Parenthood

ofcourseitsmyhead:

Being a parent with a disability is an incredible experience. And I don’t necessarily mean that in a good way.

Sometimes, it means that your child will see you throw a temper tantrum over toppling a plastic cup. Because that plastic cup falling over was the last thing you needed after waking up too early, not eating enough, changing so many outfits, and putting everything else first.

Sometimes, it means that your child will see you sobbing on the floor for what looks like no reason, and then they will come to your side and offer comfort because they’ve been there too. And they don’t even know that grown-ups should have a ‘better handle’ on crying. They just know that mommy is sad, so let’s hug her and be close because that might make her feel better. Most of the time, it does.

Sometimes, it means that your child will ask you if they can hug you when they see you slump, because they know something’s up before you do. A teeny little hug can make an entire day better, of course.

Sometimes, it means that your child starts to sob hysterically because they’re scared of the machine daddy’s putting on mommy’s back. They don’t know it’s supposed to make mommy better, or that it’s harmless to them. They just know mommy’s plugged into something and it looks weird.

Sometimes it means that you can’t pick up your kids even if you want to, because the physical pain is like torture. Even if it’s not hurting now, it’ll hurt later, and you know it.

Sometimes, it means that you can’t be a parent for a day or two. And you still love your kids, even if they’re consuming more energy than you have to give.