Gifted Issues Discussion homepage Forums General Discussion A Different View

I've been a member on this site for a few months and lurked for quite a while prior to signing on. I've gotten lots of good ideas and advice. My questions have been answered and I really appreciate the support you all give.

But one thing comes up on here over and over again that really bothers me. There are an overwhelming number of comments made regarding denial, grief and sadness. The sort of thing that you'd expect to find on a support network for parents of children with cancer. I don't get it.

Maybe i'm out of line, but IMO there is nothing wrong with my son. No reason for grief or sadness. It's true that he's overwhelmingly challenging at times, he scares me as often as he amazes me, but if I had a magic wand I wouldn't use it to knock 30 points off of his IQ. If he was an Olympic class gymnast or a star football player, he would be celebrated by everyone, looked up to, a role model. So can someone please explain to me why there should be grief over the fact that my son is one in a million, or half a million or whatever?

I've heard the argument that his IQ will keep him from a "normal" childhood. Define normal. It's different for everyone. As long as he's happy and healthy, he's better off than many children in this world. As a foster parent, I know of what I speak. He has something that many children don't. He has parents that care, that are willing to do what it takes to keep him healthy and happy. That's why i'm on this board. That's why we're all on this board, because we are all dedicated to ensuring the best possible life for our children. What's sad about that?

I'm honestly not trying to cause controversy or upset anyone, I just can't fathom the reaction that these wonderfully, brilliant little people seem to cause.

I certainly can not speak for everyone but I will say this. The 'denial, grief and sadness' is what I consider part of the process. And not everyone will go through it but those that do doesn't mean they are trying to change their child but coming to accept what they really have. Now for me I have a toddler and am very new to all of it. I certainly went through denial. I didn't see the first signs as signs and her first words ... will 'hi' at two weeks was just her stretching her vocal cords. Not considering the fact that 'hi' shouldn't even be a possibility at two weeks. Than her 'official' word of elephant before 3 mths was again denial of it can't be her first word because surely she doesn't comprehend what it means, overlooking that she had worked on it for days while focusing in on the elephant attached to her toy.

This could go on and on but as time went on I had to accept something was different than the search of what? So when I stumbled across the idea of gifted and really started reading up on it and what the experts were saying about children in school I had my grief b/c the world I assumed we would live in is probably not going to be. What parent wants to go to battle or knows there is a battle to be fought when their child is still a toddler? Parents with kids with disabilities is one and they have their grief process of their own. When it doesn't fit into our neat little ideas we have reactions and usually through steps.

And sadness...I don't know if I really am sad but concerned that she might not be accepted by her school mates and be an outsider. I don't know any parent that wishes that on their child. So yes denial, guilt, and sadness is there and if you are the type of person that never had those feelings than I think that is great. But I have no problem voicing that I do because it is part of getting past it all.

And I certainly would never wave a magic wand and change a thing about my daughter b/c it would mean I would be changing this creature who is unique and amazing. I am just coming to terms with what is a head of me.

Long before I had kids, I was friends with a counselor who specialized in gifted kids. She said that it was typical for parents to have a strong emotional reaction to finding out that they have a gifted kid. One of the things I remember her saying was that that "diagnosis" came with a stonger sense of parental responsibility. Many parents worry about whether they are adequate, but she found that a lot more parents of gifted kids struggled with feelings of inadequecy and worried that if their kid did not live up to their potential it was because the parent had failed them.

And having a highly talented kid (whatever the arena of talent) has the potential for causing the family to make a lot of sacrifices and hard decisions. You mention sports talent as something to be celebrated, but I think those parents suffer the same way we do. I have a friend who had a daughter who had the potential to be an Olympic gymnist and she wanted to do it. But it would have meant leaving home to live at the training center at age 13. The parents refused to let her do it because they wanted her to be home. She was mad at first, but is now a world class photographer and is glad to have had the 5 more years at home. But what a heartbreaking decision! We face the same kinds of decisions for our kids. Do they go to college at 13? Do we give up a long-awaited family vacation so our child can go to the chess championship? Can we afford to send them to math camp? Some of the decisions we face sort of make us feel like whatever we do is wrong.

