A Day at the Park

by Pam Wilson

When my children were very small, I would sometimes need to strap one in a carrier and put the other in a stroller to escape to the playground of our neighborhood park.

My daughter was content to swing in a toddler swing next to her baby brother and most afternoons we had the playground to ourselves. Every visit I would try to entice my daughter to try other playground equipment, in the hope that they would also qualify for early intervention exercises for her brother.

One day I recognized a woman I had met a year earlier at a Mommy and Me class with my daughter, trying to catch up to her little girl who was running to the playground. Within five minutes, her daughter had covered every option in the play yard.

A great well of sadness and defeat filled me up as I watched that other child put the equipment through its paces. I gritted my teeth as the other mother approached me. She had been looking at my children lolling at the swings and had not recognized me at first.

It took every bit of energy I had to greet her cordially. She said she had not heard I had a second baby, and congratulated me on my son. It was obvious she did not notice he had Down syndrome and I was determined to pack both my kids up and leave before that topic came up.

I did have the courtesy to admire her daughter's mastery of the playground equipment. To my surprise, the other mother started crying.

She had also come to the park out of desperation.

Her daughter had been diagnosed with hyperactivity. She had been referred to a specialist in the disorder and had just spent an hour in the small waiting room with her daughter. She kept repeating that he was supposed to be an expert on hyperactivity, so it was just plain cruel to keep them waiting.

She had to take her daughter away before the doctor could see her. And she thought that the playground would be empty so her daughter could run around for a couple of hours and try to get over being confined in the waiting room.

The other mom apologized for not greeting me sooner, but she said all she could see were two calm and quiet children enjoying an afternoon in the park just like they were supposed to do. And even though she had liked me at the Mommy and Me class, she just didn't want to have to explain that her daughter had a diagnosis.

We had quite a good chat after that, and I remember that both of us laughed, often at the expense of medical professionals and early intervention staff. You may think I learned a good lesson from this encounter, but it has been a lesson I have had ample opportunity to learn through other experiences, and have not succeeded yet.

Biography Welcome to the SoulSupporter.com website. I am glad you are here. You may feel the weight of the world on your shoulders today, or you may just want to be among others who understand the joy, pride, absurdity and delight we do still know, without having to explain it to those who believe those emotional states must be a contradiction in families like ours. It seems as though all of my mothering life has gone on while I was a bit off balance, caught up in the small details of the day when I meant for it to be a well planned and slightly controlled journey toward reasonable and specific goals. The self image I had grown from being a university student, holding substantial jobs, seeking justice and equity, and socializing with my peers, seemed to fall away when I first held my daughter and felt her breath on my skin. The world seemed to see me as a different person, like I was born into a second and unequal new life, but I did not have much time to think about that, because I was fascinated by the number of questions and concerns I had that were not among the priorities I stacked up before she was born. I scarcely knew who I was, and wanted to know everything about who my daughter might be, and how to do everything 'just right' so she would reach her "highest potential." But I was very uncertain how to bathe her, and her adventures with fingernails and my clipping them were beyond my abilities to tolerate or comprehend. My childbirth education instructor saved my life when I asked her whether my daughter was 'colicky' and she told me, "No, not if she ever smiles." Being deliriously in love with my baby and totally fascinated by every expression, sound and movement she made helped get me through the hardest times. My education and work experience, not so much. When I was pregnant with my second child, I thought I'd learned enough to avoid the uncertainties and worries I felt when his sister was a newborn. But instead of a 'natural' birth, he had to be delivered via C-section. And he came with an extra chromosome. He developed jaundice, so he could not 'room in' with me. I dragged myself down to the nursery because I needed to touch and hold him, and when I picked him up found he was attached by wires to a heart monitor. It has only gone downhill, and then up, and then down again, and up, from there. No matter where you are right now, I'm glad you have found SoulSupporter.com, and I hope you will share your story with us, here. Special Needs Children Help and Information http://www.bellaonline.com/site/specialneedschildren The Special Needs Children website at BellaOnline.com offers information, resources and support for families raising children with special needs, developmental disabilities or delays, chronic health conditions and physical challenges. Articles also reflect the interests and concerns of advocates, teachers and other education professionals, medical support staff, human services and emergency response personnel, design professionals, community activists, friends, neighbors and extended family. Pam Wilson's articles have appeared in Northwest Baby and Child, Mothering Magazine, and the Northwest Ethnic News. She is a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley.