The Guilt of Letting Things Slip - Glasses edition

Parenting a child with complex needs is often described (rather patronisingly) as a “juggling act.” Because the truth is, sometimes it feels more like trying to balance your best china plates on poles that insist on spinning, while the floor shakes beneath you. And more often than not, no matter how hard you try, one of those plates comes crashing down. This was my devastating reality recently.

After Elias’s craniofacial surgery, he was due to see Ophthalmology (that's the eye doctor). His squint (or lazy eye) had improved drastically following the surgery so we were excited that it could mean a new prescription. But then the messy, relentless, everyday grind of life got in the way. For one reason or another, we had to cancel the appointment. And we weren't immediately given a new appointment. Then his glasses went missing. Then somehow, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

No appointment. No glasses. No resolution.

The guilt crept in quietly at first. A little pang when I thought about how important vision is for Elias. A whisper that maybe I was letting him down. Then, as the months went by, the whisper grew louder: what if I’ve caused regression? What if he’s missing out? What if this is my fault?

I tried. I really did. I called, I emailed, I left messages within the hospital app. I even had other departments ring the ophthalmology team internally while we were at other appointments. Silence. It felt like shouting into the void. And each unanswered attempt added to the weight of guilt I was already carrying. Was I doing enough? Was I pushing hard enough? Or was I just failing him?

Finally, one day, I randomly got through to the team on the phone. In that moment relief washed over me...until the conversation left me feeling small. You can always reach us by phone the secretary I spoke to said. Like all the emails, voicemails and messages I’d sent had vanished into thin air. As if it had always been simple, as if I hadn’t been clawing at closed doors for months. I left the call with a new appointment in hand… and a heaviness in my chest that hasn’t lifted since.

Because here’s the truth: the good news is Elias was seen relatively quickly after that call. The bad news is, the guilt is going to eat me alive. Especially as now he hates his replacement glasses and we've got to go through the whole song and dance of convincing him to wear them again.

It’s hard to explain the unique flavour of guilt that comes with being a parent carer. It’s not just about forgetting a school form or missing a playdate. It’s the fear that every delay, every dropped ball, every missed step has real consequences for your child’s health, development, or future. The pressure is crushing. And the truth is, no one can carry it perfectly, all the time.

I know, deep down, that we are doing our best in impossible circumstances. I know Elias is resilient. But knowing doesn’t make the guilt disappear.

If you’re a parent in the same boat, maybe this resonates. Maybe you’re also carrying the weight of things that slipped through the cracks while you were holding everything else together. If so, please hear me: you are not failing. You are human.

And sometimes, just surviving the chaos is the best kind of success.