Why We Adopted a Child with Special Needs

Rachel Baxter | November 15, 2016

I finished loading my six children into our minivan and crawled into the driver’s seat. Another therapy session for my oldest son was in the books. I mentally rehearsed what I’d seen and heard as I watched families come and go in the waiting room. 

A mother asking the therapist about the necessity of restrictive clothing meant to help with a brain injury, since it was impairing her daughter’s ability to use the toilet by herself.

A look of concern a mom’s face as she heard her autistic son screaming and banging his fist in the other room because he’d been asked to put on his shoes.

A mother patiently waiting while her daughter navigated her electric wheelchair through the door so that she could speak privately with the therapist. 

All this before my own son Sam came bounding enthusiastically through the door. We sat for a minute discussing with his therapist how he’s still dropping ending sounds and omitting words in his sentences, making his speech hard to understand. 

Each of the mothers was wearing a similar expression of tiredness, evidence of the difficulty of the job they face each day. Anyone sitting in the waiting room could see that raising a child with special needs

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