I notice your updates. You share the struggles of potty training your daughter, who’s younger than my child. To be honest, potty training isn’t even on our horizon right now. We’re looking at another year, two if we’re fortunate.
I’m envious of your experience.
I see your posts about the exhaustion of balancing sports activities and birthday celebrations. My son can’t participate in team sports due to sensory overload, and birthday invites are scarce.
I’m envious of your life.
When I see you at the store, your kids seem to blend in unnoticed, while I often catch that familiar, pained look from others as they recognize my child’s extra chromosome. I watch you stroll through the mall with your kids, carefree, while I brace myself for the next sound that might send mine fleeing. At my other son’s basketball games, you walk in confidently to cheer for your child. Meanwhile, my son hides in the back of my car, his autism creating an invisible barrier between us.
I’m so envious of you.
You capture every milestone effortlessly. First steps and first words come naturally for your child, while my journey involves countless therapy sessions, sleepless nights, and drained finances. You celebrate goals and awards, while I talk about services acquired and legal hurdles navigated. You fought for your child’s inclusion on a team. I fight for my child’s acceptance in a classroom.
I hate that jealousy creeps in.
It’s not your fault that you don’t have children with special needs, just as it’s not mine that I do. With my oldest, I reveled in each milestone, never fully grasping how significant they were. I had no frame of reference. I didn’t realize how remarkable it was that he developed the necessary skills to sit, crawl, and walk. With my typically developing child, I took for granted how speech blossomed without painstaking effort, unlike the slow process of learning language that I endure with my other children.
And yet, I know I’m fortunate to have an autistic son who can communicate and a daughter with Down syndrome who is as healthy as she is.
Jealousy serves no purpose. Even if it drives you to achieve more, it’s not rooted in the right motivations. I wrestle with this feeling, and on days like today, I find myself succumbing to it.
I’m so envious of you.
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Summary
This reflection delves into the complex feelings of jealousy experienced by a parent of children with special needs. It highlights the stark contrast between typical parenting milestones and the challenges faced by families navigating disabilities. The author grapples with feelings of envy while acknowledging the unique journeys and triumphs of both herself and other parents.