Running the Race

There are days when any parent can feel a little overwhelmed. When the kids are fighting and somebody spills juice on the carpet, it's easy to feel like you're losing the race. But, because my daughter has special needs, I often find myself feeling guilty the very moment I let myself feel defeated.

It's hard to explain because, despite my daughter's limitations, I have never doubted her. I have only had questions about my ability to be a good mother. Sometimes a sigh and a moment alone just isn't enough to erase the deep sense of worry. It's like taking a moment when your child is sick with a fever and stretching the anxiety and worry you feel, until it lasts all the time. Pretty soon you hardly notice it, but it's always just beneath the surface and just one crooked day can bring it all bubbling up.

By now you should know how very much I care for my daughter and what she means to me. There has never been one moment when I resented her or wished her to be any different. But, there have been plenty of times when I felt like an unwanted guest at a MENSA meeting. I stand there feeling totally inept and wishing I could tell someone without worrying about what they might think of me. It's like juggling razor sharp knives and just one slip, one tiny loss of focus can bring horrible consequences. There are days when I feel like my daughter is looking at me and wondering just what kind of an idiot mother she's been given. It's hard not to be overwhelmed by expectations.

But, occasionally I do slip and find myself wishing for more patience, or wisdom. I look at that sweet little girl so full of possibilities, and I can't begin to fathom how I'm going to help her achieve them all if I can't get her to stop hitting the dog or pick up her socks.

Then, I remind myself that a mile is walked one step at a time and I take a minute to think things through. I pick up the socks and explain to her for the fiftieth time why hitting the dog is wrong, and for a little while that gnawing worry is pushed aside.

Having a daughter with Down Syndrome does not make me Supermom and I don't have boundless strength to handle it. In fact, I feel pretty weak when I think of mothers I know, who have lost their children to childhood diseases. It humbles me to know that every day spent with her is a gift. I know I love this child, this gift from God, and I rely on that love to keep me going.

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