I have a terrible flaw. Well, I have many flaws, but one of my worst is that I am constantly making comparisons and, far too often, I allow those comparisons to dominate my thinking. Lately, it has been about the progress Gabriel makes, in school, relationships, life. I see other kids with Down Syndrome making such huge gains, and pass him up in terms of academic skills, and social skills, and it breaks my heart. Then I torture myself near daily with self doubt about whether I am doing right by him. This was going to be a new week for us. I had everything planned to get us back on track after some very difficult months. So, of course, that plan went right out the window first thing this morning. Gabriel got up and went to make his usual breakfast of Life cereal and milk, only to discover we were out of milk. We were out of a lot of things, as it turned out. The important thing is that Gabriel is a boy for whom structure and routine is obsessively important. We simply could NOT get on with our day until he had his cereal and milk, so off to the grocery store we went.
It was good trip, he was extremely helpful in selecting fruits and vegetables and finding the things we need. We were chatting and productive. Then, when we went back to one aisle to grab something I had forgotten, I met a kind lady who, in the course of two minutes altered my entire way of thinking, and shifted me back to the track I should have been on. I think I was on it once, but I had lost my way.
The conversation was short. She said to me "Your daughter is beautiful." I smiled and said "Thank you. His name is Gabriel." She apologized for calling him a girl and I told her it was not a problem, since I was the one who chose to keep his hair long. Then she told me "My daughter was like your son," and as she got tears in her eyes, she added "I miss her so much." Her daughter had lived to the age of 44. We both fought back tears and we hugged. She told me how smart she thought Gabriel was, and how impressed she was with his clear speech. She said her daughter had always had trouble with speech. Her daughter, of course, was born in a different era. In all likelihood, her daughter was hampered more by lack of support and services, than she was by her extra chromosome. None of that really matters, though. All that matter is that she loved her daughter so much, and she didn't have her here anymore. Despite the improved health outcomes for people with Down Syndrome, it is possible, even likely, that I too, will outlive my son. So does it really matter is he is learning as quickly as the others? Does it matter if he faces more challenges? I don't think so anymore. As long as I make sure he knows every day how loved he is. (I am ashamed to admit I have not been good at that over the last couple of months). What matters is that I have him here, with me, NOW.
I wish I had asked her name. I owe her my thanks for reminding me to enjoy him, enjoy our life together, here and now. I needed to stop letting all my anxiety over what-may-be dictate so much of our daily life, and she finally gave me the kick I needed to get my head back on straight. So tomorrow, we have a dentist appointment and school. Whatever school work we get done will be good enough, because we can start again the next day. Together.
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