I recently discovered a blog,
Everything and Nothing from Essex, written by a mother with two kids: a daughter who is 3 and a son who's 2. Her daughter also has Down Syndrome. She has a sarcastic, self-deprecating humor which I enjoy.
After reading several of her posts, I downloaded both of her ebooks onto my Kindle, and flew through them. She writes the raw, honest truth. I connected with her first book as she expressed the wide gamut of feelings associated with welcoming a baby with Downs into the world.
Her more recent book (
Diapers, Onesies, Stretch-Marks--Oh My!) is more of a commentary on motherhood in general, its challenges, and how we can't be comparing ourselves to other "supermoms" whose lives seem perfectly put-together and Pinterest-documented. It's always encouraging to read about another mom who is struggling with
the challenges of motherhood. It makes me feel better! No one is
perfect. My favorite passage in her book involves a
Trip-to-Costco-from-Hell! And though the author is a mother to a child
with special needs, this peek into her life lets the world know that a
"special" mom is first and foremost just a mom. And all moms are special.
Here's the section from her book that made me want to read the whole thing:
***
Sometimes I just want to be a normal mom. I pretend that I am. I post
blithely as though my two children are more normal than the normalist
of normal (say that ten times really fast). I declare that I’m just like
any other mother. I chime in on conversations as though my story is no
different.
And yet, no one really takes me seriously unless I wear the hat
“special” mom. I write long posts on being a new mother. A few people
nod and smile. I scribble together a post on Down syndrome, and
thousands of people salute and declare me to be some sort of expert.
Um, no. I am not an expert. I am just a mother.
A normal mother...
They call me special because of the specific special needs of my
daughter. And even though I dislike my title, I wouldn’t trade my
daughter for anything, so I hold my head high under the hat of “special”
mom. But in my heart I know the truth. I’m as normal as that setting on
the dryer. I didn’t sweep down in my cape and face mask to motherhood,
nor am I being punished for crimes in a past life.
I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating what it means to be a special
mom. And honestly to each special mom this title will mean something
different because all of our children are different...
Will there be moments when it’s hard? Yes, yes there will. But the
truth is, I have moments like that with my son as well as my daughter.
Having special needs doesn’t hold the claim on hard. It’s simply a part
of life which means it is subjected to all the components of it- good
and bad.
Is it so different in the journey of motherhood to be down the
“special” path? Deep down we’re all the same. We want the same basic
goals for our children. We beat ourselves up over silly mistakes and
project a dim future because of them. We worry about safety and preach
about being careful. We fret over the small and forget about the big. We
remember what our dreams promised us and feel resentful that reality
wasn’t as generous. We love and protect our children fiercely. We
sacrifice whatever we have to give them a good life. We fight for them.
We fight with them. We fight within ourselves for how we mother them.
I think that every mother has that certain something in her life that
makes her “special”. That thing that sets her apart from all other
mothers and that at times seems so difficult that she wonders why she
has it worse than everyone else. It’s something different for all of us.
Money, jobs, family, health, achievements, a child with delays, a child
who is incredibly advanced, a child with health problems, a child with
allergies, a child with behavioral problems, a child who makes bad
choices, a child who doesn’t sleep, a child who- you name it.
So to me, saying “special” mother is like saying “mother” mother
which really is ridiculously redundant. All of us are dealing with
something because no matter which angle you look at that triangle of balancing life, there are sharp edges and hard surfaces.
We’re all normal, imperfect women trying to mother the best we can.
We fight, and we struggle on different things, but we all relish that
extra depth of flavor in the good when motherhood throws it our way.
As a special mother, I don’t want to be considered a saint or pitied
because of unusual things that might be in my path. I want you to see me
in the trenches right beside you, doing my very best with what I’ve
been given in the gift of my children.
Motherhood isn’t easy for any of us. But at the end of the day,
fighting through issues- both mundane and emergent alike- there’s a
fundamental good that comes from the hard work of being a mother that
makes it all unquestionably worth it no matter the specific details of
our story...
Call me a special mom if you must. I understand how that word might
obviously belong to our family. But before you use that word as
permission to set me up on a pedestal or throw me to the wolves, I ask
you to remember that underneath that construction hardhat that declares
SPECIAL is a uniquely normal mother, taking it one day at a time,
raising little people to be kind, loving, thoughtful adults.
Just like any other mother.
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