Today I will eat lunch with a clutch of other special people. Our common thread is being mothers of children with special needs. That makes us special too. Mind you I do not say competent, or saintly, or even skilled. Some of the time we falter badly, but that does not seem to get us fired.
The circumstances diverge
after that one point of cohesion. Our children are different ages, with a spectrum of diagnoses. Some are served well by the school system, others have left that behind to make their way in a bumpy world. Over the years we have heard the stories of surgeries, and loneliness, IEPs and hair graying seizures. But there is a stability in the room that can buffer even the tragedy of lost dreams.
For a long time I was the newbie, and felt anchored by the women who have
zealously protected their children for decades. They did not meet my anxiety with pity. Unlike me, they knew that I would get stronger, and smarter. Now I can listen to younger women in a way that might soften their fears of the future.
I do not belong to a special wives club. But I have tossed the idea around. There are folks whose marriages are limping along, undiagnosed. I do spend my heart listening one to one, and maybe that is enough. But there is an
unmistakable sense of community that emerges around a table of people who are all hungry for connection.
And the pasta with pine nuts helps too.
