?
According to Dr. Astrid Herard, a pediatric psychiatrist at the University of Chicago, "it's not just single traumatic events that can trigger post-traumatic stress disorder. For parents of children with chronic diseases, the years ... can take a collective toll and produce similar symptoms."
Friends, parenting special needs children IS traumatic. The diagnoses may vary, but the reality remains.
A diagnosis is given. Behaviors are documented. Physical limitations are noted. Therapies are started. Prayers are said. Your world tilts. And...
Every time someone stares at your child in pity, or judgement,
Every time a stranger offers unsolicited parenting advice,
Every time a teacher questions your parenting ability,
Every time someone else's child does the age-appropriate thing,
So what brought it on these recent bouts of tears?
Was it the follow-up report from the doctors after my youngest's emergency surgery in December?
Was it my oldest's beautifully insane prom experience?
Was it the excellent IEP meeting last week?
Was it healing, as I reduce some of the toxic demands on my life, and focus on my health and my children?
I think it was all of the above -- and then some.
Am I ready to be hauled away to an asylum? Is it time for the pretty white jacket that reaches around back?
I suppose those answers are debatable. But more likely it's my response to the trauma of years as a special needs parent.
What? That sounds negative? Dramatic?
According to Dr. Astrid Herard, a pediatric psychiatrist at the University of Chicago, "it's not just single traumatic events that can trigger post-traumatic stress disorder. For parents of children with chronic diseases, the years ... can take a collective toll and produce similar symptoms."
Friends, parenting special needs children IS traumatic. The diagnoses may vary, but the reality remains.
A diagnosis is given. Behaviors are documented. Physical limitations are noted. Therapies are started. Prayers are said. Your world tilts. And...
Every time someone stares at your child in pity, or judgement,
Every time a stranger offers unsolicited parenting advice,
Every time a teacher questions your parenting ability,
Every time someone else's child does the age-appropriate thing,
Every time you look at the pile of hospital bills,
Every time you have to leave the playground early,
Every time you have to pack a bag (or wheelchair or stroller) of adaptive equipment,
Every time you have to refuse an invitation because your child won't be able to adapt to new surroundings,
Every time your child isn't invited,
Every time you hold them back for their safety,
Every time you have to explain a chew toy, or a weighted vest, or start buying refrigerator tubing in bulk at the hardware store,
Every time you celebrate a success at Therapy,
Every time someone says "Well he's so smart" or "He looks normal,"
Every time you sit down and prepare to negotiate through an IEP meeting,
Every time you look at the Bible open on your table,
Every time the babysitter quits,
Every time you write a letter of appeal for insurance benefits,
Every time someone says "I know how you feel" when they haven't got a clue,
Every time you see "The Art of War" beside your editions of Special Ed Law on the bookcase...
.... You're tucking away hurt and trauma.
And eventually, those pent-up feelings have to be released. A few triumphs in the face of long struggle can cause everything that's stuffed down deep to rise to the surface. Once the tears start falling, sometimes it's hard to stop them... even harder to sort through the emotions that accompany the tears. But it can be done. With honesty, rest, reflection, and prayer the old hurts and worries can finally be processed. And healing begins.
Does this mean the traumas go away? Unfortunately, no.
My tears are signaling a surge of hope, as I see milestones crossed, triumphs made, and goals expanded. My tears are also in thanksgiving, for a community that has rallied around my sons in a way that humbles and down-right amazes me. God has been so good to send us here.
But this is not the case for all special needs parents. Some children will always be in a wheelchair. Some will depart this earth much sooner than expected. Some will never utter a word, hear a sound, or take a step. Some parents will never have a community rally around them.
Raising children isn't easy, and all good parents work hard within their families. But, parents of special needs children have greater demands in their daily existence. It's that simple.
I beg of you, if you know a family with a special needs child, please pray for them. If you feel led: cook dinner for them, mow their lawn. Give them a couple hours out of the house. Send them a card. Be gentle. Encourage them in good health. Listen, but do not preach. Theirs is an exhausting path to walk.
And should you be there when they cry, simply hand them a tissue, give them a hug. You don't have to say much. Your acceptance and love will help them heal.
Reference: http://www.chicagoparent.com/magazines/web-only/2010-january/parents-and-post-traumatic-stress-disorder
Every time you have to leave the playground early,
Every time you have to pack a bag (or wheelchair or stroller) of adaptive equipment,
Every time you have to refuse an invitation because your child won't be able to adapt to new surroundings,
Every time your child isn't invited,
Every time you hold them back for their safety,
Every time you have to explain a chew toy, or a weighted vest, or start buying refrigerator tubing in bulk at the hardware store,
Every time you celebrate a success at Therapy,
Every time someone says "Well he's so smart" or "He looks normal,"
Every time you sit down and prepare to negotiate through an IEP meeting,
Every time you look at the Bible open on your table,
Every time the babysitter quits,
Every time you write a letter of appeal for insurance benefits,
Every time someone says "I know how you feel" when they haven't got a clue,
Every time you see "The Art of War" beside your editions of Special Ed Law on the bookcase...
.... You're tucking away hurt and trauma.
And eventually, those pent-up feelings have to be released. A few triumphs in the face of long struggle can cause everything that's stuffed down deep to rise to the surface. Once the tears start falling, sometimes it's hard to stop them... even harder to sort through the emotions that accompany the tears. But it can be done. With honesty, rest, reflection, and prayer the old hurts and worries can finally be processed. And healing begins.
Does this mean the traumas go away? Unfortunately, no.
My tears are signaling a surge of hope, as I see milestones crossed, triumphs made, and goals expanded. My tears are also in thanksgiving, for a community that has rallied around my sons in a way that humbles and down-right amazes me. God has been so good to send us here.
But this is not the case for all special needs parents. Some children will always be in a wheelchair. Some will depart this earth much sooner than expected. Some will never utter a word, hear a sound, or take a step. Some parents will never have a community rally around them.
Raising children isn't easy, and all good parents work hard within their families. But, parents of special needs children have greater demands in their daily existence. It's that simple.
I beg of you, if you know a family with a special needs child, please pray for them. If you feel led: cook dinner for them, mow their lawn. Give them a couple hours out of the house. Send them a card. Be gentle. Encourage them in good health. Listen, but do not preach. Theirs is an exhausting path to walk.
And should you be there when they cry, simply hand them a tissue, give them a hug. You don't have to say much. Your acceptance and love will help them heal.
Reference: http://www.chicagoparent.com/magazines/web-only/2010-january/parents-and-post-traumatic-stress-disorder
