Your child’s diagnoses changes everything.

You are now not a mother but a ‘Special Kids” mother.

In a flash your life is slashed away from the rest of moms you know. You don’t like the label ‘disabled” or “Special” but now they define your kid. Each day you go to sleep with a prayer and a hope that when you wake up the next day, the nightmare will be over. But it isn’t.

You scream silently to be let out of this exclusive club whose membership you never wanted in the first place. You don’t want to be at home where there’s only heartbreak and sorrow. You want to get out of this darkness that incapacitates you out of your senses pretty much like the psychotic patients you had in the ward. You start lashing out at the world, family, your own blackness and finally God. The injustice, the unfairness gets to you.

You, who couldn’t see a limping kitten are now forced to see the ‘disability’ in her kid. A disability that has no cure and won’t go away.

Horrifyingly you’re locked in with women who have such children.

Some days you cannot breathe.

Some days you cannot think.

You know God has abandoned you.

And then you abandon yourself.

You lose hope.

You give up your career as you can’t talk properly to patients anymore.

You withdraw in your room. With your child.

Daily living is a chore, but you keep it to a minimum and a no more.

People leave you as they not willing to talk or understand. They don’t like this new darkness and are not interested in you without that light that once made you, you. You now know who your true friends are. Only a few around.

There are some who stay but only to satisfy their curiosities or sate the jealousy they once felt against you. 

But you’re not concerned with it. Your thoughts are all about your child and his future. 

You keep thinking about that ‘SIN’ you must have committed that warranted such punishment from God.  

And you keep coming up blank, not because you have led a sinless life. No, you have been just like an average person. But you can’t think of a sin as large to necessitate such a huge punishment.

And then the comparison starts.

Why have you been ‘blessed’ with such a child while others who have destroyed homes or committed horrendous acts have been spared.

You must have been given up by God. Yes, that must be it.

You see the darkness closing in around you daily..more and more….you keep thinking of trying to end this nightmare.

But your mind doesn’t work anymore.

Finally one day…with a wintry snow storm raging outside to match your inner turmoil, you decide.

You can’t live like this anymore.

On this sub-human level.

In this cruel twilight where there’s neither day nor night. Hearing taunts and barbs from the people who were supposed to hold you as you did once to them in their weakest hour.

But here you are, abandoned by all, alone in this creaky, drafty shaky, house in the midst of a storm you don’t understand much about.

You decide to end it all.

You want a painless but effective way to exit this hell. Thinking any other hell would be better than facing your child’s helplessness in this unforgiving world.

You know you can’t leave him behind. He has to come too so that he can be spared a world without a parent.

And so, you think.

You can’t bear the thought of any more pain for you or your child so you try to think ways of going painlessly and if possible, with dignity.  You stand there in front of the gothic gas stove/heater looking deep in its fire. You are still staring at it when a small hand clutches yours.

You look down and see your beautiful child looking at the shadows of the fire in the oven.

The glow making his face light up.

And in that moment you know. You know you lack the courage, the anger it takes to kill oneself, let alone one’s child.

Your rage to live is much more than your wish to escape this nightmare.

You close the oven door. And go sit on the couch. While your child aligns his toys in one line on the kitchen floor.

Now what?

The nightmare still goes on. The pain still crushes each breath.   Your soul is still in torment.

Now what? You ask yourself.

There has to be a way out of this state.

Think.

Think your way out of this predicament. You can do this.

The phone rings. You’re surprised. Its late at night.

You check who’s calling as you don’t talk on the phone now. But it’s one of your close friends from your childhood. Possibly amongst the few people who know your inner person. Very few do but they are one of them. 

You receive the call even though you haven’t talked to them in years.  

You start telling them briefly about where you are..in the midst of a storm, literally and figuratively.

And how cracked your soul is seeing the code designated to your child. The codes* you once assigned to different patients in your psychiatry ward.

They hear the tremors in your voice.

They sense the fear behind the almost flippant tone.

They also realize how close you are to the edge.

They don’t show any reaction to the diagnoses. No fake Im sorries or Im shocked..how could this happen to you…words that kill. No, they are too wise.

They reach out through their voice.

They keep talking.  Telling you how here in the United States, mothers are so proud of their kids on spectrum that they have bumper stickers on their cars proudly stating autism mom of so and so.

They wear shirts proclaiming Autism Mom.

They laugh about caregiving issues and potty training at the age of 12.

Your friend reminds you of the kitten they and you once brought back home from a main road in Karachi. That kitten had had a rough start to life plus a broken leg. And how you nursed him back to a gangly furry cat.  He lived 17 happy years with you. And oh, what about the other street dogs you rescued and gave home.

They finally pull you out from the edge saying Allah knew that you could do this even if you don’t think so right now. He knew you have the heart and the fortitude.

They end the call by saying that knowing you they won’t be too surprised to see your son graduating from Yale. And how they would love to see that day.

And as you start to visualize that picture, the elephant on your chest shifts and the pressure lifts slightly. Its easier to breathe as days pass by, the darkness recedes agonizingly slowly but it does. You keep crawling towards that visualization despite nothing to back it at the present, but you do.

After the call you get up, put the kettle on the stove and open the window to look at the storm raging outside. This is me. This is me. I can do this.

You say to yourself.

You open your arms and embrace it.

  𝓩𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪 𝓚𝓱𝓪𝓷🌼🐾

If you liked this do give me a follow here or on Instagram @zarminaswords thank you. Have a great day.

*ICD-10 Codes: *ICD 10 codes are codes designed to represent whatever disease/condition the patient might have. They range from injuries due to traffic accidents to psychiatric illnesses to developmental problems in children. (https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/icd/icd10cm.htm)

#mentalhealth, #newyork, #nyc, #culture, #mentalillness, #depression, #socialpoetry, #psychiatry, #psychology, #migration, #immigration, #migrant, #autism, #Autismawareness, #specialneeds, #autismdad, #autismlife, #spectrum, #asd, #autismspectrumdisorder, #suicide, #suicideawareness, #autismmom, #specialkids, #truestory