Turbulence

March 31

An overzealous adult crossed the line with our neurodiverse son and awoke the Papa Bear in me.

While waiting at the airport for our early morning flight home after our March Break trip a few weeks ago, T was disregulated.

He didn't get a lot of sleep and he was short tempered, hyperactive and mouthy.

During these situations, the hubby and I try our best to ignore the behaviour, while fully aware all eyes and ears are on us.

We gave T fair warning that if he didn't stop with the colourful language, which he would say out of frustration with the game he was playing, we would take his phone away.

And so we did. He got mad and started swearing loudly and smacked the hubby.

A woman sitting in front of us then yelled loudly at him, "Hey kid, this is not a playground!"

The hubby got up with T and they walked away to try to deescalate somewhere less crowded and noisy. As the hubby walked away, he told the woman, "Your comments are not helpful."

The woman then looked at me in disbelief but instead of backing her, I said to her, "He has a disability and he is escalated right now."

Then she snapped back, "I've fostered kids before so I know all about kids like this."

I didn't back down, because she should've known better then.

"His brain is on fire," I said. "He is in fight or flight mode. I know these situations are hard for everyone - believe me, this is hardest for him. Comments like yours only add fuel to the fire."

She saw I was not backing down, so she swiftly ended the conversation grumpily, "Well, you're very tolerant."

She then turned her body away from me and towards her travel companion next to her. She typed messages on her phone that she silently showed to her companion.

So I squared my shoulders and body towards her for the duration of the wait for the flight. Two can play the let's-make-things-awkward game.

I was livid, because she crossed a line.

People can think what they want about T, judge silently or even speak to the hubby and I and tell us he's being a brat or we're being bad parents.

But to directly yell at him, when she was not part of the situation, was inappropriate.

I would never yell at someone else's child when that child was not doing anything to me.

Reflecting on this situation a few weeks later reinforced to me that being a special needs parent is about taking a different path, one that is often counter to the path I took growing up.

As T grows up, he will face misunderstandings, intolerance and I know it will get harder, because people only see outwardly behaviour without understanding the underlying reasons.

It makes me sad and angry. But I am doing my best to redirect these feelings into something productive - awareness raising, advocacy and most importantly, standing up for my child.

The plane ride home had a few bumpy moments with T, but I didn't care.

During a particular rough patch of turbulence, the pilot reminded us to fasten our seatbelts.

And that's what life with T, a child with FASD, is about sometimes.

Fastening your seatbelt and landing on solid ground eventually - small patches of turbulence in a journey filled with wonder.