Parenting a child with special needs is an undeniable challenge. As parents to children with complex needs, we carry a lifelong emotional and physical toll that I strive to suppress on a daily basis. Most days, I succeed with that goal, but today, the feelings are hitting me with a force I cannot suppress.
Yesterday marked Brantley's final day of school before Christmas break. Sending off my little bundle of energy to his class party, he radiated excitement.
But, unlike his brother, I don’t get to know how his party went—whether they crafted or if he liked the games they played. These events, the ones I know Brantley anticipates, intensify the pain of being unable to glean details from him. I yearn to know if his class party met his expectations and if he enjoyed the cookies I sent. I wonder if there was a tinge of sadness as he left school, knowing he wouldn't return to his favorite place for two weeks. Like many parents of nonverbal children, my only glimpse into these unseen moments is a picture—a picture where I couldn’t see his face to determine if he was having as much fun as he anticipated.
In Raising Brantley, numerous moments elude me. While Brantley has an amazing ability to communicate without words, the nuances of each day, the occurrences that happen in my absence remain a mystery—those are the details I so desperately long to unravel.
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