So Happy to be Mistaken

I had a big scare one morning last week as I was driving my kids to school.

I started down the road that borders my neighborhood -- it runs directly behind my backyard. It is a very busy road during the morning.

I approached the part of the road that bordered my own backyard and saw a furry blob.

A black, grey and white furry blob.

"No, no, no," I whispered. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

Not Lovey.

I slowed down and drove past the dead cat.

It looked just like Lovey.

I turned down a side street and parked the car. I jogged over, stood smack in the middle of the road and gazed down. (Yes, I could see my car the entire time. Please, nobody call DCFS. I have enough problems.)

The collar wasn't there, but Lovey sometimes gets his collar snagged on bushes and ripped off. I thought there might be a bit more white around the neck than I remembered. BUT the rest of the cat looked EXACTLY like Lovey. And he was crumpled up right there behind my house -- behind the fence I see Lovey walk along and climb over almost daily.

Oh, boo, hoo, hoo.

I moved the cat from the middle of the road to the grass.

I finished taking my kids to school.

I called my dad,

Boo, hoo, hoo.

I texted my best friend.

Boo, hoo, hoo.

I thought to myself: Seriously, God, with all of this crap in my life? With all of this pain and sadness? And now there is no Lovey?????

I know, I know. No reason to question God. I have never believed he causes hardship. I am a believer in an omniscient, keeping-tabs-but-not-interfering-God. It is the only way I can make sense of the world (although I still pray, so go figure).

I went home to get something to use to wrap up the body.

And who is there, basking in the sun in the middle of my driveway????

Dear, sweet Lovey.

OK, so I know I haven't been sleeping much. I haven't eaten much. My mind has been blown away by the details surrounding the crumbling of my marriage.

BUT AM I HALLUCINATING??????

I dropped to the ground and loved on Lovey.

And I drove back to the grassy shoulder.

There was that poor little cat.

I placed him on a towel and gently wrapped him up.

There was no way I could just leave him.

Add it to the list of things I never thought I was capable of doing before life slammed me upside the head with a you-really-don't-have-much-of-a-choice-fastball.

I can remove feline corpses from the side of the road.

The nameless kitty is now buried in my yard.

And I sure am happy every time I see Lovey.

Finding Myself

When your first child is profoundly autistic, you can easily lose yourself in his diagnosis.

Especially when you have given up a career of your own.

Especially when you have been needed to be the primary parent for that child, as well as the child who followed.

The years go by.

He goes from two to three and still no words.

And you start to think they might never come.

You battle depression. You wonder what you did to bring this suffering upon your child. You go to bed crying. You try to care for a newborn daughter whose presence in your womb came JUST as you started to fall into this world filled with worry for your son.

Three turns to four, and you are presented with an opportunity to try something new. Maybe this will work. Maybe the people at this school will find a way to unlock the potential.

Four turns to five, and you think that maybe he needs just one more year. There are moments where you see his mind at work. You see him solve problems without the benefit of any language. You see him start to nod and shake his head and answer your simple questions. You see him start to move his mouth in different ways and laugh when he makes a new sound. But, still, no words.

Five turns to six, and WHAT????? Why am I now doing this alone? What happened to my marriage? And, crap, now we are in public school. His teacher is wonderful. His aides are wonderful. But the football coaches' salaries probably surpass the special education budget for the entire district. And my son is stimming more than ever and still is struggling with some skills most two-year-olds have mastered.

WHAT NOW?????

Deal with all of that and .... well, I guess it is not hard to wonder why I can be asking, "What in the hell happened to me?"

Where am I?

Who am I?

And what in the h-e-double-l am I going to do with the rest of my life that does not involve autism?

I am struggling to find myself.

One thing I have learned is that I am deeply flawed, but that I have the best intentions .....

I guess that counts for something.

Another thing I have learned is that, no matter what, I refuse to leave my children. I know that with absolute certainty. How do I know? Because there have been moments when I have been face-first in the carpet crying out to God ... moments when I have been curled up in total despair wondering how I would get up in the morning.... moments when I actually have told my best friend, God bless her, "I just can't do this anymore."

