The Invisible Thread
I wrote a piece in the lockdown about the importance of our “village”. This year we joined a new village as N moved into a new school for Grade R. A beautiful new community of special little people and their strong, brave parents. There is an invisible thread that connects the mothers of ‘atypical’ children – an unspoken recognition of the war wounds and tear stains; of the battles fought and won as well as those fought and lost.
A few weeks ago, the school put on the first concert they’ve had in 3 years. Tickets were strictly limited for COVID protocols, yet as I stood in the back of the hall sneaking a second viewing, I saw so many others doing the same. The excitement of the kids, parents and staff was electric. On the Friday morning as we took our seats for the first performance, I could barely contain myself after hearing about all their rehearsals for weeks but having been denied a sneak peak “without my whole class”. Although we didn’t know each other, we all chattered about which grade our child was in and what animal they were dressed as. The music started, the curtains opened and there they were lined up across the stage in their lion costumes with their dedicated teacher and therapists all present in front to guide and nudge them along. I am not ashamed to admit that I completely lost my composure. My hands shook and my sobs escaped. So much pride. A pride that a parent of a child to whom everything has come easily and steadily can never understand. As one of the other parents was heard to say “There is nothing like a school concert. Except a remedial school concert”. I can safely say that I was not the only one whose eyes had sprung an uncontainable leak. That invisible thread was in that hall, connecting each of us as parents navigating this very rocky terrain yet savouring that moment of unbridled joy
As N’s class were mostly all new to the school this year, it has taken a few months for us to connect and figure out who belongs to which little person. A few birthday parties and play dates later and we seem to have settled into our group. The most magnificent thing about this, is the inherent openness about our journeys and difficulties coupled with the lack of judgement about each other and our children; about what they ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ be doing; how they ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ be behaving. We ask each other questions about diagnoses, doctors, therapists, therapies, discipline and everything in between. We don’t shy away from the hard topics or the sore points. Through doing this, we spin that invisible thread into an unbreakable web that holds us. In this web, we don’t have to apologise for or explain our precious children to anyone. In this web, we are safe. In this web, they are safe.