My almost eight year-old son's face, mere inches from mine and shrouded in utmost seriousness, commanded my attention. His eyes wide, locked on mine, bravely held back tears. His monologue plea was slow and deliberate... with borderline staccato speech ... every word calculated to count, his mind meticulously grinding out thoughts in words that had been silently churning for a while.
And, once again... this little man broke my heart.
Raising a kid with intellectual and learning disabilities can be heart-wrenching. My Ben is pretty high functioning, as IDIC 15 goes. But, he struggles in a lot of ways. He seems to learn in bits and pieces, but the pieces aren't always complete and they don't always fit together. I sometimes picture information in his mind like a collection of jigsaw puzzle pieces that are not all from the same puzzle. Through no fault of his own, his attempts to fit them together often fall short of what is needed to keep up with the world around him and his understanding of that world is sometimes partial and incomplete or skewed.
When we made the decision to rehome Cecil (the dog I agreed to get him for his 7th birthday), Jen and I explained it to him as best we could. I wasn't convinced that he completely understood, and there was some push back from him, but much less than I expected. He definitely loved Cecil, but he had made it clear numerous times that he preferred a bigger dog... and it seemed clear to us that a bigger dog would be more compatible with his disabilities.
Rehoming Cecil went relatively smooth for Ben... almost too smooth.
Fast forward a few months... I was leaving my parent's home one evening a few weeks ago. I had Ben with me and Cecil (now Billy) was out with his humans (my parent's neighbors). I figured it would be a good time to let Ben visit Cecil, so we pulled in the driveway. Ben was excited to see him-- too excited, really-- which confirmed our reasons for rehoming the dog.
A few days later, Jen randomly took Ben to see The Secret Life of Pets, which she said had some themes she was not impressed with... especially for Ben.
It seems those two events shook some emotions loose for Ben.
From what I gathered from this plea for his dog, it seemed he was blaming himself for Cecil needing to go away. It seemed that he thought his preference for bigger dogs caused Cecil to be rejected by our family. I think he felt like he let Cecil down. He was passionately trying to make an appeal for Cecil with the premise that he is the perfect dog and he really doesn't want a big dog. He had a quarter in each hand and he was telling me he was going to "give some coins to her [Cecil's new humans] and she can buy her own dog" because Cecil is his.
I hugged the little guy and buried my face in his hair, holding back tears of my own. My heart hurt. I just wanted to take his disabilities and struggles away. I wanted to make the world make sense to him. I wanted so bad to fix it.
In a feeble way, I tried again to explain to him...
But, I'm pretty sure I let him down.
I couldn't quite make him understand.
I couldn't fix it.
I couldn't bring his dog back.
And... I can't fix broken hearts... or intellectual disabilities... or genetic disorders...
For the rest of that day (and a few days after), I was in a funk. What kind of Dad gets his intellectually disabled son a dog and then takes it away? What kind of Dad breaks his son's heart like that?
And, why does there have to be such a thing as IDIC 15? Why my son?
That same evening, I was angry that my son was hurting and I made this post to facebook:
It is hard to watch someone you love struggle in some of the ways that Ben does. It is hard to know that he will struggle his entire life. And, it is hard to know that you can help him through the struggles the best you can, but you can never take them away.
I still believe trying a dog for him was a good parent moment. And, I also still believe rehoming the dog was the right parent decision.
But why does loving this kid so much have to hurt like it sometimes does?
Raising a kid with intellectual and learning disabilities can be heart-wrenching. My Ben is pretty high functioning, as IDIC 15 goes. But, he struggles in a lot of ways. He seems to learn in bits and pieces, but the pieces aren't always complete and they don't always fit together. I sometimes picture information in his mind like a collection of jigsaw puzzle pieces that are not all from the same puzzle. Through no fault of his own, his attempts to fit them together often fall short of what is needed to keep up with the world around him and his understanding of that world is sometimes partial and incomplete or skewed.
When we made the decision to rehome Cecil (the dog I agreed to get him for his 7th birthday), Jen and I explained it to him as best we could. I wasn't convinced that he completely understood, and there was some push back from him, but much less than I expected. He definitely loved Cecil, but he had made it clear numerous times that he preferred a bigger dog... and it seemed clear to us that a bigger dog would be more compatible with his disabilities.
Rehoming Cecil went relatively smooth for Ben... almost too smooth.
Fast forward a few months... I was leaving my parent's home one evening a few weeks ago. I had Ben with me and Cecil (now Billy) was out with his humans (my parent's neighbors). I figured it would be a good time to let Ben visit Cecil, so we pulled in the driveway. Ben was excited to see him-- too excited, really-- which confirmed our reasons for rehoming the dog.
A few days later, Jen randomly took Ben to see The Secret Life of Pets, which she said had some themes she was not impressed with... especially for Ben.
It seems those two events shook some emotions loose for Ben.
From what I gathered from this plea for his dog, it seemed he was blaming himself for Cecil needing to go away. It seemed that he thought his preference for bigger dogs caused Cecil to be rejected by our family. I think he felt like he let Cecil down. He was passionately trying to make an appeal for Cecil with the premise that he is the perfect dog and he really doesn't want a big dog. He had a quarter in each hand and he was telling me he was going to "give some coins to her [Cecil's new humans] and she can buy her own dog" because Cecil is his.
I hugged the little guy and buried my face in his hair, holding back tears of my own. My heart hurt. I just wanted to take his disabilities and struggles away. I wanted to make the world make sense to him. I wanted so bad to fix it.
In a feeble way, I tried again to explain to him...
But, I'm pretty sure I let him down.
I couldn't quite make him understand.
I couldn't fix it.
I couldn't bring his dog back.
And... I can't fix broken hearts... or intellectual disabilities... or genetic disorders...
For the rest of that day (and a few days after), I was in a funk. What kind of Dad gets his intellectually disabled son a dog and then takes it away? What kind of Dad breaks his son's heart like that?
And, why does there have to be such a thing as IDIC 15? Why my son?
That same evening, I was angry that my son was hurting and I made this post to facebook:
It is hard to watch someone you love struggle in some of the ways that Ben does. It is hard to know that he will struggle his entire life. And, it is hard to know that you can help him through the struggles the best you can, but you can never take them away.
I still believe trying a dog for him was a good parent moment. And, I also still believe rehoming the dog was the right parent decision.
But why does loving this kid so much have to hurt like it sometimes does?
Author's note: I had a difficult time putting this post together, but I am happy to report that in the past weeks he seems to have pretty quickly bounced back from being upset about Cecil. He is a happy kid and it might have bothered me a lot more than it actually bothered him. He talks about him on occasion, but it is more of a passing comment like before the visit.
But, who knows what is rattling around in his mind and what will shake it loose? I'm thinking maybe visiting Cecil is not the best thing for Ben... we'll see how things go from here.
I'm not sure how or when, but I'm thinking the subject of a dog for Ben is not closed. He's still a kid that would benefit from the right dog. However, a dog is a hard fit for our family dynamics and I know I will be afraid of risking my son's heart... again.
And... if Cecil [Billy]'s humans read this blog, do not feel bad... you gave a good dog a great home and I say thank you for loving our Cecil!
2 comments:
Oh mercy....what a heart-wrenching thing. I'm sorry for you and Benny both. Chin up, pal.
And then he spent the day with Ella. If Ben needs a dog fix, you are always welcome here. Ella would love a Ben fix as well.
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