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Showing posts with label Special Needs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Special Needs. Show all posts

Friday, April 15, 2011

Set Apart: A Primer for The Typical Folks (Full Text)

After the surprising response to my guest post on Beth's page, I've had a number of people contact me asking if they could link or repost my article. Because of that, I'm reposting the piece in full here. Feel free to link up, share, or quote if you like (I'd appreciate a nod to my blog if you do). The full article can also be found on my new site, Bringing the Sunshine.








Set Apart: A Primer for The Typical Folks



Unless you had the benefit of growing up with a disabled friend or family member, I bet you can relate to this scenario: you spot someone in a wheelchair, using a walker, missing a limb, or (fill in the blank).  You want to be nice, so you try to make sure that you don’t give the impression that you’re staring (which often means you look away), and then you are, of course, mortified when your child points and says “What’s wrong with her?!?”  You turn red from embarrassment, panicking because you don’t know what to do now, then shush your kid and give them an impromptu lesson in politeness that they almost certainly don’t understand because they didn’t think they were being rude – they were just curious.  Can you relate?




Both of my children are “differently-abled.”  My daughter, Sarah Kate, has cerebral palsy.  Although she’s made great progress over the years, she still has a distinctive gait that isn’t “normal”.  My son, Nathan, has Down syndrome.  Although he has yet to miss any developmental milestones, his distinctive facial features announce to the world that he is also different.  We’ve encountered a broad range of reactions from people over the years, but the scenario I described above is pretty common.

So if you’re in that situation, what should you do?


I can’t speak for all parents with special kids, but I always like it when people ask questions.  It gives me a chance to advocate for my child, and educate kids on disabilities.  So if you’re ever around my differently-abled kids (or others), I want you to remember something:  You don’t need to feel awkward.  Feel free to ask questions about my children’s conditions and the progress they’re making.  If you know us, invite us to do things – we’ll let you know if we can’t.  Don’t worry that you have to figure out all the details for us – we know the drill.

And while we’re on the subject, don’t look away when you see someone who is “differently-abled.”  Instead, look us right in the eye and flash us a big smile.  Many people don’t take the time to look at our children and see the person instead of the diagnosis.  And that goes for us moms, too – people try not to look at us, either, which means that we often feel invisible, and are often lonely to boot.

Don't look away.  Smile.  Ask questions.

But that's the easy stuff. Now I want to dig a little deeper.

From my experience, and from talking with other parents of children with special needs, there are a few other things that a lot of people do and say that we aren’t so fond of.  Actually, some of these we hate. Really hate.  I’ve prepared a list for you of the Top 5 things I’d rather not hear.

1.  “God only gives special children to special people.  You must be really special.”

That’s really nice, and I appreciate the sentiment, but… What exactly makes me more special than another parent? I’m kinda lazy. I swear. Often. I avoid my daughter’s school field trips like the plague. Room mom? Never!

Everybody loves a compliment, but the truth is that I’m not special and I’m not amazing. I’m just a mom. If there is anything at all about me that is special, it's because I was given special kids, not the other way around.


2.  “You are so much stronger than me.  I don’t know how you do it.  I couldn’t handle it.”

Again, I realize it's spoken with the best of intentions, but let me let you in on a little secret:  when it comes to your babies, whatever it is, you handle it.  The only other option is to crawl into the fetal position and pretend it’s not happening.  But you can’t live that way, so you will have to eventually get up off the floor and face it, because your babies are counting on you.

3.  “I’m so sorry”, or worse, The Pity Stare

Let me let you in on another secret:  A lot of us special mommas actually feel sorry for parents of typical kids because they miss out on being a part of our community. When your kids achieve things, it’s not really a big deal (after that first kid, anyway).  Everything's a big deal in our house!


Yes, there are times that our life is tough.  Yes, there are times we wish we were like you.  But just because we have this Thing – this highly visible challenge – doesn’t mean that our lives are sad or tragic, and or that our children’s lives are sad or tragic.

The thing is, no one is perfect - we all have flaws. Throughout life, we each choose how much we will reveal our flaws to those around us. People with disabilities have awesome strengths. The main difference is that they can't hide their weaknesses like the rest of us.

4.  Critical statements about our parenting choices (includes dirty looks)

Sadly, there are a lot of less-than-stellar parents in the world.  But before you make a really loud comment while standing in the line for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride about how strollers aren’t allowed, stop to think that maybe that stroller is being used as a wheelchair for a little girl who doesn’t have the stamina to stand in line for 45 minutes to see Jack Sparrow.

Occasionally, we do benefit from our specialness.  But much more often, we are like salmon swimming upstream. Please don’t begrudge us the opportunity to do things that typical families do, and cut us some slack if every once in a blue moon we actually have it a touch easier than you do.

5.  "That’s so retarded!” or “What a retard!”

I'm sure that many people who use the r-word probably don't ever consider how what they are saying affects people with intellectual disabilities, their families, and friends - I get that.  When questioned, people will often say "...but I didn't mean..." and I’m sure that’s true.  The bottom line, though, is that the r-word is never used to describe something or someone in a positive way. Retarded is never a compliment.

