Someone I love

Someone I Love

By Lori Hickman

Someone I love relies on me in ways you will never understand. Someone I love endures pain and challenges that break my heart and renew my spirit at the same time. Someone I love is unable to advocate for themselves for things that most of us take for granted. Someone I love will never have the opportunities that every child should have. Someone I love will need unconditional love and support after I am gone - this frightens me to the core. Someone I love encounters pity, stereotyping responses, and prejudice at every turn, because they look, act, and/or learn differently than others. Someone I love has needs that require me to allow "outsiders" to have power and input in areas that should be mine alone to meet. Someone I love will continue to look to me for everything in life long after other children are able to assume a place as part of the world. Someone I love has needs that require more time and energy than I have to give. Someone I love has needs that mean I am not able to meet basic needs of my own. Someone I love has needs that have become the driving force behind major decisions my family makes. Someone I love has changed me in ways I will never be able to describe. Someone I love has taught me about love and about the really important things in life...

© Copyright 2000 Lori Hickman. Originally published as the dedication to Living in My Skin, The Insider's View of Life With a Special Needs Child by Lori Hickman. Reprinted with permission of the author, all rights reserved.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Letter to Dermot

Image
"Letter to Dermot" Dermot, I’ve been trying to put off this letter for quite some time. I just gave birth to your little brother and have realized how heartbroken I am over you. I look at pictures of you and get a tinge of sadness where I should get joy. I see the things you cannot do and the things you won’t be able to do. I’m so sad about it. I feel responsible, so much more than anyone else knows. I look back on the day you had your first seizure and I’m so angry with myself that I didn’t know what was happening. I feel like the length of time was my fault and that it caused more damage to your brain than was necessary. I’m so sorry. I know that you deserve the best in everything for your life and my regrets run deep. God has a plan for our family, I know. All of the challenges that you go through help make us stronger, but I wish more than anything that I could take all the pain away, all of the drugs, all of the therapy. I sometimes imagine you as a normal little guy get...
Read more

Fourth time

Just as I crossed the last thing off my grocery list, I heard a muffled chime from my purse. I thought to myself, I wonder if its Dermot's school. Not really believing it was, but teacher Jan was on the other end of the line. "Hi Sue, Laurie has administered the Diastat for Dermot", she said with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Okay, I'll be right there" I said. I looked down at my full cart of much needed groceries and pushed them to the register. One part of me wanted to continue and check out as if nothing was happening, the other, wiser part said "get the hell out of here". Another abadoned cart at the grocery store. This time I call Joe, "I'll meet you there" he says. Three stoplights later and a quick jaunt on the highway and I'm there. Wiped the tears away and ask the receptionist for admittance to the special education wing of the school. I walk briskly to Dermot's classroom. The other little boys are having circle...
Read more

Profoundly

I've written many essays in my head. There's the one about being embarrassed by Dermot throwing up in the hospital cafeteria, or the one about friends and how they've changed over the years, or the story about the man I met at the hospital with the nineteen year old son with Dermot-like disabilities or my favorite, the way I use chocolate chip cookies as therapy. I sit in waiting rooms and write in my head, by the time I get home the details are lost or the energy has left me. I sit awake in bed staring at the ceiling knowing what I want to write, then I get out of bed, start up the computer and my words have left my head. I've been struck by how profoundly sad I am. I am really sad. The challenges keep coming, changing. I've learned many coping mechanisms, I've found a higher power to run the show, I seek out help from support groups and therapists, I volunteer to help others. All of these things make me feel better, but to my bitter disappointment, they do...
Read more