I have both friends and family with adopted children, and I understand that these precious wee ones are loved with the same fierceness as I love my own biological children.  But my friend raising her adopted child with paranoid schizophrenia mentioned recently that she does not have accusatory Mommy guilt. Sometimes Guilt attaches like a leech in hidden fleshy places, draining away parental confidence by injecting lies of personal culpability for the suffering of our progeny. That’s difficult enough. 

But then there are those who make assumptions about our mental health, and accuse us as parents raising biological children with hidden disabilities. For instance, I was enjoying a new friend a few years ago, a godly woman whom I respected. I am a professional level intercessor, meaning I get paid to pray for individuals and corporations, a job I immensely enjoy. God began giving me “downloads” daily to pray for my friend, a new experience outside of my employment. Although those who know me well, love me and consider me stable and emotionally healthy, she assumed I was obsessive compulsive by my attentive faithful intercession. Our relationship quickly crashed and burned. 

Not only was I misunderstood, but I was misunderstood in such a way as to emphasize in a searing way the pain my daughter feels routinely. My imaginary mental health issue made me an “unsuitable” friend for a “mature” Christian woman. God help us. They will know we are Christians by our love, remember? 

I’m trying to teach my children to rise above the stigma and reject the shame offered by society. In retrospect, perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to be considered guilty by association if it gives me the opportunity to stand by my children in solidarity. 

A safe gathering place of friends who understand

I was startled by my daughter’s comment. I reflected on the parents I have met raising children with Down’s syndrome. Not once has the word “selfish” ever occurred to me in describing those parents. But I also can only remember those parents telling me excitedly about milestones their child had achieved, or difficulties their child was facing. Perhaps these parents were “me focused” when they started their journeys, but now, their devotion and commitment were enviable character traits that causes casual onlookers like myself to drop to our knees admitting we are not worthy in comparison.

Out of curiosity, I had my 23 year old daughter with hidden disabilities read the post and share with me her insights. “I think this mother is selfish,” was my daughter’s first observation. “She thinks raising this child is about her, but it isn’t.” I saw pain in her expression.

At first, navigating the unrighteous judgments leveled against us as parents raising children with hidden disabilities (including accusations of selfishness) can knock us off balance. We are still fighting our own internal vows about child raising, what medicinal intervention, nutrition and accountability will look like in our homes. Our own blame-based behavior models may still be intact, not fully grasping the impact neurology has upon our challenging child. But once we topple those idols in our minds, we enter the maturation fast lane. It’s no longer about us, our ideals, or the impression our parenting (or even our advocacy efforts) make on another. 

Our focus shifts to our child whose struggles may impact them for a lifetime.

• What language choices empower my child the best? 
• How can I shield my child from unrighteous judgements? 
• How can we, as parents, use our own transparency, honestly and vulnerability to both protect and advocate for our child? 
• How can we obtain the best interventions in spite of our limitations? 
  

The day will come when our children grow up and read everything we wrote about how difficult it was to raise them. They already fight self loathing and feelings of worthlessness; after all, according to the other voices in their lives, they do not measure up.

I believe her intent was to offer empathy to other struggling parents who are indeed impacted by raising children who present profound challenges to entire families who struggle to cope with the demands. The fact that in her own need, she is willing to invest in the lives of other parents tells me she is focused on others, in addition to her children, and not on herself.

But additionally, I will take my daughter’s comment to heart, remembering that I am here to teach my children that they are worth every ounce of effort expended on their behalves. It’s not about me, no matter how much raising my children with hidden disabilities impacts me. 

A safe gathering place of friends who understand