Great to see you here Heather! I’m sure that your post will make sense to so many other families and there’s lots to talk about for sure!! Connecting and talking with others can be a great sense of support and empowerment!

I know Heather wouldn’t mind me sharing the article below…unfortunately I couldn’t find the article archieved in the Globe so I have just cut and pasted it here…Thanks for sharing this Heather…what’s your daughter up to these days?

Helicopter Mom lets go
h. resnick
From Thursday’s Globe and Mail
Published Thursday, Feb. 05, 2009 10:05AM EST
Last updated Thursday, Apr. 09, 2009 11:19PM EDT

I’m one of those mothers – smothering, protective, controlling my daughter’s every move, comment and reaction to ensure she is safe, sound and sociable with a secure, employable future.

For 22 years, I conferred and argued with doctors, social-service workers, teachers, government employees, parents, employers and more. I structured her life to lead her along the path of good fortune. I made decisions contrary to hers, creating stress and disagreements that often spiralled out of control.

From my daughter’s perspective, she would probably say, “My mom is a nag. She’s always on my case. Do this. Don’t do that. Go wash your face, know your place, give people space, make haste not waste, blah, blah, blah …”

Unlike other helicopter mothers, I believe I have justification – that my controlling behaviour serves my daughter’s needs.

Even though we share the same goal of financial and emotional independence for our children, my case is different – my daughter has a mild intellectual disability. But, as a colleague said, “There is nothing mild about having an intellectual disability.”

Despair would often overshadow my daughter’s life. For too long, until we found the perfect camp and private school, she lived with taunting, rejection and avoidance from peers, teachers and others.

Frustrated and crying, she would ask: “Why can’t I do what every ‘normal person’ does – graduate from high school, go to college or university, get a good job and live on my own?”

It was gut-wrenching to see her suffer. So my husband and I became active participants in trying to give her opportunities for self-fulfillment. We provided whatever remediation she required, as many extracurricular activities as she could handle and organized her social life, volunteering and employment. No sacrifice was too big to help her live life.

My daughter has always had a fascination with orphan stories such as Little Orphan Annie and Oliver Twist. At first, these stories created a fear of abandonment. But then she developed the romantic notion that a life without parents was an exciting prospect.

For the past few years, she has scoured the Internet for programs for people who have learning disabilities, out of range of our home. Her goal: independence. She believed her disability was merely a problem with learning. My husband and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her disabilities were much more severe – everything in life would be a challenge and sometimes she might not succeed.

How do you tell your child that it isn’t just a matter of learning differently, but that she will have limitations in many of the things she does? Counselling with a social skills therapist has now made her more aware of these challenges.

We would often disagree with her school choices, but sometimes we would let them lead to natural consequences – rejection by the institution. We never wanted to set her up for failure, but we can’t protect her from all the negatives she faces. We want her to learn to cope with disappointment and discover solutions. We have taught her that you can’t know if you will succeed unless you try, and that you will learn from failure.

Finally, she found a program that left us with a good impression. But it was in Florida, with nothing equivalent in Canada. She would learn independent living skills while staying on her own in a regular apartment.

After months of research, talking with the program administrators, parents and students and visiting the institution, we decided this was an excellent opportunity worthy of the financial sacrifice.

We sent our daughter for a trial run at the three-week summer program. She loved it and was determined to do it for a year.

So, after months of pursuing this avenue for her, I relinquished my parental control and moved her into her own apartment, far from the security of home and family. While she is vulnerable and I worry for her health and safety, it’s exciting to let her experience the wings of freedom. How many “normal people” will never step outside their security box?

On our last night together before she began her journey as an independent woman, I gave her a last bit of advice about food storage.

She’d had enough. In her typically combative style, she said: “I am sick and tired of you telling me what to do and how to do it. This is my apartment.”

Her words burned a gaping hole in my heart, but she was right. There were no tears, although they came later for me, no hugs and no “thanks Mom,” although she did say thank you several times over the two weeks I helped her settle into her new digs, and I believe she appreciates everything in her own way.

I wished her luck in her new life and walked out her door.

Heartache and relief prevailed as I left my daughter to follow her long-time dream: “To screw up like everyone else does and learn from my mistakes.”

H. Resnick lives in Thornhill, Ont.