Parenting

Spending this past week with my sister and my niece has reminded me of how demanding being a parent of a young child can be. I am glad I am through those years, I don’t have the energy for a young child 24/7 anymore – though perhaps Lizzie was more demanding than average. Still, when you become a parent you have to be willing to bring up whatever child you are given. You don’t get to say, “I want a child, but only a sweet intelligent and lively little girl!” So, I believe it’s an activity better taken on by people closer to 25 than 50! However, I don’t for a minute regret having kids.

David is 25, Stephen is 23, and both are very grown up and independent. David is working, owns a house and a dog, lives with his girlfriend. Stephen is still a grad student, but financially on his own. I see them less than I’d like to of course, but at least now I like to think they see me because they want to, not because they are required. Stephen didn’t have to come down last weekend, and the fact that he did consequently has more meaning as a result.

The women I know who have disabilities and have grown-up children, seem to have good relationships with those children. They all appear to have become responsible adults, well enough adjusted, with the same range of problems and difficulties as those with non-disabled parents. I don’t know what these young adults have gained or lost overall, there’s no way to know what they would have been like if their mom could play soccer with them, or hike in the mountains with them. I suspect that at the time, they might have had some complaints, but now they would say they weren’t an issue anymore.

Like all children everywhere, they grow up to love their parents as they are. When children are really little they have no concept of their parents as being flawed, but just of being there. The realization of the limitations of their disabled parent comes in later, when there is a growing awareness of other kids and their families. My first husband, the boys’ father, is not white. Ranjan comes from Sri Lanka, a small country near the tip of India, and his skin is a dark brown. For all I know their first awareness of difference with friends was more connected to being of mixed race than of being the child of a person with a disability. I should ask them sometime what age they were when they first saw me as different, and also how old they were when they realized it didn’t matter, or if they ever had those thoughts consciously at all.

I believe the biggest challenge for a PWD who wants to be a parent, is not the parenting itself, but a lack of confidence. Before David was born, I remember worrying about not being able to pick my kid up, to get him to come when I called or that he would run from me, to give him a bath. What you forget is that you are not alone. Even single parents need not be alone. You make yourself resourceful, and find ways around challenges.

I could make a long list of tasks I had a hard time with, and then how we coped with them. Hard for me to get out of the car? – so I found preschools where I could drop my child off without my having to get out of the car, where the staff would check them in at the curb for me. Trouble with wheeling over sand, and into playgrounds? - I found playgroups where other parents were willing to retrieve my child off the top of a jungle gym, or out of a sandbox when he had scraped his shin. Worried about them running off? - I carried my kids on my lap till they were 3 or 4, belted in so they couldn’t fall off, and then later used a leash till they were about 5. I found a narrow beach with a flat cement sidewalk near the beach for me to sit while they played in the sand. I could see them at all times, and there was a lifeguard. Oshkosh overalls are great for picking up toddlers by the back of their pants. A totally baby-proofed house means that the house is effectively a giant playpen, and then you don’t have to chase after a child to keep them safe and out of harm’s way. Ranjan had bath duty.

It’s possible that having a parent with a disability may have given my children some benefits as well. They had to tolerate my taking longer to do some things, learning patience. They have a greater sense of architectural barriers than the average person because there were times that they couldn’t go somewhere because of a lack of parking. And they learned to be more self-sufficient younger, when mom couldn’t get into the bathrooms with them.

It was not always easy. I remember one time I was going to a dermatologist, and the accessible entrance door was locked. I believe David was about 7 or 8 and he was with me that day, and I wanted him to go in the main entrance, say his mom used a wheelchair and the door was locked and come back out. This was before cell phones, for now I’d just call the office and tell them myself! But then, he fussed so, and I never did know what worried him, but he got himself over it and went in on his own and survived it.

Or from the other side, it wasn’t always easy for me. If there wasn’t parking I could use, and I wanted milk - I’d head to a 7-Eleven so that I could park where I could see the cashier, and then let Stephen run in to get the milk – hoping there would be no mishaps, and that he could handle the money ok. It seemed to me that a child who had difficulty getting a heavy door to the convenience store open must not be old enough to make a purchase there, but then we’d not have milk that night either. And except for my anxiety about letting him out of my reach, it really was a task he could do.

My kids learned to do their own laundry and to pump gas younger than their peers, but I don’t think any of these kinds of tasks were asked of them before they were capable of handling them.

Overall, I believe most anyone with a disability can be a good parent if they want to. You may need to be a little more resourceful to find solutions to problems, and may need to rely on others for assistance. But if you show your child love, and are there when they need support, and show them that you are not limiting their own activities because of your limitations, they will thrive. Just because someone can walk, doesn’t meant they will play soccer, and a child interested in soccer most likely needs a team and a coach more than an adult playmate.

I loved being a mom of school age children, all those years from about 4 – 12. Not that I didn’t like the other years also (still like being a mom of adult children!), but those middle years were so much fun. So much curiosity and energy, and trust in the world. I’m looking forward to grandkids one day, not too soon, but I hope I do get a chance to watch my kids have kids.