“Time to head to the bus. Get your shoes on, please,” I chirp in a sing-song voice to my six-year-old. She’s busy building and wrecking a block tower. She goes from zero to sixty, as she always does, when I ask her to do comply with a simple request. Today we’re following the same routine we have for months, yet today is one of her bad days. She screams, “NO!” at me and dashes off to her bedroom. I follow her and try again, just as positive as before. She begins kicking the wall and chanting no, over and over again.
She’s too big for me to scoop up, like I used to do when she was a toddler. I’m not strong enough. I attempt to lure her with more positivity and encouragement. I urgently tell her that she’s going to miss the bus, glancing at my phone. Not only does she get up and walk toward the door, but she removes her shirt, emphasizing her commitment to stay put. We hear the bus’s breaks squeak, and I proclaim that she’s officially missed the bus. Instead of celebrating, she wails in despair. This is a vicious, unpredictable cycle. There are many days I want to give up on parenting my child with special needs.
Before you tell me that my kid needs more tough love, a firmer hand, and some serious discipline, I’ve heard it all before. I know that some parents swear that martial arts class has given their child with Adhd or autism the structure they desperately need. We tried it. My kid bolted from class more than once after her inability to follow the multi-step directions given to complete an obstacle course. The center director pulled me aside and told me that perhaps this sport wasn’t right for my kid. In other words, we got kicked out.
You might tell me to take my kid in for a chiropractic adjustment. Have I tried quality essential oils? What about a gluten-free diet? Have I removed all artificial dyes? I have done it all. None of these natural things are cures for my child’s diagnoses. In fact, my kid was just pissed that I was sprinkling her with weird-smelling oil and refusing to give her her favorite granola bar. Supplements did little to nothing for her. An earlier bedtime only resulted in major morning struggles. A weighted blanket, spa music, yoga, and speech therapy can be slightly helpful, but it’s hardly the magical revolution we’ve so desperately prayed and hoped for.
Others have told me just to medicate my child. We also have tried this. Based on genetic test results, we tried an ADHD pill for our child. Despite adjusting the dose and timing several times, the medication made my Daughter more, not less, angry. At times she was catatonic, staring into space. Then when she was triggered, she’d become intensely angry, hitting, punching, kicking, spitting, and biting, not to mention chanting the word “kill” over and over again. This is something she’d never done before the meds. We discontinued the medicine.
I adore my daughter, but she dominates and terrorizes our home at times. Her violent and loud tantrums, which rival those of a two-year-old, can completely change the mood of our whole family. You see, my daughter isn’t the only child in our family. She is, however, the only child with special needs. She requires a lot more attention and supervision than her older and younger siblings.
Then there’s the other side of our daughter, the one everyone adores. She’s an affectionate girl who loves watching Daniel Tiger with her baby brother and helping her dad rake leaves. She will jump into my arms and cover my face with kisses and beg me to read to her. My child can be Jekyll or Hyde. There’s really no in-between. Kids with ADHD are known for their hyperactivity, distractability, hyper-focus, and big emotions.
There are days I’ve dropped my daughter off at school, then pulled my minivan over to sob in the parking lot. I feel like a complete mom failure half of the time. It’s like my self-worth depends on my child’s attitude that day. Just when I figure out something that works, helping my daughter be successful, it stops working. We’re always at square one. It’s exhausting, infuriating, confusing, and disappointing.
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Yes, we have excellent doctors and therapists. (I go to therapy myself.) This isn’t an issue of education or accessibility to resources. My husband and I are well-informed, highly involved parents. We often feel guilty, like if we could just do something different or better, our child will be okay. That’s simply not the case with special needs.
There are seasons when things are going fairly well, and I feel like we’ve turned a corner and won’t be looking back. But every single time, the lucky streak ends, and we’re back to riding the struggle bus. I cry in the shower, then I wipe away my tears and get right back in the game. Giving up on my special needs child isn’t an option. But staying and engaging is a relentless, often thankless, isolating journey.
Other parents can say yes to things like birthday parties and holiday celebrations and vacations. For us to attend any of these–if we’re even invited–takes a tremendous amount of planning. We always have an escape plan, knowing that about half the time, we’ll have to make a quick exit. It’s not fair to our other kids, but our family is a package deal.
I’ve even faced some serious judgment from other parents of kids with special needs. They’ve told me that “at least” my child is potty trained and can talk. It’s as if some parents feel that there’s a special needs’ hierarchy, and instead of voicing my struggles, I need to suck it up and stop complaining. It could be worse, they say.
Many days, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of confusion and despair. Am I enough for my child? Why can’t we figure her out? I’ve convinced myself that I’m exactly the mother she needs, and then the next day I decide that I don’t deserve to be her mom. When I’m down, that’s when I’m kicked the most. Someone will offer me unsolicited advice, such as that my child just needs me to give her a good spanking. I sigh and just keep going.
Parenting kids with invisible special needs, kids who are neurodivergent but don’t look disabled (whatever that means), is draining and puzzling. I feel like I’m usually misunderstood by others, and I’m self-conscious because of it. Like all parents, I just want my child to be successful and happy in life. Right now, I don’t know how we’re going to get there. But I do know that despite all of our struggles, I’m not giving up as much as I want to some days.
The post I Want To Give Up On Parenting My Special Needs Child, But I Won’t appeared first on Scary Mommy.
