Archive | October, 2013

I know I’m okay as long as I don’t make pancakes for dinner.

21 Oct

“Close the door Michael. I can still hear them.”

Michael obediently pauses Zelda and walks over to the lightweight door, closing it on the sounds of my parent’s argument.

“Now turn up the sound on the TV and just ignore them.”

Michael again complies without protest, spinning the volume control on the old 32” TV. He picks up the remote control of the Nintendo and scrunches up his little face in concentration.

He is probably about 7 years old.

I am probably about 10.

This is not the first time we have performed this ritual.

It will not be the last time either.

About an hour later my mother knocks softly on our bedroom door.

I get up, reluctantly pausing Link mid stride across his never ending quest through the green maze, and open the door.

Michael looks at me worriedly.

I look up and into my mother’s red rimmed, glassy eyes.

I see the tears still pooling in the corners of them just about ready to spill over. Just about, but not quite.

My mother will rein them in, sparing me from having to wipe them from her cheeks.

My mom will pretend to be strong for me.

Even though I know she’s not.

Even though I know that she has once again been defeated.

“Are you okay?” I ask although I already know what her response will be.

“Yes. I’m fine.” She answers in a voice that is too high, too cheery, to be anything but fake.

It is only now that I notice that she is carrying two plates in her hands. She lifts them up towards my face.

“I’ve made pancakes for dinner!” She says this like someone would announce that they are going to Disneyland.

She says it like she’s just given me exceptional news.

I’VE MADE PANCAKES FOR DINNER!!

“Thanks mom.” I respond quietly. I try to pretend that this is good news. Pancakes. I love pancakes and so does my brother Michael.

I know what those pancakes mean though.

My eyes cast around her to the doorway and towards the silence that sits awkwardly beyond it.

My mother is confused at first by my sad expression. Then she meets my gaze with eyes pooling with tears once again.

She knows that I know.

She knows that even though I am only 10 years old, I now understand that pancakes for dinner is never a good thing.

Pancakes for dinner means that my mother is not okay.

I’ve kept that memory since childhood. I still associate pancakes and dinner as a very bad thing. I’ve had my own children now. Three of them. And guess what?

I’ve made them pancakes for dinner a few times.

Very few times, but I have and I cringe at that memory too.

I told the young child me that I would never do it.

I would never turn those light, fluffy, syrupy plates of deliciousness into a dripping plate of sorrow…but I have.

I have fought against instinct and upbringing and tried to swim against the tide that tries to push me in the direction of my mother’s life.

To no avail.

Points in my life have begun to mirror my mother’s despite my every attempt to fight it.

Of course it doesn’t all look the same. But a lot of it does.

More than I’d probably like to admit.

And so when my life falls apart and the tears stream down my face and my sobs threaten to choke me… I do what feels right. What feels comfortable.

I make pancakes for dinner.

That’s how I’ve come to measure my sadness and my coping skills.

Am I making pancakes for dinner?

If I am?

It’s bad.

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Special needs parenting or nauseating roller coaster ride?

11 Oct

I wanted to write something for the people who may have babies and are just beginning to fall, head first, into this world of special needs parenting.

If you are like me, you are most definitely feeling the bounds of gravity as you plunge down screaming towards an end, a ground that seems impossibly far away. You’re racing towards a bottom that you cannot see, you cannot feel, and you believe you may never reach the end.

Let me assure you that you will.

Oh yes.

That end, that bottom, that ground is there.

BAM!! CRASH!! BANG!!

stock-vector-bang-crash-54901102

Or maybe you’ll land a bit more softly.

Soft_Landing_by_Domo__Kun

Or maybe you’ll even receive a warning prior to landing.

SoftLanding-300x203
(Where was this sign when I was approaching?)

There will be a moment, a second, an hour, a day, a week, a month… I cannot say how it will happen for you…where everything will begin to smooth out. It will begin to even out. You will start to once again feel comfortable in your own skin again.

Or you will smack your face on a rock buried in the mud at the bottom.

This was me.

For me it happened in an instant.

A head jarring, face slamming, body crunching SMACK onto the bottom.

I cruised along downward in misery, in self-pity, in blame, regret, remorse, grief, sorrow…for years before a light bulb went off in my head like a giant flashing beacon begging me to notice it. It had been there all along. Drawing me down. Steadily building momentum and pummeling towards the forefront of my brain waiting for the right moment to come out and slam me into that pit.

Hello?!! Here is your awakening! Here is the answer that you’ve been waiting for!

THIS, MY FRIEND, IS THE END.

STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF! STOP FEELING SORRY FOR HER!
SHE IS WHO SHE IS.
NO MORE.
NO LESS.
JUST BELIEVE IN HER.

And that was it. That was all I needed to “get over” the sadness. I was able to move on at that point.

All of the self hatred, self pity, sadness…it all just went away.

It seems pretty simple.

Looking back at it, it seems like someone along the way should have just told me that. They should have been able to say “just get over it”. “Just accept her.”

In truth… they did.
Lots of people did.

But hearing the words with my ears and believing them in my heart are two totally different concepts. I heard lots of people telling me how to go about moving on from this thing that had happened to me.

I heard lots of people tell me how they had dealt with something similar. How they had moved on from it.
I listened and listened. I prayed. I pleaded. I just did not feel it.

Until I did.

Until I understood with all of my heart that this was really not something that had happened to ME.
Until I threw away all of my expectations and just expected her to be the very best that she could be.

Which may not make sense to you at all, but it makes perfect sense to me.

How can I not have expectations for my child?

This is how.

I expect nothing at all of her and I also expect everything.
I expect that she will do everything, nothing at all like anybody else in the world.
I expect that she will do nothing but everything that she can do.
I expect that she will do and be who she is and I love her for that.

It’s just a different perspective. A different way of viewing life and the world in general.

Before she was born I had all of these dreams, all of these visions, of how we would be, how we would exist in the world as mother and daughter.

After she was born I mourned the loss of THOSE dreams.

I didn’t realize that I could come up with NEW dreams.

I didn’t know that I was able to re-create this new life however I wanted to.

I didn’t know what a blessing and a gift Oli truly was to me.

Once I began to realize all of these things my whole life began to change.

I wouldn’t want it any other way now.

So.

If you’re just beginning this terribly bumpy, painful, twisting, and nauseating roller coaster ride of special needs parenting I want you to know, it gets better.

I promise you. It gets better.

You may have to be patient. You may have to hang on, white knuckling your life for a little while before it does. But it gets easier.

People used to tell me “time heals all” and I thought they were full of B.S.
I never thought that it would get easier for me.

You know what?

I was wrong.

It did get better and it continues to get better all the time.

I just have to leave those expectations and pre-conceived notions of how I THINK it should be, at the door.
I just have to live my life loving my Oli however she is.

Or…

Maybe it will be totally and completely different for you.
Maybe you’ll be given a diagnosis and be fine with it from the start.
I’m not trying to speak for the whole world here. I’m just trying to give someone else hope that if they’re feeling like I felt in the beginning, it will get better.
Besides…what do I know?
Some days I’m still trying to figure this whole thing out.

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