A family in Tennessee writes about raising children with special needs, and the reactions they get from others when they are out in the public sector.
"Those kids". That is what we usually hear whenever we are out in public. That, or else we get stared at, and at times, I feel like a tiny bug under a microscope.
My name is Addie--Adelaide--O'Mara, and I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I am a parent to six children, all adopted--and all with special needs. I am married to Timothy Patrick (20 years now, almost), and I am a stay at home mom while hubby works as a contracter for an oil company.
My kids range in age from four on up to seventeen, and they are all in school. The littlest one attends pre-k and goes to therapy twice a week, and the oldest one is in the 11th grade. Our kids were adopted from Russia, China, Africa, and the United States. All are disabled in one way or another; parenting them can be quite a daunting challenge, but we are more than up to the task.
Our kids are named (from the oldest down to the youngest): Ethan Timothy (17, Russia--has spina bifida; walks with Canadian crutches and braces on legs; otherwise healthy); Eleanor Adalaide (Ellie) (15, Russia--has learning disabilities; in special needs classes at school); Roger Dennis (12, Africa--has learning disabilities and Tourette's syndrome; prone to involuntary "tics" and is also in special needs classes); Winter Snow (10, China--asthmatic, has severe food allergies and celiac disease, can't have certain foods or they make her very sick); Icarus Benjamin (7, United States [Georgia]--had brain damage and a stroke at birth, paralyzed on one side, is incapable of caring for himself; relies on others to provide for his basic needs, totally affected with cerebral palsy, has seizures, is tube fed; he is the most disabled of our children); and finally, but not least, four-year-old Nicholas Garrett (Africa--is HIV-positive; prone to any sickness that may come, is on a heavy antibiotic regimen, is in and out of the hospital due to breathing crises that may come along).
Of the kids, little Nicholas (and of course Icarus) give us the most scares. They can get sick at the drop of a hat; one never knows when we have to call 9-1-1 for an ambulance on their behalf. They're the reasons why my hair (once a beautiful ash blonde) has gone completely grey, even though I am not even in my forties yet.
My kids are (for the most part) well behaved, but whenever we go out in public, people see the crutches, wheelchairs, or see Roger's "tics", and right away, the comments and stares start. It's enough to make me cry at times; people do not know what it is like to parent such children, children who didn't ask to be born with handicaps, children who were not expected to live, children who were thrown away by their families, children trapped in the foster care system, or children who languished in orphanages or hospitals, with nobody to love or care for them.
They don't know of all the problems my children have had to endure in life. If it weren't for a loving God in Heaven, or our care, our children might not have had a chance to make it as far in life as they did, and they would be unloved. That was something Timothy or I could not deal with once we heard about this children, so we opened up our hearts, and we took them in to raise as our own.
We first heard about these kids thanks to another lady here in Nashville who helps other adoptive parents (or people interested in international or special needs adoption), giving them parental advice, sending them information about different conditions or disabilities, sending them information about different adoption agencies that have a good track record, and the like. The woman and her husband are very well versed in the adoption game: they have adopted a total of sixty children, most with special needs, so they know what I or others are going through with our children. She knows of the endless waiting, the concerns we share when our kids fall ill, and what it is like to finally get "The Call", when a child is ready to join the family.
Louisiana was the one who sent us more information about the kids we took into our family (thanks to the Tennessee branch of AASK, or Aid To The Adoption of Special Kids), and if it were not for her, we would not have gotten the children we are now parenting. No, at times, it isn't easy, but each child has settled into our family unit, and they are now ours, forever and ever.
Yet when people stare or make comments, we are hurt. I wish they knew what it was like, step into our shoes for a day, knew what it was like to have to bottle feed or change dirty diapers on a seven-year-old boy, rush a gasping ten-year-old to a hospital after she accidentally ingested peanuts, thus, suffering from a life-threatening allergic reaction, or try to explain to people why our 12-year-old can't read or emits certain bad words or involuntarily makes coughing noises or hits himself or waves his hands. People have absolutely no idea what we go through, and until they know what it is like, they have no right to judge us or make hurtful comments about our kids.
If it were not for our kids, our lives would be far, far different, and to us, our kids our our life. They mean everything to us, and we would die for them, we love them so much.
Until people know what it is like, they need to shut up and let us live our lives. We are only trying to be good parents, and if they can't learn to see past our children's handicaps, then there's a big problem somewhere along the line. They need to stop staring or making rude comments about us, and they need to know what it is like to parent children like the ones we are raising.
Bravo, my friend, you've penned it well! Many people are eager to point a finger and form opinions when in reality they have no idea what they are talking about. It takes a brave person to adopt any child in the day we live in, and especially a child with a disability. Until people walk in others shoes, they should not form opinions. My sister has a severe vision disability, growing up was a bit different for her than me, her school books were special ordered with extra large print. She had to have someone copy notes from the board, she had to have someone with her at all time when outside, her glasses were so thick that her small nose would'nt support the weight of them. When we were in high school my brother and I were in more fights than we can count because of people making fun of her! This infuriates me to see someone make fun of another person because of a disability. My daughter wore corrective leg braces until she was five, and I actually had people that wanted to pity me or point and whisper! My sister is now married with her own child, she works five days a week and functions fine, better than some who do not have any physical handicap! I think that the issues that my sister faced as a child and teen is one of the reason I find myself always leaning toward children at school with disabilities and always standing in the gap for them...people can be cruel! Great write my friend, powerful message!
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
As a mother I know how painful it is when a child becomes sick. To be the mother of a disabled child must indeed be a wrenching emotion of worry nearly constantly. Any person who becomes a foster parent and takes in kids with disabilities has to be God's own emissaries.
Great paragraphs enlisting the O'Mara woman as a compassionate parent and host to these special needs children...detailed handicaps let us know more about the kinds of disabilities these children have...good to know what kinds of things can go wrong at birth...the miracle of it all is to find a loving, caring, and compassionate family like the O'Mara's to care for these children...thanks for the letter today, Karen Lynn...Be well...Blessed Be.
Wonderful done Karen! Sadly it is so true, people are eager to insult instead of helping out, even though they would end up feeling much better about themselves if they would just once give a helping hand or an encouraging smile...Your story points out well how difficult life can be for some and how bravely they are going forward, being all they can be -- and then some!
Lots of Love and Hugs,
B&R
There, but for the grace of God, go I...we have no idea what people go through until we are in their shoes. To stare, to make derogatory comments, to point, to laugh: shame. Would we want that if they were ... us? You raise valid points with compassion; well done!
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