That being said, personally, I don't really have much grief about the gifted thing. Still, it makes sense to me that others would feel grief. We do grieve a bit whenever we don't get what we have held in our imagination. It doesn't mean we don't love and appreciate what we have; it just means we have to let go of the image we had in our head.

Hi Shari ... I understand what you're saying, and I certainly don't disagree -- I wouldn't knock off 30 points from ds's IQ if I could. He's a joy and a nut and I love many parts of parenting a PG child. He keeps me on my toes.

The denial is just not realizing how far out of the norm the child is -- I was only 20 when ds6 was born, I was a first-time mom, and my family is littered with MG and HG adults and children, and even another PG young adult. I didn't realize how far above the curve ds was, and certainly was in denial as to how he'd fit in a standard classroom. I thought he was bright, and when I got his test scores back, it was a rude awakening.

Certainly, one has their own definitions of "normal," and this is his "normal." I made that point to his old school while advocating for him; they said he should be allowed to be a "normal" 5yo, and I made the point that this is *his* normal, this is *his* 5, and we needed to meet him there.

So I completely get your "normal" point -- it's just that his normal isn't the rest of the world's "normal." A 5yo who gets in fist fights at school because he literally can't stand the repetition isn't acting "normally" in a K situation. A child who reads chapter books at 4 isn't "normal". In fact, at our family Christmas gathering, ds-now-6 was reading the back of his new polymer kit, and a family member came right out and said, "*How* old is he? That's not normal!"

So I think a lot of parents mourn the loss of that normal. Personally, I don't; I think it's kind of neat, actually! I didn't mind him flying through the toddler learning stages, it was a lot of fun.

However, I can't say life wouldn't be *easier* if he were a little more "normal". I've had to make enormous sacrifices to make sure he's in a relatively healthy school environment. I know your public school is working with your ds, but ours wasn't and *wouldn't* -- so he's going to a $15K-a-year school that *does*. That means we can't move too far in case we can't find something equivalent. That means that I need to stay in a career that I *hate* in order to pay for it. That means that he doesn't get the experience of a community school with neighborhood playmates.

When I got his test scores back, I had a few months of panic in realizing exactly what the problem was at school and what it might take to fix those problems. It sounds like you didn't have that reaction, which is great, but I know I did and a lot of people here did -- especially those who schools weren't so accommodating. It takes a lot more attention and effort to make sure an HG+ child is challenged at school, and I for one was intimidated and worried that I'd be up to that challenge. And school is a big part of a child's life -- they're there for 7 hours a day, which is a lot. A poor school match can be harmful in the long run.

Of course, having an HG+ kid is pretty minor when compared to having a child with cancer. But the worry is still there -- what if I fail my child, what if I can't provide what he needs?

I also think that a lot of the "sadness and despair" posts lately have been with the exhausting nature of some of these kids -- they're *more.* Have you read Dabrowski's over-exiteabilities? They can make parenting an HG+ child an exhausting proposition. Maybe your ds doesn't exhibit any of these, or maybe he exhibits all of them and it doesn't phase you ... but personality-wise, it's exhausting for me to raise my ds who exhibits all 5 of them strongly.

http://www.stephanietolan.com/dabrowskis.htm

So, again, I woudn't change him, and I don't feel grief or sadness that he's the way he is. I do feel some grief that our life is changed because of it. I do feel sad I can't leave my crappy job to find something to which I'm better suited -- I'm paid well. And I'm a bit sad that I can't just send him off to school like many parents can and expect him to thrive there. It's hard to grow up an HG+ child, because you are so different from your peers -- there's no denying that the 6yo spouting off facts about cone volcanoes is not "normal." So I feel sad that he's going to have to work harder to find people with his interests that he'll want to bond with.

