The things we do for the people we love

On some days, like today. I find it hard to come to terms with knowing that my little boy isn't just disabled. He is severely disabled. My little boy is severely disabled. He may never walk or talk and most likely, he will be wheelchair bound. He has the developmental age of a 6 month old. Mango will be 3 this June. He will be 3 years old and he is developmentally like a 6 month old. He was a 6 month old when he was 1 1/2 years old and when he was 2 year old and now when he is 3 years old. He hasn't moved. When he actually was 6 months old, he was developmentally still like a newborn baby. 

I just want to scream and pull my hair out. Not for myself but for Mango. For a boy who struggles everyday with things that we take for granted. Things that I take for granted everyday because I'm too consumed with taking care of all the things he has been disadvantaged of and things that come to us so naturally, like muscle movement or vision or hearing. 

I am also scared. I'm scared for me. I'm scared that my life will be too short or if I will get a terminal illness that takes away my ability to take care of my children. I'm scared of my heart breaking too many times, it decides to give up.

I'm scared for Mango. I'm scared for his future and what he will be in the next few years. I'm scared for when he turns 5 and he will have to go to school. I'm scared of him going to school. I'm scared of how he will be treated. I'm scared of how the world will treat him. I'm scared that his heart will hurt. I'm scared he will meet horrible and arrogant people that will leave a scar on his heart that I can't mend. I'm scared of losing him. I'm really scared of losing him. I am also scared that he will never know how much I love him. I'm scared that he will never know that I would give my heart to him if he ever needed it and I wouldn't think twice. I'm scared of a life without my heart because he is my heart.

I'm scared for plum and what his life will be like. I'm so scared of how his heart will break a little when he meets mean people that will give him a hard time about having a brother with a disability. I hurt for him knowing that he will have to face these things in life. I'm scared that he will know what it means to hurt everyday to see a loved one struggle with the things that we take for granted in life. I'm scared for his heart.

My dearest husband, who has been the strongest out of all of us. I'm scared that one day he will break and I wont be strong enough to hold him the way he holds me but I sure damn will give it everything I have. 

How do you protect the ones that you love from so much pain in your life. When all you want for the people you love is happiness. If the price I had to pay was my life to give my loved ones true happiness. I would do it. I want them to never know what pain and grief feels like. I want to protect them from all the evil hearts that are searching to break something. How though? How do I do it?

Reminder - I am important too

This is a post for me. A written post, to myself. This, is also an attempt to salvage what ever is left of my sane mind before I completely loose the plot. 

This moment right now. I can see the future going down hill from here. I feel like I'm trying to catch myself from drowning in an ocean of tears. I guess the thing is, that I knew this moment was coming and I just had to prepare myself for it to come. Except I'm starting to question myself, if this will be the cycle of my life. I take things on, not thinking how much it will weigh me down and then I sink. Is this what it means to take on one day at a time? Is it really what that means? Because if it is, then it's taken me two and half years to realised that somehow, as right as it seems, its so wrong. Except there is no other way.

The mother in me, the mother that I am, I can't allow myself to drown in my emotions when my babies need me. I think the past few months of Mango's appointments and hospital stays aren't only getting to me but to him as well. He has been so needy and cranky while Plum is teething crazy and extremely clingy. 

Today, I hit that brick wall, that I could see from a mile away. I hit it so hard, I couldn't take the impact of the crash. I put the kids down for a nap and the moment I stepped out of their room, it felt like my heart burst and I went crashing to the floor. I flooded the house today. I flooded the house with my grief, my guilt, my pain and mostly... my tears. I couldn't catch my breath, holding onto wall for support. What have I become? Where have I gone? Where am I?

I don't know what it was that got me back on my feet. I just somehow did. So much has happened in such a short period of time and I haven't even found time to allow myself to take it all in. I just kept going. So today, of all days, one of the busiest of all, my soul couldn't take it anymore and broke.

This is a reminder for me. That I come first too.
How? I have no idea. I can't even find time to go to the bathroom, how am I supposed to find time for myself. I don't even know how to take time to myself. How do you have alone time? What is it? What do I do, exactly?

I have, spoken to all those mother's out there who have a children with additional needs. So I can't say that I haven't been warned about the hard times that will get to me. I just have to keep reminding myself that it will get better. 

I want to take this moment to reflect on everything my family and I have been through. I want to soak it all in. Every joy and hurt that I have just pushed aside. Every bit of stressed that I ignored and told myself, it wasn't real. This is my moment to take it in so tomorrow I can stand tall again and be the best mother I can be. 

