After much deliberation and remaining inconclusive and uncomfortable about the wisdom of this decision, I have decided to create this blog so I can share my personal, emotional, and spiritual warfare in coming to terms with having a child with special needs, as well as lessons learned and insights gleaned from my continuing journey of parenting.
There are many blogs, books, and publications in general about parenting. But every perspective is different. So I am throwing my proverbial "two cents" out into the world. My perspective is informed by being a "regular" mom, a step-mom, and a mom to a child with special needs. I am all three. Adding to my role as a mom, I have been teaching high school English for 18 years and counting.
I do not pretend to know anyone else's journey or experience. But I suspect, that perhaps, some of the thoughts, feelings, emotions, and prayers I am going to share just might resonate with other parents. And if any of the tales I tell can help even one person feel less alone, better understood, or forgive themselves, then it is worth the time. Here goes....
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Post #1
Parenting.
It is the most profound violations of expectations I have ever
experienced. Simply put, parenting is hard, harder than I thought.
I assumed I knew before I had my first child that parenting is “work,”
but I was completely unprepared for the severity and depth to which that is the
case.
What is a "Lawn Chair" parent?
One of our dear family friends, Wade, told me once that “expectations are premeditated resentments.” I am not sure if he coined that phrase or if he read it somewhere, but that aptly describes my early years of parenting. I waited my whole life to be a mom. I have always wanted kids. I had an expectation of parenting that was specific and prescribed. I had a vision of our lives as parents and as a family. I consciously called it “the Lawn Chair” parents. I loved my children as infants, yes, but face it, infancy was exhausting and stressful. I spent time during each of my children’s infancy, partial enjoying it, and partial waiting for them to be older and things to “get easier.” In my mind, we will have “made it” as parents when we can sit in lawn chairs, sip cold beers and watch our children play. I was holding on to that image, that idea, that relief, that once my children could use the potty, dress and feed themselves, and run after other children to play, I could sit in my lawn chair. I wouldn’t be so tired. I could rest. I could participate in adult conversation. I could breath. For several years, I clung to this this idea just to make it through the day. It was the “truth” of family life that I thought I was seeing at parties, BBQs, and holiday gatherings throughout my life.
There is a long list of
realities about parenting that do not fit my initial vision, and
if you are a seasoned parent, my vision of the “lawn-chair” parent has you
either laughing at me or crying for me. Don’t
feel badly; I have done both.
Parenting gets easier as your
children get older.
This is only one of many falsehoods
that I believed within the context of being
a Lawn Chair parent. There are many
reasons why this is faulty thinking, and those reasons differ depending on the
parent(s) and child(ren).
I think it is safe to say that for most parents, parenting does
NOT get easier as our children get older, the challenges just change shape. This reality thundered down on me when
my daughter Addyson was born. Addyson
has a genetic mutation that results in cognitive impairment and global developmental
delays. My two older children, who are
developmentally “normal” (whatever that means) are challenging at times, but
for the most part, their independence progressed according to medical and social
norms. Addyson did not. Everything about her required more care, less
sleep, higher demands, and for several years, to me, it seemed hopeless. Her lack of “normal progress” had me
spiraling downward emotionally in long mental lists of “she would never…, I
would never…, we would never….” I spent
some years in spiritual crisis, faithless and hopeless. And my Lawn Chair remained elusive. It was collecting rain water and dust. I wasn’t able to sit in it. This was not
what parenting was supposed to be. What about
the dreams I had for her? What about the
future? What about my dreams? What about the time Jimmy and I should have when the kids are grown and gone? Will I always be this tired?! Will I ever get a break?! These questions ran through my mind at all times of day and night. And as a result, faith and happiness rapidly decreased as my anxiety steadily increased. The Outcome = Hot. Mess.
I am happy to say, there IS a
bright future for me, for Addy, and for YOU, no matter what challenges we might be facing. But I also think it is normal at times to:
- Feel frustrated that parenting is harder than we imagined.
- To have moments where while we love our children, we don't like them very much.
- To feel at times like we are not good parents,
- Have days when we focus more on what our children won't/don't/can't do than what they will/can do, and
- Experience pockets of general inadequacy as a parent.
Out of the many lessons I learned through the first 4 years of Addy's life, the one I want to share here is this: when I focused on my wants, my desires, my needs, I was miserable. When I changed my focus to what God wants, His directives, His promises, I could feel joy. Clearly, this is easier said than done. It takes practice, diligence, and dedication in many areas. To anyone of mature faith, the concept may seem basic and mundane. But sometimes there is significant difference between head knowledge and heart knowledge. I knew in my head I should trust God; I should have faith; I should follow His word. But I didn't understand that deep in my heart. I didn't know that moments of joy are by CHOICE, not by chance. We all have moments in our lives when we are miserable. These moments come and go in length and severity. And what I had to learn to do, in order to get out of my "dark place," was to ask myself, am I thinking about my discomfort in my personal circumstances, or am I thinking about what God wants me to do with my circumstances? I often have to stop and assess for whose agenda am I investing my time and energy--His or mine? When it's mine, unaligned with His, it equates to: unsettled, anxious, miserable.
I say all that to say this: I still have bad days. I still grumble and complain from time to time like the next person. But, I also see and feel joy a lot! I see a bright future for my daughter and our whole family. I feel relieved to know that while my Lawn Chair may be covered in dust or holding rain water in the seat, that sometimes, I do get to clean it off and sit down! It is not in the way that I thought, under the terms I imagined or envisioned. But I am learning to be joyful during the times that, instead of sitting, I have to remain standing.
Thanks for reading!
Hugs,
The Lawn Chair Mom
