When you step into the role of a mother, you quickly encounter a series of unexpected milestones. These aren’t just the typical firsts, like the initial diaper change or those precious first steps. I’m referring to the moments that catch you off guard—the instances that challenge your pre-parenting judgments. You know, the times when you find yourself using baby wipes to remove your makeup because you’re too exhausted to follow your skincare routine, or when breakfast turns into a chaotic scene of you grabbing a box of cereal to let your children dig in as you rush to school. Then there are those surreal moments when you find yourself yelling from the bathroom, “NO, you can’t ride the dog! What on earth made you think that was okay?”
For parents of children with special needs, there are additional unique experiences. Some are humorous in retrospect, like the day I found myself on a watch list for confronting a grumpy insurance agent, while others are tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia, like the moment I shed tears in the pantry after an unexpected emotional blow.
Today, I encountered yet another profound first. My daughter, who is 15 and has severe autism, attends a small rural high school that, I must admit, is quite accommodating. With wonderful teachers and a dedicated paraprofessional by her side throughout the day, she even manages to participate in various school activities. Overall, she appears genuinely happy there.
However, my heart sank today when I had to draft a letter authorizing the school to physically restrain her if necessary. In a country plagued by lax gun laws and frequent discussions surrounding school shootings, I found myself wrestling with a terrifying realization: what would happen to my daughter if a shooter targeted her school?
Every child in that building deserves a safe environment, free from fear. But I realized that keeping my daughter calm and quiet in such a situation—preventing her from stimming or running around—would be an insurmountable task. Trust me, I’ve been her mother for over a decade and a half; I know how challenging this can be.
So, I reached out to her teachers, the assistant principal, and even the principal. They all reassured me, “We would do everything in our power…” But the stark reality is that there is no method to ensure her compliance during such a crisis. That day, I penned a letter giving the school permission to physically restrain my daughter if the situation arose. I explicitly stated, “You have my permission, even if it means causing her harm. I understand that this may lead to bruises or injuries, and I agree not to hold the school responsible.”
For the first time ever, I granted someone permission to hurt my child in the hope of protecting her from a far greater danger—being caught in the crossfire of a senseless act of violence. It’s a heartbreaking reality that I never imagined I’d face: authorize harm to shield her from potential devastation.
In conclusion, the experience of giving consent for restraint was a haunting first for me as a mother, driven by a desperate need to protect my daughter amidst a culture that often prioritizes greed and corruption over the safety of our children.
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