I have an unconventional child. He is different. He thinks, feels, and sees things differently. And although we celebrate the different under our Big Top, sometimes, different can be really hard.

There was a time when we thought he could navigate life and the education system like any other conventional child. He proved us wrong.

It was a simple poetry lesson that opened my eyes to his pain and suffering, the depth of which was far beyond his nine years.

It was heartbreaking and there didn’t seem to be a logical reason for it. But that’s the thing about an unconventional child; they defy logic and reason. Conventional wisdom and traditional medicine merely get lost in translation.

Yet, I am determined to navigate these two parallel parenting paths, the conventional and the unconventional. In fact, I am grateful for the opportunity. Because I have learned more about myself, my belief system and the world around me from this single unconventional child than I have in my twelve years of private education, or my fifteen years of marriage, or my twenty five years in the workforce, or my forty-four years of living.

So when I have a tough day with him, like today, and when I start to doubt my parenting skills, or when I feel judgmental eyes peering at me, I go back and I read these three little haiku poems.

I am reminded that this unconventional child requires an unconventional parenting style.

I am reminded just how far we have come. He is no longer carrying the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. And I am no longer carrying the burden of my traditions. We are free to be the people we are intended to be, on the path that we are intended to traverse.

And, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Haikus

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