Everyone tells you that being a parent is difficult.
But they never tell you how difficult that is, exactly. And even if they were like, "It's really, really hard. Harder than you could ever imagine," you still would have no idea how hard that truly is.
The thing is, they don't tell you what is hard. It's not so much the day to day stresses of being a parent--feeding and clothing your mini-mes. Not to say that is always easy but there are more difficult things. And most of them, you are never prepared to handle.
One would be having a child diagnosed with special needs. That term instantly makes you think of a kid with Downs Syndrome or any other form of handicap where you can look at someone and say, "Yep. They're different."
But there are so many others. ADHD and ODD are two. One is probably familiar to you. The other probably not as much. Both are subject to debate and often those debates are capped by someone saying, "That child just needs a firm hand," or something similar.
They are so incredibly wrong.
ODD is a difficult thing to understand. It stands of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. A super simple explanation would be:
"Matthew, take a cookie."
"No!"
And the truth is that obviously Matt wants a cookie--who doesn't want a cookie? But because you're telling him to, he's not going to do it.
And holy shit does that make things difficult. Not just at home. In public places like restaurants and grocery stores. Or in classrooms. You're seconds away from a colossal meltdown every place you go. Couple that with a lack of impulse control thanks to the ADHD and you've got a hell of a volatile situation.
But the point of this isn't to frighten you. Or to complain about my son. Because while ODD sounds a little terrifying when you read about it, Matthew is not his diagnosis.
He's a beautiful, sweet boy. He's smart like I never thought a five year old could be. He wants to hug everyone and give them kisses. He wants absolutely nothing more than to make everyone happy. He just can't.
But I will never give up on him. I will believe in him until my dying day. I don't care how hard it gets or how much I have to fight--with, for and against him--I will always be there.
Right now Matt sees a counselor every other week to understand why he feels the way he does. He takes medication for his ADHD. He's in speech therapy to help him vocalize his emotions better. I take him to all of these appointments. And it's hard--hard to see my child struggle with things that seem to come so easily. It hurts. I think about his future every day. I wonder if he will be OK. For a lot of parents, that worry is much simpler. And I kind of envy them.
But then I get to kiss Matt goodnight or snuggle with him on the couch. His little bony elbows poking me, feeling him breathe. Right then, right there, everything is perfect. My child is special. Because he's mine.