And, yet, here I am.

I can't imagine being anywhere else.

I need to find out more, though, about myself, and about the person I am going to be five, ten, twenty years from now.

It is going to take some time.

But here are a few of the things I am discovering:

I like to dance. I really, really like to dance. I like putting on a black dress and dancing all over a crowded, hoppin' dance floor.

I like to run races. I like the tension that flows through my body while I stand with the runners at the starting line. I like the feeling of accomplishment when I finish, regardless of my time. I like knowing that the girl who never once considered herself remotely athletic can run a race and run it well.

I have room for a lot of forgiveness in my heart. More than I thought possible, and certainly more than I ever thought I'd need.

And one other thing I have discovered as of late -- and as with so many things, I owe a bit of gratitude to my bud S for helping with this discovery -- there really is something to be said for taking the high road.

I have taken only a few steps down this road of self-discovery. My shoes are definitely worn, and the bags under my eyes speak for themselves.

But I am not turning back.

Home Sweet Home

I went away for the weekend.

There was something important I wanted to do.

Something I needed to do.

I am not sure how much I got accomplished.

But I had to try.

I came home this evening with my children and walked into a very messy house.

A dishwasher full of dishes that needed to be put away.

Laundry that needed to be folded.

Beds unmade.

Toys scattered throughout every room.

But there was something so comforting about walking into my house ....

Like an embrace.

HOME.

So much more than a roof over my head and a floor beneath my feet.

A foundation.

I put my children to bed and was thankful that we all were under the same roof ...

that everyone was healthy and would be back on schedule tomorrow ...

that both of my kiddos had schools to go to where they will both be happy, even though one of them will be working on skills that most of us take for granted.

It is good to be home.

The Child in My Heart

Hey you, you're a child in my head
You haven't walked yet
Your first words have yet to be said
But I swear you'll be blessed
...
And you, you'll be blessed
You'll have the best
I promise you that
I'll pick a star from the sky
Pull your name from a hat
I promise you that, promise you that, promise you that
You'll be blessed --Elton John, You'll Be Blessed


My son has some of the most beautiful hazel eyes I have ever seen. The colors in his eyes sparkle when he is happy.

His laugh is contagious.

But is he the child in my head??? The child I envisioned when I learned one December day eight years ago that I was expecitng my first child?

No.

I don't think I was envisioning too much in particular. I wanted a boy, but I never told anybody that. I secretly yearned for a baby boy simply because I knew how very much my husband wanted one. And I just felt it -- from early on in the pregnancy. I knew the child growing in me was going to be a big, strapping boy.

And he was.

He also was, and still is, absolutely gorgeous.

But like most moms, while my tummy expanded and my feet swelled, my thoughts mostly were focused on my baby's health.

Would he come out with ten toes and ten fngers and everything in the right place?

Just after I gave birth, and the nurse stepped away with my baby to check him out and clean him, I kept asking my husband, "Does he look OK? Does everything look OK?"

As if anybody was going to be able to take one glance at this child who just miraculously entered the world and say, "Yes, eveything is OK."

I now realize: it just doesn't work that way.

My baby boy DID look just like the baby in my head.
But there was something in his head that was not right.

There was a time, during my never-ending struggle to deal with my son's autism, when I could not even look at pictures from his first year of life.

How sad.

Now, I occasionally look at the pictures from his infancy and toddler years, and I play, "Can you find the autism."

WHEN should I have known?

Sigh ....

Daniel is not the child I saw in my head.

He struggles.

And I worry:

Who will be there for him when I no longer can be?
Who will make sure that his life is a happy one?
How can I ensure that he becomes all he can be?
And given all his problems, all of his obstacles, how will I make sure that my son truly is blessed?

Talk about worries ....

No, Daniel is not the child I envisioned in my head.

But he is the child who occupies so much of my mind ....

And so very, very much of my heart.

