The “Forgotten Child”

I wrote the following post three years ago. As I was looking through my old posts, this one caught my eye and I decided to revisit and read it with different eyes and perspective. I was in a different place when I wrote this and yet when I read it, I could still feel all of the pain I felt then. It continues to ring true but I am not as angry and upset at myself as I once was.

My purpose in posting this again is for those readers who haven’t read it before and may have experienced a similar situation in their own life as well as for those who may be coaching families and parents and could gain some insight in how a situation like this may cause pain.

My journey through causing my daughter undue pain is at a point where I have worked through many of these issues with myself and with my daughter. Yes, the scars are still there, but I am at a better place today than I was three years ago.

I’ve titled this post The “Forgotten Child”, because so often the other children in families that are siblings of the special needs child, often do get forgotten. (Hopefully never physically!) This is my story about my “forgotten child” and I hope it can help others out there who have more than one “special” child.

“Oh, you have a daughter as well?” I have been asked this question numerous times over the years. “Yes”, I say, “I do.” “And what is she like? Is she normal? Is it difficult for her to have a brother like Ryan?” Ugh! I have a daughter who is 2 years older than Ryan, but 3 years ahead of him in school. What has it been like for her, the “typical” child? Well, she’s anything but typical- because she has her own story to tell about her life with Ryan, and her life without him.

I truly and majorly failed when it came to raising my daughter. It’s not that I didn’t spend quality time with her, or that I didn’t love her, or wanted the best for. But, I refused to see things in her that were warning signs of her physical and mental well being. I didn’t listen to her complain about her stomach problems (literally for 18 years), I thought she was just complaining and trying to get attention. I didn’t listen to her complain about her headaches and joint pain. (Again for 18 years). I told her over and over again to stop complaining. I just thought she was trying to get attention. I expected her to be good in school, and when she wasn’t I told her she wasn’t working hard enough. When she and her brother argued and didn’t get along (all the time), I blamed her for it. Because after all, she was the “normal” one. Well – it all came to a screeching halt 2 months before she went off to college and was diagnosed with celiac disease, (an autoimmune disease, when ingesting gluten damages the small intestine.) I DIDN’T LISTEN! But the doctor did. That’s when it really hit me. I ignored her pleas for help. Oh, the guilt!

I cried along with her and for her. I have apologized and attempted to make amends. I still cry for her, and I cry for myself. There’s nothing I can do to go back and change things. What I have attempted to do though is to become a better listener, and to be there more for her. It doesn’t mean though that I still don’t fail. I do and sometimes miserably. She reminds me of that now and again! And I’m so in awe of her. Her resilience and persistence to me is legendary.

What has helped each of us in this family is therapy. Individual, and together. I recommend it for everyone who has children who are special, or difficult or just going through a rough patch. If nothing else, it gives a safe space to let it all out, without judgment. The puzzle pieces can then be put back in to a working order that gives you some peace.

You know, I’ve been really hard on myself. And that’s OK to a point. Be forgiving of yourself. Move on, like I do every day.