A few years ago I heard a metaphor at church that really struck deep into my brain. The speaker referred to those wagon trains that pioneer settlers formed years ago to make their way across the western USA. Remember those? Remember the opening credits to “Little House on the Prairie” where Charles Ingalls was driving his family across the frontier in their covered wagon?
Or a how about Don Knotts in “The Shakiest Gun in the West?”
Those were the images conjured up in my brain when I was thinking about those wagon trains.
Anyway, I digress.
The speaker referred to those in that LAST wagon.
The folks in that first wagon got to be the first to see that clear wide horizon in front of them. Those in the last wagon just dealt with the heat and dust of all those other wagons. Now that doesn’t mean that they were any less useful or helpful to the group. They circled up their wagons with the rest of them at night. They probably took turns on guard duty or hunting and more. The first in the train got to be the ones to see the new and exciting vistas and remembered as the ‘first’ settlers. Those folks in that last wagon were no less brave, intrepid, tough, or tenacious, as those others in the first wagon.
That really struck home to me. I can’t count how many times I’ve felt ‘left behind’ or stuck in that last wagon club. In high school I was somewhat shy, so I felt a bit like I was stuck in that ‘last wagon’ as others always seem to be more charismatic and popular than I was. It felt like that particular social wagon train had me in the absolute last wagon. College life seemed to continue that whole feeling.
It was around then I discovered that I took after my grandmother who was diagnosed with celiac disease in the 1950s. I was always that ‘weird’ kid who couldn’t eat the pizza or birthday cake. I was left behind in THAT wagon. I would occasionally be invited places where they would say ‘just order a salad’ or not have any options for me to eat at all. Potluck dinners were a miserable minefield. I learned a long time ago that if I wanted to eat at social gatherings, I had to bring my own food. Lots of metaphorical dust in my face from riding THAT last wagon.
I have two brothers and two sisters. They were all successful athletes in high school, but I was most definitely not. I really loved cheering my talented, charismatic and intelligent siblings on at their games, but I felt like that seat on the bleachers could easily have been the last wagon in a wagon train. They seemed to have the skills I could only dream about and frankly coveted.
Then as I got older they eventually all got married and had families. Felt left behind on that point as well. I loved being an aunt and adored those kiddos, still do. It felt weird hearing about these fun ‘family’ gatherings they seemed to have after the fact. I get that an assumption was probably made that the single thirty something wouldn’t want to spend time with all those elementary aged kiddos at the time. Still. It felt like riding that last wagon. I was busy trying to survive life anyway.
I got married in my mid thirties to my favorite person. It feels incredibly lucky to feel so well matched. However, as we started our family, I also started to feel a little left behind in that last metaphorical wagon. I’d babysat children ever since I was 12 and even worked as a nanny for a time. First my daughter and then my son came along and completely baffled me. NOTHING was going as I thought it would. We weren’t hitting milestones, getting all sorts of illnesses, having some bouts of regression, and seeing behaviors and illnesses that completely confused me. This was nothing like what I saw my other mom friends or my siblings dealing with. Next came a flurry of diagnoses: Autism with low tone and global delay for both kids, infantile scoliosis, severe kidney reflux, single kidney for my son, PTen Hamartoma Tumor Syndrome, Auditory processing disorders, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) , and Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA).
Luckily, I knew one or two other mothers who were willing to be open with me about their autism journey as well. Thank heavens for those who were ‘first’ in that particular wagon train. They could point the way for me. Eventually I met other Moms online who also had Pten syndrome either themselves or children with it. Maybe someday I’ll be able to meet them in person and thank them for the help they’ve given me as I travelled along that road behind them.
So that metaphor struck a chord with me. I felt left behind in the last wagon when it came to social situations in high school and college, when it came to my food allergies, when it came to everybody I knew getting married and starting families and definitely when it came to dealing with all the medical issues in my family. I’m what some call a ‘medical mama’ so if any of these sounds familiar and relatable, welcome. Sometimes it sucks feeling left behind but other days I’m incredibly grateful for those others who seem to also be stuck in that last wagon right along with us.
Welcome to that Last Wagon Club.
#Autismparenting #Autismlife #Autismishard
#PtenSyndrome
#scoliosis
#ADHD
#Auditoryprocessingdisorder
#kidneyreflux
#medicalmama