Parents with Children Who Aren’t Special Needs Don’t Understand.
I have a lot of friends.
That’s probably because I’m loyal to them and true to myself, but that’s a blog post for another day.
Some of my dearest friends aren’t understanding my current position, and that hurts.
“Why can’t Josh watch Tori while you go out to my late-night birthday party?”
“Why can’t you just leave Tori to cry herself to sleep and get her out of your bed?”
“Why don’t you ever go out to visit anyone after 6 pm?”
I’ve been faced with a lot of those questions lately, especially as Tori is getting older.
Here’s the thing: Tori’s sensory disorder makes things different. There’s a difference between catering to your child and making sure your child feels secure and continues to trust you.
Since Tori was six weeks old, the only way to ensure she slept soundly is to make sure she’s cuddled around Mama. At first I did this because it made breastfeeding easier. I was also doing it because I needed to sleep more than twenty minute stretches at a time in order to go to work in the morning.
As time went on, both Josh and I realized that the only time this child would get any actual sleep is when we held her.
Yes, I tried leaving her in her crib. (No, I don’t believe in cry-it-out methods). I tried putting her down drowsy, doing things in the room . . . the way this child would cry was *not* a normal cry. No, folks, she was truly distressed.
In the meantime? Yes, it’s disappointing I can’t go out and party with my friends on occasion (although I’ll readily admit I’m ready to leave that part of my life behind). Yes, I’m disappointed that if my friend is having people over at 8 pm that I can’t be there because I’ll be in bed. Yes, Josh feels terrible that he’s unable to help me nighttime parent.
But you know what? Tori will only be this age so long. Before I know it, this time in her life will be a distant memory. It won’t be long before she’s cursing me and wanting to move out of the house with one of her boyfriends.
:: sigh ::
What will last a lifetime? The sense of security and love that I’m giving her.
Simply put, the next time someone gives me shit about staying in and cuddling with my daughter instead of hitting the town, spending money I don’t have, and getting drunk . . . they can kiss my ass.