One decade.
On Friday, we celebrated Sam's first ten years on earth. His first decade. It was a low key, relaxing day. He ate cake and opened presents. We sang to him. A great, relaxing day. He had a 'good brain' day, so everyone relaxed and enjoyed the day.
Then, on Saturday, the kids were getting ready to go to their dad's house, and Sam became agitated about his new headphones. He argued that he needed them at dad's house, and his life would be bad without them. I held firm - we don't transfer belongings between houses, and he has headphones at dad's house. This became a big issue - a fit, refusal to get in the car, refusal to buckle, and then refusal to get out of the car. He banged around, threatened his siblings, and shoved Alexander. Thankfully, the car ride to their dad's house is less than 2 minutes, because he was getting wound up. His dad ended up pulling him out of the car and into dad's house.
As I drove off, I felt a mixture of relief, fear, and sadness. It's always a relief to have that time to work, to sleep, and to recharge. And then there's the fear for my other kids. I worry about them constantly. I think about their safety and wonder if I will get a call that Sam has injured one of them. Each of my sweet babies, who grew inside my body, away from my vigilance, and at Sam's mercy. My mind races with those thoughts on Sam's 'bad brain' days.
Later that evening, as I perused Facebook, I my eyes caught several sets of pictures from friends' children's 10th birthday parties. Parents celebrating budding independence. Parents mentioning seeing collaboration and friendships. Smiles and presents and lighthearted joy. And my heart shattered.
It seems that parenting grief comes in waves. Loss in this way is not one event that can be sorted and filed in one's brain. It is an ongoing loss - missing more and more of my child as he disappears into his beautiful, Escher-esque mind. Especially with a severely mentally ill child, most of my time is spent trying to keep everyone safe and to meet each of my kids' most basic needs. So many issues become crises. This prevents me from having to stop and think about the future, or about the reality of looming diagnoses. It is parenting by putting out fires, rather than carrying out a well-executed plan. This busyness also allows me not to reflect or internalize the magnitude of these issues.
But as I looked at the pictures of 'normal' ten-year-olds, there was no keeping kids safe. There was no work. There was no juggling everyone's needs and praying for a calm, injury-free day. There was no crisis intervention. So the pain came. I cried for the child I had hoped to have. I cried for the little boy who lives in Sam, who is scared all the time. I cried for the sad little boy who just wants to be loved. I cried for the normal life and the friendships he will never experience. I cried for each of my other children who will never know life without constant, penetrating fear in their own house, from their own sibling. And I cried for me. Because as much as I love Sam, I am scared of him, and for him. I don't know the best way to help him, even though I desperately long to make everything better.
I am so exhausted. I can't explain how bone tired I am from being on alert every moment of every day. I can't even explain it in words - this level of tired. I've told friends that Sam doesn't sleep. And I get well-meaning "oh, my toddler didn't sleep well either" stories. When I say Sam doesn't sleep, I don't mean he is a little restless at 3am. I mean Sam spent several years sleeping 2-4 hours a night, with little 15-minute sleep jags outside of that. Since he is a danger to himself and his siblings, that meant I spent several years sleeping an average of 4 broken hours a night. And as anyone with a newborn will attest, it breaks you. Now, on an antipsychotic, he sleeps 8-10 hours. I find myself waking up intermittently at night, in a panic, checking on each of my children. It sounds ludicrous, but I spent so many years ensuring everyone's safety at night that it is etched into my consciousness. I awaken at night for safety checks. And even now, as he wakes up and talks to his imaginary friends at 1am before falling back asleep, I hear it. I hear everyone's night movements because that type of protectiveness is so engrained in my body.
If the physical exhaustion wasn't enough, there's also the weight of the future. And the weight of the 'now.' Right now, we're seeing an autism specialist, a neurologist, a psychiatrist, and have an EEG scheduled, and are waiting for a call from a local hospital to schedule an MRI. These are all appointments in the next 6 weeks. There is the time spent going to these, the time explaining them to Sam because he fears all doctors, the time arranging for childcare (since dad won't attend most appointments, but won't watch the other kids), and the missed work and family time. Then there's the wondering about the future, not to mention the financial toll of specialist visits and medications.
And I have 3 incredible other children, each of whom deserves all the time and attention in the world. I wonder who they would be if given the chance to shine.
But as it stands, we're a decade in. Here's to a calmer decade to come.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Knock knock, who's there?
Every morning, as Sam knocks on my door at some ungodly early hour, I bolt out of bed wondering exactly who I will meet. Will it be the confused kid who can't remember that I'm Mom? Will it be the agitated child who just repeats "iPad, iPad, iPad" until I find it? Will it be the calmer child who just needs iPad and breakfast *now*? Will it be the angry child who was somehow wronged in his sleep or dreams, and is out to hurt everyone he sees? Will it be the delusional child who mistakes me for some other relative, or some part of his dream?
This 'unknown child' has been an interesting part of our morning routines for some time now. The other kids ask "How's Sam?" when they wake up, almost as soon as they've cuddled and said good morning. It's just part of growing up with the unknown.
But for the last few days - the last few glorious, wonderful days - things have changed. Sam has slept for more than 5 hours in a stretch. He wakes up calmer - still needing the iPad immediately, but not hurting anyone. He recognizes me. He recognizes his siblings and doesn't try to hurt them as they get out of bed. I've smiled and whispered "He's having a good brain day" to each of my little kids, these past few days. Their bodies change. Their demeanors change. Watching their bodies physically relax, and knowing that their minds are doing the same thing, is making all the searching for help worthwhile.
