A mother writes of her young son, who struggles with severe physical handicaps.
My name is Ellen (Ellie) Fitzgerald, and I am the mother of a little boy who has special needs.
My son is named Damon Erik, and he is now six years old. He was born with visual impairments, problems with his co-ordination, and nerve deafness. My son doesn't walk or talk, and he is in a wheelchair. He is suspected to be mentally disabled because he is so behind developmentally from his peers; he goes to a school for children with serious special needs, where he gets one-on-one attention from his teachers and aides.
My son has always had to struggle when other kids seem to fly, and it is heartwrenching to see him crying in frustration as he tries to learn a new task or go to his therapy sessions. I know it is for his own good, but it is still hard, and there have been many days where I have cried right along with him.
Damon is my oldest child. I also have a little girl who is four. Her name is Eagan Danielle, and she is perfectly healthy. She really doesn't understand the ramifications of her older brother's problems; she just knows that he isn't like her, that he can't do very many things for himself, and it makes her sad. She often gets mad and wishes that he wasn't her brother. She wishes for a brother who can see, hear, run around, play, or talk. Damon cannot do any of these things, and it upsets her greatly.
I am a single parent. I was married to the children's father, but he left just after Eagan was born. He also couldn't deal with Damon's health issues, and he just wasn't ready to be a full-time father figure to the children. I have been on my own with the children for the past four years, and it is a struggle to keep food on the table after the bills are paid. I work part time at Fire Mountain as a server, but often it isn't enough to put food on the table, especially if the tips aren't coming in.
I often wish that Damon had been born healthy; it would have been far easier to enjoy him, and it would have made for far less stress than I am facing now. Damon requires a lot of extra attention, and people often get frustrated with him when he misbehaves; he just doesn't understand that he is being bad, and that when he misbehaves, there are repercussions. He thinks that he can get away with murder, and he is one who loves to push my buttons to the point to where I am about to go crazy.
Worse, I sometimes wish I hadn't even birthed Damon. Damon is a enigma: I love him like a tiger loves her cub, but at other times, I hate him because he isn't like his sister (or normal kids), and it makes me crazy to deal with his ongoing medical problems. He is a challenge in the true st sense of the word, and I am only trying to raise him to the best of my ability, even in the light of all his medical problems.
Karen, this is one very, very excellent write, a mother honestly confessing to the turmoil of emotions it takes to raise her children and no blame, even understanding for her husband, who was not willing to deal with his life the way it was. (We'd give him some to think about, scum bag). You have done wondeful job here!
Love, Birgit and Roger
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