For all the mothers who have children with additional needs and myself, who are reading this. I want to tell you that you are Great. You are Strong. You are Wonderful and you have done so much great without even knowing it (because really, when do we have time to look back to see what we have done. We just keep moving forward). 

We are important too. 

We are our children's voices. And to make our voices heard, we need to hear our own first. That voice inside our head that keeps reminding ourselves to take a break, have a coffee, have a walk - because when we come back we will have stronger voices and with those voices we will move mountains. 

Most of all - this is a reminder for me. 

______________________________________________________

Dear Me,

Please read when you are feeling crap. Remember, we don't want this happening again. For everybody's sake.

From Me.

He is Perfect

Perfect. 


Or

Perfection.


What does it mean? What is perfect? What is it that you see before the word perfection leaves your mouth? What makes you believe that something is perfect? 

I don't even know how to begin to start to explain this lump in my throat. This throb in my heart that makes me feel as if I'm about to explode into a million and one pieces. I want to curl up with my children and protect them from everyone that could hurt them. 
Right now. This very moment, I would trade anything for this feeling to go. 

How do we as parents of such fragile children protect them from people. Protect them from the world that threatens to take more away everyday. How do we protect our children who have special-need siblings that they have not come into a life of hardship, but into a life full of life and appreciation without exposing them to ignorant people that crush their views and make them question otherwise. 

Since Mango got his NG tube, I've had more and more people come to me and ask what is wrong with him. Which doesn't bother me as much if they look like they really care. Some people just stop and stare until we are out of view. Some have the nerve to to blame me, as if I made him that way. Some openly quote that he isn't perfect. All this I can usually take in with a smile and kindly explain to them that Mango has chromosome abnormality and that this is just one of our little obstacles that we need to face but he is otherwise as healthy as he can be. 

Except today. Today. I can't seem to stand and smile while you allow the ignorant words flow out of your mouth and cut deep into my heart, while I nod and smile. Today, I will not justify their words to protect my heart. Because today, my heart is giving in to all the hurt and pain. 


Dear person that stop me in my tracks to ask about my Mango. You didn't just stop to ask about Mango's NG. You didn't just ask about why he is the way he is. You didn't just tell me that my baby wasn't perfect. You didn't just ask me what I did to him to turn out this way. You even dared to say that you felt sorry for Plum, that he has a sibling with special needs. You did all of the above within two minutes of you standing in front of me. 

Mango is perfection. His NG tube, hearing aids, eye patch and all. He, as a whole, is entirely perfect. Everything you see in my kid that you define as not perfect is what makes me think he is so perfectly perfect. 

We are all perfect. Just the way we are.

If most of us can see this. Why can't you?

Bitter - sweet

We all have those times and moments in our lives that we call a bitter-sweet moment. Just lately it happens to be surrounding me constantly. My heart feels joy and pain at the same time causing myself to be confused about my emotions. 

Like the sweet moment when I held Plum in my arms for the first time and the bitter moment I realised that it would never be Mango and I ever again. Bitter-sweet.

The sweet feeling of finally being able to get results from a vision assessment we have been waiting so long for and then the bitter moment that we found out Mango was 'legally blind'.

The sweet moment I saw Mango closed his eyes after breathing in the gas that would put him to sleep knowing how long we had been waiting to find out what his hearing was like and then the bitter moment that our thoughts were confirmed that Mango had a hearing loss and would need hearing aids.

The wonderfully sweet moment when Plum first lifted his head on the second day of life and the bitter moment of realisation that it took Mango 5 months to lift his head for 5 seconds. 

The sweet moment when I look at Plum sleeping in his cot knowing that every second he is growing and learning something new but then I am crushed by a bitter feeling of knowing that one day Plum will out grow his big brother, while Mango struggles to put on a few inches and gain a few grams. 

I wake everyday to the morning sun shinning on my face and wonder what the day has in store for me and my family. How we will all cope and deal with the things that are brought to us. Everyday I tell myself that things will always be ok as long as our family stick together. Except today.
Today I feel hopeless and overwhelmed with guilt. Hopeless for Mango, who struggles and fights so much. Yet he is so naive to understand what is going on around him. Not realising that everything is a struggle and everything will always be 100 times harder for him, now, later and forever. He will never know the feeling of easiness to hold a spoon, point a finger or control his body.
The guilt that tries to pick at my heart strings everyday reminding me that Plum will never have a proper childhood just like his brother. Bringing him along to every therapy appointment and hospital stays. Being brought up knowing that his normal will always be with a brother that has a disability and will always require extra help. Just like his brother, his first friends may be his brothers therapist and doctors. Not because he needs it but because he hasn't had a choice to be able to choose friends because he hasn't been open to that type of environment. Where is the time? The guilt of not having enough time for the both of them to show love and affection like they deserve every minute of their lives. 

