I love you, I need you.

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(me + my mom in 1987)

Tonight, I called my mom.  I told her that I needed her.  I do need her.  I’m 31 years old and I need my mother so much it hurts.  I call her and tell her that my son needs to see her… that he misses her.  I try to get her to come up here and help me with the kids.  Really,  I just need her to hold me.

I grew up in a house that wasn’t very affectionate.  We didn’t hug very much.  We said I love you but it was a quick “okay, love you, talk to you later.”  My mom kind of has a thing about physical affection.  I don’t know that she grew up in a very affectionate household.  We’re kind of weird about feelings at home.  We don’t really express ourselves well unless we’re angry.  Healthy right?  For me to tell my mother the words tonight… “I need you…I need you… I NEED YOU…” is huge.  I am 31 and I need my mother because I am hurting.

My son was recently given an individual education plan (IEP) because he has “developmental delays.”  We’re fairly certain it is autism but for whatever reason I couldn’t hear those words right now.  It is HARD for me to KNOW that my son has something that they don’t know much about.  They don’t know what causes it.  They don’t know exactly what to do about it… I mean, sure, there are ideas– but the spectrum is so large.  There are so many unknowns.  I am not good at unknowns.  If they can’t find a reason for it– the reason is me.  That is what I tell myself from sun up to sun down.  I should have breastfed longer, I shouldn’t have eaten processed food, I shouldn’t have been so stressed, I shouldn’t have gotten the epidural, I should have staggered vaccinations, etc.   Sometimes I tell myself the worst one of all.  I shouldn’t have been selfish. 

After my husband and I got married I took red lipstick and wrote my bathroom mirror, “Don’t have children.  Don’t be selfish.  They will grow up like you.  You can’t do that to someone else.”  I looked at this every morning and I sobbed.  I wanted children so badly but I couldn’t live with them having the brain that I have.  Within a few months of writing this message, I was pregnant.  It was unplanned and unexpected.

Holding that 8 lb 6 oz baby boy was indescribable.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been more happy in my entire life.  He was beautiful.  He IS beautiful.  He had perfect eyes, so alert.  He nursed perfectly… his toes were big and beautiful.  Perfection.  He was my whole world.  He is my world.

The past year has been hard.  He’s been through so many adjustments.  We have a another little one and he has had to share his attention.  He had to deal with a truly awful preschool that punished him for his anxiety and insecurities.  He stims a lot.  He repeats questions.  He anxiously talks about irrelevant things.  He can’t talk to kids.  Sometimes toilets and vacuums scare him.  There are a lot of things that are hard for him.  BUT… he talks to me.  He loves me.  He kisses me.  He hugs me.  He laughs.  He makes jokes.  He hugs his sister and loves his sister.  He lights up when he sees her.  My children embrace each other the minute one realizes the other is awake.   They squeal with excitement.  How blessed am I to have two LOVING children?

The idea of autism is overwhelming.  I am overwhelmed.  I have obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks, generalized anxiety and depression.  I have sensory issues and quirks.  I am TRYING to be an example for my fearful son but I am struggling.  Struggling to me… is failing.  I need my mom.  I need my mom to hold me and tell me that I’m doing an okay job.  I need her to hold my baby and comfort him in a way that only she can.  She may not have always been the greatest at it with me but she has ALWAYS been wonderful with my son.  He trusts her and he loves her.  They have a special bond.  A bond I am grateful for… especially when I feel inadequate.

I don’t know what I’m saying in this blog except for that I am feeling lost at the moment.  I am feeling stressed, scared, overwhelmed and sorry for myself a little bit.  I hope I can find the strength and energy to really help myself so I can continue to help my son.  Sometimes the fight seems to large and I feel too small.  I pray for strength.

today, I painted my nails

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Today, I painted my nails.  They aren’t perfect but I keep looking at them and feeling happy.  I feel happy because I took a few minutes today to do something for myself.

