Special Olympics a Nail-Biter for Mom of Autistic Child
By Lisa Martin
Reprinted with permission of The Dallas Morning News
© 13 July 2006, all rights reserved
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Lisa Martin and daughter Paige. "Her Physical Education teacher, Roxanne Clarkson, is also her Special Olympics coach and she's just wonderful," said Lisa Martin. "Every spring, she holds Saturday morning practice sessions for the kids — on her own time. I think that volunteers like her embody the spirit of the Games as well; she's just wonderful." [Photos courtesy Martin family, by Smith Studio Photography] |
The theme song from Chariots of Fire blares over the sound system as hundreds of athletes of all ages file into Maverick Stadium on the campus of the University of Texas at Arlington. The bleachers are packed with parents, siblings, grandparents, friends and additional supporters, many of whom grow teary during the stirring Opening Ceremonies of the regional Special Olympics.
I, however, am dry-eyed and on alert. Make that red alert. Gripping my husband's arm and gnawing my lower lip, I scan the crowded field in search of my daughter. When I finally spot Paige marching hand-in-hand with her teacher, I swoon with relief. No matter how she performs in her events, my 10-year-old has already won.
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"I am reminded again that [Paige] needs more than just her mother to have a happy, fulfilling, well-rounded existence. Letting go to let her grow takes practice on my part..." |
Her victory? Overcoming an overprotective mom.
Sure, Paige has to fight her autism, but she also struggles against the effects of an extra-anxious mother, which some might consider the greater challenge.
To say that I am a champion worrier conveys neither the scope nor the strength of my fears. Despite having real faith that things work out for the best, I still find myself consumed with concern, particularly when it comes to my daughter's safety.
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Special Olympics Texas (USA) athlete Paige Martin (her events are walking and the softball throw) enjoyed participating in Opening Ceremonies for the Greater Fort Worth Area Spring Games 28-29 April 2005. That year she placed fourth in her age group in the softball throw. Paige's father, an avid fan of the New York Mets, enjoys helping her train. |
I wish I could blame my own mother for passing on this type of maternal madness, but fear never seemed to shape her choices. As I was growing up, she encouraged my independence, and even when she worried, her qualms never became my problem. Why couldn't I do the same for my daughter?
Admittedly, the circumstances differ, and we'll probably always keep a close eye on Paige in certain situations, such as walking through a parking lot. Still, I know we all do better when I fight my urge to insulate her from the world.
When given the chance, Paige usually makes smart choices and often surpasses what I imagine she can do. I swell with pride when she sits through church between a young friend and the girl's grandmother. In the supermarket, Paige giggles as she skips just ahead of my cart, clearly savoring the taste of freedom.
Who can blame her for wanting some breathing room? Even if, as is the case during the Special Olympics ceremony, she has an adult with her for backup.
During the hour she spends on the field that night, Paige performs up to her potential. She stands at attention, claps when appropriate, and by all appearances has a ball. I am reminded again that she needs more than just her mother to have a happy, fulfilling, well-rounded existence. Letting go to let her grow takes practice on my part. But as I sit in the bleachers that night, I vow to give it my best shot.
A moment later, I find myself tearing up as a woman stands at the lectern and reads the Special Olympics Athlete Oath:
"Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt."
Let me be brave. Yes. Right then, I make that my motto, too.
Lisa Martin is an Arlington freelance writer and mother of two. |
