Category Archives: Mother Lands

Parenting in the Digital Age. The Dangers of Mobile Phone Uploads and “Selfies.” A plea for teenage girls and their parents to become more aware of what’s going on out there in cyber space.

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This is just one example of the phenomenon known as a “Selfie” ( a photo taken of oneself by oneself) that is beginning to flood the pages of Face Book, Instagram, YouTube and other various forms of social media.

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What’s disturbing about this photo, amongst oh so many other things, is that the girl in it is obviously quite young.

Young enough to not be posing for pictures like this in her underwear, (even if she is the one taking the photo of herself), and certainly not yet old enough to realize the dangers inherent in posting photos like this on the world-wide web, where anyone can download them and do whatever they want with them.

As a parent, I have to admit that I am shocked to see this kind of photo being posted regularly via links to my own daughter’s Facebook page.

As a mother, whenever I see these images, I wonder whether or not the girl’s parents are aware of what their daughters are posting on-line?

This is a very different response to the one I would have had less than a year ago, when I would have automatically condemned the girl’s parents for “letting their daughter’s take such photos”.

Now with the benefit of hindsight and a rapid education in the modality of our modern social media, (thanks in large part to my own children’s use of social networking), I am beginning to understand that such photos can be taken without a parent even so much as being aware that their children are doing anything more than playing with their iPod’s, iPad’s or mobile phones all within the safety and the privacy of their own bedrooms.

And of course, therein lies the rub.

We think that as parents, our children are safe when they are in the privacy of our houses or in the safety of their own rooms.

But the truth is….. Sometimes they’re not.

Sometimes, especially for teenage girls, privacy when combined with the ability of mobile phones, iPod’s or I pad’s to take photos and upload them instantly onto the internet, along side the peer pressure they face to  be cool, can  become nothing short of a recipe for disaster.

A disaster that anyone can download, copy and redistribute to as many different web sites, as many times as they like.

As if that isn’t a creepy enough thought already, my major concern in all of this is for my own daughter.

What happens if these kinds of photos appear often enough on her links that they become viewed as common place and no big deal at all?

Will she then, in time, begin to believe that it’s acceptable to post up similar images of herself? As if it is no ‘biggie’ to expose her face and her body in such a way to the world at large?

That if enough of her friends start doing it then eventually it won’t matter to her how many times I tell her that it’s wrong……. and that it is a big deal…..

And then maybe…..

Just maybe…..

The first time I’ll know anything about it will be once it’s already too late to take it back.

And perhaps the scariest part of this line of thinking is that when it comes to questions like this……

How do I know that she hasn’t already snapped a shot of herself like that within the privacy of her own bedroom?

With the phone I brought her to keep her safe while she’s out and about in case of emergencies.

The answer is….. I don’t know. And if even I have to admit that I don’t know, then there must be other parents out there who may also have to admit that they don’t know either.

So I think the days of believing that we as parents can control what our children do, show and say have well and truly been taken away by the digital age.

So we’d best get on with the job of understanding this and start looking at finding new ways of safe guarding our children’s best interests.

In the meantime here’s a simple truth for every teenager out there………

Once a picture has been posted on the internet you can never really get it back.

It is there to stay.

Yes sure, you may be able to delete the original copy that you put up……… but can you track down and trace however many people have downloaded it in the meantime?

Can you prevent them from sharing it?

Can you prevent complete strangers from downloading your photos?

You may think that you can….. But you can’t……

Unfortunately the photo at the top of the page is proof that anyone, and I mean anyone, can download your personal pictures from any unprotected social media sites……

Scared yet?????????

Because I know I certainly am.

The photo used in this post is the least offensive “selfie” shot of its variety that I could find. Believe it or not, this young girl is actually wearing more clothes than most of the others. Disgusting I know.

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On Being Doctor Who’s Wife…..

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Doctor Who Experience

Yesterday my daughter stared at me for several seconds and then said rather thoughtfully……

“You know mum,………….. you look like you could be Dr Who’s wife.”