The past few months have been heavily consumed with many things beyond my control.  My daughter has done amazing with her FPIES.  She has passed every single food we have tried– which is a tremendous blessing.  She can eat squash, zucchini, carrots, blueberries, pears, apples, and bananas!  When I think back to the night she went to the hospital with violent vomiting after eating oatmeal, my heart aches.  I feel such fear.  When she got the FPIES diagnosis I felt defeated.  I felt like the next few months would just be one anxiety attack after another.  Thankfully, my mind has calmed down and so has her stomach! haha.  She has done so well with her foods and I am so thankful.  This week we go to the hospital to trial a trigger food.  Chicken.  I pray that she passes this as it will be a big step for her!  She also gets her allergy testing and I hope that she has no traditional food allergies.  She is a healthy, strong, beautiful princess and I am full of hope.

As for my son– we are still dealing with… “is it autism? is it not? is it ADHD? is it something that will get better with time?” etc.  He was supposed to meet with a school psychologist this week to evaluate him further… but I’m not ready.  I will push it off for a month.  Sometimes we have to make selfish decisions.  Today, I painted my nails while my husband cleaned the kitchen.  Today, I decided to postpone my son’s evaluation for myself and for him.  I would like for him to get more familiar with his new school and teachers.  I would like to give him a chance in another environment.  His new school is full of supportive, loving, caring, kind teachers.  I want him to experience that support before potentially labeling him with autism.  And for me, I won’t have to deal with the possibility of my baby going to the hospital with a food allergy and my son being labeled with a developmental condition in the same week.  My mental health is fragile and though I am much better, stressful times are very triggering.  I need to be the best mom for my babies.

This week I’ve spent many hours crying.  I see my son riding his bike with such joy.  He screams randomly, “mommy!! I love you!” …I melt into a puddle of tears.  I’ll never tire of hearing such precious words.  I cry because he’s so wonderful and perfect.  I don’t want anything to be hard for him.  I want life to be perfect.  I want him to be care free and happy.  I cry because things may be harder for him and there is nothing I can do to “Fix” it.

This post is getting lengthy, but I just needed to get a little bit off my chest.  I could write for hours about my thoughts and feelings about both of my children… specifically with their health issues.  I am personally struggling with the possibility of my son having an autism diagnosis.  I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or not.  I’ve had crazy thoughts…selfish thoughts. I’m just trying to work through it all in my head.  My husband has been working nonstop and I haven’t been able to get to therapy so I’ve been trying to work it all out on my own.  It is hard.  Anyone else struggle with the possibility of an autism diagnosis?  How did you cope?  How did you get to a good place?

-c

 

avoiding the real world

another stupid love story

i was the ink in your pen

and you built me with every letter.

a single word and i could stand alone.

a sentence and i was complete.

but you added another, and another, and another

about someone i’d know all too well.

someone i’d spend night after night trying to forget.

why would you bind us line by line?

knowing that we’d never stay together in the end.

knowing that this poem would never satisfy you

or be a story anyone would want to read?

one single word and i could stand alone.

a sentence and i was complete.

a paragraph and i fell apart.

-a tale i never wanted to be a part of.

another stupid love story

that no one gives a damn about.

-especially me

your ill fated, heart broken, girl character

who would have been better off on her own.

 

I recently discovered poetry I wrote for a collection in college.  I think, at best, I was a mediocre poet lol.  I tried but could never really say exactly what I wanted to say.   It is so interesting to read these poems 10 years later.  My inspiration for this poem is now, my husband.  🙂  I guess it wasn’t a stupid love story after all haha.

I’m posting this because I’m avoiding real life.  Today was difficult. My son may have autism.  I can finally type it.  I have a million thoughts, a million feelings and I just stare at my screen and checkout.  I called my parents and I cried.  I thought about 5 hours ago and 5 years from now in a single thought.  I don’t really know what to feel or think.  I think I am going to postpone the thoughts for tonight and have a glass of woodbridge chardonnay.  (yes, I’m back on Chardonnay Charles- I’m sorry, it is just better- I don’t care if that makes me an old lady lol)

Maybe in the next few weeks I’ll have a real post about all this and stop avoiding it.  Maybe I won’t …and you’ll get to enjoy more 10 year old, mediocre poetry.  Until next time…

