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Ashamed of myself.

vicjoy

Hi, my 11 year old son has autism, I have never had a problem with his diagnosis, and have fought for all the help he deserves. However I met an old friend today, we have been friends for years, until we have our son and they had there 1st son. Thingswere ok until our son 's development became delayed at around 12months. I retracted from all toddler groups, and our friends, we eventually moved so the gap widened. In honesty I know it's because It hurts to see their neurotypical son talking and being very adult like, and my son standing looking into a corner talking to himself. In everyday life I'm fine everybody know's about his autism and he goes to a special school, who are wonderful. Today however I was back feeling sad about the obvious differences between my son and other kids of the same age.  He is the 2nd of 4 children and he is fabulous I wouldn't change him, so I don't understand why I feel like this when I see this particular boy?

Parents

  • It's nothing to be ashamed of, it isn't that you don't love your son but as the previous post states you have a sadness and grief about all the hopes and dreams you had for your son. I often feel like that about my son and I feel it more often when everyone is bragging on facebook about their children and i see children the same age who don't have the same struggles.

    I often think about that piece of writing:

    WELCOME TO HOLLAND

    by
    Emily Perl Kingsley.

    c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

    I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

    When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

    After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

    "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

    But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

    The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

    So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

    It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

    But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

    And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

    But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

    Amanda xxx

Reply

  • It's nothing to be ashamed of, it isn't that you don't love your son but as the previous post states you have a sadness and grief about all the hopes and dreams you had for your son. I often feel like that about my son and I feel it more often when everyone is bragging on facebook about their children and i see children the same age who don't have the same struggles.

    I often think about that piece of writing:

    WELCOME TO HOLLAND

    by
    Emily Perl Kingsley.

    c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

    I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

    When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

    After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

    "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

    But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

    The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

    So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

    It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

    But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

    And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

    But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

    Amanda xxx

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