A friend came to visit while I was sick. I tried to stay away, but she poo-pooed that idea. I met her twins—a boy and a girl—for the first time (at least it was the first time I could remember). They’re fifteen months old and their adventures made it perfectly clear that our house was no longer baby-proof.
Over ten years ago, I went on a journey of discovery. I found Birth to Three, I found a doctor to diagnose first one son, then another. I navigated IFSPs and IEPs. I wrangled with diagnoses, labels, and services. And now I see this friend beginning a similar journey.
She knows she’s “different” and she has received diagnoses of disabilities for herself. Now, she’s seeing herself repeated in her daughter and she’s seeing other traits that are duplicated but different in her son. They both have developmental delays, though they started services early enough that they’re “almost caught up.” They both have sensory issues and may or may not have autism, Asperger’s, and/or epilepsy. (I didn’t see any pronounced signs of any of these diagnoses.)
This woman’s situation is complicated by the lack of a spouse, an antagonistic “support system,” and the involvement of social services. As a person with disabilities, she was vulnerable to the maneuverings of people who wanted CPS to remove her children from her home. Now, she’s taking the hard road back to regaining custody.
Hers is a different journey than mine in many ways. There are things Mark and I have no experience in. There are other things that we do know more about than she does. We can share the wisdom of our experiences. We can empathize with her frustrations and her struggles. We can remind her that, above else, her first job is to acknowledge that her children are different, that it’s okay that they’re different, and that focusing on what is and isn’t normal is not the best way to serve her children.
We can be for her the friend we didn’t have when our children were that little. It seems small, but it’s something that means a lot, at least to us.