Pee. Flush. Cookie. Smiles.
The last couple of months have been a whirlwind. I’ve gone back to work full time which has thrown our family life akilter. We’ll adjust, but it’s very much like starting a long, long run. The side stitches can be painful, but if you just push through them they’ll subside.
Or at least that’s what I’m choosing to tell myself.
This time of year is just busy in general. It’s IEP time for Jack and that means a flurry of appointments with all of the “ologists.” In the last two weeks we’ve been to the neurologist, cardiologist and the neuropsychologist.. (We’ve also been to the pediatrician, but that doesn’t jive with the whole ologist theme…)
In the past I’ve attempted to swallow the lump in my throat, clutched Jack’s warm hand and walked him into ologist’s office after ologist’s office with the same thought running through my head:
How did we get here?
This wasn’t in the whole happily-ever-after plan.
I.Am.So.Alone.
Looking back over the last couple of appointment-filled weeks, I haven’t felt that way. At all. The side stitch is subsiding. I haven’t shed a single tear. The cloud of foggy shock lifted at some point. The ologists have become extended family. The familiarity is a source of comfort.
October 11th, the third anniversary of Jack’s brutal autism diagnosis came and went without a thought. At the time, it knocked me to my knees. Three Octobers later, I’m thinking a corner has been turned.
We’re moving into year four. Finding our pace I suppose.
Do I think the emotionally trying times are gone? I wish I did, but I know better than that.
Do I still long for a cure for Jack’s severe challenges? Every day.
Do I still worry about what will happen to Jack when I am gone? Every moment.
Do I still long for words from that sweet mouth?
Do I think the emotionally trying times are gone? I wish I did, but I know better than that.
Do I still long for a cure for Jack’s severe challenges? Every day.
Do I still worry about what will happen to Jack when I am gone? Every moment.
Do I still long for words from that sweet mouth?
What I wouldn’t give.
But I am reminded that the journey has made our family stronger. We’ve built muscle and stamina. We're better as opposed to bitter. I’m at peace in my pajamas with my cup of coffee. Like Susan Senator always says, all happy families are not alike.
I think I’ll head out in a little while for a nice, long run.
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7 comments:
moving post and as a person with mild (but bad enough to impair my ability to work and have a girlfriend) autism I certainly agree with you about a cure and longing every day for something that will do good.
Of course the problem is when you post things like that you have to be careful that some neurodiversity hatemonger does not read it and will start leaving nasty snarky comments on this blog and do what they can to harass you. It happens to me on autism's gadfly all the time but that is the price we pay unfortunately for having a sane rational view of autism.
Great post, and agree, adversity builds character and strengthens ties...
You've definitely found a way to channel your fears, worry, and need for answers into action and that has to have something to do with why you are more at peace. As always, you are amazing!
Jack is so very handsome. Everything you're doing and the team that you have will assure that you will have the breakthroughs. Our family's pace is more like the tortoise than the hare but we're still moving in the right direction. For that we are always grateful.
I understand what you mean. It's comforting to know that we're finally turning a corner and finding our rhythm. Doesn't mean that the pain is gone or will ever go away. But sometimes I welcome the side stitches, knowing now that it will make me stronger. Thanks as always, friend.
Hi, Judith! I love this - it's all about the BETTER. Miss you!
With the full-time work thing the blog has suffered. But I can't stay away. I miss all of you and I miss throwing thoughts out into the blogosphere...
I know you all understand how that feels!
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