The other day, my son Sawyer had a doctor’s appointment. We did not tell him about it beforehand because then he just obsesses and tantrums about it for the whole day. Why? Because he likes going because he gets a free toy (or, usually, about 4 free toys) to destroy on the way home. It’s one of his very favorite places to go, and if he knows he’s going beforehand, it’s an OCD nightmare. So, we didn’t tell him our plan. He went to school as usual with no idea I was going to pick him up early.
When it was time to pick him up from school, I went to his classroom and he was working alone at a table. He didn’t see me. One of the aides said, “Look who’s here, Sawyer.” He looked up at me and his face was completely blank for about 5 seconds like he didn’t know who the hell I was. (It was just that he was totally not expecting to see me in the middle of his day. He has a set routine that they follow religiously, and mom showing up half way through was something to be processed.) I told the teacher that we were going to proceed to the place where one gets checkups (yes we really ARE forced to talk like this!) Then something really neat happened.
Sawyer’s face lit up and he smiled wide. He jumped up, came over and gave me a big spontaneous hug. These are to be treasured because he is quite stingy with them usually. We got him ready and we left. On the way to the car he hugged me again for a long time and said, “Thank you, mama!” This, I admit, made me cry even though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was being thanked for. Maybe he just needed a break. Maybe he was just happy to be getting to go on an unexpected car trip. One thing though, he has NEVER thanked me spontaneously before. Not once in 14 years. We can prompt a thank you (and we do on a regular basis), but he doesn’t say it unless we prompt him. So that was a really wonderful thing.
We went to the doctor’s office. As soon as we pulled in he was very excited, but he didn’t tantrum or start obsessing (Doctor. Doctor. Doctor!) He also didn’t tantrum in the office while we waited, he didn’t try to destroy anything or start yelling… he just sat quietly beside me and patiently waited like the other kids did. In fact, it might have been the first time he passed, in public, as “normal” since babyhood. No one gave him a second look. By this time, Iwas having a MARVELOUS time, and realized that a miraculous thing was happening, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of it while it lasted.
He was so good in the office that the doctor was floored and ecstatic (we are both used to a very different Sawyer) and was just gushing about this wonderful turnaround (which I assumed, wouldn’t last–hence the appreciating it while it’s going on thing). Then, it happened. The doctor told me that Sawyer was SO lucky to have us as parents because we were such great parents. Wonderfully patient and loving. Heroes. Saints really. And I deflated completely. Sigh.
…Him don’t know us vewy well, do he?
Don’t get me wrong, the doctor didn’t mean to ruin anything for me, he though he was just giving us a compliment. It just happens to be one of my pet peeves when people act like keeping your own CHILD who you LOVE at home and taking care of him because he needs you somehow qualifies you for sainthood. It doesn’t. Parents do many things just because you have to and you need to. Things are not always sunshine and roses at our house. In fact, our public face and our private face are quite different. The patience I show Sawyer in public when he tantrums might or might not be extended to him when the same thing happens in private. We are not perfect and if people think we are, we cannot help but fall.
Yes, Sawyer is difficult (that is an understatement!), but he’s my baby. What else am I going to do with him but take care of him? I don’t know anyone, not one person, who, if blessed with a child like Sawyer, wouldn’t care for him at home. And this includes the doctor. You deal with the cards you are dealt and that’s that. I think it’s more probable that most folks cannot imagine actually LIVING like we do, day in and day out, and so we are both pitied and saintified (yes, I know that’s not a real word!) by the masses. Much like I cannot imagine how parent cope with their kids having cancer. Yes, I suppose I COULD deal with it, if I had to, but I sincerely hope and pray that God spares me from having to walk that particular road. It’s unimaginable to me, and those parents seem like saints to me–though I imagine my attitude annoys the hell out of them too.
It’s magical thinking. No way could I handle that so THOSE people must be somehow more equipped to handle it than I am. That’s why they got the disabled child and I didn’t. The child with cancer and I didn’t. God made them special, somehow. He gave them more patience. More kindness. A double sample of love. When in fact, we are just like you. We could BE you if that was your destiny. As for me, I didn’t ask for this, and I wouldn’t have signed on for this particular set of problems, had I had a choice. But I didn’t. And I trust God enough to trust Him with the details and how this all works out in the end. I know He has a plan and a purpose for Sawyer’s life, and that’s good enough for me.
By the way, new toon up today. I will try to (at least for this week) upload cartoons on Mon, Wed and Fri and see how that works out.
About Clear Blue Water (my comic strip) and me and mine 
10 comments
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March 14, 2010 at 9:12 pm
Sara
Oh my! You’ve summed up my feelings to the tee!
I always get a little flummoxed when I am praised for being my V’s mommy. How lucky he is to have me, etc… He’s my boy, my son, just like his older brother, he’s my blood. What else should I do? What else would you do, I want to ask them. Usually I just say “Thanks, but V does most of the work.”
I also know what you mean about treasuring those moments from our kids. Once V licked an apple slice and I about did the Snoopy Dance.
March 15, 2010 at 7:36 am
Laura
I think that anyone who doesnt work with special needs children sees those of us who do/or who have special children as being saints. We all loose our patience sometimes. Do we try extra hard and count to 20 instead of 10? Absolutly. But you are right we all would have chosen something different but since we didnt we love the children in our lives and live each day to the fullest.
March 15, 2010 at 8:45 am
Joan
I don’t have a special needs child so forgive me if I am out of line but I think you are missing the sentiment behind some of those compliments. In particular the doctor’s.
