The last few weekends I’ve been really busy, all the time. At work. At parties. Everywhere. It just seems like a very social time right now. And there’s something I’ve noticed. It’s been happening the last year, subtly. Without me realizing it. But I guess so many new people in such a short time span will do such a thing.
I feel like I am being marked. Tagged. And isolated.
Why? Because my son has a disability. Something about that just makes people so uncomfortable. Maybe something about how I’m so matter of fact about it. Or how I occasionally even make a light-hearted joke about it. (Not in a making fun of him sort of way . . . in the way that I joke about not doing Florida Pre-Paid because between the Spina Bifida and the fact that he’s half Hispanic, he better get a scholarship!) I’m not really sure what it is, but it makes me sad.
I don’t want this to sound like it probably will, but I don’t want to feel like I can only make new “mom-friends” with women whose children also have disabilties. Don’t get me wrong, every single one I’ve met has been an amazing person and mother. But I don’t want to be so absorbed by that world that I cannot ever just have a conversation about my kid being a kid, instead of discussions about shunts and braces and wheelchairs. There are so many abnormal things about all of this that I need, and want, some level of normal.
But I mention the word Spina Bifida, and right after the look of pity, or horror, I see a frozen face and an awkwardly shifting person trying to find the nearest escape. I don’t even mention half the things we go through to people because I am so sick of seeing that face.
So, that is where I am. At almost a year old, I find myself with all the same friends I had before. I love and treasure each and every one of them. But I do wonder what is different about me, about my situation, that I have no new play dates with new mom friends and new “normal” babies.