He is my constant reminder that there are no guarantees in life.

And that we get only one chance to be happy ...

One life .... one complicated, messy, beautiful life.

And when it is over, there are no more opportunities to be happy.

He is my reminder that I should look for happiness.
And seize it when it is in front of me.

Because if my boy -- my beautiful, but challenged son -- can find happiness in his life -- and, oh how he does -- then surely, so can I.

I Hear Ya, Deb, and It Sucks

Don't even get me started about the link noted below ...

Been there, done that, although our insurance never even started paying for therapy for our son.

Autism: the disorder no insurance company wants to recognize.

Yep, Deb, you got it right: F&#% 'em.

http://thisismynewnormal.blogspot.com

Broken

There are broken things all around me.

Broken hearts, broken dreams, broken people.

Everywhere I look ....

things are broken.

My son's brain ... it never even formed properly...

It is broken.

My daughter's confidence, her sense of self, her sense of family ....

All broken.

My own dreams, my own heart ....

Broken.

I am bending down, trying to pick up the pieces.

But things keep breaking.

And I only have two hands.

When do the pieces become too numerous to pick up?

When do things become so shattered that they can never be put back together?

I don't know.

But I am still trying.

Truly Wonderful

So, a few days ago I posted about why I blog.

And I hoped for some new wonderful things about which to write.

These days, wonderful is a very tall order. I have been through hell.

But ....

Tonight I laughed at my daughter as I followed her and her brother around the block. They were on bikes. I was on foot. She looked at a driveway to see a child's chalk drawings -- she likes to partake in a lot of chalk drawing herself these days -- and she said with delight, "Oooohhhhh, look at those BEAUTIFUL chalk drawings," as if she had just seen a collection of masterpieces.

How could I not giggle?

How could I not laugh at her after our trek around the block, when she arrived in the driveway, jumped off her bike and did a little dance, screaming, "I made it home, F-I-R-S-T."

Yes, you did, Olivia. You did insist on being "the leader" the entire way, after all.

This afternoon, I helped my daughter pick out a mini-pumpkin. She was so delighted to be picking out a pumpkin (aahhh, the simple things). We had to get JUST the right one. The stem couldn't be too short or too long. The pumpkin couldn't be too blotchy or too flat. (Geez, do I look forward to picking out clothes with her someday.) And I marvelled that she came home and decorated the thing -- for a school project -- with absolutely no assistance from me.

Before our pumpkin expedition, I watched my girl force -- ahem, coax -- her brother onto McDonalds playground equipment.

Gotta love that never-give-up-spirit.

And after our bike trip, I watched my children succumb to hysterical laughter as Olivia sprayed both herself and Daniel with the garden hose. So much for her "job" of watering the new flowers, which, by the way, also bring a smile to my face.

That was just ONE DAY.

And I didn't even mention the best part.

I sat down with my son today to get him to work on a few things with me. I once put so much pressure on myself to "work with" Daniel. It is a tremendous burden, when you have a severely autistic child, to be both a parent and a teacher. You feel like you always need to keep your child from engaging in self-stimulatory behavior, like you need to keep him active and engaged each moment of the day. It is an impossible task. I have gotten better about giving myself a break from the guilt, but .... as I mentioned, I have been trough hell the past year. Some days, it was all I could do to function at all. I should have been focused on goals for my son, and, instead, I was focused on ... well, breathing.

But today, my boy did some things for me that I didn't know he could do.

It has been a while since I cheered for him like I did today. (And what a shame that is.)

I watched him smile at my pleasure, at my praise.

What a WONDERFUL reminder of how much I have to treasure in my children.

BOTH of them.

The one who amazes me with her intellect.

AND the one who amazes me with his ability to persevere, in his own way, despite a boatload of challenges.

It is a different kind of wonderful than what I once envisioned.

It is a different kind of wonderful than what many people could begin to understand.

And it is a different kind of wonderful than what some people can appreciate.

But today was wonderful.

Truly wonderful.