Where Special Needs Families Feel Welcome

There are places where we feel so out of place. The kids all stare and the parents whisper to them, trying to explain that “she’s different”.  Most of the time the parent tries to make their child engage, but it usually ends with these potential friends just running away to find someone else to play with.  During special events like Story Time with Ariel, my child is the only one who can’t follow the directions to sitting in a circle around The Little Mermaid as she reads a story.  Renna is the one sitting on Ariel's dress and making squeals of joy while every other child is wondering why they can’t sit that close.  And the entire time I go back and forth in my head, wondering whether or not I need to pull her off one more time in an attempt to get her to sit nice like the other kids.  These are the times we end up waiting until the very end to have our photo taken because we feel bad for being so distributive.  We can’t possibly go through that feeling of judgment any longer so we wait until the line has dwindled down to almost nothing before we get our turn.  And it was well worth the wait and the stares because this Disney Princess is super sweet with Renna and soon all the anxiety I felt seemed to melt away.  But this is not something I want to do again anytime soon!

But then there are places that feel familiar…comfortable even.  Where we walk in and say “hi” with Renna’s talker and everyone responds with a smile on their face and begins a conversation directly with my sweet daughter, even though she can’t communicate with words.  Most days there are parents to my left and to my right waiting for their child’s therapy to start as well.  Sometimes we start a conversation and even ask each other for advice, like today when a dad asked where and how we got Renna’s talker.  But other times we just give each other a head nod and a half smile and without words we say, “I know exactly what you're going through!  This is hard, but just you being here, I know I’m not alone.”  People watching becomes encouraging instead of disappointing as the sea of wheelchairs, medical strollers and even the Trexo Robotic walkers passes by.  We are not so different anymore and the squeals of joy are accompanied by words of praise for a girl who can’t communicate with words, but is working so hard to find her voice.  This is a place where we feel at home, where everyone knows Renna’s name.