Please Don’t Forget Me

Rebecca Shayler-Adams by Rebecca Shayler-Adams Additional Needs

Rebecca Shayler-Adams

Rebecca Shayler-Adams

We are just a typical family muddling along our day to day lives. 4 kids, 1 with autism, 1 with an unknown neuromuscular condition

I know that you probably think I don’t want to talk about your daily upsets; that your washing pile just won’t disappear, now your child talks you want a moments peace, that your child has a cold and is up all night and you just want to sleep.

The thing is it is one of the many things I want and sort of need.

My life is not normal, it has been turned upside down, inside out and shaken all about, I have ended up in a destination I never ever thought I would be in and I am lost.

I need the normality of talking about the childhood sniffles, that the kid at nursery cut your bundle of joys hair, that the boss at work won’t let you eat at your desk anymore.

It brings me back to normality for that moment in time.

It is bringing me back into my old life of no stress, of no worry about the next appointments and the next round of testing.

Talking about normal, somewhat ‘boring’ topics makes me for that 5 minutes forget that my child potentially has a life limiting condition, it makes me forget that my child’s life is not what I would wish on my worst enemy.

Yet those normal conversations are getting fewer and far between.

Most people generally ask about my baby’s appointments and what is happening now, which don’t get me wrong is lovely that people care enough to ask, but that is it, that is the extent of their conversation.

It is almost like I have a sign above me stating that I cannot handle a normal conversation without ending up in jealous tears as that’s what I wished my worries and concerns are.

I love my daughter and I can’t imagine her any other way.

I would love to take her place and I would never not want her around just so I had my ‘old’ life back, but I sure wish I had the old conversations.

Please do not forget about me, please don’t let me fade away and just be the mother of a disabled child.

I am still me, my child may not be the same as yours now but I am still here.


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