I notice your updates. You share the challenges of potty training your daughter, who is younger than my child. To be honest, potty training isn’t even on our radar right now. It may be another year or so before we even begin… if we’re fortunate.
I feel envious of you.
I see your posts detailing the exhaustion from shuttling between sports practices and birthday celebrations. My son struggles with team sports; he often feels overwhelmed and doesn’t receive invitations to birthday parties.
I can’t help but feel envious of you.
I encounter you in stores, where people pass by without a second glance at your children. You don’t see that familiar look of sympathy—or sometimes discomfort—when they notice your child’s extra chromosome. I spot you at the mall, walking confidently with your kids, untroubled by the next loud noise that might send them running in the opposite direction. At my son’s basketball games, I watch you cheer for your child while I sit with my son, who is hiding in the back of our car. His autism creates an invisible barrier between us.
I am so envious of you.
You capture every milestone as they unfold effortlessly for your child—first steps, first words. I document those moments too, but they come after countless therapy sessions, sleepless nights, and depleted bank accounts. You celebrate goals scored and trophies earned, while I discuss the services acquired and legal battles sidestepped. You advocate for your child’s spot on the team; I advocate for my child’s place in the classroom.
I despise myself for feeling jealous of what many consider normal.
It’s not your fault your children don’t have special needs, just as it’s not mine that they do. With my eldest, I relished in every milestone and even boasted a little. I had no perspective back then. I didn’t grasp how remarkable it was that he developed the necessary skills to sit, crawl, and walk. I didn’t realize how fortunate I was with my other typically developing child to have speech come naturally, instead of painstakingly coaxing words, signs, and sounds.
And I’m sure I often overlook how blessed I am 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 propels you to strive for more, it doesn’t stem from the right motivations. I wrestle with this jealousy, and on days like today, I find myself defeated.
I am so envious of you.
If you’re interested in more insights, check out our post on the at-home insemination kit for tips on family planning. Understanding autism can be crucial for parents, so visit this resource for valuable information. For those considering pregnancy, this link provides excellent guidance on intrauterine insemination.
In summary, feelings of envy can be challenging, especially when comparing our parenting journeys. The struggles and milestones are different for everyone, and while it’s natural to feel envious, it’s essential to focus on the unique experiences that shape our families.