I feel as a mother/ full time carer, I want the best for my children. The best anyone in this world could ever have. I'm told all the time that I shouldn't be too hard on myself because what I give them is everything I have. Yes, this is true. But what I give is still less than what a 'normal' family can give. What I can give are only a few minutes or hours in between appointments and feeding and changing nappies is a small amount of play time and love. Reminding them constantly that I love them and that I am giving my all. My all may not be enough but it's everything I have to give. I would give anything to see smiles on their faces. 

While they crave to want the best, I also crave to give them the best. 

Mango's

Today my darling baby Mango ate a mango. Yes, like a round very sweet yellow mango. A milestone that hit me so hard I didn't even see it coming. I put a nice decent square piece of it in his mouth and he chewed it till it was all mush and then swallowed. He swallowed that piece of mango without choking and dying on me.

So today, I am an extremely proud Mama Bear and I use the word extremely because I am proud of him everyday but today I just happen to be extra proud. We pretty much thought that he would be on purees all his life and the rest of my days on this earth. Puree morning, afternoon and night. BUT today showed us that it won't always probably be like that. Today, I hope, is the day that we can start thicker foods that include more mouth movements.

Today is a good day. A milestone that not many parents take for granted because it is just what is expected and unfortunately have not seen the beauty in having the ability to have mouth control.

Outside there is a bright yellow sun, shining down on our green luscious grass. A bright yellow sun just like my little asian Mango who sits in his supported chair eating square pieces of Mango from my hand.

=)  

What car now?

So on our journey to become a family of four.. now still a family of 2 and half + ofcourse the one meatball that is in my belly rolling around. We felt the need to look for a new car. What car? One with a big boot.

See the problem is, we have a pram (a VERY. BIG. BEAUTIFUL. BLACK. pram) that can just fit in our boot. (We have a hatchback by the way). Which means no room for shopping or another seat. We also have coming our way, very soon, a stroller. A specialised stroller to fit Mango's needs. Things like head support, back support, leg support and all the other types of support you need when your 14 month old cant even roll around yet. So yeah. What I thought was a 15kg stroller turned out to be a 20kg stroller. My tail bone and back muscles are already aching just as the thought races through my mind. Our current pram is about 11 - 12 kg according to size, folds quite compact. I think. hehehe

So the conclusion was that if we are going to have two babies in a stroller, there is absolutely no way that it will fit in our car unless its on the roof (and that is not an option so don't even start to think why I can't do it myself).

It kinda sad though... you know. It was my first car... well one that I called my own that actually belonged to my husband which I claimed as my own.. uuummm no judging.

This car has been through it all with us.

Speaking of double prams. We need to start looking for a double pram that we can customise one of the seats. The stress that has come along with it, is just about as much stress as wondering if buying a new car is really worth it or not.

So I think an SUV is an option now. An SUV with a BIG boot space. 

I think it's time for me to get off the laptop. I can feel the little meatball kicking at the laptop. Probably a sign that I should be eating or something....

This is me.. the next 10 minutes...

To the me of tomorrow - Mango's 1st

Dear Mama Bear,

Your probably reading this because you know you needed to hear it today. Today, because today is Mango's first birthday. Somehow its a bitter sweet feeling. I understand the pain and joy you ar feeling right now. Well, because I'm you, writing this for today. To let you know that I understand how hard it is to be happy and yet be so sad at the same time. Mango is finally 1! We waited for a long time for this day to come and at the same time we wished this day would never come because of the reality check it would bring to us. I'm here to tell you that it's ok. I'm here to tell you the things we want to hear from our loved ones but they don't really understand our situation enough to tell us these things. 