“Parents do many things just because you have to and you need to. ” could more accurately be put as parents TRY to do many… I think the doctor was complimenting you on your success.
I agree that it is wrong to compliment a parent for loving their child and trying to do the best they can for that child regardless of the special challenges that child brings along. The effort is a given, the results are not.
The best example I can give is my own kids who are as normal as they come. For some reason they have turned out very well behaved and can be mature around adults and we get compliments at church every Sunday. No one is complimenting us for trying to be good parents but rather for the signs they see as our success. (Yes I am very uncomfortable to be on the receiving end and NO, I could not for one minute try to explain why my kids seem to be turning out so well.)
March 15, 2010 at 9:36 am
Erika
Although I do not have a special needs child, I know a lot of people who know my history feel similar feelings towards me when they hear about some of the things that life (or Fate, G-d, whomever) has thrown at me, especially in the last decade or so. They tell me that I am amazing, so strong, they never could have lived through all of that, etc. And I look at them a little stunned and think “Well, what was I going to do? Abandon my kids, abandon my elderly parents? Stay in a violent marriage? I did what I had to do.” And that is what you do every day – you do for Sawyer and all your children what you have to do.
My saying was always “I get up. I put one foot in front of the other and I keep going that way.” It works.
March 15, 2010 at 5:36 pm
Ted Seeber
I’ve also met a few parents of special needs kids who aren’t up to the task. I always find it quite sad that they say things like “I wish there had been a pre-natal test for autism like there was for the Turner’s Syndrome girl I had aborted”.
Even worse yet are the divorces caused by the stress of raising a special needs kid; while somewhat understandable, I still find it reprehensible that any parent would effectively send the message to their kid “I’m not up to the challenge of being your parent, so I’m running away”. Or at least, that’s the way it seems to feel from the perspective of the kid.
Add to that the fact that the official Canonization process of the Roman Catholic Church is so stingy and conservative with official Sainthood that we often miss the small-s saints around us, and I’ve got to say, yes, parenting a special needs child should earn you a few points towards heaven. Or at least a second or two less in Purgatory. If the Rich find it hard to get into heaven because “they’ve already enjoyed their reward on Earth”, then certainly the stress of raising a special needs kid should put you on the fast track to heaven for the reverse reason, right?
March 15, 2010 at 5:38 pm
Ted Seeber
Or worse yet- to be a bit sensitive to Erika above- “I’m not up to disciplining you right, so I’m going to beat the snot out of you”, which is the message abusive parents send.
March 21, 2010 at 3:28 am
Holly
I’m not going to comment on what the doctor said, because I think everyone has already covered it pretty well.
I am going to say it is marvelous that Sawyer (and you) had such a wonderful day. Hallelujah and heavenly praises…sometimes it is perfect to just be “normal”.
March 24, 2010 at 2:46 pm
terryrindaljr
My daughters (Kimberly, Michelle, and Alicia) have all expressed their thoughts about people who have never lived or worked with “special needs” kids. My daughters all point out that all kids are special needs kids, some just have more common needs than others.
Now that my girls are all teens, I have more bad days than good days because they are all just so “hormonal and touchey” about everything. They fight with each other more than when they were little. I am really grateful for the days when they take time and talk to each other instead of yelling at each other.
I am told by many people, “You must have so much patience, to raise 3 teen age girls.” I totally understand your feelings about the doctor. I know the people think it is a compliment, but I know I am not the only single father of daughters on the planet. The comment was sort of neat to hear 12 years ago, when all of the girls were toddlers, but now days I feel just like you wrote on one of your comics years ago: (Yes, the comic is one of my daughters favorites too)
A couple sees Seth in the playground and comments: “It must be so tough raising him, I don’t think I could do it”. Eve sarcastically responds: “You are right, we should just kill him because such a burdon and it would make our lives so much easier. Or maybe we should kill our other children so we can focus more of our time on him.” The shocked couple appologizes and walks away.
I don’t remember if there was a followup punchline, but my family doesn’t remember one. Then again we were laughing so hard at Eve’s answer. We love it.
Well, I ranted enough. I am glad you are back posting. Your comics make me laugh and your blog reminds me that we all have our “sack of bricks” to carry.
April 17, 2010 at 6:12 am
Rai
*Zen Hugs* Was trying to explain your strip to our local Autism/Aspergers Support group. I may have to take in a few strips.
I also had someone sent me this today & immediately thought of you.
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/05/dont-judge-a-mother-until-you-know-the-whole-story/
April 17, 2010 at 12:14 pm
elaine
Maybe I’m way off base here, but even though your doctor’s compliment didn’t sit well with you, would you be okay with receiving it as an affirmation of your commitment to doing your humanly-imperfect best efforts to care for Sawyer? And IMO the parents who can just keep doing what they need to do to care for their kids and think it’s nothing more than what any other parent in their circumstances would do really *are* entitled to a “Hey, you’re doing a great job” affirmation because, sadly, there are plenty of parents who would either be totally asleep at the switch, or too bitter and resentful to advocate for and care for their kids, or maybe they *are* doing what they can but with a less healthy attitude.
I guess what I’m saying is maybe the doctor’s remark was intended to mean “I know you think you’re just “doing your job” and I know it’s a challenging one, and sometimes it seems that what you’re doing isn’t making much of a difference. Let’s celebrate this moment as proof that your hard work *is* making a positive impact on your son”