My 40-year-old daughter has cerebral palsy and an intellectual disability. Over the years, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard, “God only gives special needs children to special people.” I’ve often found myself biting my tongue, resisting the urge to retort: “Add that to the list of things God forgot to give.” But I’ve never done that.
I’m not brave enough.
Instead, I offer a polite nod, maybe a “thank you,” and seethe with resentment. These well-intentioned sentiments often come across as complimentary — but honestly, they annoy me, and I am sure I’m not alone. According to a 2021 report from the Census Bureau, disability rates among the nation’s children have been rising since the early 1990s. In 2019, an estimated 2.6 million households had at least one child in the home with a disability, the report states.
Back in the ’80s, it took me years to accept my child’s diagnosis. While I dealt with getting her services and therapies, I was certain my daughter would somehow magically … recover. Today, there is an effort within the disability community to encourage people with disabilities to take pride in who they are and their whole self, including disability. Yet I struggled with that concept when my daughter was younger. At the time, I wanted to separate her from her disability.
That’s probably why some of these comments irritated me so much — although even today, I still don’t appreciate them.
It never helped when I was struggling with my daughter during an uncontrollable meltdown in the grocery store checkout line and heard the person behind me quote this oversimplified phrase like they were sharing a secret. “God only gives special needs children to special people,” they said, as so many have. I pictured grabbing all their items and shoving them off the checkout conveyor belt, then sneering, “Serves you right.”
One more thing I’ve never done.
That sentence still feels condescending to me. So does this one, which I’ve also frequently heard: “What a wonderful blessing to be given this child.” Or, “You’re so blessed.”
These heartfelt sentiments, offered like a gift, don’t help. I certainly don’t feel blessed. Or special. Besides, don’t we all deserve not to be singled out because of our differences? Rather than making the “God” comment or some sort of generic remark, why not offer some acknowledgment of the child’s accomplishments? Or recognize the effort it takes for us as parents to navigate these daily challenges. I would love for someone to say, “I know it’s a challenge, but you seem to be handling it pretty well.”
Or, even better: “What can I do to help you?”
Parenting a child who falls outside societal norms can be incredibly isolating. Today I understand that it’s impossible to separate my daughter from her disability. I see that she has a unique perspective on the world around her; it is who she is. While I can now understand the God quote — even if I don’t like it — what I’ve never understood is the criticism and judgment from individuals who couldn’t recognize my daughter’s atypical behavior. Several years ago, during a trip to the mall, my daughter refused to accompany me into the stall of a public restroom. A woman rushed in and demanded to know why my child was screaming. “I came in here when I heard all the commotion. I thought someone was hurt.”
When she discovered it was simply a battle of wills, she muttered something about how some people don’t know a thing about controlling their children. I was too embarrassed to respond.
Humiliated.
We often encounter unplanned journeys in our lives, and as a parent of a child with disabilities, I have had to travel rocky terrain. It’s time to educate people on what to say — or what not to say — to marginalized parents.
I recently heard this quote, from someone who has a son with a disability, and it captured the essence of my years of experience: “Sometimes the things we can’t change end up changing us.”
It captures the transformative power of acceptance and resilience in the face of adversity and, at least for me, is a perfect alternative to the God quote. Most of us believe we must soldier on and not complain about our challenges. This acknowledges the journey of the parent of a child with differences. Instead of dwelling on our inability to change a situation, we have to learn to be resilient and adaptable. Raising my daughter challenged my ableist beliefs, helped me shift my perspective and ultimately taught me the power of acceptance.
And it helped me realize that God doesn’t give special children to special people. Every one of us is special.
