There is a dear lady here in town named Nora.  Her name isn’t really Nora but she wouldn’t want me using her name on this site and I always thought she kinda looked like a Nora.  A few years back Nora whose name isn’t really Nora made her way through a bitter, painful divorce and started a Facebook group called, “Being a Mother.”  It’s a great place to log in, vent, cry, get ideas about potty training and discover you’re not the only one whose son didn’t give up his binky till he was 6.  Anyway, last month, Kevin and I had quite the night from hell.  2 hours of screaming, time outs, punches and tears.  All of this after a 9 hour work day and of course, Chris is out of town on business.  After I finally got him calmed down I logged into Being a Mother and went apeshit.  I think it was the first time I ever posted the truth.  I was certain the backlash would be terminal.  After all, who calls their son an asshole?  Who publicly admits they hate their son sometimes and wish he was never born? “Only a heartless, selfish pig like you!” I thought, as I fell asleep with visions of pitchforks dancing in my head.  And I couldn’t have been more wrong.  65 people responded to my rant.  People I’d never met, people I’ve still never met all with kind words of support and encouragement.  But in addition to the kind words most all of them had a question to ask me that went something like this:  I have a friend in a similar situation.  I know she has these thoughts too.  I want so much to help her and I don’t know how.  Do you have any advice?  Well, I did and I do.  But before I tell you what I told all the nice ladies in Medford Lakes I must first tell you a story.  Once upon a time, in a far away land there was a lady named Karen.  Her name isn’t really Karen she just wouldn’t want me using her name on this site and I’ve always thought she kinda looks like a Karen.  Anyhoo, I didn’t know Karen all that well.  She was just  a friendly lady I shot the shit with at Kindergarden dropoff and she seemed like a really nice person.  One day, Karen and I were invited to the same barbecue and we got to talking.  In the middle of our conversation Kevin came over, asked me for an 11th cookie, I said no and he slapped me in the face.  It was quite embarassing.  Thankfully Chris was right there.  He intervened on my behalf, dragged Kevin away kicking and thrashing and I turned around to continue my conversation with Karen whose name isn’t really Karen.  As I did, I noticed she was actually watching Chris drag Kevin away.  Most people, when Kevin melts down like that, politely pretend nothing is happening.  She then turned to me and said something I had never heard before, not in the 6 years of his life, not from any friend, relative or doctor.  “It must be very hard being his mother.” she said.  And now tears are streaming down my face as I write this.  Because there really are no words in the English language to describe what I felt in that moment.  Initially I was insulted, then aghast, then confused, then angry and suddenly all of that was washed away by a tidal wave of RELIEF.  I took everything I had not to scream “YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Yes, Yes it is!  It’s very hard being is mother.  Most days I’d give anything NOT to be his mother.  Some days I downright HATE being his mother.  I want to bring him back to Virtua, explain to the nurses that he is NOT what I ordered and exchange him for “normal” boy.”  Now I did not say any of this to Karen whose name really isn’t Karen but I wanted to.  I wanted to hug this woman I barely knew and thank her.  It was one of the happiest days of my life.  I looked into those big, beautiful eyes (Karen whose name isn’t really Karen has big beautiful eyes) and with all the hope in the world that she could hear my thoughts I thought, “You SEE.  At long last someone sees that it’s hard being his mother.  Thank you so much for saying it.  You’ve given me hope.  Because if you see, it’s likely most other people see it too: They just don’t say anything because they’re afraid  it’s going to hurt my feelings.”   

So………………….here’s the advice I gave all the nice ladies in Medford Lakes.  The next time you see your buddy in Shoprite and her son is there with his pants pulled down  and he’s pissing on the cereal, walk right up to her and say, “It must be very hard being his mother.”  You will not want to do this.   It will make you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable and helpless.  Do it anyway.  Because the kindest thing you can do for someone is invite them to share with you their pain. When you are willing to share in someone’s pain you manage to dissolve a small piece of that pain, and it’s never quite as painful after that.  Having a special needs child sucks and you think there’s nothing you can do to help your friend which is why you don’t say things to her like, “It must be very hard being his mother.”   You’re wrong.  You CAN help her.  Invite her to tell you how her life sucks.  Tell her you know her life sucks and for however long she’d like to be honest about it you’d like to hear it all.  And you will hear some terrible things.  The good news is you don’t have to offer any advice because lets face it you don’t have any.  All you have to do is say, “Wow that really sucks,”  in response to everything she says.  That’s what she NEEDS to hear.  Everyone whose life sucks needs to hear from other people that their life sucks, not just the members of the Nobody Wants To Be A Member Of This Club Including Us Club.  Even if you don’t know the mother of a special needs child you know somebody whose life sucks.  For example, I have another friend named Kathy.  Her name isn’t really Kathy but she wouldn’t want me using her name on this site and I’ve always thought she kinda looks like a Kathy.  Kathy whose name isn’t really Kathy has MS.  I bet it sucks.  I bet it sucks monkey balls.  I promised the great ladies in Medford Lakes that the next time I saw Kathy whose name isn’t really Kathy, I would not say what I usually do which is, “You look sexy in that walker.”  I promised I would say, “Hey Kathy whose name isn’t really Kathy, what’s it like to have MS?  I imagine it sucks big elephant dick am I right?”  I did not do this but I did do the following:  Another truly fantastic lady here in Medford Lakes has just been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer.  In 2 weeks she’s going to have a double masectomy, followed by months of chemo and radiation followed by a hysterectomy.  I saw her at play practice yesterday, and although I was scared at first, I walked up to her and said,”I heard the news Emily.”  Her name isn’t really Emily but she wouldn’t want me using her name on this site and I’ve always thought she kinda looks like an Emily.  “How are you feeling?” I asked, and she told me everything.  It was all awful.  But at the end she gave me a hug, smiled and said, “Thanks for asking.”

And in closing, I’d like to thank Karen whose name isn’t really Karen.  I know you’re reading this.  I know you’ve heard this story a million times but you’ve never heard this:  The day you said what you said was one of the happiest days of my life.  You transformed me that day for the better.  I love you so much for it and thank God that you are my friend.  The next time I see you, please feelfree to tell me how your life sucks.