Category: parenting

  • A letter to my son, a sibling to a child with a disability

    A letter to my son, a sibling to a child with a disability

    There’s this saying if you want to know how to treat a child with a disability or special needs, watch their sibling.

    Today after school I chatted with a mom who has a child with Down Syndrome in third grade. We’ll call him M. Ashlynn my daughter is in the integrated learning center program with him though she is in 4th grade, but they frequently see each other in the resource room. This mom and I have a lot in common and so it was good to catch up on a brisk but sunny day in The Mile-High City.

    My son who is in 2nd grade, darted off to play on the playground with the other kids whose parents were letting them play after school. Ashlynn and M played near us before finally going off to also play on the playground independently.

    This mom and I were talking about things parents who have kids with special needs/disabilities always do. Increasing independence. IEP’s. SPED teachers. Para support. Special needs camp. Opportunities for inclusion. Peer socialization. Basically none of the same things parents who don’t have children with unique needs talk about and so when you find someone in your tribe there is a lot ot catch up on.

    On the topic of peer socialization, we also had a lot in common. With other special needs kids our children our both leaders and outgoing. The problem lies with other “neurotypical” kids in society where it seems more difficult for them.

    As we looked out on the playground, our two kids were playing happily on the slide with each other, but completely isolated from the other kids. All the other kids (including my son) of all ages were all playing with each other on the swings or on the blacktop. It was a perfect visual example of what we were in fact just talking about. I embarassedly remarked that even my son it seemed excluded them.

    She was kind and laughed it off saying, “In his defense, he has to be around his sister all the time.”

    The mom then begain telling me that some kids in M’s class had asked about Down Syndrome one day when she was there. She said they asked questions like “how did he get it?” The tone of their voice made her think they thought maybe you could “catch it” from being around him. My mind instantly flashed back to an apraxia awareness day event I had with a 5th grade student with apraxia who asked Ashlynn’s 2nd grade class who thought they could “catch it like a cold” and every child raised their hand.

    I told her as much and we remarked that instead of OUR kids needing the socialization, perhaps it was the OTHER kids needing more education on those who have differences.

    That’s when we looked back to the playground. All the other kids were still on the swings and blacktop playing and interacting with each other. Our kids with unique needs were still isolated by themselves on the slide. But something was different. Something that brought tears to my eyes.

    My son Jace was on the slide with them. He was playfully giggling and engaging with both M and my daughter and they were all smiling and having the best time. From a distance it would have been impossible to tell there was a neurotypical kid, a kid with Down Syndrome, and a kid with a genetic mutation. From a distance there were just three kids playing on the slide.

    Siblings. So wise. So authentic.

    Literally one of the proudest days of my life being Jace’s mom.

    Jace has it hard. He does. It’s not easy street being the sibling to a child who seemingly gets so much more attention. But today, I remembered that every situation can break us, or teach us and in turn, we can teach the world the lesson we learned through our example.

  • Thank you for choosing me to be your mom

    Thank you for choosing me to be your mom

    It’s Halloween, 2018.  You are a freshly turned nine-year old.  You are 9 years old. My mind immediately repeats a phrase from my dad,

    “Mr. Baskall, here’s your little baby girl.”

    I remember I would roll my eyes and scoff at him.

    “Ugh dad!” I would lament as he looked at me with eyes brimming with pride.

    I don’t have any words to describe or memorialize your entrance into this world, but I have your pictures.

    Halloween, 2009 was the most magical holiday that I have ever experienced.  It was the first holiday I ever experienced as a mom.  I was a mom.

    I was a mom!!

    On Halloween’s prior, the entire holiday was full of self-entitlement, but the Halloween of 2009 was full of something completely different.  I had given life to the most beautiful angel.

    My normally highlighted hair was brown, which is actually my natural color.  I had diligently not dyed my hair while pregnant with Ashlynn to ensure no harmful chemicals crossed my scalp, into my bloodstream, crossing the placenta and then hurting my baby.  I remember taking every precaution to ensure I had the healthiest baby my body could possibly produce.  An avid craft beer drinker from Colorado, I would refuse to even take a sip while pregnant.  I ate my lunch meat warm to avoid lysteria and eliminated all caffeine so my developing fetus was never exposed to any stimulant in utero.  I wore an industrial style mask when I painted her baby room to ensure she was exposed to no harmful fumes.

    So confident was I in ensuring I had followed every caution and recommendation, the thought never even once crossed my mind I would have a child with any sort of developmental delay.

    Life sure answered back with a big middle finger and boisterous laugh at that one.

    Every Halloween though, I become nostalgic.  I remember that new mom holding that tiny baby in her cute onesie with the pumpkin bum and beaming with pride.  I remember my husband dutifully reporting to work each day, but taking time to hold, hug, kiss and fawn over the tiny human we had somehow created together.

    I remember my heart being so full I thought it could actually burst from the amount of love that it was trying to contain inside.  Every Halloween, ironically, reminds me just what a GIFT life actually is. Yes, this day of the dead reminds me of how lucky any of us are to actually live.  Halloween always reminds me of how blessed I was to have a baby.

    I had no idea then, all the challenges life had in store for Ashlynn.  When I look at that picture, I see the instant connection a mother has to her child.  Our eyes are fixated on each other, and I know she trusted me to be the person to never give up on her.  I remember what an honor it is that Ashlynn chose me to be her mom, and I renew my commitment to never, ever, EVER, give up on her.

    I love you Ashlynn Kay.  Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.  I hope I never let you down.