But ... I love the way he sees the world. I love the way his brain makes connections. I love when he's in a good situation and I know it. Sadness, grief and denial at *having* an HG+ child? Nope, not here. Sadness at the situation it causes for me and our family? Sometimes. <shrug>

I am going to go a different way, and I hope I find support out there.

I didn't have denial, grief or sadness that DD is gifted. I wanted a gifted child. A child that I could provide the right education and habits -- so she wouldn't miss the opportunities that I did, because my parents took my success for granted. Expecting their gifted child to be fine.

There was fear, if she wasn't as gifted as I expected. (Being honest here, so be kind.) And because of that fear, I didn't give her as much credit as others. When another mother told me that I had a really amazing child, and "you know how amazing she is, right?" there was part of me that was afraid to go there, even though the early test scores confirmed her intelligence, but there was also more, in her talents that were above average, her humor.

I know that as a brilliant woman, there are less options for partners. That men will be drawn to her and be afraid, that she is more brilliant. But I am not sad for the path that she has to live because of brilliance. There isn't any grief for an ND child, since I am not an ND child. And I admit, that would be hard for me. That would produce sadness in me. Luckily I got the child I wanted.

Ren

Ditto everything Mia said. (Plus I love you're out of GT denial now and actually claim PG status!!)

I'd also like to add that I feel sadness for DS when he realizes that he doesn't fit into his age-level friend groups. He knows already at nearly 6 that his classmates don't "get him" and constantly says "they're just not my people." He is overly aware of eyes on him everywhere we go and has sadly, learned to tone down some of his enthusiasm due to stranger comments, people staring etc. I feel sad that he gets teased, that he's not confident enough to just turn around and tell kids to shut up. That he won't read at school because he doesn't want others to know. And primarily, I feel a great deal of sadness that he is well aware of this already when he's only in kindergarten.

Is it like having a child with cancer? No nothing of the sort. But a very close friend with a daughter with autism and I share many conversations about the bit of a sense of loss. The ideal childhood we had planned out in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" is nowhere to be found. The day I got his test results was like the day the optometrist said he'd need glasses... a big heavy sigh and a realization that this is forever. It's not a phase, it's not "something he's going through." He's just always going to be moving, intense, focused and unfocused at the same time. He's always going to be the one who gets creative if the teacher loses track of the class.

And I'm going to always have to be the parent who stays on the school, whatever school, 24/7 to make sure that he doesn't become a statistic- one of those underachievers who drops out of high school and never really lives up to his potential.

According to my mom, parenting any child is hard hard work. Parenting a HG kid is faster, more furious and quite a bit insane. She would know!

I think that a lot of the denial, grief and sadness for me has to do with the way that I grew up, unidentified and unaccomidated - I knew that I didn't fit in, and figured that it was my fault. I threw myself into sharpening up my social skills and an quite proud and please that I can be close and liked by people at every spot on the Bell Curve. But...the price I paid was a feeling of hypervigilence, feeling like I always had to keep my social face from slipping, and not knowing how to looks for friends that I would enjoy. I also bought the whole myth that 'the school's answer is the right answer' and that 'gifted kids are lucky, they can take care of themselves.

When I think that I was 'happy' to put my child in day care part time at 7 weeks of age so that he could 'at least have a chance' to be normal and not weird like me, while the feelings I had over leaving him there broke my heart. I was so gullible back then! I wasn't weird - I was different!

So I am SO grateful for that DS wasn't going to hide his difference, and that once I figured out his difference, I figured out my own!

I also think that, for me at least, I can mourn and rejoice at the same time! I taught my son the word 'Ambivilent' when he was 3. We loved using it. For us, the glass is always 'half full AND half empty.' I tend to gloss over the happy parts because I just assume that we all know and enjoy those parts - but you are right that it is a mistake!

