I’m going to be straightforward. No one in this world loves my child more than I do, and no one experiences the pain that he inflicts on me quite like I do. He sometimes yanks my hair, often grasping it in clumps. He kicks, punches, and throws himself around recklessly, pushing my muscles to their limits and leaving me covered in bruises. But the act that causes me the most anguish, both physically and emotionally, is when he bites me.
The physical pain is undeniable. I carry scars that I don’t show off with pride but bear instead with a heavy heart and a sense of shame. I’ve even contemplated shaving my head at times. It’s embarrassing when he pulls my hair, ruining what was once a “good hair day,” but it’s terrifying to think of how quickly he could hurt someone else and what their reaction might be.
My son doesn’t intend to hurt anyone; he doesn’t even realize he’s causing pain. While the obvious physical pain affects me, it’s the deeper emotional turmoil that I know many others endure in silence. My heart tells me, “This is my beloved child; he doesn’t mean it,” while my mind argues, “No one deserves to live like this.”
A Change in Behavior
He wasn’t always this way. He used to be sweet and loving, truly an adorable little angel. During his most challenging moments, it felt as though he didn’t recognize us as his parents. Many insisted he did, but I wanted to believe otherwise. If he understood, why would he treat us this way? I began to dread the day-to-day care of a child I couldn’t shower with affection as I once did, fearing that any closeness would result in more pain.
My partner couldn’t handle it. He said, “You need to stop.” He blamed me for holding him and trying to show him love, even as my son continued to hurt me. It shattered my heart to feel like I was forced into a caregiver role instead of being allowed to be his mother.
The Emotional Toll
In this emotionally detached situation, people praised me for being a wonderful mother. I felt like a fraud. Yes, I made the necessary calls, fought for services, and took him to specialists, but my heart felt distant, gazing at a shell of my son, uncertain if he was still there.
Regression took my son away from me, or perhaps it revealed the reality of what Phelan-McDermid Syndrome (PMS) means for us. Once regression appears, the likelihood of experiencing it again is high, so while we make progress, I fear losing it all once more.
I often find myself disappointed in my abilities as a mother. The physical and emotional scars linger, and I don’t want to spend my life feeling defensive around my child. I don’t want to be afraid of him. I don’t want to feel foolish when I let my guard down, only to be bitten during a hug. Yet, my love for him is immense, and it feels like a trap. You might think, “Of course, you love your child!” and I would respond, wishing it were that simple.
The Heavy Toll of Caregiving
I feel trapped because I refuse to give up on him. However, there’s a heavy toll. The mental and physical exhaustion of being with someone who repeatedly hurts me weighs heavily on me. It strains my marriage and affects my daughter, who witnesses the turmoil. I feel compelled to detach from my own life for the sake of survival and sanity.
I worry for his future. The thought of him hurting someone who lacks the patience and understanding to accept that this is part of caring for him keeps me awake at night. His severe cognitive impairment means he struggles to grasp pain. How could he possibly comprehend the pain he causes me or others? I am terrified that someone might harm him, abuse him, or worse. This fear is real; it’s a nightmare I live every day.
A Shared Struggle
After nine months of everyone being at home together, each time he pulls my hair or bites me, I think about another mother somewhere facing the same ordeal. She loves her child, yet her child is hurting her. She’s scared but remains strong. She’s exhausted yet perseveres. I think of her often, wondering if I know her, although she remains silent about her truth. I recognize her struggle; she dreads the next diaper change and the next bruise from a child who didn’t mean to hurt her. I know she exists because I am her.
I have no choice — this is my life.
Further Reading
If you want to read more about this topic, check out this blog post here. For additional insights on the journey of couples facing fertility challenges, visit Make a Mom. For excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination, explore this article.
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- How to manage physical pain from a child with behavioral challenges
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- Understanding cognitive impairment in children
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In summary, navigating the challenges of loving a child who inflicts pain is a complex emotional journey. It brings forth feelings of frustration, fear, and heartache, but amidst it all, the love remains unwavering.
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