When a parent of a disabled child is accused of child abuse

I gaped at my computer screen as I read a message from a mom I've known online for years. She's a teacher with three children, including a medically complex one with disabilities. Someone had reported her to her state's child protective services because her daughter had a significant diaper rash and bruises, and is underweight.

This mom was understandably shaken. I know her as well as any friend I've made through the blogosphere over the years. She's smart, she has a great sense of humor, she cares deeply about all her kids and she has done her best for her daughter. Her daughter, she noted, bruises easily; the diaper rash was being treated by a pediatrician; and she is under a GI's care for her weight.

A caseworker paid a surprise visit to her house, examined her three children's bodies, inspected the home (including examining the fridge's contents), asked a long list of questions about her parenting style and requested to speak with each child separately, away from the parents. She said she saw nothing that concerned her, and that the case would be closed after she spoke with two doctors and a friend of the family's. While the caseworker was not allowed to say who reported her, when my friend heard that it came from someone who "had" to she was pretty sure it was a new classroom paraprofessional.

It's true that "bruises easily" is something you might hear an abusive parent claim. It's also true that children with disabilities are more vulnerable than others to abuse, especially ones who have challenges with communication or who don't understand social situations well. While there's a lack of large-scale studies on the topic, approximately one in three children with a disability are victims of some form of maltreatment versus one in ten nondisabled children, as this Arc paper notes.

But here's the thing: Children with disabilities can be more likely than others to have weight issues, due to eating challenges, and to hurt themselves because of physical impairment. As their parents, we are acutely aware of this. Max sometimes trips when he walks or loses his balance on uneven surfaces. Before he could really communicate, when he took a bath at night I'd occasionally find a bruise or scrape on one of his limbs that he couldn't explain, and it would unnerve me. Had it happened at school? On the bus? With the babysitter? How? He has a small chip on one of his front teeth; to this day, I am haunted by how it got there.

At the same time, these mystery injuries make parents of children with special needs particularly
susceptible to coming under fire. And as mothers and fathers who put super-human effort into taking care of our children's developmental and medical needs, it can be a crushing blow to think that anyone suspects us of doing them harm.

A couple of months ago, Max was headed up our basement stairs after an occupational therapy session, except he got overly excited and went too fast. He fell backwards, his tumble broken by a utility cart. Max got some pretty nasty scratches on his back, including one long red one that ran from his shoulder to his lower back.

His school nurse emailed me that week: "Just want to confirm with you about the long scratch on Max's back, he said he fell down the stairs at home."

I felt a twinge of OMG and a defensive reaction of "Does she think we did something wrong? How could she think that?" But I got a grip and realized she was doing her job, and looking out for Max. I responded that it happened following a therapy session as Max climbed the stairs while the therapist was there, and that was that.

I am not saying that parents of kids with disabilities should be given the benefit of the doubt when something seems to be up with a child—to not report suspicions would be doing children a disservice. Besides, teachers and other school professionals are legally required to report possible abuse or neglect. There are awful parents out there who do terrible things to even the most defenseless children. The safety guards set up by schools and states exist for good reason.

Just know that if you ever get questioned by a teacher, a nurse or an authority about your child's well-being, try so hard not to take it personally, as I learned and my friend found out the even harder way. Logically, she gets that—her case was closed after three weeks as "unsubstantiated"—but her heart isn't yet there.

"Moving forward, the difficult part will be working with the school and trusting them with our nonverbal daughter, when we know it was a staff member who called," she says. "I have to believe that whoever did this did it out of concern for my daughter, although it kills me that someone thought she was neglected or abused. We are far from perfect, but we try damn hard. We have fought for this girl since the minute she was born, and that will never change."