I thought we had more time—time before others would start noticing my son’s unique traits. I can handle the sympathetic glances from adults; I see those almost daily. There’s the “Oh, bless your heart, sweetie. You’ve got this” smile from the kind lady in the grocery store, the judgmental stares from onlookers when my son struggles at the mall, and the relieved expressions from other parents at the pool, grateful that their kids don’t face similar challenges.
But I wasn’t ready for children to react to my son’s special needs at such a young age. He isn’t even four years old yet! I thought we had more time. I wished for more time. I should have prayed for more time.
Yesterday, we were enjoying a lovely afternoon in the park when we spotted three little girls racing through the play structure, their dark pigtails bouncing as they squealed with laughter. They couldn’t have been older than five, all decked out in bright colors, their joy echoing throughout the park.
I noticed them watching my son as he jumped, spun, and expressed his excitement the only way he knows how—through jubilant vocalizations. His shouts of joy indicated he was having a blast. But then it happened.
As the girls dashed past him, one of them touched his arm, and another shouted, “Weird!” before they all burst into laughter and ran away. Time froze—not for the other families enjoying the park, nor for my son, who continued his happy antics as if nothing had shifted—but for me. In that moment, the weight of reality hit me hard: he is different, and yes, other kids notice.
Have you ever felt an emotional weight so heavy that it takes your breath away for a split second? It’s overwhelming, my friends.
No one quite prepares you for the heartache that comes with being a parent—the ache of loving someone more than yourself, and the fierce urge to protect that tiny being from the world. When you’re a parent to a child with special needs, those feelings are magnified. They have to be; it’s part of the job description.
I can’t shield my son from the sadness that exists out there—none of us can. However, I can ensure he knows he is loved for who he is, that he is accepted, that he’s not “weird,” and that being different is nothing to be ashamed of.
As my son slid down with a joyful grin, I enveloped him in a big hug and whispered, “You are my sunshine. Before you came into my life, I missed you. Mama loves you as big as the universe.”
Deep down, I trust he hears me, even if he can’t articulate a response. I know my words resonate louder than the misunderstandings of others. And that’s enough for me.
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Summary:
Parenting a child with special needs can bring unexpected heartaches, especially when faced with societal perceptions and the reactions of children. It’s crucial to create an environment where that child feels loved and accepted for who they are, regardless of the world’s judgments.