I am haunted by a blog post I did a couple of weeks ago. In it, I talked about grieving about what had happened to my son, Max, who had a stroke at birth that resulted in cerebral palsy. My words were, exactly, "Seven years after Max's birth, I still mourn the loss of the child I expected, even though I love and adore the child that he is."
I ended up engaged in an e-mail rally with another mom of a child with special needs, who could not, she said, "understand" how someone could mourn or grieve their child. She herself, she said, had never once grieved over her child. She went on to make it clear that there is no right or wrong here—but still, that didn't feel like her real message. Her underlying message seemed to be, "I did not mourn. Why did you?"
Stuff like this unnerves me because, really, every one of us has dealt in our own way with what happened to our kids, and continues to deal. We do the best we can.
Hearing someone say "I just don't understand"—even if they really don't get it—is just not something I need to hear.
What's not to understand?
You may not agree, but please don't tell me it is past your comprehension how a mom could be despondent over what happened to her child.
Ellen blogs daily at To The Max.