Denial

Before I had any children, I used to think that the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me was to have a disabled child. I could simply not imagine what it was like to have to care for a child that could never grow up to be an independent adult. The thought that I would have to change my adult child's diaper and feed my adult child terrified me.

That is one of the reasons that Melissa and I were so careful during her pregnancies. We both wanted to be sure that we had healthy children.

When Dylan was born I was clearly in denial. I refused to accept the diagnosis. I looked into every possibility. I found everything I could on possible cures. I believed that the diagnosis was wrong. There must have been an error in the testing. The lab screwed it up. The geneticist was wrong. The doctors were wrong. Everyone was wrong. This couldn't be happening.

Accepting the truth simply terrified me and I was simply unprepared to face the reality of the future that my family would face. It took me some time at the beginning but with the truth in your face constantly the denial eventually goes away.

But the denial doesn't disappear for good. Every once in a blue moon when he shows a little bit of progress, the denial will hit me again.

Dylan will take a few steps in his walker. "Maybe he will walk."

Dylan babbles a a syllable. "Maybe he will talk."

You hear about how much worse off another child with Emanuel Syndrome is. "Maybe he will be different than all of the other Emanuel Syndrome children."

Then you get those unrelated to anything moments of denial. "Melissa and I have high IQ's. That has got to make a difference right?"

Fortunately for my mental health, these moments of denial usually are momentary ones.

Once denial goes away, it is often followed by...