Dibs: In Search of Self

by Virginia M. Axline

But remote. And very, very sensitive. And this may surprise you. I don’t even talk about this anymore. I’ve never even mentioned it at the school.” Again, there was that unhappy, mirthless smile on her lips. “Before I became pregnant, I was a surgeon. I loved my work. And I had shown promise of achieving success as a surgeon. I had perfected two very complicated heart operations. My husband was proud of me. All our friends were very brilliant, successful, interesting men and women. And then Dibs was born and spoiled all our plans and our life. I felt that I had failed miserably. I decided that I would give up my work. Some of my closest professional friends couldn’t understand my attitude, or my decision. I did not tell them about Dibs. Oh, they knew about my pregnancy. But not about Dibs. It soon became obvious that Dibs was not normal. It was bad enough to have a child, but to have a mentally retarded child was really more than we could bear. We were ashamed. We were humiliated. There had never been anything like this in either of our families. My husband, noted throughout the country for his brilliance. And my own record had always been outstanding. All our values had been heavily slanted in the direction of intelligence — fine, precise, noteworthy intellectual achievement! “And our families. We had both grown up in families where those qualities were valued above all others. And then Dibs! So peculiar. So remote. So untouchable. Not talking. Not playing. Slow to walk. ...

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