A poem about Grace Elaine

Tonight I’ve been talking with my good friend Heather.  I am so stressed out and it is so good to get things off my chest.  Heather is great because you can talk about something silly like the hatchimal craze…. or something serious like our children’s health issues. Tonight, we talked about how much we would love to talk to our grandmothers just one more time.  There is something so wonderful about grandparents.  They have lived full lives and have this wisdom that is so far beyond our own understanding.  I often look to my only living grandfather for advice and wisdom.  When talking with Heather tonight I remembered that in college I wrote several poems about my grandmother.  She was such a strong, beautiful woman.  I am so thankful that I had 13 years to know her and love her.  I would like to share one of the poems here because I feel that it captures who she was accurately.  As I am going through so much as a mother now… I would love to just be able to talk about everything with her.  After she passed in 1998 she visited me in my dreams.  She sat on the edge of my bed and she told me that she was okay.  I found such peace in this– and am thankful that she loved me so much.  I named my daughter after her and know that Claire has inherited some of her salty attitude. ( I say this lovingly, as her salty attitude was my favorite thing about her).  Anyway, here is the poem I wrote for her nearly 10 years ago.

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War Veteran’s Wife

She spent most days behind that old apron
making our meals and providing for us.
Her weathered fingers wrinkled like raisins,
gripping the spoon and praying for solace.
Day after day in a house of discord,
protecting us from our drunken father
with her bones as shields but never a sword.
Her tired body we would never bother.
She grew old inside of that same old house.
Rocking back and forth in her chair thinking
about her life as a war veteran’s spouse,
who wasn’t enough to stop his drinking
before he died inside his “Sunday best.”
Leaving behind for her a day of rest.

 

 

Thinking positive

I’ve been sitting here typing out several opening sentences to this blog… and just don’t feel it.  I think it is because the events of the past few months are just really hard to talk about.  Anything being “wrong” with my kid is extremely difficult to put into words.  Worries fill my head all day long and dread feels my heart.  I can feel the anxiety in my chest and in my stomach.  I just don’t feel like coming here and writing it all out.  Tonight, I feel like listing everything that I am thankful for.  I really need to focus on the positive right now.

My son is healthy.  My son is happy.  My son is starting to respond positively to discipline.  My son is hilarious.  My son asked me to hold him today.  My son said “I need mommy,” today.    He told me that I don’t kiss him too much.  My son loves the Beatles.  He loves music and singing.  He says hilarious things.  He makes me laugh.  He fills me with such joy.  He is tall and handsome and loving.  He has such a sweet heart and a sweet personality.  He loves meditating.  He loves learning.  My son is my perfect little man.

My daughter is healthy.  My daughter is happy.  She is learning to walk.  She babbles “mama,” “dada,” and I think she’s even babbling “Jack.”  She has daily talks with the Christmas tree and the ceiling fan.  She has learned to growl.  She officially has 4 safe foods– squash, bananas, apples and carrots.  She loves splashing in the bath.  She loves me and our bond has gotten stronger throughout the last 9 months.  She is wild and fearless.  She loves her brother.  She loves her daddy.  She is such a perfect blessing.

My husband is healthy, happy and smart.  He loves me with or without makeup.  He thinks I’m beautiful when I haven’t showered in 3 days.  He is encouraging and uplifting.  He deals with so much and handles it all so well.  He defends me when I need defending.  He loves our children so much.  He sees our marriage as a true 50/50 partnership.  He is supportive and wonderful.

I am healthy.  I am happy.  I am blessed with 2 beautiful children and a wonderful husband.  I am learning to love my naked face as I move away from makeup.  I am learning to appreciate my physical imperfections because they all tell a story.  I have rediscovered writing and it is a wonderful “me time” activity.  I will do anything for my children and they will always come first.  I have discovered over the past few months that I can handle much more than I ever thought and I can handle it amazingly well.  I am a good mom–even when dealing with my own issues.  I am learning to trust my gut.  I can recognize my blessings every single day.

I am thankful for the learning experiences that 2016 has brought.  I am thankful for the beautiful little girl I delivered this year!  It has been a long, trying year– but there is always something to be thankful for.

 

 

A Mother’s Love

One of the hardest things about being a parent with anxiety is concealing that anxiety for the benefit of your anxious son.  The past few months have been difficult.  I’ve become obsessed with the possibility that something is wrong with him.  Does he have autism?  Does he have ADHD?  Does he have selective mutism?  Is he just a developing young boy who needs time to adjust and be a kid?  I don’t know.  The not knowing is making me crazy.

