LET THE CHILDREN COME TO ME

Today I went to a meeting of parent’s that have children with physical and mental disabilities. I went as a member of the Board of Directors for the Association for the Help of Retarded Children, Suffolk Chapter.

As I sat in the waiting area for the director to come and fetch me, I could hear a voice from around the corner speaking in a high pitch, and suddenly turning that corner, the voice turned out to be a lovely tall woman that was leading a very small child by the hand. The little boy was being escorted to a program or another classroom, and had an inquisitive look about him as he looked around his world, toddling along. He couldn’t have been more that 3 or 4 years of age, tiny and cute as a button. The young woman was coaxing the boy along, and he obediently followed, but I couldn’t help but want to get down on my knees and talk to him, and tell him to hang on, help might be on the way, “maybe someday you will be on your own little feller!”

As a member of the Board of Directors I was escorted to the conference room and sat at the head of the long 26’ conference table in the Board Room. Sipping my coffee I observed that there were about 10 to 15 couples and single parents there, mostly young in their older 20’s or younger 30’s. Being the first one there I observed them as they came in, one or two at a time and it all came back to me. Each had a face that said; “I am here to help my child have a better life than is possible.” Each father followed behind his uncertain wife who wore a mask of vulnerability, concern and determination, all rolled into one face. You just know that for the most part, the wife, the Mother was leading this quest for help and information. The Father was along for more than the ride, but Momma was the guiding light.

It took me back to a time with TLW (The Little Woman), how it all started with a doctor’s recommendation and our inquiries as to why our sweet little infant could not talk, walk or mature as expected. The blow still hurting from learning that the hopes and dreams of a beautiful child’s future are crushed learning that she is retarded and physically handicapped, imprisoned in a mind and body of pure hell weighing heavily in our hearts and minds, as the doctors and experts broke our hearts forever. We had to come to grips with the fact that our child would never be normal, that our lives would never be normal, that there was no way to make her better if we did it alone.

There were times when we resented the experts, the doctors, and psychiatrists, therapists that laid it on the line for us, telling us things we didn’t want to hear. But yet we kept on asking, kept on getting our hopes crushed and our dreams shattered.

Our daughter is now 35 years of age, she should have been married and perhaps had a few kids too. I often have to go to a niece’s wedding like the one in July, and I will watch my brother-in-law dance with HIS daughter to “Daddy’s Little Girl” and I will be envious of him, but glad he is not in my shoes.