School started two weeks ago here in our corner of the world. I don’t know if it ever gets any easier, this letting your children grow. That is, after all, what motherhood is about–making yourself obsolete. If you’ve done your job right, after 18 years you have a self sufficient child who thinks they don’t need you anymore. Except, this isn’t always true when you’re the parent of a special needs child that might never outgrow the need for a helping hand.
Elizabeth Stone once said, “making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” Truer words were never spoken.
Every morning when I put my son on his bus, I feel a vague uneasiness as I watch it drive away down the street. Sure, he’s only off to school, but the world is a big, scary place to send your heart out into unattended. It requires an act of faith–trusting the bus will not crash, that adults and other children will be kind, that school will be a safe haven, and come afternoon, the big, yellow bus will bring home a smiling, happy child at 3:45 pm. Sometimes, I think this requires something greater than the faith rumored to have parted the Red Seas.
Every morning, we go through our routine and I tell him I love him, to have a good day, and remind him to make sure his seat belt is buckled correctly when he sits down. I remind him persistently about safety in hopes my constant reminders are stronger than the disabilities that challenge him.
And God forbid I get distracted one morning and forget one of these details that have somehow become my ritual. I then spend the rest of the day consumed with guilt that this single act of negligence will be the cause of tragedy. I wonder how I would continue to draw breath if I allowed my child to leave my arms without reminding him of my love for him and he never came home to me.
I am convinced that mother love–and guilt–are two of the most powerful forces on the planet, and that as special needs parents, we may have the lions share of the latter.
I’m also convinced that it probably never gets easier, but it is a burden I feel blessed to bear.
Wishing you and yours a wonderful back-to-school season.