What Happens When You Leave Holland?

It’s no coincidence that my posting went from sporadic to regular around the time we started having Graham evaluated on the way to his autism diagnosis. I needed a place to talk about it and gradually the blog was somewhere I felt more and more comfortable expressing how I felt.

It became very important to me to write about it honestly because I felt like I didn’t have a chance to see much of that in others. I didn’t want to feel alone and I didn’t want others to feel alone either.

Last night I got a comment from the parent of a non-verbal child. Usually these comments make me feel if not good, then at least useful. But lately it makes me feel like a traitor.

I know that sounds strange, but here’s the thing. We’re not even a full year into our journey. Graham has only had his diagnosis for 8 months. We have great doctors. We have great therapists. We haven’t had any problems getting access to care. We’re already working on getting his IEP ready when he ages into school over the summer.

And it’s not just that. The thing is Graham is doing really well. Really well. He’s gone from practically non-verbal (unless you count uh-oh and quack) to pretty darn verbal (I’d bet his vocabularly is inching ever closer to 100 words). His social skills have gone through the roof. He still has challenges (he doesn’t ever answer questions like “What do you want?” but sticks to yes or no answers) but he communicates well enough that life isn’t so hard.

He’s happy. He has fun. He likes to give kisses. He likes to cuddle.

As for me, I’m down to one psychiatrist visit a month. And I just had to cancel this month’s and feel totally okay about it. Things have definitely changed.

And while these things make me feel incredibly good, I also feel bad.

There are two things I feel bad about. First, I feel bad that it took having a happy, verbal child for me to learn how to enjoy my child and my life. I wish I could’ve been as invested in him when he struggled instead of feeling overcome and overwhelmed myself.

Second, I feel bad because it seems there might be a possibility that we don’t have to live in the Special Needs Universe forever. Sure, it’s exciting for us. It’s what we’ve hoped for. But it makes me feel like I’m leaving all the connections I’ve made with other special needs parents behind.

It’s like you take Welcome to Holland and give just a small number of people a special visa to get the heck out of there. Who wouldn’t take it? But, as weird as it sounds, I feel a little bit like I’m betraying the people I’ve been with.

None of this is for sure yet. We could easily have years of therapy ahead. But what if we don’t? What if Graham matriculates into a normal classroom? What if, in the years ahead, our struggle with special needs becomes a faint memory?

I like to think that it’s left an indelible mark. I like to think that in the last year I’ve gained more perspective on parenting than I thought was possible. I hope that’s true. Because as terrible as it can be, it’s also enlightening in a way most people never get to experience.

So, in case you were wondering, parenting still involves completely irrational guilt.

Related Posts:

• Preschool PreFreakout
• So Long, 2011
• Some Heavenly Peace