Wednesday, April 18, 2007

compare and contrast

Nicole tells a (to me, anyway) heartbreaking story about various kinds of pain and how our own, perfectly legitimate, suffering can blind us to someone else's.

It made me think of one of my friends who has a little boy with severe disabilities, both mental and physical, that require round-the-clock, draining, backbreaking care. He'll never be able to walk or talk. He's not likely to live to adulthood, though his condition is so rare, that it's hard to make predictions with any degree of certainity. And I sometimes think (and feel guilty for thinking it) that, compared to her, I got off easy.

7 comments:

Roxanne said...

I have to say that after the baby died I felt like I would have given anything to have him no matter what might have been wrong with him. But after having Baby Wigg and seeing how hard it is to parent a kid with no disabilities (knock on wood throwing salt over my shoulder, etc....khana hura), I don't really feel that way anymore. I think it's personal. I only speak for myself. But I think I would have lost it.

Nicole said...

I have been carrying around that story for about a week, and have only now been able to put it to words on the page. The story had to marinate my brain to reall take effect. I am glad you found it as touching as I did.

Katie said...

This is something I have thought about and struggled with, over and over. It is very possible, given Piglet's extreme prematurity, that he would have had severe and multiple disabilities, had he lived. I have always said I would have given anything to have him with me, regardless of his functioning level.

And then I wonder, when I see children with such severe disabilities, and see the pain they and their parents go through...How much of that insistence on having him with me is just me, being blinded to the pain of others.

That Mommy said...

Perspective is everything.

When I hear such stories, I can sympathize with parents going through the sort of situation that ends with child loss, and I consider myself as having gotten off easy than them, and them as having gotten off easier than me.

I'm lucky, in that, there is no foreseeable reason that my daughter will pass away before me and I do not have to live with the reality that I will outlive her, in all likelihood.

And sometimes, I think those parents are "getting off easy" because there will probably be an end to their days of back-breaking, draining work, whereas I am already being asked to resign myself to caring for my daughter until I am physically unable to do so.

Thanks for sharing!

S said...

Maybe it's impossible to know.

I've seen some parents of kids with serious, even life-threatening, disabilities who don't seem to be having a tough time, though I can't imagine that to be the case, which certainly says something about me.

I've seen others who are barely making it through the days.

And I don't know what separates the two sets.

Anonymous said...

This topic is so hard for me to talk about, because as you know Gabrielle was severely disabled, she didn't even have fingers or toes, anyway, when I'm out and about and I see a child with similar conditions as she had, I look at the parents and siblings and a sense of relief washes over me. I'm so thankful she's with god rather then suffering in this world, which is hard enough even for us and we have what we need to look after and defend ourselves.

I know it doesn't compare to your story but every time I feel too sorry for myself I think of other peoples miseries, it makes me put my own into perspective and I feel normal again.

XXX

LawMommy said...

I know I probably don't have any business having an opinion, never having lost a child, and never having a child with a disability. But, truthfully, as draining as I find it, as emotionally exhausting as I sometimes find mothering my children who have no disabilities, I cannot comprehend what it would take to mother a child who will never walk or talk and requires constant attention...I don't think I could handle it. I think, in your shoes, I would feel the same way. (I'm sorry if it seems bitchy of me, to even suggest what I might think, were I in your shoes...that's not my intention...)

Gretchen