What is there to say? I can tell you for a fact that I spent every night whilst pregnant praying for a healthy child. I could not have cared less for gender, looks or intelligence. I just wanted a healthy child.
I was always extremely aware of the risks throughout pregnancy and thereafter. Maybe that’s why I have been given a child with special needs and various medical conditions. Maybe I was far too aware of the risks, too cautious or too worrying.
I’ll more than likely be looking for an answer indefinitely, but ultimately I will never know.
Honestly, I say I wouldn’t change Oliver for the world. It’s something all parents say isn’t it? Regardless of whether your child has additional needs or not. But I would change him. I’d change him in a heartbeat. Does that make me a bad mum? Does it make me selfish? Quite possibly. Most definitely.Initially I think this feeling stemmed from fear. Fear of the unknown or fear of my own failure or inadequacy to parent a child with additional needs.
Believe me, the guilt of feeling this way is punishment enough. But I really would, I would give absolutely anything for him to be ‘normal’. For him to be able to experience the wonders of the world, to be able to make friends and laugh at jokes. To want to strive and succeed at something. To sit around a dinner table and partake in conversation and eat food independently. To live life to the fullest. No limits.
I want him to have it all and I want him to have it now.
I want him to wake up tomorrow and say mum for the first time rather than grunt or squeal, and actually embrace me back when I pick him up. I want him to actively plant a kiss on my cheek or intentionally grab my glasses from my face in jest. I want him to look at me and for me to know undoubtedly that he knows I’m his Mumma and that he loves me.
People tell me endlessly that the way he looks at me is different to others. I nod and smile and allow myself to indulge in this fantasy for a second. Then I’ll be on my own and reality sets in. He has no stranger awareness or separation anxiety. But he looks at me so lovingly and I become conflicted; then again he looks at everyone lovingly …
Maybe it’s a blessing that he is the way he is. After all, the world becomes a crueler, merciless, more unforgiving place day by day. He is blissfully ignorant. Completely clueless. Away with the fairies.
Nevertheless, he is happy. Which I suppose is all any parent wants for their child and that is all that matters. Happiness. So, I am thankful. Truly and completely thankful for being blessed with the gift of motherhood and having a happy child who doesn’t want for anything.
Oliver has made me a better and a more selfless person, I have found an inner strength I didn’t even know existed. I cannot thank him enough.
It’s all for you my darling.