After hearing her words I looked down at my outfit and began silently ticking off a quick check list of similarities in my head.

¾ length coat. Check.

Long scarf. Check

Vest. Check.

Trousers. Check.

Hat. Check.

Yes, I thought, I do have to agree with my daughter on this one.

The Doctor has changed appearance ten distinct...

I honestly hadn’t realized that I was dressing like either a fictional Time Lord or his wife.

Oh Well!!!!!

It seems  that my love of androgynous clothing often sees me swathed in outfits that could be interpreted as being somewhat reminiscent of the many incarnations of Dr Who’s characters. (Think Tom Baker and beyond.)

Yet funnily enough, I don’t think I’ve ever particularly dressed like anyone’s wife, let alone  Dr Who’s wife.

So given that there was nothing wifely what so ever about my outfit in and of itself, and that I haven’t been anyone’s wife for a more than half of my daughter’s lifetime, her reaction to my androgynous clothing left me wondering why my outfit, in her eyes at least, automatically cast me in the role of Dr Who’s wife instead of in the role of a Dr Who type person myself?

Did she cast me as Dr Who’s wife simply because I’m her mum and therefore she knows I’m female?

If so, does being female in her eyes at least, automatically equate to only being seen as holding the potential for becoming the wife of someone interesting instead of holding the potential of becoming someone interesting as a female herself?

Such troubling constructions of femininity are worrying me more and more as I watch my daughter enter into an adolescents where coolness is rated by the amount of “Selfies” (photos taken by oneself of oneself) that can be posted on Instagram or Facebook on any given day, and her personal self-esteem is to easily being measured by the number of “likes” such “Selfies” generate.

Sometimes it seems as if our young girls are becoming their own profitless pimps giving away images of their innocent selves so blithely to the digital world.

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And they are doing so all in the name of popularity.

So just when does this hideously artificial construct of femininity that states that girls should be seen and not heard, first start leaving its nasty little footprints all over the minds of our daughters and how on earth can we even begin to combat it when even androgyny must first be given a gender in order for it to be understood?

I can’t help but admit that some days (actually more days than not)  I wish that my daughter would take a leaf or two out of my own book and start wearing long coats and trousers instead of singlets and skirts.

I’d love to see her dressing like a cool teenage version of Dr Who herself.

Or even Captain Jack would do the trick.

Anything to get her out of this mindset that the only way to be an interesting female is to either wear half a ton of makeup and skimpy top or to marry a man who’s interesting enough for the both of them.

Any ideas???????

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The Stark Reality of Christmas For Children of Divorce….”No dad…. You don’t understand what giving something to someone actually means….”

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christmas 2007

Christmas for children of divorced parents can be a really difficult time of year  for them.

Especially when one parent has a vastly greater degree of wealth than the other and uses Christmas as a time to try to control or manipulate their child’s loyalties.

Today my daughter rang her dad to ask whether or not he was getting her the much promised I-Pod for Christmas that he’d been dangling over her head all year.

Her dad replied by telling  her that if he were to give her an I-Pod, she’d only be allowed to use it at his house.

Considering that my daughter lives with me and only see’s her dad every second weekend, the idea of being given a gift that she could not actually use when ever she wanted too, really stunned her.

She told him over the phone;

” No dad….

You obviously don’t understand what giving something to someone at Christmas actually means…..

Because it means that you are giving it to them….. 

And if you are giving it to them, then  they should be able to do whatever they want to with it.

If you give someone a present then you are giving it to them for all of the time.

Not just when it suits you.”

Her dad then began yelling at her and telling her that she was an ungrateful child who didn’t deserve anything.

My daughter then said …. “

“So what you’re saying basically, is that if I come and live with you,  I’ll get an IPod  that I can use all the time, but if I stay with mum, I won’t get one?’

That’s bribery dad and it’s not fair.

You’ve got way more money than mum and it’s not my fault. 

You are the one whose ungrateful.

Why are you doing this to me?.”

