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.

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.

 

 

To the parents who bring their sick kids to school…

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Dear parents with the sick kid at preschool,

Hello.  It’s me.  Your worst nightmare.  No, I’m not being dramatic.  After you feel my wrath you will know that I am exactly as I claim to be.  I will haunt you.  When my kid is up at 2 am throwing up his dinner, I will be there to remind you that this is YOUR fault.  When my kid starts coughing, crying and screaming at me for trying to give him medicine, you will know about it.  When I am the one losing work time, sleep and my sanity– I will find the time to remind you that this all could have been prevented.  I may seem neurotic and crazy but I don’t care anymore.  When your kid goes to the hospital with a 105 fever you realize that its perfectly okay to be a little neurotic.  A little crazy.  It is perfectly okay to blame you if you send your sick child to school.  Your actions are selfish.  I get not wanting to miss work.  I get that it can be inconvenient.  However, look at your kid.  Your kid needs sleep!   You kid’s body needs a fighting chance to get rid of this illness.  You shouldn’t want to send them to school.  But, if you do decide to send your sweet, sickly baby to school knowing that they will spread whatever illness they have– you should know that you’re infecting every other little kid in that room.  You’re infecting them, their siblings, their parents.  Your actions are effecting everyone.  You’re causing another parent to lose sleep, miss work and potentially get sick themselves.  And if that parent is a little sensitive to their baby’s illnesses to begin with, you’re causing them to lose their minds!  No one wants to watch their kids sniffle, cough, sneeze or deal with a high fever.  No one wants their babies to spend the night over the toilet vomiting.  Especially the nervous-Nelly mom’s of the world.  Watching you tell the teacher that your child is “just tired,” and “warm because it was warm in the car,” gives me rage.  You know your child is sick.  Own up to your poor decision, turn your child around and walk them back out to the car, drive home and put them in bed.  Do it for your kid.  Do it for the other kids and for goodness sake DO it for your fellow moms.  I promise we will do the same for you. If you don’t, you can expect me to call you out on it.  I’m up to my ears in medicine, thermometers, hand sanitizer, tissues, vitamins and essential oils.  What I need is for you to do your job as a parent so we can all get through this season together.

Sincerely,
That crazy mom whose kid was out multiple weeks his first year of preschool due to random illnesses that could have been prevented.  (insert middle finger emoji.)