The Other One
Carrie Wilson Link | Wednesday, November 18, 2009 at 8:21AM When you have a special needs child there is a lot of guilt: What did I do wrong in my pregnancy? Was it the Caesar salad with the anchovies? Was it living on a bus line – all that exhaust? Was it my stress? And when your child begins the diagnostic process the first ten questions are always about the pregnancy and birth. The sentiment appears to be that the problem, if not totally the mother’s fault, at least started with her.
And so you act upon that guilt and go about attacking the ever-changing needs of your special child with a vengeance. Your days, your nights, your entire existence is based around fixing what you are just sure you messed up.
It’s not until you get way down the road, at least a dozen years or so at the game, that you realize you could not possibly have put one more single second into helping this child. Indeed, your efforts have been Herculean. Someone should throw a parade in your honor, in fact, such are your heroics.
But nobody will be throwing you a parade, and your guilt will not subside, because there are other children in your home, at least one, and that child has not had Super Mom for a parent. That child has gotten the scraps, and at times they have been measly and given begrudgingly, because dammit, that child is typical and how dare they need you as much as they do because you are totally spent from the round-the-clock care of the other one.
And in time your typical child will grow old enough to explain this all to, and because they have learned a compassion that is far beyond their years, they will understand. And forgive you. And it will break your heart. Over and over again.
Reader Comments (15)
Wow! So very true. An excellent piece!
So beautiful, Carrie. It's something that I think about all the time -- the life of "the other two." I recently met a young man who grew up the brother of Charlie Abramson (The Charlie Foundation). He is working hard on sibling issues, recognizing problems and helping families and physicians to deal with everyone, not just the child with special needs.
Thanks for this post.
i know.
i KNOW.
Every moment of every day.
My "other one" is only 2 and I worry about this every day. I feel absolutely terrible about it. Just yesterday I was wondering if I could delay preschool for her by a year so we could have another year of special time while her sister goes to preschool. "the other one" and "The special needs one" are only 17 months apart - 1 year in school.
Uh huh. Yep. I can only nod.
Profound wisdom from a healed heart. Both of your children are well-loved by a mom brave enough to tell the truth. Love.
Oh, Carrie. I'm crying here at work. I know this too well. We just haven't gotten to the part in the last paragraph yet. I hope someday soon we will. Love.
But the "other" child(ren) is/are "special" too...full of empathy, knowledge, love, selflessness and kindness that is all too rare on our planet today.
You're a great mom. The best mom. Your kidlets are blessed.
Love.
& in our house, her name is Sophie. The only girl, the only one who isn't in need or still a baby. The only girl. The girl I wanted my whole life. This tears me up as much as anything else.
Love.
You are my human, Carrie.
Love.
Right there with 'ya. My typical kid is growing up much wiser and more open minded than I ever did. In some respects, it's great. Today I'm thinking positively, so I'll leave it at that. But I know too well exactly what you mean.
A freaking men.
beautiful, carrie.