My son, Iniabasi, is pretty atypical. From the womb, he was
a lover of music. When my husband went to work at night and it was just me and
my tummy baby, we’d both be lulled to sleep as we enjoyed Michelle Tume’s “Listen”
CD. Once he was born, all I had to do was put that CD in if he cried, and we
were good.
When he was eight months old, I got pregnant with our second
son. All was well, and Iniabasi loved to listen to “brother” in my tummy. He
got a kick out of being kicked by his little brother and feeling him move. He
was very curious, even at that age and loved electronics. He would try to
unplug cords, play with cell phones, get behind the TV to make sense of all
that was going on in there.
Soon after his brother’s birth, he began regressing. Our
once very vocal son who was saying several words and a few sentences began babbling. It was weird,
but we were assured it was due to the arrival of his new sibling and soon enough,
he’d get accustomed to having his brother around and continue at his regular
pace again.
Well, needless to say, it wasn’t until he was three years
old that we found out the doctor we spoke to was wrong. Till today, we are
still awaiting a call for him to have his hearing tested as we requested.
(Thank God we took matters into our own hands instead: he’s 7 ½ now.)
I won’t go into the details, but I learned then to
appreciate and go with my gut. A mother’s God-given intuition is nothing to
play around with. For months, these children grow within us, feeling our
heartbeats, sensing our emotions, and taking pieces of us we’ll never get back.
On the other hand, the relationship that seems parasitic actually ends up being
more symbiotic. Although the child cannot exist without the mother, at some
point, the need tends to feel mutual.
My son was tested at the age of three, and at that time, we were told
he had some delays that would affect him academically if he did not receive
certain services. My first inkling was to seek a second opinion. After all, I took
my prenatals, went to all my doctor visits, prayed over him from the womb.
Delayed? No….no…not MY child.
The funny thing is that although my son is labeled as needing "special education" at school, his mind never ceases to amaze me. His reading
skill is nowhere near what it should be for his age and grade. He’s a bit
socially immature, and math frustrates him. BUT give him Legos, and he creates
a masterpiece. Give him blocks, and he can build a castle or beautiful tower. Give
him some string, a few boxes, and a pair of scissors, and he can make you a replica
of a sound system or even an amazing house or tower. He has a great memory when
it comes to music, and if he likes a song, he can remember the exact place/event he heard it for the first time. Ask him how an electronic device works, and watch
his wheels turn. His favorite since he was as young as two though is the fan.
He can look at one for hours, ever fascinated by the oscillation, of which most
of us don’t really care to take note.
I helped him with his
homework once, and the child they said had difficulty comprehending
regular math put me to shame. He had answered several questions regarding
vertices, faces, and edges, but I, in my mommy-knows-better mindset, corrected
almost every answer, despite his objections. Unfortunately for me, the
following day, I found I had gotten all the answers wrong, and his initial answers
were actually correct. How does one consider a mind like that in need of "special
education"?
Well, I’ll give them this…he IS special. His mind works
differently from yours and mine. His interests vary greatly from most of us. He
is fascinated by things we often take for granted, and he tends to gravitate toward
the underdogs and bullied. He has a hard time with people calling others “fat”
or anything outside of their name that “isn’t nice”.
Even though it is frustrating sometimes trying to encourage
him not to give up when reading, or to keep him interested in schoolwork, my son
IS special. The complexity of his mind amazes me. Although I’m considered
above average in some things and normal, or average, in others, my mind does not process things the way his does. I appreciate
the beauty of what makes my son who he is, and I am now beginning to learn to
appreciate his different but beautiful mind.
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