Do you ever find yourself ready to pull your hair out because as you just finished getting one child straightened out from a meltdown, your other one starts to act out and you end up repeating the same process? But then, that process you tried with #1 suddenly isn’t working for #2, so you have to try something different? Pulling from your parenting toolbox is exhausting and can leave us feeling quickly depleted, burned out and stressed!
I wasn’t fully prepared for the change going from one child to two. I was rocking working motherhood with our oldest and I felt empowered and wonderful. I was in great shape and had a good routine. When I was pregnant with Bowen and actually had a mostly routine, normal pregnancy, it felt like things were going to be fine.
Fast forward 3 years, and Bowen going all-out “three-nager” on a daily basis, plus our sensitive, emotional five year old has plunged our world into what seems like a never ending power struggle. Well, I shouldn’t even back up 3 years…. back up to when Bowen was born and I was constantly torn between my time with our oldest, and being with Bowen, especially during his early hospital stays. At that time, my saving grace was our daycare provider, who loved Cael like her own and spoiled him rotten. In some ways, he was better off with her, since she had the energy for him, where I was a second-time new mom, in the throws of post-partum depression, staring down scary diagnoses.
It was easier then. Even with Bowen’s medical concerns, he still ate, slept and pooped. He was an easy going baby and never fussed much. I was able to balance Bo and Cael pretty easily- until Bowen started talking.
Now don’t get me wrong, of COURSE I love both my boys to the ends of the earth but man, these kids are HARD! My husband and I now find ourselves in the throws of a discipline dichotomy. How do we instill the same principles and values in both boys, but in two totally different ways? You may be reading this and say “well, isn’t that every parents’ dilemma?” I mean, yes it is, you’re right- but what makes our situation slightly different and is itself a unique struggle, is adding in the element of “special needs” to the equation.
I lost so much time with Bowen in his early days. I think of that almost every day. When he was 3 weeks old and in the hospital for the first time, I struggled to want to hold him, for fear of all the cords he was hooked up to. I stroked his cheeks, and his soft head; I held his hand, talked to him, read him stories and also pumped breastmilk from the comfort of our hospital room. But I couldn’t hold him and snuggle him the way I wanted to. I had to have someone else in the room with me to help me sit down comfortably, make sure we were close enough to the machines. I needed someone to fetch items such as snacks and water for me because I was chained to that chair for the indefinite time period I wanted to hold him. I now have the subconscious worry that I didn’t hold him enough.
Now, when Cael, our oldest, gets injured, I struggle to empathize with him, as my mind flashes back to all of Bowen’s constant discomforts in his short life. I do provide the empathy Cael needs and I don’t think he knows any better, but my heart isn’t in my empathy I provide as much as it is when Bowen is hurting. I then feel guilty as I tuck Cael in at night, again hoping he knows I really do love him and I mean all of the kind, helpful words I tell him throughout the day. When I do provide comfort though, I also want him to understand that his scraped knee is nothing compared to chest tubes and surgical incisions his brother has. But o compare them is not fair either, is it? I believe it is terrible to hold one child to the standard of another. Why should Cael carry any of the weight of Bowen’s trials and tribulations? That is my job. His 5-year-old reality is that a scraped knee is traumatic, and he needs his mom to reassure him that it will be ok. Some days it is easier than others. Some days, I’d rather overindulge and minor bump or scrape, than dole out the medications for Bowen (again, and again, and again…). But other days, I could care less. And I wish Cael was better at just shaking it off.
Recently, Bowen has been going through a sleep regression. He gets out of bed every night to mess around instead of staying in bed and going to sleep. When I try to tuck him back in, he cries and says he wants to sleep in our room. In the morning he wakes up and crawls into our bed at 5:30 or 6:00 am. I remember Cael going through something similar, and it won’t last forever, but man, I wish he’d just go to sleep! My husband and I have begun putting a baby gate up outside his door until he falls asleep… but when Chris is on shift at the fire station- I need the snuggles with Bowen that I missed early in his life. Instead of putting up the baby gate, a couple nights a week, I let Bowen fall asleep in our bedroom as I read at night, just so I can be close to him. I miss him. Even when he is next to me, I miss him. And I need him to know I am here for him.
Cael has also recently asked why I am “nicer” to Bowen than to him. Ouch… that one hurts a little. Clearly my attempts to discipline equally are not being interpreted as such, so I must explain. I’ve told Cael that since he is my big boy, I expect him to follow directions the first time. Bowen is still learning this, so he gets a little more grace. I explained to Cael that it makes me feel frustrated or I feel disrespected when he doesn’t listen to me. Bowen doesn’t understand these words yet. I also explained to Cael that when he was Bowen’s age, we did the same things with him, and when he was in trouble, we would always talk about what we can do better next time. I channel all the positive parenting advice I can muster when dealing with both kids. But often times it does come from different places in my heart.
From the beginning of Bowen’s diagnosis, both Chris and I had an unspoken understanding that we would not raise him significantly different than Cael- and that his “disability” was just a different ABILITY only. He was not any more fragile than Cael. He was just our new little dude who honestly, doesn’t deserve any special treatment just because of his rough start. He is only held back currently by his age.
I don’t think I am writing out of place when I say that being the parent of a special needs child has brought you a strength you didn’t know you had, but also didn’t ask for. You may find yourself often wishing everything could be “normal” and that you could discipline all your children the same way. Or maybe, you wish you had discipline challenges at ALL with your special kiddo- maybe they will never need that because of their severe conditions. But the fact of the matter is, special needs or not, our children will always need us in different ways. We are not failures because of these differences. We are successful in our resourcefulness. We are successful in our wide reaching sympathy and empathy for their concerns. We are successful for being able to meet our kids where they are at. We are successful because we can adapt and we can recognize the need to change when called upon to do so.
My discipline challenges with both my boys, again, are not completely out of the ordinary. Every child struggles with their own emotional regulation and it is much easier to teach or parent when we come from a place of love. Sometimes, it’s ok when that love comes from different places in our hearts, and I think that is the important mantra to remember. A parents’ love is different but equal for each child but it is still love at the end of the day.
Somewhere In Between 