Swiftly, we entered my condo and like seasoned professionals began a triage of sorts. Instead of doctors, it was The Wuzband and I and the patient was our 17-year-old daughter with autism. She'd just had oral surgery to remove her wisdom teeth. I pulled out old beach towels and spread them under and on top of the covers, while he supervised her toileting from outside the bathroom. I ran cool water onto washcloths, wrung them, rolled ice cubes into them and tucked them within plastic bags before stowing  them in the freezer. Soon, our subject, too, was out cold.

It occurred to me how smoothly we assumed our positions, her father and I. A team. Our post divorce relationship has never fit the stereotype society wants us to believe of two warring parents. Nashville's leading special needs trust attorney once told me that she'd seen a lot of parents like us. That somehow, when there was a special needs child involved, the mother and the father seemed to get it right. The only true reference I have for that is our own experience. And, from what friends in and outside of the disAbility community say, we are exemplary. (I am currently learning about "Conscious Uncoupling" and may share more here on the blog at some point, perhaps soon. In 2010, I wrote on "The Journey with Grace" about Spiritual Divorce.)

All I know is that before the judge raised the hammer from her desk and declared "Divorced" from The Wuzband, I'd gotten clear that what we disagreed upon when we were married would never be agreed upon as divorced parents. Leave old well enough alone and start anew. I remember the day, where I stood and the approximate time when I raised my hand in the form of "Stop!" and nonverbally made this declaration to myself and to him.

So, we work together as a team now whereas we didn't so well before. We triage in times of surgery (there have been several,) and in our weekly passing of the small torch we lit together–the one who will always burn brightly in both our hearts.

You, see, when parents become embittered, spitting poisons at one another as "ex-es" or soon-to-be, they've got it all wrong. While they may wish to punish the one to whom they once said, "I Do," they hurt most the small ones who still need their love. I say: Grow up! Act your age! You're a parent! You've got a charge who does not disappear once the divorce papers are signed. Agree to disagree and then love that/those child(ren) and make them priority.  You may no longer love the other parent, but do the right thing by that child whom the two of you brought forth into this world and whom would not be here on this earth if you had not once upon a time, even for a few moments, loved one another.

The teamwork, when it comes to parenting, continues whether you're married or not. And in the case of "special children," that teamwork is often going to continue long past age 18. It will continue until you each breathe your last breath. Make it work. Life will be easier. You will be blessed for doing the right thing.

The jewel, the evidence, in my memory that we had a special thing–The Wuzband and I–was when my mother died three years ago. The Wuzband, left work, drove up from Birmingham and picked up our daughter. I drove to South Carolina to be with my family. My then boyfriend drove down a few days later and The Wuzband drove Grace up from Alabama. (Complex maneuvering and coordination is the sub-story of my Life.) The Boyfriend and The Wuzband later rode together to my sister's house from the church after the funeral. Together, all of us, as a family, dined on funeral fare that afternoon. And long after we put down our forks and spoons and licked our chops, The Wuzband, who was a member of our family for nearly two decades, stayed and visited with my family.

That is called Peaceful Parenting. Peaceful Divorce. It's doable. If you find yourself at the threshold of Divorce…as too many find themselves at the precipice of a New Year–just do it. Do it Right. Do it for the children. Years down the road, you'll be so glad you did. I believe in You.