I am compelled to write again on the topic of guilt.
I’ve acknowledged before that I feel guilty for my son’s autism. I know I’m not alone. The Thinking Moms’ Revolution ran a post on this topic last year, titled “How I Gave My Son Autism.” That post exposed a reality: Many mothers, when they find out the health conditions that underlie autism and the environmental factors that may trigger them, feel guilty for not knowing more, for not doing more to prevent autism from invading their children’s lives. I am one of those mothers.
I am also tired of defending my right to feel guilty. Here’s a simplified version of a conversation I had this week:
“Why don’t you weigh in publicly on some of these debates, like vaccine safety or antibiotic use?”
“They are tough issues, and I feel like everyone is so polarized and aggressive. I need my strength to recover my son and don’t want to spend it on defending myself.”
“You’ve learned a lot, though. Why not share it?”
“Someday I will, when Martin doesn’t need me as much. Now is not the time. Understand also—all that I know now figures into the guilt that I feel for what I didn’t know when Martin was a baby. It’s painful for me to share that.”
“Wait! You know you shouldn’t feel guilty, right? You know it’s not your fault that Martin has autism? Tell me that you know that.”
This issue arises constantly with well-meaning persons who are not biomed parents. They hear that I experience guilt, and they rush to reassure me that I have nothing to feel guilty about.
While I can’t fault anyone for wanting to make me “feel better,” random reassurances that I bear no guilt don’t make me feel better. They upset me. I know things. These things make me feel guilty. I have this feeling. I have a right to feel it. The emotion is mine to resolve (or not) on my own terms.
Biomed parents get it. When I speak with another biomed parent about feelings of guilt, the response is usually something much closer to, “I get that. How are you coping? Want to brainstorm ways to channel that into positive action?”
We don’t get to walk around telling people what emotions they should or shouldn’t feel. I, personally, become uncomfortable when a mother says that her child’s autism is a “gift.” But I don’t respond, “Wait! You know autism isn’t a gift, right? You know you shouldn’t feel like your child is lucky?” I respond, “Tell me more, if you want to.” And then, if she wants to talk, I listen. If she doesn’t, I leave it alone.
The guilt that I feel is not harmful to my relationship with Martin. To the contrary, it prompts me to do my best for him, however I can.
So, please, leave it alone. That’s a good way to help.