Special Needs Mama

Recently, I visited my son at school during snack time, to observe him with his feeding and occupational therapists. I said “Hi,” to Evan to let him know I was…

When my daughter was four years old, she received an end-of-the-year scrapbook from her preschool teachers. There, amidst the anecdotes of pre-reading Max & Ruby stories, the child-created observations of…

My son starts school this fall in a new class, at a new location, with new kids and a new teacher. A week before school began, I stopped by to…

I am going on vacation for a week in August. I am not taking my son. My daughter and I are packing up on a trip to the San Juan…

Years later, the memories are as clear to me as the afternoon in July that I went into labor, four months before my due date. My babies weren’t supposed to…

Cliff has embraced his imperfect son like nobody’s business. He wrestles with him on the floor, teaches him aikido moves and how to play the bongos. My son laughs to…

My son’s body offers up a latticework of scars: hundreds of tiny marks where blood was drawn, and more twisted scars where doctors placed lines and probes. And along his…

My son hates to have his teeth brushed or his nails trimmed. Each is a struggle that results in violent cries and tears; both require that he be pinned down,…

That we still have a diaper bag speaks volumes about our situation. Typical six-year-olds use the toilet; they eat. But the items that accompany Evan to school are many. His…

I’m not supposed to wonder who my son would be apart from his disabilities. I’m not supposed to think about who he might be or what I might love about…

There it was between us, the word: verbal. As in “non-verbal.” According to this woman, my son’s future had been determined. “Non-verbal communicator.” I went home and sat with the…