Many times, I wonder if it gets easier. The constant search for answers, and the constant search for support. I look at my son, who smiles and plays and wonder if some day he will ever start to walk, hold his bottle, feed himself, or understand what I am saying to him. I used to take these things for granted, but now I just pray for these things. The anxiety is too much to bear sometimes. With baby number two on the way, I worry about how we will cope. I worry about how my son will adjust. I worry that the new baby will have the same (or worse issues) than my son. I can't talk to anyone, because no one gets it. I am tired of being told not to compare my child to someone else's child of the same age. How can you not? It is impossible not to when they are side by side, and the "normal" child is running circles (literaly) around your own. You hurt for your child, even though he is not hurting. You hurt for yourself because you can't seem to find the support you need. No one understands it seems, not even my own family. I spend every waking moment with my son, and I love him every moment I am with him. That never changes. But what does change is my mental capacity to handle it. Some days, I am on top of the world, and ready to take on a day full of bottles (at almost age 2), feedings, diapers, and therapy. Other days, like today, well, it's just different. I am sad beyond words. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to go anywhere. I am tired. I am emotionally drained. I feel that the world is out there, and I am here. I cry for my son, and I'll admit, sometimes I cry for myself. Why can't this just be like everyone else's parenting experience? And if it can't be, why can't I just find ONE person to talk to who can relate? I have tried everything I can think of, but I'm just not getting that emotional outlet I need. The pressure never ends. Am I doing enough for my son? Should I be doing more? Is it my fault that he isn't progressing faster? Is it my fault that he is this way in the first place? And then the thoughts of the future cross my mind. Will he catch up? What if he doesn't? Will he find a wife someday? Have children? Or will I always be caring for him? It is hard for me to imagine him being self-sufficient at this point, even though that is absolutely entirely possible. But I am afraid to have hope, because I am tired of being crushed. I don't want to be told anymore that everything will work out. It is NOT working out. For everyone else, looking in from the outside, it may be "working out." But every single day, I cry at some point. And every single day I hurt. Some days are worse than others, but every day is hard. But I'm not allowed to show this. It's not socially acceptable. My friends try to understand, but don't. Even though people try to be there for me, sometimes I feel that I have no one. Sometimes I feel desperate. I hate it. This is not who I am. I need a new perspecitve, but I can't find one. Don't get me wrong, I smile and laugh every day too. My son is the best gift that I have ever been given. But this journey is the hardest I've ever traveled, and I'm simply not one of these people who look at the bright side of everything and ignore the rest. I'm too practical and too jaded for that. I know, from my own experiences, that things don't always work out the way we want them to, and therefore, I choose to approach life realistically and not in some La La Land of denial like others do. So where do I go from here? I have no clue. For now, another cup of coffee, and a tissue to dry my eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment