Hunter is 7. He was 2 pounds at birth and his story is a
complicated one, to say the least. But oh, it’s a good one! It’s a story full
of surprises and predictability… joy and fear… knowns and unknowns… and
miracles. So many miracles. We hear in the special needs community that our
child’s story isn’t ours to tell… that parts of their story should be private
or told only when and if our children decide to tell them. Maybe this is true…
but I’m starting to think that perhaps time has taught us otherwise as Hunter’s
parents.
Hunter somehow has the greatest joy amidst his 23 medical
specialists and multiple diagnoses that qualify him as ‘special needs’, however
I stand firm in my belief that his hatred for Target is in fact our greatest challenge…
one this Mama continues to build an arsenal of ‘survival techniques’ for on a
weekly basis!
I had such high hopes on that Tuesday morning! We had
successfully gotten through one doctor’s appointment and Hunter was his usual,
joyful self in the car. As I pulled into the parking lot I had my sights set on
that adrenaline filled power-walk through the Target Dollar Spot! We could do
this! Little did I know that today would be a ‘green calculator’ day and not a
‘red one’.
With the red calculator and the tiny hands of my 2 little boys
in my larger ones, we started our trek through the handicapped parking spots
and as I saw those bright red cement balls and double doors getting ready to
welcome me, Hunter stopped mid-stride…. his feet spread in his ‘combat stance’,
his body pulled back ever so slowly until our joined hands were stretched as
far as they could go, and my grip got tighter as he lowered all 50 pounds of
himself on to that brightly painted blue wheelchair on the parking lot pavement
before he let out his combat scream.
Hunter. Was. Ticked.
Now you must understand that our son is non-verbal in the
sense that he has limited words, however our son communicates extremely well.
And very loudly. As his ‘expressiveness’ grew louder on that warm pavement it
was my job to decipher why he was there in the first place. In our normal
routine, Abe and I closed in so we could give him space to express himself
safely. He yelled and carried on for about 274 minutes… ok ok, for 3 minutes
but if you’ve ever been ‘that mom’, standing on the blue wheelchair in the Target
parking lot, you know how long that 3 minutes feels!
As he threw the red
calculator across to the next spot in true ‘hopscotch’ fashion, he communicated
quite clearly that it wasn’t a ‘red day’. I took this time to calmly talk to my
non-verbal son about how we’d walk back to the car when he was finished and get
his green calculator, how I understood that he was frustrated but we needed to
get milk and bread and peanut butter and even some lollipops for a special
treat so we had to find a way to calm down and do our shopping.
All the while I was taking inventory of our surroundings
while trying desperately to push down the intense feelings of failure and
humiliation and even fear that I was feeling as I imagined what we looked like
to those who were observing our moment; the ambulance was parked out front,
meaning that our local paramedics were doing their daily and well-deserved
coffee run…. a sweet older couple was walking to their car…. a mom with a newborn
was headed inside…. a teenager was pulling in and I wondered why she wasn’t in
school… a woman who could be a grandma was talking on her phone in her car….
Hunter started to calm down so I helped him up, fixed the
hearing aid that had come loose, straightened his glasses, gave him a squeeze
to tell him I was proud of him, gave Abe a squeeze and told him I was proud of
him, too, took the hands of my 2 little boys once again, walked quickly back to
the car to get the green calculator, and headed into the store where we
bypassed the Dollar Spot and forgot to get the milk…. but we made it! On our
way out of the store about 472 minutes later… ok ok, about 13 minutes later…
that woman who could be a grandma stopped me at the double doors;
“Here it comes… ” I thought to myself.
“You did a great job, Mom. Those boys are so lucky that God
chose you to be their mom.”
The laundry list of what I could and should have done better
was already running through my head… it had been for over 16 minutes. Her words
soothed my anxious heart and gave me the nerve to walk across that blue painted
wheelchair one more time and get my boys home.
Here’s what I’ve learned; our son tells his own story well…
and your sweet thing probably does too! Whether it’s his hearing aids, her glasses,
a wheelchair, braces on his legs, a speech impediment, a turn of the head or
silly sounds they make, that swim diaper or life jacket at the pool on a child
who seems a little too old, the repetitive noises, or the tantrums on the blue painted
wheelchair, they are true story tellers. But the story they’re telling is a
hard one to tell without someone to fill in the blanks…. the details. It is so
tempting at times for me to push down the frustration I feel when I know
someone ‘just doesn’t get it’…. but then I have to ask myself if I’ve given
them a chance to.
A few weeks ago we ‘introduced’ our Hunter to our community
on social media. It was terrifying. But the truth is, Hunter is the best
story-teller… we’re just doing our best to build our arsenal of tools so we can
create a life for him that is safe, full, and understood. We’re filling in the
details of the story he is already telling.
You were chosen to be this precious child’s parent…. everyone
else was chosen to be their community. Come alongside your child and tell that
amazing story… let your Village in on the details. Give that “could- be grandma”
a chance to see that it’s just a green calculator day and not a red one… and give yourself and that sweet baby of
yours a chance to soak up the safety, encouragement, and understanding she has
to offer when she has just a few more details to go on. Those green calculator
days don’t feel so lonely when your community is in on the secret… and those red
calculator days are that much sweeter!
Lindsay Smith is wife to Joey, Mama to 5 babies; 3
heartgrown through adoption, 1 homegrown through biology, and 1 waiting in Heaven. She is an advocate for special
needs parenting, open adoption, miscarriage, and every Mama … because we all
need just a little extra grace. "From His fullness we have all recieved grace upon grace." John 1:16. She writes and tells stories at On Loan FromHeaven on Facebook and at www.OnLoanFromHeaven.com
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