Special Needs Parenting: Seeing Through The Darkness Of Meltdowns
Three weeks ago I sat in the bathroom and cried. It was the only place to find sanctuary in our 800-square-foot Brooklyn apartment. Toys crashed against the wall, and wild screams echoed on the other side of the door, as my husband calmly tried to quell the meltdown raging from within our special needs child.
The meltdowns had become increasingly intense, and would appear out of nowhere. We understood the triggers – weeks of construction to remove lead paint from our building, the holidays, and the school break were hell on earth to a kid who requires a rigid routine – but that didn’t make the chaos any easier to manage.
I always tried to keep my emotions in check. To be the one that could confidently handle any situation. I had no choice. My son needed me to be strong. To show him that, even when he lost control of his body, Mommy would be there to guide him through the darkness.
Then my glasses broke. It sounds so trivial, but the moment my son snapped the new frames in two, my carefully constructed wall of resilience crumbled. The tears refused to stop. My husband took over, and I curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor, still clutching the broken glasses, and sobbed.
It was the lowest I’ve ever been as a parent. Despite evidence to the contrary, I felt like I was failing my son. If I couldn’t keep myself together, how in the world could I help him?
My husband was about to leave for an extended business trip, our family was all out of state, and I felt incredibly alone.
Eventually, silence fell over the apartment. My son drifted off to sleep, and I found my way to bed.
The next afternoon I stopped by Park Slope Family Eye Care, hoping against hope that they could fix my frames. One look at the busted metal, though, and it was pretty obvious that they were beyond repair.
The staff asked what happened, and tears quickly filled my eyes again as I explained.
After handing me a tissue, one of the women behind the counter got up to check their storage drawer, and returned with an identical frame. She popped the lenses out of my broken glasses, inserted them into the whole ones, and then placed the new glasses on the counter.
I reached for my credit card, but Dr. Straton stopped me, insisting that payment was not necessary. I tried to argue, but they refused to let me pay.
I sat dumbfounded for several seconds before the power of speech returned, allowing me to thank them for their kindness.
The women just smiled, saying that it was their pleasure.
Park Slope Family Eye Care did so much more than replace my broken glasses that day. They helped to guide me through the darkness.
Yes, we’re in the middle of a rough patch – it happens in the world of special needs parenting. Moms and dads reach their breaking points, and there’s nothing wrong with having a good cry.
We’re never alone, though, and it’s unrealistic to think that we can shoulder the weight of caring for a special needs child on our own. Whether it’s your spouse, a family member, a friend, or the eye clinic down the road, there’s somebody out there who understands.
City Kid Corner is looking for articles that reflect the joys, struggles, and hijinks of this crazy ride we call parenthood. Do you have a story that you’d like to submit? Email editor@bklyner.com, or share your tales in the comments below.
Photo courtesy Fernando Mengoni