I think that many gifties have eyes similar to an Amphibian, that we go through life seeing 'how it is' and 'how it could perfectly be' at the same time! I think that one of the major tasks of Gifted Adulthood is to be at peace with this double vision, and not drive the folks around you crazy! At work I on Friday, I was venting with a Co-worker about how 'particular' we are, and how we 'see every little defect' and then I looked up into the air and saw that a little red sticky had gotten stuck on the inside of the translucent panel of the flourescent light. I pointed to it, and we both laughed and laughed about our ODP. (Outer directed Perfectionism)

My guess is that being a foster parent has given you more self-knowledge and more self-confidence and more training in 'what is real and important right now' than I had when I started parenting. I'm so glad!

So Shari,
Me having feelings, and figuring that this is the place to share them, isn't meant to suggest that there is anything wrong with your son! You were wiser than I, and homeschooled right off the bat. I blindly sent my son into a situation that was more than what he could handle, and I sat through meeting after meeting were the school folks said really mean things to me. They litterally came out and said that he was poorly behaved because I was a bad parent. How did I not notice that my son was different back when he was 5? I knew that people in my family were all smart; I just couldn't imagine that we had unique learning needs. It would have meant admitting that I was different - not wrong, that in this particular area everyone else I grew up with was wrong and I was right - and I just couldn't do that until my son was suffering so activly that I had to...

Very interesting to think about!
Love and more Love,
Grinity

I agree with most of what Mia wrote and can also understand where Wren is coming from. I think on some subconscious level I also wanted a gifted kid, or at least a kid who shared my love of learning, so my son and I are a really good fit. If I expected my son to be gifted though, I expected him to be MG (or maybe I didn't know there was anything else?), so the idea that he might be anything more than that did take me by surprise and has definitely required some adjustments. I never experienced sadness or a sense of loss, however, and now that I've done enough research on giftedness and the local schools to feel like I've got a good plan for my son's education, I'm cautiously optimistic and excited about what lies ahead. I even think that on some level, the overachiever in me actually enjoys the challenge of raising this intense, demanding kid. Because my son is only 4 though, I haven't yet seen my kid suffer the way others on this board have, and I haven't yet had to fight the battles others have gone through, so my attitude could still change. I will say, although I haven't yet felt sad for myself or my son, I certainly didn't like the looks of fear and horror I saw on his grandparent's faces when he read books to them at age 2; I hate that I can't talk to the neighbors, my coworkers or most of my friends about things he's doing; and I'm bitter that after basing our decision to buy our house nearly entirely on the high ratings of the local school, we've decided it's not a real option and will be sending him to private instead.

To me, any time there is a deviation from the image I had in my mind of something--especially something big like how having kids would be--there is a kind of mourning for it.

Case #1: I left a VERY expensive German beer stein in a park and walked away from it when I was in high school. It was a purchase I made as a favor for someone who had given me $50 (a lot of money then!) up front, so I had to replace it out of my own spending money. And thus my trip to Europe was not AT ALL what I had planned. 20+ years later, and I still grieve over that mistake.

Case #2: in college, I met a guy I (thought I) wanted to marry. It crashed and burned. I mourned not so much for the relationship as it had actually existed--that was brief and, frankly, not good! But I mourned the relationship that lived in my imagination, the one I had seen the potential for. Oh, did I mourn. For a long time. YEARS!

Am I sorry I'm not with the guy now? Oh, in SOOOOOOO many ways, NO!!! A thousand times, NO! But there is a small part of me that is still disappointed that the ideal never became reality.

Case #3: I gave birth to a smart kid. So I envisioned a great school career for him. He's a handsome, social, mature, fun kid, too, so I thought he was going to take the school by a storm.

When he turned miserable and started becoming a problem kid in 1st grade, and we had to pull him out for emergency homeschooling, I found myself mourning the education ideal that was not to be. Does that mean I don't think my kid is amazing and wonderful? Of course not! I think he's more wonderful now that I'm with him more, actually. But...