In response her father continued yelling at her until eventually she hung up on him.

She stayed in her room for the next 15 minutes after that and when she came downstairs I could see that she’d been crying. So I hugged her and she said to me……

“So mum, how long do you think it will take me to save up for an iPod?

I’ll do  extra around the house for you if you’ll help me save for one.”

I told her  I would help her as much as I could and that maybe, if we saved hard, we might be able to afford one in time for her birthday in March.

She though about this  for a few minutes and then said as casually as she could….

” I don’t think I want to go to dad’s for Christmas, I want to stay with you instead.”

Pretending that I hadn’t over heard the conversation she’d had with her dad on the phone, I asked her ‘why’s that honey?’

She looked down and the floor and quietly said,

“I just don’t think dad understands the idea of Christmas so I’d rather be with you.”

Sometimes as a parent it’s so hard to stand back and observe your children dealing with issues that really, they shouldn’t have to be dealing with at all.

For me, at that moment in time, the urge to jump  in and offer her  a solution, or to take up my ongoing role of  peace keeper between my daughter and her father, was simply overwhelming.

But I’m glad that instead of doing any of those things, I gave her the time and the space that she needed to make up her own mind about her father’s words and actions.

It seems such a curious thing to me, that as I watch my daughter grow and take in the world around her as best she can, I am continuously filled with both a sense of  sadness at the troubles  she’s had to face and an absolute sense of amazement at the level of grace and courage that is beginning to shine through her in the way that she handles such tough situations.

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Holding our children’s hands

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This morning I brought you new shoes,

To go with your lovely new dress,

This afternoon I spent hours with you,

Curling your hair and doing your make up,

This evening I walked so proudly beside you,

As we entered your Leaver’s Dinner,

I let go of your hand at the door way,

And as I watched you form a distance,

Making your way through a throng of faces,

I realized that this is how as mother’s,

We all begin,

Ever so slowly,

To understand the changing shapes,

Of our children hands,

Tonight was one of those times,

I knew I’d been blessed to have been able,

To stand back,

To look and to recognize,

That your hands have indeed grown,

As has your heart,

As has your soul,

And at the end of the night,

When it came time to collect you,

I found that I struggled at first to pick you out,

From amidst the sea of teenagers surrounding you,

But then I saw the child within your face,

And in that moment I knew,

You,

And no matter how much you had grown,

When we made our way out to the car park,

It was still my hand,

That you chose to hold.

So I know now,

That no matter how big you grow,

You will never let go.

As I write this poem my thoughts and my heart go out to all the parents who will never be able to hold their children’s hands again or to watch on with love and pride as those children grow into lively teenagers along the way to becoming lovely young adults.  Tonight I know how truly fortunate I am to have had this moment in time with my daughter.

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Adam Lanza…. Asperger’s Syndrome……School Shooting…..This Mother’s Perspective…..

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Speculations that Adam Lanza, the shooter in Friday‘s Sandy Hook elementary school shooting, had Asperger’s Syndrome (a form of Autism) are flying thick and fast around social media.

Such speculations are causing many of us with children and young adults  on the Autism spectrum great concern.

Not because we fear that our sons or daughters may suddenly feel the need to exert untold violence on innocent victims.

Quite the contrary.

Many of us fear that our son’s and daughters are about to become victims of the wider wave of superstition and hysteria that such speculation brings.

The truth is, we don’t know what was going on in this young man’s life and we don’t know whether or not he had Autism, or if he did, how his Autism affected him.

We don’t know if Adam Lanza had mental health issues that were either being addressed or ignored.

And we don’t know why he chose to do what he did.

What we do know is that it is in no way either appropriate nor fair to suggest that Adam Lanza’s actions were entirely caused by Asperger’s Syndrome alone.

Therefore,  it is neither appropriate or fair to  start viewing all children or young adults with AS as unpredictable time bombs just waiting to go off.

What’s more, if we as a society are going to once again head down the path of allowing unbridled superstition and supposition to pre-determine our views of individuals and inaccurately inform our understandings of others, then we have clearly  learnt nothing at all from such tragedies.

