jigsaw puzzle

I've been putting together a jigsaw puzzle.  It's one-of-a-kind.  The pieces are all different sizes. Some of the pieces have bright, beautiful colors.  Some of the pieces have sharp edges, while others are smooth and more subtle to identify.   I have no image to replicate.  As I fit each piece in it's place I feel a small victory and a sense of hope as the image becomes more clear.  On occasion my jigsaw puzzle gets bumped and pieces scatter.   There are times when I wonder if I have all the pieces, and sometimes it seems like I have pieces to other puzzles mixed all together.  I lose heart and worry that maybe my strategy is all off. So I consult people who know more about puzzles, who put together puzzles all the time.  But they have never put together my puzzle; they don't love my puzzle. Sometimes friends and family will see my puzzle and say, "Well, it's easy, just put that piece there!" or "Your puzzle looks normal, we should expect it to behave like all the others" or "The puzzle is broken, it's not your fault you can't put it together". But they don't know my puzzle the way I do. Kids see my puzzle and say, "You're different.  I don't want to play with you", or see an opportunity to capitalize on it's vulnerability. It is painful to see my puzzle get treated that way.

My jigsaw puzzle is seven years old and stands tall over all the other kids in his class.  He makes little gifts for important people in his life with construction paper and markers and tape.  If he could, he would eat mashed potatoes with gravy and drink orange pop for every meal. And when given a choice, he will always pick the blue one - of anything.  We became aware of his vision problems when he was sixteen months, his language and motor delays at two years, asthma at six, and a few other idiosyncrasies along the way.

Having a child with special needs can feel like a lonely place, but it shouldn't.  According to a 2007 report from the US Department of Health and Human Services, 32 percent of parents of domestic privately adopted children report the child to have "special health care needs".  About 10 percent of all children and 21 percent of domestic privately adopted children are reported to have "moderate or severe health problems".  According to the US Department of Education in 2010-2011, about 13 percent of all students qualified for special education services.

We are just seven years in and have much to learn.  But if I could have a conversation with myself just discovering I had a child with special needs, this would be my advice: (1) Get another opinion. The more information, the better. (2) Advocate, advocate, advocate for your child. You are your child's voice. (3) Allow yourself to grieve.  We all have hopes and dreams for our kids, and coming to terms with a child's special needs is experiencing a loss. (4) PRAY. A lot. (5) Repeat.

It's been a rough week with our jigsaw puzzle.  Yet, not for a minute would I want to trade our puzzle for one with ordinary pieces and a clear image.  I am daily awed that God would entrust us with such a treasure.

 

 

This entry was written for the MICAH Fund newsletter.  The MICAH Fund exists to glorify God by promoting the adoption of domestic African-American and biracial infants and children by providing financial grants for qualified adoptive families.