Today is probably not the best day for me to write a post about how my adopted special needs child changed my life. It is a day when my “It is well” tattoo isn’t reminding me that all is well, which seems to be the case more days than not.
My day started at 6:00 am to the sound of glass breaking and screaming. My special needs son, whose diagnoses is really unfounded because of his history, freaked out over a light being turned off. He entered his grandmother’s room when he woke up, she followed him to the kitchen to fix him something for breakfast. On her way to the kitchen, out of habit, turned off the hall light. All hell broke loose. My son then freaked out, turned the light on, started toward his room, and purposely knocked over a jar of seashells. Hence the glass breaking. She then grabs him to prevent him from stepping in the glass, which stops him from going where he wanted (to his room to make sure that light was still on) and then here comes the screams.
At 6:20 am, the glass is still being picked up, everyone in the house has woken up except for the two-month-old (Praise the Lord) and the said child is still screaming, kicking, and biting because he wants to go to his room, which would involve walking through glass so he can’t.
6:40ish and the glass is now picked up. I take him to his room to let him see all the lights are on and then take him to the potty. After, he enjoys two pancakes on a stick with some milk. Finally all is well in the world. That is until another light gets turned off or something else happens, that you won’t even know about. Then, another melt down will probably occur. I will cry, my husband will say “I just need to stay home,” his older brother will be stuck having to help clean up another mess, and my special needs child will throw another object in a fit of rage. This is my life now. This is how my life has changed.
Why on earth would anyone choose this life? This isn’t a biological child that was born to me with these needs. I chose this life. I chose to adopt a special needs child…and I would do it again. And again. And again. And again. I may do it through tears of anger and frustration, but I would do it again. I do it everyday again and again.
I used to sleep until 7 or 8 every morning. I used to enjoy a good book. I used to go on dates with my husband. I used to enjoy going out to eat. I used to invite friends over. I used to not lose my mind every day.
Now my life is marked with fits of rage, IEP meetings at school, quick Facebook scrolls in the bathroom while I pretend I am not hiding, and lots of online shopping.
But there is something that makes every fit worth it. The progress that we see daily.
Fist bumps, kisses, hugs, cuddle sessions, seeking us out for help, high fives, writing his name, drawing happy faces, picking out a snack, playing with toys the correct way, better sleeping habits, recognizing us in a crowded room, and so much more.
My boy can’t help his history. It wasn’t his fault he was born deaf to a family who sought no communication. It wasn’t his fault both of his biological parents had mental health issues. It wasn’t his fault his parents had a drug addiction. It wasn’t his fault his first foster placement abused and neglected him. It wasn’t his fault no one took him to the doctor for glasses. It isn’t his fault that because of all of this that he is developmentally delayed and has odd behaviors.
My life has changed drastically after the adoption of my special needs child but I would do it again. My life may have been easier before but it certainly wasn’t complete. Special needs adds so much to one’s life. You see the world in a new light and a new perspective. I chose this life. I chose him.