And it is extremely difficult. I can lie to you and say that look forward to coming home from work everyday. But, there are many days that I dread returning to the land of oxygen tanks bigger than me, vomit-filled clothes lining the floors, and syringes full of sticky medicine lining the counters.
The fact is that I am one of the lucky ones. It is 99.9% probable that by the age of 10, my son will have outgrown his disabilities. Imagine, if you will, a child who will suffer lifelong issues--children on the autistic spectrum, children with severe genetic disorders, children with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) like Justin Hansen, who may continue to vomit and poop all over the floor even at age 12. Imagine what it must feel like to love a child, like Justin Hansen, who causes physical harm to those around him, who threatens and fights, and makes you feel worthless. Be honest, wouldn’t you sometimes feel like leaving too?
There are many parents who wrestle with these demons inside their beloved children every day, as my friend Corey describes, with grace, faith, and hope. And do you think these amazing parents often have feelings of isolation and wanting to escape? Of course they do.
It does not mean that they do not embrace the joys and unconditional love involved in raising a special child (because, if anyone can teach the class on unconditional love, these parents can). But, they are also tired and frustrated, causing an internal emotional conflict that may eventually lead to drastic consequences for the family.
The lesson we can learn from Hansen’s situation is the need for advocacy of increased accessibility to resources meant to help these parents cope. In Virginia, there are several programs designed to help families. For instance, my son qualifies for respite care due to his disabilities. Do kids like Justin Hansen qualify for these services? No. In fact, the respite providers for the Medicaid waiver for which we qualify aren’t even licensed to handle kids with severe psychiatric problems. It is very difficult to find providers that are. Imagine the difference made in Torry Hansen’s mental state if she had the chance to even get a few hours away from her son, to gain perspective and to recharge herself.
Our son also uses the services of the Infant and Toddler Connection (ITC) of Fairfax County, a government program that provides developmental therapy services to delayed children. While we were the lucky ones to get in at the right time, there are other families that languish on waiting lists for months (even up to a year) due to budget shortfalls that put family programs on the back burner. The first time I called, I was told my son didn’t qualify at all. It took three separate calls to three separate agencies and the installation of a feeding tube before ITC actually agreed to come do an evaluation.
Exclusion of children who may not appear to have issues does a disservice to the parents and families that need the help and guidance. If even one person from Torry Hansen’s Tennessee town had come to her side and helped her work through the issues, would this have happened? Maybe, maybe not. But, there is a chance that Hansen would have dealt with the situation more appropriately.
It is hard for me to fault a woman for being at her wits’ end or for not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. For being so scared of what might be that she puts a boy on a plane back to his country.
Yes, I do see fault in the way she carried out her plan. It wasn’t the best thought-out way to deal with the situation. And, there are details coming to light that suggest that perhaps she hadn’t exhausted all of the options available to her before she resorted to returning her child.
But, until we advocate for overburdened parents and force our state and local governments to fund and publicize programs that can help families, we shouldn’t cast stones.
Because I can understand how she is feeling. I really can.
















