The Square Peg

It isn’t always easy to be the mama of a “square peg” child in a “round hole” society. We tend to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, as if it were solely ours to bear – and on some occasions, it is.

We see things beyond the surface. Words have deeper meaning – we can read between the lines, and hear whether they are genuinely spoken or not.

We overthink – like crazy.

We never stop working towards making sure our kids have the same opportunities as those who the basics of life come more naturally too. We fight for services. We fight for education. We fight for acknowledgement. We fight for recognition – not ours personally, but that of our children.

We yearn deeply for them to find their circle – their place in this world. To be a part of a club or a team and not be the odd ball out. To truly find a place where “all-inclusive” exists.

We keep files of medical reports, tests, and follow-ups. We have multiple doctors office phone numbers saved on our phones, and emergency action plans readily available when requested. There’s a schedule of medications, upcoming appointments, changes in appetites, changes in bathroom activity, moods, meltdowns, breakdowns, progress, handwriting samples, reading logs, assessments… and on the outside, it looks very organized – on the inside, it’s two overcooked chicken nuggets away from mama having a nervous breakdown.

But we keep going.

We try to make sure that we share our attention fully with our other children, and most importantly, our husbands. But on more than one occasion, someone gets the short end of the stick. We don’t mean to zone out when we hear our loved ones talk about their day, or their new favorite video game, activity, or weekend plans. But we’ve always got one ear tuned in on our little anomaly. And while we’re really good at multitasking, we stink at focusing.

We want to have meaningful friendships – we really do want to go out for a “girl’s night”. But we’re tired, mentally and emotionally. And the bottomline is, all we’re going to do is sit there feeling guilty about not being home with our family. But trust me, we try really hard to relax and have fun – it just doesn’t always come as quickly as it used to.

We worry. Oh my goodness, do we worry! We check to make sure that they are still breathing when they sleep, no matter how old they are. We worry about whether or not they’re being picked on by their peers. We worry wondering if they will ever get a job, get married, drive a car, move out on their own, be independent, learn to control their emotions and impulses, learn basic safety measures – like not touching a hot oven, or not running out into traffic, or not going with their weird stranger who asked them to help find their missing puppy. We legit need therapy, like regularly.

But we have faith.

Even in our worry, we have faith in the Good Lord that He will help our littles overcome the obstacles in their path. That He will help us be the best mamas that we can be for these precious lives He’s entrusted us with. We know that He will never leave us, nor forsake – no matter how difficult things may seem at the time.

We learn. We learn so much – from medical terminology, to trusting our guts, to having our eyes opened by seeing the world through the eyes of our children. We learn to be kinder, to not judge quite as quickly as we did once before. We learn that the English language is unnecessarily complicated, and literally doesn’t make any sense at all, when we have to dig deeper into more than the surface of the word to help our struggling reader learn how to read.

We no longer take things for granted.

And lastly – we love. We love more than we ever knew was humanly possible. We love with every fiber the weaves to life our existence. The weight of this world is heavy, and our shoulders get tired – but we wouldn’t change one single piece of it, because we know that we are blessed to have been chosen to be the mamas of these uniquely carved precious gem that the Lord created. We are better people because of it – and we are strong.