A while back I wrote a blog called Tough Decisions. It’s mostly about us having to make the decision about William not attending our oldest daughter’s prom event. This event was a couple of days long and full of beautiful moments, dress up, brilliant food, a grand but cozy hotel, family time, friend time, late nights and long days.

None of these things are particularly William friendly.

Hotel stays are tough, he can’t eat the brilliant food, he often can’t see the beautiful moments from his vantage point, long days and late nights aren’t a good mix for William’s routine, and dress-up is always uncomfortable for him (although I do a pretty good job when I have to.) Beyond all of this,

meeting William’s needs in the comfort of home is sometimes a struggle so to confidently do it on the road, there are a lot of stars that need to align. And lastly, our daughter deserved the spotlight which is never on her when he’s around.

Anyway, the tough decision was made and how I felt about that decision is in the previous blog. But now that the event has taken place and I have had a little bit of time to reflect on it, I thought I’d share.

It hurts like hell!

Yes, it was a beautiful weekend. Yes, I got to focus on my daughter. And

I’d still make the same decision again. But as photos from the celebrations started to surface, the gut punch was something fierce. Our family photos turned out beautifully – even my mom and dad are in them. My daughter is radiant and we all look happy.

Thankfully no one would ever see the pain I felt.

And likely not many will know the inner turmoil I felt when I was quietly reviewing photographs and trying to re-live the beautiful moments.

Exclusion is not my style and to exclude my own son feels awful.

I remind myself that events like prom are not planned with people like William in mind and there is only so much I can do on my own to accommodate him. Taking him would have been almost impossible – no bathtub, no access to a toilet with his equipment needs, long periods of time in his chair, very difficult sleeping hurdles, and the list goes on.

But

now I have to face myself, every single time I look at those photos.

I love those photos but I

absolutely hate that William is not in them.

This isn’t the first time William has stayed home and it certainly won’t be the last. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will forever have to find a place for these feelings – challenge accepted.

These are some of the feelings that make special needs parenting a little bit lonely.

~ Keely

Keely is an author and advocate for children living with disabilities. She lives on Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia, with her husband, her son William who has cerebral palsy, her two daughters and several four-legged friends.