We're supposed to be strong and hopeful. Advocates, fighters and voices
for our children with special needs. We are expected to have courage
as we watch our children struggle. It is assumed we have broad
shoulders and are able to let painful stares and cruel words roll off
our back without a second thought. Believed that we are brave and able
to withhold concerns about our children not meeting milestones,
struggling with sensory issues, or not sleeping through the night, and
fearing for the future. Strong, resilient, faithful, and focused.
Never feeling discouraged or overwhelmed with all that life throws our
way. Because we can handle anything in our path.
But the truth being; we all need a safe place to fall.
The
people I have there for me I can count on one hand, and I don't even
need to use all five fingers. I mean truly be there for me if I had a
crisis in the night and needed someone to call to watch my typical child
while taking my child with special needs to the ER, those that I would
call if I had a flat tire and was stranded, someone I could call to ask
me to bring me a gallon of milk. Someone just to listen about my
heartache, my hopes and dreams for my child. And I'm not the exception
but rather the norm when you have a child with special needs. Our
support is significantly decreased, even more so depending upon the
level of severity of your child's condition.
Sometimes you think
someone is going to be your safe place to fall, but then you find
yourself falling hard, looking up realizing the person you thought would
catch you couldn't do it. And for a moment it hurts. It hurts because
you needed someone in a really difficult moment. Maybe that was just
to say today is hard. Or gosh, I'm so worried about my child because of
x, y and z. But they were too busy, or couldn't make time, or went
about their lives not even looking to realize you had been left behind.
For a moment you might abandon the idea of ever having a safe
place to fall. That unconditional person or group of people in your
life that is there for you, whom you can say anything to without an
ounce of judgment cast in your direction. That hears you, that holds
your hand, that offers you a hug even though there is nothing else they
can do. A person who genuinely cares about you and the well-being of
your family and your child with special needs. And if need be drop what
they were doing to be there for you in a time of need.
That
safe place to fall is critical for refueling a special needs parent, to
remind them when all feels lost that they're not alone, that they don't
have to carry the weight of this journey all alone.
When the world gives us harsh cold winds our true friends, like our
favorite blanket, wraps us up in warmth, comfort and a soft place in
which to fall. Anjie Henley
Love,
Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.