For me , the flow on  effect of the speculations concerning the Autism /Adam Lanza link, really hit home on the weekend when I took my son to the RSPCA to adopt a kitten.

Whilst there, one of the volunteers began asking me  questions about my son’s condition, upon finding out that he had Autism she asked, “but aren’t boys with Autism violent? Is your son violent? Would he hurt a kitten?”

The answer of course is No, NO and NO.

If  I had felt that my son would in any way hurt a kitten, we would never have been there in the first place.

From my perspective,  the RSPCA’s questioning of my sons ability to love and care for a kitten were purely symptomatic of the level of bias  that young men with Asperger’s Syndrome are increasingly being forced to live with.

This persons questioning of my sons abilities to love and care for a kitten were entirely unwarranted, especially considering that at the time, my son was gently cradling a little  kitten in his arms and smiling with delight.

So now I can’t help wondering if we were the only people questioned in such a fashion  and whether or not we were in the end only questioned in this way due to the now infamous and erroneous connection that’s been established within the media between young Autistic males and random acts of violence?

Perhaps, some would say that I am being overly sensitive about this issue, but how would other parents feel if they had to put up with such blatantly ignorant and inflammatory questioning during an act as simple and as innocent as rescuing a kitten from a pet shelter?

Would other parents find it strange or offensive to be questioned by staff at a pet shelter as to the intentions of their teenage boy in adopting a pet?

Or should those of us with  teenage boys with Autism now just accept and expect such questioning?

The answer  is of course NO.

We should not accept this.

We should not even have to either expect or anticipate questions like this.

Parents of teenage boys with Autism should not be subjected to levels of questioning that parents of other teenage boys are not, because in the grand scheme of things,  there are more  blinding similarities to be found in the demographic make up of violent mass serial killers ,  than just  the hint of a suggestion of Autism.

Firstly, there’s the fact that these forms of  horrific school shootings are predominantly confined to America.

So should we automatically now be afraid of all Americans?

Secondly these types of shootings have all predominantly been carried out by middle class, white, teenagers/ young men.

So should we all now automatically be afraid of all American, white, middle class young men?

Thirdly, such shootings  have all been  perpetrated by individuals who have already been reduced to the level of” out casts” by their peers and other members of their society.

So should we now automatically be afraid of anyone whose American, white, male, middle class and feeling left out the societal loop?

In short, my point is this,  if it’s really going to come down to a case of using Asperger’s Syndrome or Autism as a method of predicting who we should and should not be afraid of in our society, then we have obviously understood absolutely nothing about the impacts of ostracism on  human behavior at all.

And if we were to start applying such templates to the notions of who we should and should not trust in our society, then based on the law of averages, as derived by past statistical data,  we may as well simply start viewing all white, American, middle class teenage boys aged between 15 and 25, who have ever felt hard done by at school by either their peers or their teachers  in any way, with absolute suspicion.

And how many parents can honestly say that our children have never once had any problems at school with their peers or felt that their child may have been ‘unfairly picked on’ by a teacher?

I wonder how other parents would feel if they were suddenly told that their teenager fit the profile of such an ill-informed predictor of demographic violence?

Would they feel as uncomfortable about the ignorant, though apparently never the less believable,  suggestion that their sons may  turn out to be killers, based on nothing more than a media beat up,  as the many parents of innocent young men with Autism now do?

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That Clattering Sound of Reality. AKA. A frustrated Mother’s Rant

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Mental Health

Tonight my daughter had another major melt down.

Once again she was yelling and screaming, kicking and smashing things in the house, as well as  threatening to end my life.

All of this begun because her brother had moved her Sims games whilst searching for one of his own Play Station favorites.

Upon discovering this almighty transgression my daughter flew into a rage of epic proportions, stormed into my son’s bedroom, and woke him up with a wave of unrelenting abuse.

Hearing this unholy commotion, I dragged her out of her brothers room and told her to stop all of her carrying on.

