There is a bear inside each of us mothers. We have the instinct to know the sound of our child’s cry, sense her footsteps shuffling on the steps, or even recognize his characteristic “scent.” And given the right circumstances, we can be tremendously protective. Nobody better mess with my kid. Nobody better look at him funny. Nobody better hurt her feelings. Deprive my kid, and you’re gonna deal with the mother bear.
Various mother bear memories of my own come to mind:
I still recall standing in a school bus and hearing older children laugh at my son.
Once a nurse suggested that I was mishandling my infant.
Once my boy was falsely accused of very serious misbehavior.
And I remember when an expert told me my son might never attend college, marry, or live independently.
The mother bear in me came out on all of these occasions, and has on many others. Anger, outrage, and defensiveness. A fierce need to protect. There are times when this instinct is important, even necessary. We know we’ve got to stand up for our children when no one else will. We’ve got to fight for the best medical options, the best educational options, and even for a little respect. Special needs kids can benefit from a ferocious mother bear, especially because they are so vulnerable. And there’s nothing wrong with advocating for our kids. There’s nothing wrong with making sure they are treated fairly in an often unkind world. Yet we must check ourselves. Might we sometimes be a little too defensive? Or a little too overprotective? Are we becoming offended too easily?
When we parent a special needs child, the mother bear inside us may not go into hibernation when it should. That defensive part of us lumbers around, prepared for attack. This is high-stress mode, and certainly not a pleasant way to live. It isolates us emotionally from the rest of the world. It’s tiring. And it just might limit our child needlessly.
The trick is knowing when to release the bear and when to keep it caged. Releasing the bear comes quite naturally. Yet for our own emotional health, we must teach ourselves how to calmly trust others, how to be patient, hopeful, and how to just relax. Hold back. Take a deep breath. Forgive. Let be. These modes are less instinctive, and require a little practice. We expect our children to grow, stretch, and reach higher, and we must do the same.
Right now, a blizzard is raging outside my window. My husband, a police officer, was just called out to assist with car accidents on the freeway. My children just braved a slippery ride to school, and now all is quiet. This mother bear is glad to be warm and dry.
Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here. Some links on this blog may have been generated by outside sources are not necessarily endorsed by Kristyn Crow.
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The Tendency to Overprotect our Special Needs Kids
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