Parenting
through the teen years P
arenting a child is like watching a caterpillar become a butterfly, only for it to metamorphosise again into something more miraculous with each new stage of life. We watch as our newborns become toddlers, then pre-schoolers. Then with excitement we march them off to school for those heady and glorious primary school years where teachers foster their blossoming personalities while also needing to deal with their challenges in learning and maintaining attention. And then comes puberty and those high school years, where most parents batten down the hatches, seeking to survive the middle teens of hormone changes, grumpiness, social tensions, social media obsessions, introspection and introversion. And after that, the birthing of a new human form, the young adult who transitions out of school and then out of home, keen to spread their wings and explore the world around them. I’ve lived this experience twice before, watching Ms First Born finish university and become a fully qualified paediatric nurse, and Mr Middle Child Syndrome chase his music passions through a degree and set his sights on production and entertainment, albeit now adjusted
22 SO U RCEKI DS .CO M . AU
by the COVID pandemic. But my third child is on a different pathway. At 16 years of age we have been learning about parenting the teenage years through the intellectual disability lens. And yes, it is different, but still has echoes of familiarity and a sense that we can do this. And the common factor? Well, it is us – the parents.
Let me be really clear - no one is born ready to parent teenagers! You have to grow through the years of toddler tantrums, constant negotiation with pre-schoolers, and endless parent/ teacher interviews where your child is the ‘delightful but disruptive’ influence. And parents of kids with disabilities are no different. By the time our loved ones become teenagers, we have survived the shock of diagnosis, and moved through the fog of grief, to generally come out the other side with a determination and drive to make the world a better place for our kids. And yes we’ve gone through cycles
of getting tired and worn out again, juggling the constant early intervention and therapy sessions, while finding that medical appointments are more about how we can contribute to the ‘body of knowledge’ about our child’s rare disease or disability rather than easing our journey and solving our issues. We’ve learned to navigate the social awkwardness of playgrounds, holiday parks, and family gatherings, and have come to terms with the fact that our children will not be spending their weekends flitting from one birthday party or playdate to the next. We’ve grieved and cried and mourned a different life, and have come to rest in some sense of peace of what our life is. And we have grown through the process – in problem solving, planning, juggling, advocacy and – in resilience. And when life changes again, and it does, we are that bit more ready, more worldly, wiser. We are a little less phased, but also still cautious, and occasionally anxious for what the future holds. I was in my comfortable place when puberty came knocking at our door for our Number 3 – our special needs child. “Strap in and hang on for the ride,” said one of my son’s medical specialists when I’d asked what to expect from this next period of life. And puberty did not arrive quietly