No harm had been done. Nothing had been broken. (Well at that stage anyway). There was simply no need for all of this fuss.

She then started screaming at me. Telling me that it was all my fault, that he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch her games, and that if anything, I should be telling  him off instead of growling at her for her behavior.

Naturally I refused to cave into that very particular and well worn  strain of  flawed logic.

So then she blew up like a time bomb whose ignition switch had prematurely been pinged.

Riding on her wave of fury she smashed anything and everything in her path.

She kicked the banister on the stairs so hard that it broke. Then yelled at me that it was all my fault and that I was to come immediately and look at what my thoughtless actions had caused her to do.

She then screamed and threatened me again with more expletives than a child her age has a right to know.

After an hour of being ranted and raved at, threatened and denigrated as the source of all of her  problems, I finally managed to get her upstairs and into her bedroom.

Once inside her room she began her usual process of slamming her wardrobe doors, punching and kicking at the walls,  all the while screaming for some non-existent person to stop talking to her, to shut up, go away and leave her alone.

Eventually the level of noise coming from her room subsided long enough for me to gather up some semblance of clarity.

Realizing yet again that I needed help with this, I grabbed the information pack that the mental health agency we’d been dealing with provided us  and called the 24 hour hot line they’d told me to call for advice if things got out of hand again.

So over the phone I explained my situation, only to be told by the man on the other end of the line, that they didn’t really deal with issues concerning children of my daughters age and that he wished the agency that had given me the hot line number would stop doing so, as  until a formal mental health diagnosis is made, there is nothing that they can do in any case.

He then told me, that from the sounds of the behavior I’d described, it was most likely that the real problem was that my daughters personality was starting to come out. In which case, her threatening and violent behavior would not be seen as a mental health issue at all but  possibly a personality disorder.

(But Hang on, aren’t they one and the same thing? I thought but didn’t say, after all who am I to know? )

The man then went on to ask me what form of help I’d received from the agency we’d been seeing. So I told him that we’d been due for a feedback session last week, but that it had been cancelled so I really had no idea as to what their assessments or recommendations for my daughter would be.

His reply was; “Well it seems like they’ve been no help at all to you, so by the sounds of it, I’d say your  well and truly on your own. So as a parent it’s up to you to either step up and take the fight right back to her, or withdraw for the sake of your own safety, which it sounds like you are currently doing.”

There was a pause after this last statement which was then followed by the words;

“Really it sounds like you are down to one of two options. Either you call the police if things start to get really out of hand (at which point I am thinking, what, only starting to get out of hand? OMG, just what do you think I’m calling a 24 hour emergency hot line for?), or he continued, get her to the nearest hospital anyway you can.”

These words were once again followed by another pause and something that sounded all too much like a sigh. Then came the rest of the happy news,

“mind you, even if you do manage to get her to the hospital they’ll probably just hold over in casualty all night and release her in the morning.”

“But she’s a child” I said, “what sort of help is forcing her to stay in A & E all night going to bring her? Especially if they’re not actually going to do anything to help her?”

“Well then it sounds like the police are going to be your best bet if you need any further help and really, at this point in time on a long weekend, it sounds like they are going to be your only option. I’m sorry to say this but there’s really nothing more that I can suggest to help you.

End of conversation.

So once again I find myself uselessly asking the night sky, why?

Why are the professionals, the people who are supposed to help, the people who have never once seen my daughter in one of her full on, completely irrational and highly agitated states, constantly telling me that there’s nothing they can or will do?

Just what is it going to take for someone to take this seriously?

I’ve already done all I can do.

I’ve swallowed my pride and admitted that this is something that I can’t deal with on my own.

I’ve put myself on the line and asked for the help that we need, but instead of getting any help all I seem to be getting is stonewalled .

Just what is going on here?

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Mother Lands

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Regardless of whether we inhabit a serene mothering landscape or a landscape perpetually filled with challenge after challenge, we are all walking the same Mother Lands and dodging the same societal landmines.

