A Lesson from Bitsy

Gosh, where do I start...


Having any child with a disability is difficult. You worry, you fret, you tear your hair out wishing things were different, that things were "normal." This is not a productive activity.

Then you begin to compare your child's disability with others and say "at least she doesn't have seizures" or "at least she can walk without assistance" or "at least she's healthy." Again, not a productive activity. My angel of a son says it best...you git what you git and you don't throw a fit.

I've been throwing fits lately. I used to think I was a patient person, I used to think I was giving and caring. Now, not so much. Now I'm a short tempered, impatient shrew of a mother who yells a lot. And yelling at or around a child with Down's Syndrome accomplishes nothing. In fact, it just scares Suzanne and reduces me to the level of dog poop.


There are moments of tremendous joy that comes with having a DS child. I am not currently having many of those moments. You see, Suzanne is a "terrible two." Not only is she developmentally delayed (i.e. she learns slower than other kids), she is doing the things other two year olds do. Doesn't seem fair, actually, that she should be saddled with both of these at the same time. She can do many things that other 2 year olds do, but she doesn't have the judgment to know that she shouldn't do them. Like climbing on top of her dresser or the dining room table or pushing chairs around so she can climb on other things. And every time she gets herself into a potentially dangerous situation, I feel more and more like a failure for not keeping her safe.


Which brings me back to this title of this post...A lesson from Bitsy. Back when I was in high school (when dinosaurs roamed the earth) my parents got me this wonderful little puppy named Bitsy. Not my choice of name, she came with it. She was a miniature Dachsund, black and tan, with a beautiful little face and warm sloppy tongue that she liked to give kisses with. Turns out, however, that Dachsunds have behavioral problems and like to do it their way. What eventually happens is that you don't train them so much as they train you. You change because they won't.



As I was driving home last night it hit me--my relationship with Suzanne is like that. Trying to get Suzanne to fit into my life and my way of doing things is fruitless and never going to happen. I need to fit into hers. She is running the show and I had better change and adapt because she can't. I've known for quite some time that I didn't have a life of my own anymore--I just didn't realize that Suzanne was so completely in charge. It is safe to say that I'm not taking this very well. I know that I'm entitled to have a life of my own, but I don't see how I'm ever going to have one again...

I hear sounds from downstairs...she's probably rifling through the trash again. Note to self--get a trash can that she can't get into...