Comparisons

I always thought, before having children, that I would be above comparing any children I had to their peers. I had always hated it when it was done to me, and I didn't like doing it to myself.

But, that being said, I was a self-conscious teenager, so it inevitably happened.

After having our oldest, we didn't know many other people with small children. We had gotten married young, had a child young. Of the people we knew from high school, we were the only ones who'd had a kid. Her first year was relatively calm, even though she suffered from a lot of health issues, mainly ear infections.

As she got a little older, I started noticing differences. Mainly if the fact that, while she could babble incessantly, hearing actual, intelligible words from her was rare. By the time she was 2, she had been diagnosed with a major speech delay and she started therapy.

I didn't give it much thought, as I figured it was a temporary issue, and as she grew older, she speech would progress and she would be "normal".

I've since come to loathe that word.

We made a few friends in our military housing complex, including 1 family who had a little boy only 2 days younger than our oldest. By the time this kid was 2 years old, he was potty trained, could speak in full sentences, knew most of his letters, and all his colors. We were still trying to coax our daughter into saying "mommy" without resorting to food rewards.

Needless to say, the comparisons started. And not just with this kid. We went to church back then, and I was constantly bombarded by the fact that our child just wasn't on par with her peers. I tried not to let it get to me, but the fact that this was our first child, and even though I had no other basis for comparison other than these children, did not help matters.

Fast forward a few years. We're pregnant with our second child, another daughter. When she was born, I knew something was different. No one said anything to me about it, so I chalked it up to hormones and tried to let it go. Only, there WAS something different. She was diagnosed with Down syndrome when she was a newborn. Another blow to my quest for a "normal" child. I couldn't even stop myself from trying to compare her to her peers. It was pointless, but on the inside I still did. I knew that there were plenty of examples of adults with special needs who blew away expectations. The so-called "Superstars" of the developmentally delayed. I wished I could say that I knew our daughter would be like that, but to be honest (and that's the whole damn point of this thing) I knew that, considering our track record, it probably wouldn't happen.

When the oldest started school, I knew she was already delayed. I remember distinctly trying to force her to memorize the alphabet in the weeks before Kindergarden started. The only letter she could successfully identify was "X". Don't ask me why, that's the only one she knew. She knew how to write her name, although she though the "A" in her name was a "Q" when she would try to type it on the computer. By the time 2nd grade rolled around, she was getting help in the Resource Room and I was asking for an evaluation for a Learning Disability. She didn't have one, and I had to admit to myself that I had been hoping she would. Not because I wanted her to have another issue to deal with, but because it would have been some sort of answer. Now we had no other reason for the fact that she didn't seem to be able to read at grade level, and had other scholastic issues, so I was forced to internalize her faults as my own.

My fault, I didn't work with her enough, I didn't push her hard enough, I let her watch too much TV, I should have been trying to work with her from an earlier age.

Typical parental angst, I know.

Now, thankfully, she doesn't need to be in the Resource Room anymore; she's still in speech, has some social problems that we're working through, and we threw a wrench in the works by switching her schools last year. We put her in a summer day camp this summer to try & help her make some new friends. She did, which has been awesome. It's been a relief, a break from the near constant routine of her coming home from school over the past few years, nearly in tears, saying she had a really bad day because of a misunderstanding on her part over some elementary school social hierarchy. If someone didn't want to play with her constantly, she assumed they no longer wanted to be her friend.

Like I said, she had some social issues to work on.

She's made really good friends with one particular girl, who wasn't in her class this last year, but hopefully she will be this upcoming year. We invited said girl over a sleepover last weekend.

Needless to say, we kinda got our eyes opened to what level her peers are at. This little girl is reading young adult, multi-chapter books, by herself. She has the vocabulary of a kid about 2 years older than her. She is able to have a conversation with an adult that doesn't somehow revolve around a movie that she's comparing things to. She has a tutor, which I'm sure helps. But the intent is there. Our daughter doesn't seem to WANT to read, or learn, she just does it because it's expected of her.

I know my daughter is smart. She's an amazing artist, has a wry sense of humor, and is a fierce friend. I know all children don't learn the same way. She's definitely a visual learner. I know I shouldn't compare apples to oranges.

All this really goes back to my guilt. Maybe we shouldn't have had 3 kids, then maybe I would have had more time to focus on her needs. Maybe we shouldn't have moved so far away from family, so we could have some help, thus allowing more time to focus on her. Maybe I should quit college, and stop working (even though it's part-time) so I'll have more time and energy to focus on her. Maybe I should quit being so selfish and demanding I have "me time" and turn into the stereotypical "martyr mom", putting everyone else's needs/wants before any of mine.

Oh wait, I HAVE been doing that, for quite a while, and look where it got me.

Sure it sucks, to see my children have to struggle for things that it seems most other kids either have naturally or who are able to get after only a little bit of work. Hell, my 5 year old struggles with not dumping her plate of food all over the ground at nearly every meal. How the hell am I supposed to expect her to be potty trained and be able to recite her ABC's?

Every day I have to re-evaluate my definition of "normal", I have to rewrite my expectations, of my children and myself. My children are going to be who they will be, regardless of how much I worry and stress over it, so all I can do is just be the best mom I know how to be.

Of course, that's easier said than done.