“Does your child have any special challenges I should be aware of?”
Two tiny blank lines staring at me, enough for maybe three sentences if I wrote very narrowly. Yes, Aidan is on the autism spectrum, and has a variety of specific learning challenges in the classroom, but there was already an IEP file explaining these things at length. There wasn’t space here to revisit those again.
“Does your child have any special challenges I should be aware of?”
Two tiny blank lines, waiting for me to explain. My face was beginning to flush and I could feel the fog in my brain growing thicker as I grew more and more flustered trying to turn thoughts into words on this cheery yellow paper. The neuropathy in my hands was making it harder to grip the pen and I could see the words on the page start to shift out of focus the longer I tried keep them in view.
“Does your child have any special challenges I should be aware of?”
I scribbled out lightly, “Yes, I have Lyme disease.”
The pen slipped once again from my now tingling fingers. I stared at those two words: Lyme Disease. How could I begin to explain just how much having a disabled parent would impact my child’s school year? My guilt was growing palpable as hot wet tears began to dot the page. How could I tell his new teacher just how much my son has to overcome because his mama simply isn’t like the other moms in his class?
When other children are gently woken by their parents each morning, my son usually uses an alarm to get up for school, just in case mama isn’t fully awake in time.
When other children come downstairs to a hot breakfast, my son often gets himself his own bowl from the cabinet and pours his own cereal, because he does his very best to save mama’s very limited energy for other essential tasks.
When other parents are walking their children to the bus stop and are there waiting when it returns each afternoon, my son walks himself to the corner each morning and walks back each afternoon alone, because we live on a steep hill and mama very quickly runs out of breath and has trouble maneuvering it with her cane on bad days.
When other parents are helping their kids diligently with homework, my son has a mama who can’t always remember things like spelling and math because her neurological symptoms make these tasks difficult at times.
When other parents are volunteering for field trips and class parties and positions on the PTA, my son has a mama who tries desperately to keep her parent teacher conference appointment, but may have to show up looking less than presentable if she’s able to make it at all.
“I have Lyme disease.” Those words were blurred beyond comprehension, and I could no longer tell if it was from the tears filling my eyes or the nerves misfiring in my brain. The guilt was overwhelming, and it was more than I could take. That would have to be enough on that for now. I strained to make out the last question on the sunshine colored page so I could just finish and retreat to my bed.
“What are some of your child’s greatest strengths?”
Empathy. The word came to me almost immediately. Empathy. It was quite incredible for a child on the autism spectrum to be so marked by empathy, but in Aidan’s case it was true. We hear it from teachers, from friends, from …
