Friday, 13 January 2012

Today I weep

Today I weep.

My day started with discovering my daughter sleeping with her head at the foot of the bed. This only means one thing: she wet herself during the night and turned to sleep at the dry end. Unfortunately, aged 9, she is now too tall for this to be of benefit. So the day started with a change of sheets. Even this would not bother me too much, but I was greeted in the school playground by her saying she needed a change of pants. Looking down, I see it is worse than that, as her tights and shoes are sodden. Why oh why oh why? Clearly our current range of medicines to help control this are insufficient. But do I want to put my girl onto stronger drugs? Do I want to control this only by chemical input? Then again, do I want to spend my whole life washing her clothes and bedsheets?

Today I weep.

For my daughter has no true awareness of her developmental issues. I can shout and scream until I am blue in the face, but she has little comprehension of her peculiarity, that she is not doing what a 'normal' 9 year old would do. Last night I said goodnight and switched off the light around 9pm - later than I'd like, but not horrifically so. Yet at 10.30pm I could hear her stereo blaring out music from two floors down. When I run up the stairs (furious) I find all lights on, Jessie J blasting out and her reading books in bed, without a care in the world. Even my arrival didn't instigate shame, such as hurriedly hiding away the books. The eventual apology was hollow, as she didn't understand why I was cross.

Today I weep.

My daughter has gone to play with a friend. This is a good thing, but it saddens me that she was the 'friend of last resort', as her friend listed out all the other girls she had tried to invite for tea but who couldn't make it for one reason or another. 'There's no-one else!' she declared, much to her mother's embarrassment. Fortunately this washes over my daughter's head, as she is so delighted to go out and play. But I worry for her, for the loss of friends as they develop at a 'normal' pace and my beautiful girl struggles to progress. Increasingly she will be difficult to play with - she won't understand the intricacies of a game or the social rules that children develop.

Today I weep.

For she is the most beautiful girl in the world. She is happy and carefree. She is trying so hard. She has a love of life and a love of people that does not judge or dismiss or become bitchy. There is nothing physically or genetically wrong with her, no diagnosable issue such as dyslexia or autism, no behavioural problems: just a markedly slow development educationally and socially. She smiles and laughs and giggles.

I have so few problems with my children compared to many people and I give thanks for the wonderful gift they are to me. Today I am seeing the black cloud rather than the silver lining. And today - just today - as I bear her pain, I weep for my little girl.

3 comments:

TheMadHouse said...

I couldn't read this and not comment, I have no answer, but I just wanted to say I have read it

cheshire wife said...

I know that it does not help, but the problem is more common than you think. The main thing is that she is happy.

Catharine Withenay said...

Thank you for your comments. All is well - just a little morose the other day! All part of the roller coaster of parenthood. xx

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