If you use the r-word, please stop. If a friend or family member uses the r-word, help them to understand why it's hurtful.

Differently-abled children (and their parents) have dreams, just like you do.  We also need friends and love, just like you do.  We are more like you than we are different.

Don’t let the tiny things that distinguish us, separate us.


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Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Andi Speaks

Several months ago, I was asked to speak at an Atlanta-area Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) meeting. I accepted, feeling that it would be a good opportunity to spend the weekend with my sister and a chance to educate people about the challenges of special needs parenting. Many times over the past few months I've given thought to what I planned to say, but I didn't sit down to prepare my written notes until recently. I've never had a problem with public speaking, so I never had any doubt I could do it.

Committing my thoughts to paper was, in a word, challenging. My mind was incredibly disorganized and I just could not pull my thoughts out of it. I was paralyzed. Typically, when I'm under deadline pressure, Mr. Andi takes over so I can get down to the nitty-gritty, but with a week to go before my speech, Mr. Andi's world fell into chaos, as well. I'll spare you the details, but it involved work, a (now former) friend, lies, and the media. Not a good combination.

I finally managed to get something down on paper, however disorganized, and went to work editing. On Monday, I was reduced to tears, feeling that it was never going to come together. My message was important, and I needed it to be good. On Wednesday, I continued my editing, as well as doing laundry and preparing to leave for Atlanta on Thursday morning. My last load of laundry was diapers (yes, I use cloth and no, I'm not crazy!) During the pre-wash cycle, the washer died. Wouldn't drain. Full load of pee-and-poo water. Sigh.

I made it to Atlanta without incident on Thursday. When I got up on Friday morning, I checked my email and saw that I had two new anonymous comments on my blog (you can read them here and here). My heart sank as I read them. I could very easily have dismissed them if they had been hateful or nasty, but they weren't. They were just negative enough to get under my skin and make me hesitate for just a moment and wonder "Should I be doing this? Am I opening up my children to something damaging or setting them up for more difficulty by speaking and blogging about our lives?"

Looking back on it now, it all seems pretty ridiculous that I would have been so disheartened by a single major appliance failure and a couple of anonymous comments, but I really felt that Someone was working against me. Not knowing what else to do, I emailed Mr. Andi at home, talked to my sister, and reached out via Facebook and Twitter for support. I got it - tenfold. So many people lifted me up, but one Facebook friend in particular hit it out of the park:

It takes passion and truth to change and inspire others. That is something that I think you have. You will do well, there are many people who just don't get it. It's not your job to change them but yet to inform and inspire those who are open to hear.

I was buoyed by the support (mostly from afar) and emboldened to speak.

I had something important to say.

As I sat in the room, waiting to be introduced, two ladies came in, just a few minutes late. I immediately noticed that one of the ladies had Down syndrome.

My son, one member of a shrinking population, was the reason I was there.

My daughter, who faces a lifetime of physical challenges, was the reason I was there.

I walked to the podium and did my talk.

*Although I changed a few things on the fly, I stayed pretty close to my original notes. If you'd like to see my speech, you can find it here.

This blog has moved! To continue reading, please visit us at BringingtheSunshine.com.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

What Makes Sarah Kate Cry

Yesterday, I decided it was time for some decluttering in Sarah Kate's room. I labeled two laundry baskets - Give Away and Throw Away - and instructed her to work on filling them up. She required quite a bit of prodding to fill up the Throw Away basket, but eventually she scrounged up enough old papers to make it look respectable.  The Give Away basket, by contrast, was overflowing within just a few minutes.

I really wanted her to get rid of a few purses. We call her The Bag Lady because she has so many of them. Most of them are either made of cheap plastic or are actually just gauzy gift bags left over from little girl lip balm and nail polish sets.  After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally managed to get the cheapest looking "purse" - a purple and gold monstrosity - into the Throw Away basket and gave up.

This morning on the way to school, Sarah Kate started in on me about the purple purse.  She obviously had figured out that I was going to dump the Throw Away basket while she was at school today, and was distraught that the purple monstrosity might be tossed.  I went through a litany of reasons why she should get rid of it, and even offered to give her one of my Vera Bradley hipsters to replace it (what can I say - she comes by her Bag Lady tendencies honestly).

The whole exchange went on for several minutes, Sarah Kate desperately trying to convince me that the purple monstrosity should be given away, not thrown away, while I insisted emphatically that no one was going to want it.  Exasperated and wanting to end the conversation, I finally blurted out, "Why in the world is throwing it away making you so upset when you're planning to give it to somebody, anyway?"

Through her tears she wailed, "But Momma, DIDN'T YOU SEE TOY STORY 3?!?!?"

Suddenly, it all came into focus.  She didn't want the purple purse to be cast aside when it could have a whole new life with someone else who could love it.  To me, it was worthless, but to her it was a valuable gift she could bestow on someone who would love it and care for it.  Yes, I know it's just a thing, not a person, but it reminded me of how some people look upon others - particularly those with disabilities - as worthless and cast them aside (or worse).

When I got back home, I moved the purple purse to the Give Away basket.

Lesson learned.

This blog has moved! To continue reading, please visit us at BringingtheSunshine.com.