Special Needs

Since becoming George Mason's Momma back in October, I've been quietly learning to speak a whole new language, meeting people who have journeyed the same path we are taking, and wondering how it will all work out in the end. I read this journal entry about what it is like to suddenly be the parent of a child with special needs. The only difference is that I am not suprised by where the journey is going to end up as we chose this particular path, but I am often surprised that we are even on this plane to begin with  - so aware of the obvious miracles it took for us to be here - and then to be honest, I do have moments of panic regarding being "good enough" to parent a child with special needs, not just any child, but MY child, MY son, MY Mason.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this…


When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.


After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."


"Holland?!" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?" I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy.


But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.


The important thing is that they haven't taken you to some horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.


So you must go out and buy a new guidebook. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.


It's just a different place. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.


But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."


The pain of that will never, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.


But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.


Adopting a child who was born with special needs can seem overwhelming at times. Each need is so very specific to that child. How they will cope with their differences, how they will learn to adapt, how they will overcome obstacles  - also so unique to each child. But there is one commonality they all share, they are not "like everyone else" and that alone will always set them apart.

For all I know about parenting, there is just so much I don't know when it comes to being George Mason's Momma. Will we emphasize the differences or celebrate the similarities? Should we encourage him to be like us or help him learn to accept that he is different? I don't know all the answers. I can't really say I have a clue as I'm still learning so much. But what I do know, is that God had a plan for him and for us to be together - as a family. The changes that are coming are pretty huge for all of us. I don't worry about changing, but I do think a lot about what kind of parent he needs me to be. Praying for the Father to continually equip me for the journey ahead and giving me all that I need to parent this child well. While I didn't plan on adopting a child with special needs, I am so thankful that God granted me this privilege! I'm so grateful that He brought his sweet photo into our lives and this precious child into our hearts! When I look at our son's photo, my heart aches knowing we might have missed out on this AMAZING blessing! All of that emotion and he is not even home yet. :)

The last few weeks I've been reading in-depth discussions on whether to provide a child with a limb difference a prosthesis or not. Most moms agree that their younger children (toddler/elementary age) felt limited by the "fake hand" as it had no functionality, but was just solely for cosmetics. However, as they got older, most teens wanted the hook/pincher as it was useful for helping them perform daily tasks. These are things I've never thought about in my entire life, and yet, here I sit wondering how my little boy will learn to tie shoes. How will he learn to count change? How will he throw a baseball and hold a mitt at the same time? How is he going to play the Wii? Or hook on the dog's leash? Make his bed? Apply toothpaste to his toothbrush?

I think...no, I KNOW, I'm in for a lot of surprises as to what all he CAN do without my help. But, mostly I want so deeply for him to feel like he belongs, not just to us, but to society. I don't want him to feel different, and my heart aches that he will know that feeling of isolation. The feeling that says "I'm not like anyone else." I want to protect him from the awkward and uncomfortable stares. The questions of prying strangers. I know I can't change the world, but I wish for his sake I could make it a softer, gentler place to live in. Whether it's China, Italy, Holland, or the good ol' USA, I wish for my son's sake - that it all felt like home.