Every day that I pick him up from school I have to deal with his teachers telling me that it was another rough day.  He ran from them.  He didn’t engage with other children.  He didn’t listen.  He acted out.  I don’t know what to say to them anymore.  I have no idea what to do.  As much as I hate that they have to deal with his misbehavior… I hate even more that this could be due to anxiety or some other condition and none of us know how to deal with it.  I never want my son to feel anxious.  I don’t want him to act out because he doesn’t know how to express himself. I have such an ache in my heart for him.

Today I put him in his carseat and I kissed his cheeks.  I stared into his beautiful blue eyes and I tried so hard to read them.  I felt myself pleading with him telepathically almost.  I tried to feel what he was feeling.  I wanted to know so badly.  “how was your day love?”  “fine and good.”  Sigh.   I never get a direct answer. I just love him so much.   I want to fix anything and everything for him.

I know he knows something is up.  I’ve tried so hard to get him to talk to other kids.  I’ve scolded him about listening and not touching other children.  I’ve tried so hard to help him… and maybe I’ve done too much.  I know he’s heard me talking about it.  He’s seen me cry.  I know he knows more than we give him credit for.  I feel so guilty.  Each day I struggle with letting my emotions show too much in front of him.  I am desperately trying to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself.  It is so hard.

Why isn’t a mother’s love enough?  It is the strongest emotion I feel.  I feel like it has the strength to fix any problem.  How can it possess so much power yet still not make everything perfect?  No matter what I hope he knows that I love him yesterday, today and forever and ever and ever.  I would do anything for that child.  I will do anything for him.  I don’t want him to suffer… ever.  I’m always here to help him.  I think I’m telling this blog because I don’t know that he understands when I tell him.  I can only hope he does.

If you pray, pray for me and my family.  My head and my heart need the love and support.

 

 

He is perfect.

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Last week I took my son to a local organization for a screening of his behavioral issues.  We were to tell him it was a fun special school where he would go play games.  He was excited to go and he did really well– at least in my opinion.  He hopped on one leg and balanced, did vision and hearing tests, identified objects, drew a circle and scribbled other things, answered questions, etc.  I watched my sweet boy having so much fun and a single tear fell down my cheek.  Then another and another.  I felt silly… but I loved watching him be happy.  I also felt so sad because I knew they were just observing him to see if he had developmental delays.

Long story shot, they think he shows signs of being on the autism spectrum.  He has to go for another long observation.  I heard the words come out of the PhD, whatever his official title is  and couldn’t breathe.  I felt such anger.  I was mad at him for labeling my son.  I was mad at him for thinking anything was different about him.  I was mad at him for saying that social skills could be challenging for him.  I was just mad.  My son was and is perfect.  As soon as he said the words I felt the same way I’d felt nearly 11 years before when my friend called to tell me that one of my best friends had passed unexpectedly.  I threw the phone in anger.  I couldn’t bear to hear another word.  The words seared my face.  Then the tears took over.  I thought about that because I was feeling the exact same way — but no one had died.

Thinking about it…I realized that something did die.  The plans I had for my son.  The ones I made when I delivered him.  These words… autism spectrum… suddenly meant that my son couldn’t have everything I wanted for him …or be who I imagined he would be.  I started to grieve.  I was so sad.  I had a panic attack in front of the observers and excused myself to the bathroom.  I felt so much pain.

I’ve thought about this every second since that day and in my gut, I still don’t feel like he has autism.  I don’t think I’m in denial.  I can see there are certainly things that stand out as interesting.  He can talk to adults but isn’t great at talking to other children.  He hand flaps.  He’s smart.  My husband thinks he has selective mutism.  I have no idea if he does or doesn’t.  I know that social anxiety and generalized anxiety are VERY prominent in my family.  My father never talked to other children when he was a child.  When he did start talking he stuttered.  So the biological component is there.

No matter what happens, I love him so much and feel so blessed to have him exactly as he is.  He is healthy… he is happy. He loves school.  He loves us.  He loves his sister.  He loves to sing and make up stories.  He loves playing outside and loves his extended family.   He is so incredibly precious.  I feel almost guilty for having the emotional reaction that I had.   I am not perfect.  I react to things like anyone else and then I have to step back and think about them.  After this week I know this…

I know my kid.  He is the epitome of love.  He is hilarious.  He is precious.  Every single day that I’ve been his mom has been a day better than all of the days before it.  He is perfect whether he is on the spectrum or not.