And there was a baby bird, feathers just barely coming in, chirping and chirping so a parent would come feed it. It tried to fly, but was still too little. I put out some water and crumbs for it, hoping that it would eat, but it still just called and called and ignored my attempt to help.
Eventually, the daddy cardinal came back with a bug for it, and plopped it into the eager mouth. And again. And again. Each time, it had to fly away to find yet more food. As the father flew away, the baby bird chirped piteously and tried to fly after him, just far enough to a tree with branches only a foot from the balcony railing, then perched and continued to chirp.
I went about my business, sometimes a little annoyed by the constant chirping that was distracting me from my work.
Then I stopped to imagine what it must be like to be that daddy cardinal. I thought about how much it was like raising a special needs child.
Most people don't stop for long to think about a special needs child until you REALLY meet them.
You go about your business, occasionally tuning out a meltdown at the store, or reading an article about a family with a special needs child. But it doesn't really hit home until...
You become friends with a family that has a special needs child. You see the massive level of demands and feel bad for the family, maybe try and help out, like how I tried with crumbs and water.
BUT, nothing can replace that overworked, exhausted father who must have been beyond worried that their baby escaped from the nest.
Now they need to find that baby and give it special care all while managing the other babies in it's nest. Do those other babies resent the father for being gone? Are they going hungry or not getting enough because the one bird is taking up so much of the father's energy?
So again, and again, and AGAIN the father cares for that baby bird. It goes unnoticed by everyone- the searching for food, the ache in his wings from constantly flying to find food, then return to his lost baby, then go back to check on his other nestlings.
He worries that his baby might get hurt- it can't defend itself. He worries that the baby will die on it's own- it can't find it's own food. What if a well meaning person comes along and tries to help, but the help they offer does more harm than good?
So even though it is beyond exhausted, the father continues to fly back and forth.
That is exactly how raising a special needs child is. That child needs extra help, extra supervision, and extra attention. You worry MORE about that child because they don't "stay in the nest", as much as you want them to.
Maybe you will be offered help. Perhaps a government agency puts you on their 10 year long waiting list, or the school offers "appropriate" services. Maybe a friend offers to watch your child for an hour.
As grateful as you are for those things, sometimes, it still feels like crumbs.
So you continue to feed your baby bird, wanting to cry sometimes because of how tired you are. To the point where words cannot adequately describe it.
When all of your body physically hurts and aches because of the level of service you have given your child day and night for years.
When you are so emotionally spent on the constant battles fought for your child for years that you have no feeling left for yourself.
When your other children act out because they crave your time and attention and energy, but you are so depleted from your special needs child that you can't give them the effort they need, as much as you want to.
When your marriage is struggling for the same reasons.
When you wonder if you will ever be able to save enough for your child after you die, and never mind being able to retire. Ever.
And yet, that daddy bird will never give up on his baby. Just like for my two precious daughters, I will never give up. My husband and I will continue to give as much as we can to those girls, because that is what they need.
And that is what makes a parent.
So once again, spread those wings, my friend, and fly.
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