Though at times we could all be forgiven for undervaluing  our crucial interconnectedness.

With every debate that rages over breast-feeding versus bottle feeding or whether or not we should strive to be stay at home mum’s instead of working mother’s, there seems to be a gradual lessening of  common mothering ground to stand on.

It seems every aspect of motherhood these days is up for debate.

Yet always, within these debates, the role of men  remains safely tucked out of harms way.

There is no call to action against father’s who bottle feed their children.

Nor is there any debate surrounding whether or not father’s can adequately parent and work at the same time.

Mother’s it appears, are always the one side of the parenting equation, whose actions, beliefs and virtues are consistently being singled out for public scrutiny and divisive debate.

It was not so long ago that single mother‘s were being told they were to blame for the rise in teenage delinquency. That it’s  their fault that the lack of a male role model in a teenager’s life, leads to aggressive and insolent behaviors.

Even when the role of the father appears to be the sticking point, it is the mother who has her own lifestyle held up to ransom. Unfortunately there is nothing new in that.

In the 60′s and 70′s married stay at home mother‘s were being told that their own lack of ambition and levels of depression were to blame for their daughter’s outrageous sexual behaviors and overwhelming dissatisfaction with society.

Despite the fact that young men were also actively engaged in the same behaviors and exhibiting the same level of dissatisfaction with societies status quo.

In the 40′s and 50′s mother’s of children with special needs were being labeled  cold and uncaring,  ‘Refrigerator Mother‘s’, and told their detached mothering style was the to blame for their child‘s condition.

All of the above antiquated ideas are the same ideas that are now being successfully  inverted  to form the basis for the  latest wave of public  blame, crashing down  once again exclusively  on the backs of  mother’s.

Instead of being accused of creating maladaptive children through cold and detached parenting, mother’s are now being told that they fuss over their children too much.

That they hover like helicopters around their off spring  and in so doing prevent them from growing up into successful adults capable of taking responsibility for their own actions.

Mother’s who have staved off depression and found a sense of self-worth by showing personal ambition and engaging in the work force are now being blamed for creating confused young men, who are now said to be acting out in aggression due to the lack of clear gender roles that women’s participation in the workforce are said to have caused.

Yet on the flip side of the debate surrounding the supposed lack of gender lines,   mothers are now  being told that they are failing their daughter’s by letting them wear the latest, overtly feminized and sexualized, fashion trends.

Well who designs these fashion trends?  It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the multitude of male designers and male arbiters who have for centuries decided what women should wear…. could it?

It seems the only constant variable in this never-ending re-invention of mother’s as the root of all evil, is the continuing denigration of single mothers.

Whom, despite the mounting evidence from their successful adult off spring, find themselves time and time again rolled out as the whipping posts for all of societies ills.

The chances are, that what ever you life circumstances, or style of mothering may be, you will at some stage have to face an endless list of mothering prejudices along the way.

So I think sometimes we need to be reminded, that no matter what our individual circumstances may be, at the end of the day,  we are all, each and every one of us, doing out best to dodge the multiple landmines of  mothering blame, laid out before us.

We are all walking the same Mother Lands and none of us knows who the next target will be.

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External Hearts

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As parents of special needs children,

We  have to learn to stand back,

To let our lovely ones,

Learn to begin to climb their own walls.

Yet this is so much easier said,

Than it ever will be done.

For having a child with Autism,

Is like living a life,

With your heart,

Constantly beating,

Outside of the safety,

Of your chest.

We are always so emotionally exposed.

No matter how strong we think we are,

Just a few unkind words,

Uttered toward or about our child,

Can pierce us in all of our softest places,

In ways,

That others may never,

Understand.

Perhaps this is why every barb,

Whether intentional or otherwise,

Leaves it’s mark.

So please understand that it’s hard for us,

All of this stepping back,

And letting go,

For our children are not just,

 A part of us,

They are,

Our very,

Hearts.

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Finding A New Kind Of Normal

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I write often about the experience of loving and parenting a son with Autism.

