....And Other Times We Don't

*I hesitated in posting this.  I'm sure there will be some shocked readers with plenty of opinions about me, and assumptions will be made.  Fine.  This is me being honest.  I don't sugar-coat things, I don't "blow sunshine."  I'm the one with the courage--or just plain stupidity--to say what's really in my head.  For the record, I would never voice any of this to Noah or Avery.*

When people learn that your child has special needs, they automatically think you must be a martyr or a saint.  Your world revolves around your child!  You must be the most charitable mom ever!  Oh, I bet you just love children!  Surely, your heart is bursting with love!  You are so strong!  You must be special for God to have chosen you to be his mom!  There's a reason for everything!

The truth is, none of that is really true.  I am neither a saint, nor a martyr.  Yes, my world revolves around my child, but that's because it has to.   I am not God's gift to motherhood or children.  I will never be strong enough to move mountains, or, as it is on some days, even my children.  There are days, unfortunately, that my heart isn't exactly overflowing.  I am tired.  I am weary.  I am sad.  I long for whatever qualifies as normal.  I long for Noah to "get" it, for it all to finally just click, even when I am told it may never do just that, which, quite frankly, I've grown tired of hearing.  I go to bed at night feeling much like Bill Murray's character in Groundhog Day, knowing tomorrow will just be a repeat of today.  And the next person who tells me how special I am, or there's a reason for everything, runs the risk of getting smacked.  Seriously.

As Christians, we learn that God never gives us more than we can handle.  We learn that in order to grow, He bends us, but promises to never  break us.  Okay, so I'm a little tired of hearing those platitudes, too.  Lately, I have never felt more broken.  I want to scream at God that I can't handle anymore, and He's wrong to think that I can.  Something needs to change, something's got to give.

I've tried making this work as our normal.  Because, well, let's face it--normal is what you make it, right?  But when special plans go awry and Avery doesn't understand why (something he's been looking forward to all week), or when all Avery wants is his brother's attention and can't quite catch it, it's frustrating, not just for him, but for me too.  Realizing that your 3 year old's reasoning skills, decision-making skills, gross-and-fine-motor skills, and various other skills are light years ahead of your 11 year old's is just plain disheartening; disheartening, but also a sad relief to realize that Avery does not have Noah's differences.  Watching Noah's interactions with his peers and realizing just how far behind he is socially and emotionally is disappointing.  Knowing that for most kids, it's just a matter of "you can do whatever you put your mind to," but your own child doesn't have the follow through or anything else that it takes, even when you've repeatedly tried teaching it to him, is frustrating.  I've left schools, meetings and numerous other social activities in tears for him.  When you put off having an already much-loved third child because your fear of having a second child on the spectrum outweighs the simple joy of just having a child, it's frightening, and sad.  I have such a desire for Avery to be able to experience a "normal" sibling relationship, but my fear is that he would instead be stuck in between two ASD siblings, never being able to understand, experience and cultivate a two-way relationship with Noah and Child #3.  It's frustrating to watch Avery desperately try to gain Noah's attention, and to repeatedly have to say, "Noah, please answer your brother," or "Noah, Avery is talking to you," or "Noah, Avery wants to play with you."  I already worry about Avery being the proverbial forgotten child, and I wonder how fair all of this is to him.  And, while I'm being honest, the truth to this is also that I don't think I have what it takes to raise another ASD child.  I'm quite certain that if it didn't break me, it would definitely break our marriage.

There are days I get tired of making the effort, but I have to because he's my son.  What kind of mother would I be if I didn't?  I've tried embracing his differences.  There's a lot Mommy Guilt associated with raising Noah; 1, his needs are 'few' (but entirely overwhelming at times), and he's very close to the "neurotypical" end of the spectrum, and 2, I only have 2 children to contend with.  I should be able to handle this!  I think to myself, "Surely there is someone out there who could do a better job than I am."  Heck, my mother's even told me she could do it better (because she did such a great job with me and my sister)!  Literally, ever since Noah was born, I've seen other mothers with their sons and wondered what it was they were doing so right that I'm always doing so wrong.  I even remember one time when Noah was an infant, we were in the grocery store and he just would not stop crying (which was par for the course with him).  An older woman came over and took him from me, saying, "Oh, you're doing it all wrong, here, let me show you."  Just kind of confirmed what I'd already been thinking.  Noah and I have always struggled. It's difficult when there's no affection returned, no eye contact made, no "Thank you Mom," or any sort of acknowledgement of my existence or all that I do.  Sadly, I've come to dread the arrival of the school bus in the afternoons because it means an increase in my stress, an increase an Avery's stress, and a general increase in the chaos that is our life.  Fighting for Noah when it has put my marriage and our finances on the line has exhausted me to the point that I don't know how much fight I have left. I've carted him off to this counselor and that counselor, waited for this phone call, prayed over that medicine bottle, met with these people, arranged for this special treatment....  And in the end, I've realized that I can't do it for him.  He has to want to do it, he has to actively participate and want to improve our family relationships, he has to want to make it click, and until he does, I'm blue in the face for no reason.

It's tiresome.  It gets old.  I seldom have a moment to myself.  I am weary.  I am battle-worn.  I am sad.  I am barely hanging on.  The progress seldom outweighs the regress, and the stand-stillness.  I want to do right by both children, and I am torn.

Gee, I don't sound so much like a saint anymore, do I?

I love Noah, but I will never be a saint.  I am merely a mother trying to survive raising her son.

*A bit of advice....  At times, we moms feel secluded, and different because our kids are different.  Please don't offer platitudes, please don't offer advice.  Instead, offer a hug.  Ask how you can help, offer to help, offer a play date for the siblings.  Tell us we're doing a great job, even if we really aren't.  Lift us up.  Noah's needs are 'few' but overwhelming at times, and I only have two children....  Imagine for a minute a mom with a child with more needs than Noah, and more children than I have.*