But each week I go it's slammed in my face 1) How lucky I am and 2) What a worry-wart I am.
I sit in the waiting room and I watch child after child come through that door. Zane is easily the most well off child. The other children are suffering from Downs, Autism, genetic disorders, physical deformities and the parents look beat down. Yet, there I sit with my smart phone texting with friends while my child learns how to ask for more bananas.
The guilt overwhelms me sometimes.
When children go back with their teachers sometimes the parents talk to me. The truth is I look busy with my phone so I don't have to talk to them. A few conversations that I've had always circle back to "So what's wrong with your kid". I'm too embarrassed to say, well nothing, he's just not talking on a schedule that's quick enough for me.
When the occasional parent does strike up a conversation with me I normally just listen because I'm sure they need to vent to someone. I've learned all the ins and outs of dealing with a seven year old who has downs and still has to wear a diaper. Or a child that is so lost in his own world that he doesn't even allow his parents to hug him.
One little girl is from an adoptive mother who when she received her from the system, the 6 month old had two broken legs and messed up wrists. She had been taken from an abusive mother who lived in a crack house. She still can't roll over or even hold a toy.
Sometimes I wonder if my son's therapy is really for him or it's more for me. Each week as I leave, I count my blessings and remain pretty chill about all things toddler for a few days. I guess everyone needs a little reality shoved in their face once in a while.
No comments:
Post a Comment