What Disability Taught Me About Parenting

When I became foster parent, I had been invalidated for six years. To obtain a foster parent license, my doctor had to prove my ability to parents.

I struggled to ask him.

The degree to which I present as a person with a disability is different. If you are not using a wheelchair and sitting somewhere with the right supportive cushion, I see well. But my diagnosis – dictatorship and Ehlers-Danlos syndrome – both cause ruthless symptoms that can be difficult or impossible to sit, stand, lift, eat, drive.

My doctor knew the reality of my disability. He had witnessed my pain and uncertainty. He watched me crying on his table. He knew how hard it was to look after him and how much I relied on the delivery of ready-made meals and the help of friends. I couldn’t imagine what he would say when he asked him to support my ability to care for others.

His office had two seating options. One metal chair with cushion and a test table. For most reservations I was waiting for him on the table. It’s very difficult for me to sit upright in a chair.

This time I was forced to wait in a chair. Maybe if I sat there he would forget all the visits that came before. The room shook and spun, my vision faded. I pushed through.

Dr. Stern went in and sat there. “What will bring you today?” he asked. I spoke quickly and explained what my partner David and I were thinking about the decision to become parents. Preparation, money we saved for childcare, his parenting leave. Dr. Stern listened carefully and asked a few questions.

I tried my best I could, but here is something I still didn’t fully know. Being disabled made me ready to be a parent.

Before I became disabled 14 years ago, I pursued happiness and success on a merciless drive with Man’s disease. There is one example. I obtained a real estate license in 2007 while waiting to hear a response from the graduate program. I wanted to make extra money that could help pay for school. But my forced into Excel had other plans. Instead of simply squishing tuition fees, I became one of the top sellers of large companies in my first year, opened a new company with other women in my second year, and was named one of the top agents in the country in my third year.

Working hard requires periodically negating other physical and emotional needs. Sleep, comfort and joy are forgotten. Even my vacation ran on a Swiss schedule with the best restaurants, most dynamic areas, and only insider haunts.

No one would be surprised to hear that my body had not escaped my anger. I ran every morning, yoga multiple times a week, stuffed every meal with more nutrients than any person could use.

During a hike in Saintroni, Greece, I became disabled on an August afternoon. The detour led to thermal fatigue, which led to electrolyte imbalances, and the combination caused potential genetic conditions. The day before the hike, I ran and danced. The next day I barely managed to get out of bed.

During the two years of hiking, I looked for answers. When the doctor rejected my symptoms, I wondered if they were right. Were you worried too much? After the diagnosis, I saddened and accepted my new reality for two more years. I finally admitted that I would be sick forever. But then the way I labeled myself slowly began to change. The word “disability” has begun to rise more. Payment for my disabled parking lot, disability student services, disability insurance.

For me, existence disease It was pure loss and suffering. But it exists invalid It brought something new: culture. I was now part of a long line of disabled people who had come before me. I began smoking books and essays by authors with disabilities and writing about disabilities: Eli Claire, Elizabeth Burns, Julie Lehmeyer, Toni Bernhardt, Jean Dominique Bauby, Nasim Marie Jaffrey, Meghan O’Rork, Leslie JamisonErin Rafty, Amy Berkowitz, Nancy Iresland, Susan Sontag, Madeline Detroff, Rosemary Garland Thomson, Alice Wong, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna Samarasingha, Elliot Kukura.

The thoughts and lives of these thinkers have changed the way I saw my stories. I began to realize not only physical ability, but also how becoming a disabled person has changed. A few years after the hike sought my hands out of their death grip on perfectionism. For a long time, I have a life largely Fully, and I owned to the flaws. However, the obstacles fundamentally changed my perspective. Every day is difficult, and a valuable life manifests in our ability to connect with one another, witness good moments, and tell the truth about our lives.

The gloss in my life before disability made me think that with enough effort, I could shoehorn my entire existence into something ideal. My days are late, painful and unpredictable. But my core beliefs about any day Should It has been completely changed. I don’t think the goal is perfect or even enjoy it. I think it’s courage to tell yourself the truth.

Becoming a parent is not much different from being invalidated. Despite our best efforts, parenting is often messy and unpredictable. Being a parent releases our delusions of control.

I feel such sadness for her and the baby when I imagine what my disability-free version was like with a newborn. There is a huge amount of uncertainty, tranquility and pain on these early parenting days. She would have won everything for it. She would have missed it.

Instead, when my child got home eight days ago, I had been training for years to take things when they came. I was masterful on my days in bed. I was happy to wait.

Thank you, I was disabled when I met my first adoptive child soon. Because as a result of this limited and painful body, I can actually be there.

Dr. Stern signed the form. “Your child is lucky to have you,” he said.

He was right.

Jessica Slice The author of Incompetent parents: Disabled mothers challenge an inaccessible worldit’ll come out tomorrow. Her articles have also appeared in the New York Times, The Washington Post and Glamour. She lives in Toronto with her family.

For PS disorders, it includes methods to help children navigate their encounters with disorders.

(Photo: Liz Cooper.)