Anyone who knows me knows that I love kids. Its generally mutual as well; kids gravitate to me for reasons known only to themselves. We never intended to stop with one, but nature was not cooperative. Indeed, it took a series of events that would strain the credulity of a professional creator of fiction for us to get the child we have. And until recently, I hadnt quite given up on the idea of adopting another. My age is a concern, yes, but not enough of one to stop me.
But a couple of friends recently gave me some insight into what its like being the sibling of an autistic child. They werent double-teaming me, either; theyve never met. One came from a generally dysfunctional family; the other from one thats off the norm but very close and very loving. One was older than the sibling; one was younger. One is ten years older than I, the other a bit more than that younger. And yet what they had to say was essentially the same. Each of them felt that they had to be the good kid; each worried that their parents would send them away if they were too much work, because the autistic child demanded and required so much energy, time and attention. Each of them has decided not to have children, in part because they arent sure of their ability to deal with a child like their sibling and there are no guarantees they wont get one. The litanies, and their similarities, go on.
So Ive been observing myself in reference to my son, attending to my own interactions with him, to the amount of my energy that is focused on him, on thinking about what he will need, not just to grow, but to learn, as one friend put it, to function with a Mac brain in a PC world. My son functions fairly well, but he still needs a lot of focused attention, encouragement and help, and I dont see that changing. And my friends are right. Im a good mother. Were good parents, both of us. We work at it; we care about it. And it wouldnt be fair to bring a second child into the family if we cant give that child what it will need. I dont want a child of mine to grow up to tell his or her friends, as an adult, that we did our best but she still felt she had to be hyper-responsible and that she was essentially on her own because her older brother needed their parents so much more than she did, or worse, that she didn’t “deserve” our time and attention. So I am no longer looking for another child. And I am coming to understand why so many autistic kids, if they arent the only child in their family, are the youngest.
Alisa:
I hesitate to interject myself into such a personal discussion. I certainly do not have adequate understanding or your unique situation to do so. However, isn’t that one reason for your blogging? Maybe to gain other perspectives? Well at the risk of pointing my nose where it does not belong
You and your husband are obviously wonderful parents. I am sure that any adopted child would relish whatever time, resources and love that you could devote to them, as little or great as that might be, given the challenges your son presents. However, consider the adoptive child’s alternatives. Is the child better off with only 25% of your love, or no love at all? I believe that quality (of time) is more important than quantity, albeit both are important in the lives of children.
I believe God has his reasons for putting special needs children on this earth. For natuarl disasters. Maybe it has more to do with the impact these children and events have on the lives of others, more so than the lives of the challenging children themselves? Catalysts of sorts. What might an adopted child learn or gain from a family that devotes so much care to a challenging sibling? For example, caring so much for another human being with special needs?
You might consider a racially mixed or a child orphaned by recent disasters or war (foreign born). I suggest these children because they will be viewed as “different.” You have the special gifts to teach such a child how to respond to a world that is sometimes not so kind to these “unique” people.
You’ve left me speechless, which is difficult. Thank you.