|From 2011-11 (Nov)|
I relate to a lot of what this writer talks about in this article. My boys, God bless them, are strange, with strange issues. But, thank God, I've never had to deal with the hook on this headline.
I've always liked them. Well, that's not to say 100% of the time. I do not know if any two humans can claim that. Especially for a bit last year with the big one, he made it real tough there for about nine months... And of course there's the melt downs in the grocery store and the really wonderful time I had to kick my own son off the soccer team I was coaching...
But that is not the point. Those are passing moments in life. I've always liked who they are. They are neat kids.
Really, the point of this article isn't that she didn't "like" her kid, but that her child suffered from undiagnosed health issues that she could see but that others around them could not see. Her parenting Spidey Sense, if you will, was blaring at 100+ decibels. Her daughter's behavior was disturbing and discomforting. It was not something she could understand. It was not something she could "like."
Yes, I've had to deal with that parenting Spidey Sense blaring at 100+ decibels, also. And, most definitely, my boys are a bit odd. Partially due to their unique lives so far and, with the little one, due to his nasty little combination of OCD and Aspberger's. But, for the most part, my kids' abnormalities are rather charming.
Especially in our family. If you aren't a bit of an odd duck, it would be hard to fit in.
"Why Don't I Like My Own Child?" - Family & Parenting - Your Life - MSN Lifestyle:
Instead, more often, it was Sophie crawling on all fours and meowing, shrieking, jabbering in made-up languages, and asking nonsensical questions (What if day were night, and night were day? What if it snowed in summer? What if our last name was Nebraska?). Even when I tried to help her — by going over the moves that tripped her up in dance class and urging her to stop transferring her boogers from nose to mouth — I only did so because I wanted her to be accepted and liked, which was my agenda, not hers. Sadly, my efforts only made her feel more self-conscious and anxious. And I continued to feel exasperated and annoyed. Why was my own daughter so difficult for me to parent? I gradually got used to the feeling, but I never made peace with it.
Then, when Sophie was 7, a stunning revelation rocked our family's world. At the prompting of our pediatrician, who was concerned about Sophie's sluggish growth, she was tested and diagnosed with a growth hormone deficiency that had slowed her development across the board since birth. Her speech, motor skills, and social maturation were three years behind schedule. Wow! It wasn't the diagnosis I expected, but it made sense. Growth hormone regulates so many functions in the body; Sophie's lack of it explained everything from her blue moods and anxious behaviors to her difficulty communicating to her birdlike appetite and negligible muscle tone. My first reaction was relief — a diagnosis! Then hope — help is on the way! Then guilt. All this time, Sophie was struggling.