>I will never get to hear the glowing teacher comments--like the ones I heard from his K teacher!--that I had imagined.

>I don't get to have all that glorious time to myself during the day that I had so eagerly anticipated so that I could write. Put 'im on the bus in the morning and get 'im off in the afternoon, happy and full of stories about his day. Not happening. And as my introvert husband and I (also introvert) joke when one of us needs alone time: "How can I miss you if you won't go away?"

>I kept many of the same friends all through grade school, jr. high and high school. My best friend and I were in K together, and we're still good friends. But my son doesn't get to have that experience of riding the bus with the same people for years, sharing growing up on that daily basis, knowing people relly well. He has friends, but he doesn't have the same experience with them since he sees them once a week at most.

>I don't get to attend his school shows, carnivals, PTA meetings, etc. Are those annoying a lot of the time? Of course! But never getting to go to one makes me feel like I'm missing the school experience.

>I have to work hard to be sure that my son has his needs met. If I do nothing, nothing gets done. That's certainly not to say that school is meeting every need of every child! Of course not! But they are meeting some of the kids' needs. In my ideal, they met most of my child's needs. Without me, my son would starve, be in physical danger, and would learn nothing. I mourn the ability to coast sometimes if coasting is needed without feeling guilty. (In my ideal, I would have been doing a lot of coasting...)

>I have to face the fact that I may never see him walk down the aisle to "Pomp and Circumstance" for his high school graduation, since he may wind up graduating differently (early, online, from homeschool, etc.). I'll probably never see him in high school sports/theater/band/whatever in front of cheering crowds. I will miss that.

And so on...

Do you see? It's not the GTness itself that I grieve over. It's the changes that it brings with it. And some of the changes are pretty big!

As for denial, I think there are a couple of brands:

One comes when you try not to think about how different your child is because it is hard to imagine that your child is really that different. He just seems like himself...How can I even think about his being +5 years in math or graduating from high school before he's old enough to date...or whatever it is that seems so foreign to your experience. This form of denial stems from not wanting to see reality or just simply not being able to recognize it. A skewed idea of normal can do this, as well as fear of being so far away from the middle of the Bell Curve.

The second, "She's not that smart, really" type of denial creeps in as a way to keep your child and yourself from being ostracized by other kids and their parents, even parents of other GT kids, sometimes. To avoid being seen as braggarts or pushy stage parents, we internalize a wish that maybe they really aren't that smart. Maybe they're normal! Maybe they can do what the other kids do! This one is a brand of wishful thinking.

For the record, I am NOT sad or upset that my son is GT. He is what he is, and I love my kids no matter who or what they are. But having a child who is HG+ is a big challenge. It has turned our lives upside-down in an awful lot of ways! It is hard sometimes, and would have been a lot harder if we hadn't resigned ourselves to giving up our ideal and accepting that this is our reality. Mostly, I mourn that shiny, pretty, easy, happy ideal that will never exist.

Well, wait! Maybe I don't have to give it up yet! There's still hope for DS4! He might be "normal" still!

I think before we're parents we get "sold" this picture of how parenthood is supposed to go, and the idea that we have some control over it.... We're going to be good parents, and our kids are going to be well-behaved, and love school and do really well, and have lots of friends and be good in sports... And then when we come to the realization that motherhood actually isn't anything like Campbell's soup commercials it's kind of a shock. Even if you really didn't think that logically, you kind of have this image in your head somewhere...

So while of course it would be ridiculous to say it's anything like having a kid with cancer, or something like that, I think what throws one off isn't really that giftedness is a problem, but that you have to adjust to a completely different picture of how it's going to be.

I wouldn't trade DS for the world! But when I was first pregnant with him I wasn't even really planning to be a stay at home mom, much less a homeschooler! I don't regret it at all, in fact I'm quite enjoy the ride... but still there are moments when I remember that picture I had in my head before I had a real child to consider... and it can still be a bit of a shock to think just how far we've diverged from what I expected.