From Fear to Freedom, in One Sitting
I have long suspected the autism spectrum. Or something. Several times, I have begun to investigate just what "or something" might mean, only to surrender to the doubt of my own judgement.
-No, he just needs more church.
-No, he just needs more time with his father.
-No, he just needs a good spanking.
-No, he just needs to be made to mind.
-No, it's my crappy parenting.
-No, it's his school.
-No, it's just how boys act.
-No, it's me not coping that is the problem.
I have come up against every single one of these thoughts, or statements, from myself or others. Over and over and over again- and I get up, I try again. A bit more tired. A bit less hopeful that "this or that" will work. And it's worth mentioning that until very recently, I was the only person in my family to even suspect anything was amiss. Probably because I'm the only one to see ALL of it, on the front lines 24 hours a day, every day. I sweep up the broken glass, mop up the spilled liquids, re-hang things on the walls, return our home to order every day, twice a day. I'm the one who gets kicked, punched, screamed at, spit on, verbally abused. I'm the one being judged for it. When he screams out profanity, it's ME who gets the hairy eyeball, because OBVIOUSLY he learned that word somewhere, and if I were a GOOD PARENT I would control my child.
Now we are on the brink of finding out just what we're dealing with, and instead of feeling relieved, or vindicated (or perhaps along with feeling those things), I feel afraid. Afraid of not fitting into this strange new world of special needs. I'm not smart enough, our struggles are so minor that really, are they struggles at all? I am afraid of being wrong, because what the heck do I do then?? I fear being right, because I really doubt that I have what it takes to be the mum to a child with additional needs.
Except - when our daughter with severe eczema (actually all THREE daughters) needed additional care, I was a warrior. The sleepless nights, the extra tasks to manage her allergy, writing care plans for preschool, and even now - when she wakes up, I am there. And perhaps that means that I have exactly what it takes now. I am THERE. I am here, wiping, hugging, talking, reading, feeding, and loving him fiercely.
I debated sharing this because for those of you who know our family, it's a bit 'exposed'. I want to protect my son's anonymity, his dignity; I also need to share our life with you, because in this fight? We need all the allies we can find. The support and understanding of people around us is invaluable.Yes, I have a deep faith in God, who is the best ally we could hope for. But he doesn't intend us to fight behind closed doors, I don't think so. We need others. And so I cautiously open up our world to you, our family and friends, in this space. I need you to understand that in every moment, I am doing the best I can, with what has been given to me, through faith in Christ, and it may look like I have it together, but I really DO NOT. I am outnumbered, overwhelmed, and seriously just figuring each moment out as it happens.
God made our son, and inexplicably, gave him to us. I don't know if we will ever figure that out, or even whether we will be allowed to see the world through our son's unique mind. I can tell you that we are blessed by our struggles and will continue to be blessed, in ways we cannot understand.
XO,
Sarah
-No, he just needs more church.
-No, he just needs more time with his father.
-No, he just needs a good spanking.
-No, he just needs to be made to mind.
-No, it's my crappy parenting.
-No, it's his school.
-No, it's just how boys act.
-No, it's me not coping that is the problem.
I have come up against every single one of these thoughts, or statements, from myself or others. Over and over and over again- and I get up, I try again. A bit more tired. A bit less hopeful that "this or that" will work. And it's worth mentioning that until very recently, I was the only person in my family to even suspect anything was amiss. Probably because I'm the only one to see ALL of it, on the front lines 24 hours a day, every day. I sweep up the broken glass, mop up the spilled liquids, re-hang things on the walls, return our home to order every day, twice a day. I'm the one who gets kicked, punched, screamed at, spit on, verbally abused. I'm the one being judged for it. When he screams out profanity, it's ME who gets the hairy eyeball, because OBVIOUSLY he learned that word somewhere, and if I were a GOOD PARENT I would control my child.
Now we are on the brink of finding out just what we're dealing with, and instead of feeling relieved, or vindicated (or perhaps along with feeling those things), I feel afraid. Afraid of not fitting into this strange new world of special needs. I'm not smart enough, our struggles are so minor that really, are they struggles at all? I am afraid of being wrong, because what the heck do I do then?? I fear being right, because I really doubt that I have what it takes to be the mum to a child with additional needs.
Except - when our daughter with severe eczema (actually all THREE daughters) needed additional care, I was a warrior. The sleepless nights, the extra tasks to manage her allergy, writing care plans for preschool, and even now - when she wakes up, I am there. And perhaps that means that I have exactly what it takes now. I am THERE. I am here, wiping, hugging, talking, reading, feeding, and loving him fiercely.
I debated sharing this because for those of you who know our family, it's a bit 'exposed'. I want to protect my son's anonymity, his dignity; I also need to share our life with you, because in this fight? We need all the allies we can find. The support and understanding of people around us is invaluable.Yes, I have a deep faith in God, who is the best ally we could hope for. But he doesn't intend us to fight behind closed doors, I don't think so. We need others. And so I cautiously open up our world to you, our family and friends, in this space. I need you to understand that in every moment, I am doing the best I can, with what has been given to me, through faith in Christ, and it may look like I have it together, but I really DO NOT. I am outnumbered, overwhelmed, and seriously just figuring each moment out as it happens.
God made our son, and inexplicably, gave him to us. I don't know if we will ever figure that out, or even whether we will be allowed to see the world through our son's unique mind. I can tell you that we are blessed by our struggles and will continue to be blessed, in ways we cannot understand.
XO,
Sarah
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