The reason for this is simple, I love my son and I want others to love him as well. I want to do away with all of the superstitious, illogical, fear mongering  nonsense that often goes along with parenting a special needs child.

Even more than that though, there’s something else I want others to understand and that is, that in the middle of it all, we are finding our own kind of normal.

We have our routines. We have our ways. We have our days of bliss and we have our days of hit and miss too, but to us now, this is normal.

I have a friend whose written a PhD on how parents of children who survive cancer strive to find a new form of normality in their lives after the crisis is over.

We’ve often discussed the similarities between his research and my own. Many parents within his research expressed their gratitude, that at the end of it all, their children recovered and although not all returned to their previous level of functioning  prior to having had cancer, the majority did.

My friend asked me how I felt after he’d told me that a few of the parents he’d spoken too stated that they felt sorry for parents of children with disabilities because at the end of the day their crisis never truly goes away.  There is no remission. No all clear after 5 years.

I told him the truth, that when my son was first diagnosed with Autism, my instant reaction was, thank god it’s not life threatening.  Autism is something we can live and work with.

After drowning for  6 moths in  the perpetual fear that my son may have had a degenerative mitochondrial condition, the diagnosis of Autism seemed somehow, like winning life’s lottery.

To this day I still wouldn’t swap Autism for the great unknowable  option of door  number 3.

So yes I did find it somewhat ironic, but more so heart warming,  that parents whose children had survived cancer could hold space in their hearts to grieve for those of us with special needs children.

Especially given that my greatest fear would have been losing my son.

After thinking about this for a long time, I’ve come the conclusion that, what ever the crisis you face as a parent, you do everything and anything you can think of  to do, to support your child in every way possible.

If that means facing a period of crisis, then you face that period of crisis with every ounce of strength you hold in your body, mind and soul. You worry your heart out through surgery after surgery, chemo after chemo treatment, until you get that much prayed for ‘all clear’ after 5 years of being in remission.

Similarly, if doing all that you can do as a parent to support your child, means living a life time of  wading knee-deep through the special needs jungle, then you pull on your boots and you teach yourself how to do wade to the best of your ability.

Somewhere along the way, during all that wading, everything that you found so terrifyingly foreign in the beginning , works its way into your system. It quite literally becomes a second, if somewhat initially painful, form of second nature  to you.

In short, parenting a special needs child can and does  become normal.

It’s just a new kind of normal.

A kind of normal that still holds hopes and dreams, happiness and laughter and achievement and success as well as the ordinary every day struggles of  life.

Hope doesn’t go away.  It simply finds a new way to stay.

The dreams I hold my son may be different to those of every other parent of a 16-year-old teenager, but they are still there. We strive everyday to maintain and enhance his skills.

He can write his own name.

He can state his birth date.

He can smile when he’s  happy, laugh, clap and flap.

But most importantly of all, he’s still here.

He may never drive a car. Get his first independent job or buy his own house but…..

He’s safe and secure.

He is happy.

He is loved and he is cared for.

He’s different and he is well.

Really, what more could I ask for?

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Secrets Pass

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 There are places in the soul for shame.

Small pockets,

Tightly sealed,

All sewn up with guilt’s thread,

Hidden deep inside,

Stealing space from love.

Most people would find it strange,

To know that I hold,

A place for shame,

In my heart,

But it’s there,

Shame writes out the knowledge,

That somewhere,

Somehow,

In the knitting together,

Of my son’s being,

My own body,

Failed to stave off

The passing down of a frailty,

A deletion on chromosome 19,

That has formed for him,

A very different kind of life.

I know I’m not the only one,

Who sometimes feels this shame,

I see it on the faces of other parents,

Who also confess to holding.

That same space,

And as we speak to each other,

Slowly,

Secrets  pass,

Between us,

Like bread.

Forming a communal loaf,

Of understanding,

From which,

We all must,

Do our best,

To break,

Off our own,

Small Piece,

Of Peace.