Swimming in the Ocean
I've started comparing the emotional journey of parenting a special needs child to swimming in the ocean.
When your child is born/diagnosed it's like being thrown in. You may know how to swim in the calm waters of a swimming pool or maybe you just know the basics of treading water, but either way, those skills are only marginally helpful when swimming in the ocean. The first wave hits you and you go under getting drug around by the current, losing track of where you started. But eventually you pop up for air and start to reorient yourself. Before you've been able to really grasp what just happened to you, another wave hits and you're under water, floundering yet again.
Wave after wave hits you (missed milestones, birthdays, looks from strangers, assessments, lost friendships...), exhausting you, and challenging you to just keep coming up for air. But you start to learn that eventually the current will ease and you will be able to breathe again. You turn away from the beach you started on and look out at the ocean. The waves don't stop coming, but you learn to anticipate them. You start bracing for impact as they get close. After enough waves hit, you even learn to dive into the waves before they knock you down. You learn to breathe deeply in the lull between the waves. It will never be as easy as swimming in a pool, but there is a somewhat predictable rhythm to the struggle.
Occasionally you get distracted looking back at the beach envying those who are casually sunbathing while you are exhausted from working to stay above water. Then a wave will catch you from behind and drag you down, floundering again. But you are stronger now than you were when you started swimming out here and you've learned how the tide works so you recover faster than you did in the beginning.
The endlessness of the ocean in front of you can get overwhelming and the exhaustion of never fully stopping working to stay afloat can be overpowering. But when you take a moment and look around, you can see other people ahead who have been out here much longer than you and are still afloat. Their presence assures you that you too will survive this and maybe even learn to thrive in these waters. They show you how to float on your back between the waves. While you're floating, waiting for the next wave to hit, you look up and are awed by the beauty of the stars, their light unobstructed out here, and you reflect on how different you are now than when you started swimming.
When your child is born/diagnosed it's like being thrown in. You may know how to swim in the calm waters of a swimming pool or maybe you just know the basics of treading water, but either way, those skills are only marginally helpful when swimming in the ocean. The first wave hits you and you go under getting drug around by the current, losing track of where you started. But eventually you pop up for air and start to reorient yourself. Before you've been able to really grasp what just happened to you, another wave hits and you're under water, floundering yet again.
Wave after wave hits you (missed milestones, birthdays, looks from strangers, assessments, lost friendships...), exhausting you, and challenging you to just keep coming up for air. But you start to learn that eventually the current will ease and you will be able to breathe again. You turn away from the beach you started on and look out at the ocean. The waves don't stop coming, but you learn to anticipate them. You start bracing for impact as they get close. After enough waves hit, you even learn to dive into the waves before they knock you down. You learn to breathe deeply in the lull between the waves. It will never be as easy as swimming in a pool, but there is a somewhat predictable rhythm to the struggle.
Occasionally you get distracted looking back at the beach envying those who are casually sunbathing while you are exhausted from working to stay above water. Then a wave will catch you from behind and drag you down, floundering again. But you are stronger now than you were when you started swimming out here and you've learned how the tide works so you recover faster than you did in the beginning.
The endlessness of the ocean in front of you can get overwhelming and the exhaustion of never fully stopping working to stay afloat can be overpowering. But when you take a moment and look around, you can see other people ahead who have been out here much longer than you and are still afloat. Their presence assures you that you too will survive this and maybe even learn to thrive in these waters. They show you how to float on your back between the waves. While you're floating, waiting for the next wave to hit, you look up and are awed by the beauty of the stars, their light unobstructed out here, and you reflect on how different you are now than when you started swimming.
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