We haven't reached the end of this journey by any stretch of the imagination, but having a few 'good brain days' can't be a coincidence, and we're treasuring the time that we have with "the Sam we know is in there."
Sam and mom on a good day. He snuggled up next to me and said, "I love you," while giving me a hug!
Friday, January 2, 2015
Resolve
I hesitate to publicize New Years resolutions for many reasons. They seem very private, they showcase my shortcomings, and moreover, I haven't though of very good ones. Hehe.
So rather than mull over them for 10 months while I think of perfect ideas and wording, as is my tendency, here they are - imperfect.
This year, I will work toward:
1. Loving my kids well.
This is something I completely changed in September. I had been short tempered and had parented fairly poorly for quite a few months. In September, I hit bottom, and changed how I parent. This is still a daily effort, so I will add it for this year.
2. Developing a plan for Sam.
This is such a fluid issue. I can't do this alone, but I can, and will, be proactive in working with the psychiatrists, neurologists, and school (and any other specialists) to do what is best for him. This also means working with my ex in constructive ways, which has sent me into a tailspin of panic in the past. I will look for Sam's best and our family's best, and not worry about how my ex perceives us.
3. Enjoying singleness
As I leaped into singleness, I was painfully lonely, hopelessly codependent, and desperately seeking love. Not a great place to do anything but find trouble. So this year, I am learning to love me. To love who I am becoming, and forgive myself for not being perfect along the way.
4. Finding a job that suits my talents better (with insurance)
My current job is absolutely perfect for my life situation right now. It is flexible enough to allow me to be constantly interrupted by school emergencies or appointments. But it offers no insurance, and is only part time. As life calms down, I would love to find a job that offers insurance and uses my talents.
5. Better balancing work and parenting
Since my job is flexible, I feel like I spend every moment without my kids, working. I would like to plan my time better so I have some true 'off' time to recharge and be a better parent while my kids are home.
6. Blogging consistently and honestly
My struggle with blogging, as with life, has been how far I am willing to remove the mask. Pretending that I'm holding life together pretty well is easy if I'm quiet. But once I talk about my life, the ugly, scary parts trickle out, and I feel the need to hide those. So I will be more honest - with the good and the bad.
7. Publishing 2 patterns on Etsy
I've had 2 quilt patterns in my brain for years, and I would love to publish them this year. This goal really also means spending a LOT more time sewing.
8. Making a five year plan
I have always had 1, 2, and 5 year plans in my life. They've always changed, but having those plans has been a comfort to me. This year, with Sam's health changing so wildly, and with moving and divorce, I have no plans. This causes undue stress. I am going to make both financial and personal plans, and soon.
9. Making my house a home
It seems as if the past 10 years have been about living in a house. I want to make a home with my children. This is both in attitude and little 'homey' decor.
What are your resolutions? Do you write them down, or keep them in your mind? Do you find that one way or the other is more effective?
So rather than mull over them for 10 months while I think of perfect ideas and wording, as is my tendency, here they are - imperfect.
This year, I will work toward:
1. Loving my kids well.
This is something I completely changed in September. I had been short tempered and had parented fairly poorly for quite a few months. In September, I hit bottom, and changed how I parent. This is still a daily effort, so I will add it for this year.
2. Developing a plan for Sam.
This is such a fluid issue. I can't do this alone, but I can, and will, be proactive in working with the psychiatrists, neurologists, and school (and any other specialists) to do what is best for him. This also means working with my ex in constructive ways, which has sent me into a tailspin of panic in the past. I will look for Sam's best and our family's best, and not worry about how my ex perceives us.
3. Enjoying singleness
As I leaped into singleness, I was painfully lonely, hopelessly codependent, and desperately seeking love. Not a great place to do anything but find trouble. So this year, I am learning to love me. To love who I am becoming, and forgive myself for not being perfect along the way.
4. Finding a job that suits my talents better (with insurance)
My current job is absolutely perfect for my life situation right now. It is flexible enough to allow me to be constantly interrupted by school emergencies or appointments. But it offers no insurance, and is only part time. As life calms down, I would love to find a job that offers insurance and uses my talents.
5. Better balancing work and parenting
Since my job is flexible, I feel like I spend every moment without my kids, working. I would like to plan my time better so I have some true 'off' time to recharge and be a better parent while my kids are home.
6. Blogging consistently and honestly
My struggle with blogging, as with life, has been how far I am willing to remove the mask. Pretending that I'm holding life together pretty well is easy if I'm quiet. But once I talk about my life, the ugly, scary parts trickle out, and I feel the need to hide those. So I will be more honest - with the good and the bad.
7. Publishing 2 patterns on Etsy
I've had 2 quilt patterns in my brain for years, and I would love to publish them this year. This goal really also means spending a LOT more time sewing.
8. Making a five year plan
I have always had 1, 2, and 5 year plans in my life. They've always changed, but having those plans has been a comfort to me. This year, with Sam's health changing so wildly, and with moving and divorce, I have no plans. This causes undue stress. I am going to make both financial and personal plans, and soon.
9. Making my house a home
It seems as if the past 10 years have been about living in a house. I want to make a home with my children. This is both in attitude and little 'homey' decor.
Me sewing with my best helper this morning. I've missed sewing!
What are your resolutions? Do you write them down, or keep them in your mind? Do you find that one way or the other is more effective?
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