I can't promise you that it won't hurt. I can't promise you won't cry and I can't promise that the future holds many different days than today. All I can tell you that what ever your feeling is ok. I understand that when you look at Mango would will see a child that has fought for a whole year. He had to fight, a fight that no person should ever have to fight and he had to fight it on his own. I understand that when you look at him to see a 2 to 3 month old child rather than a one year old who should be sitting atleast by now. I understand that it will hurt you to celebrate his one year birthday but wonder why your even celebrating because he kind of isn't really one at all. I can tell you why. We are celebrating not his birthday but his life of 1 year. We are celebrating that he is with us today and remember that not many bubs make it through pregnancy to be with family. We are celebrating his achievements in life and all the things he has accomplished including all the things our doctors told us he would never achieve. We are celebrating that fact that he knows Mama and Daddy. We are celebrating all the support we have had during this full year of therapy appointments, genetics and paediatrician appointments. We are celebrating your sons heart, the fact that it's beating strong refusing to stop. Most of all we are celebrating the fact that you are a family. A family that a bond has grown stronger than most families out there. Today we remember that we are blessed to have such a wonderful child who have changed us as people for the better. A child who has changed the way we see things, say things and do things. We are better people and without him, we would never know what it's like to be the better person we are today. 

You are a mother. A compassionate, caring and loving mother. You have given everything to this day and for that you should be proud. I know its hard and I'm not telling you that you shouldn't be sad. Your allowed to be sad. Noone should tell you that you shouldn't be sad. If you want to cry and laugh at the same time, then go for it. This is not only Mango's day too, this day if celebrating you too. The way he looks at your for reassurance before he does something because he knows you would never let anything happen to him. You are his whole world. You don't remember all the time but I'm here to remind you. 

From Mama Bear

Dear Shopper

Someone shared this with me... It's so sad but so true. Once upon a time I was the shopped (sad to say) but now I'm in different shoes too. 

It is written by a mother who has an autistic son. April is the month of Autism Awareness. Please support them by clicking on the link below. Bringing 'typical' children together with children who have special needs teaches our children to be aware. Involve them in helping. Teach them. Don't be afraid of the unknown. 

http://www.autismawareness.com.au/get_involved

It is these lessons that will define who our children will be in life. To have an open mind and most probably have more knowledge than many other people will. It's lessons of kindness, love, affection and so much more by getting them involved in something so simple. We just have to reach out towards it.

Dear Shopper,
Yes, I know. I’m well aware that my child is screaming. Not just a regular scream, but an ear-piercing, sanity-shattering screech. Even if I wasn’t seeing and hearing it, I would know by the expression on your face.
Clearly, you have raised your children better than me.
That is what you were wanting to say, right? There certainly can’t be any other purpose to you stopping in your tracks to stare or elbow your companion or better yet — give knowing looks to other shoppers passing by.
I have no doubt that you have wonderful, well-behaved children. Grown, tax-paying, law-abiding citizens who would never have dreamed of screaming like this in public when they were children. Judging by your expression and utter exasperation, you’ve never hesitated to let them know who was boss.
And I know that you did your best with your children, that you loved them, and want all children to have a solid upbringing in which to start their lives. You are, in all probability, a good person. You probably don’t mean any harm.
This is what complicates what I want to say to you. Because, despite my anger towards you, I happen to have been raised well too. I don’t want to be ugly, even though right now I feel like it.
Because I know some of that anger is misdirected. It is misdirected because I, too, have stood in judgment of someone like me. I, along with almost everyone, have stood in public and watched a scene like this one play out and thought to myself, “Clearly she has no control over her children. When I have children, mine will never behave like that.” I, like most people, wasn’t quite as obvious about it as you. I didn’t stare or make comments that could be heard. But I was every bit as decided. So, some of my anger is really directed toward Human Nature, who refuses to be put in its place.
The nice thing about human nature, however, is that it can be overridden. And all it takes is but a single experience, a single human interaction, to the contrary of your own strongly held convictions. Then presto whammo — you are a new and hopefully improved person.
Let me introduce you to my child. Like you, I marveled at the miracle of life upon becoming his mother. Like you, I rocked, burped, and inhaled his sweet baby scent and thanked God over and over for the gift of him. Like you, I had certain dreams for my child. There your path and my path diverged somewhat.
My precious child is autistic. Yes, I’ve seen Rain Man, and, no, my son is not likely going to be a great card counter. The truth about autism is that it encompasses a wide spectrum of abilities. And, like you and me, every autistic child who has it is different from the next. Yet they do often share some similar traits – sensory overload and meltdowns are one of them.
Every person on the planet has what I think of as an internal alarm system. Most of us have ours in good working order. But some people with autism have what I like to call a hair-trigger alarm system. Theirs can go off with what seems to average folks like little to no provocation. There IS always provocation. Non-autistic people simply aren’t as sensitive to seeing and hearing the triggers, and that’s when the alarm goes off. And when it does, it’s loud. Everyone in the vicinity wants nothing more than to have it turned off, including the people who love them. When you see me “placating” my child and “giving in” to his tantrum, I’m really just desperately looking around for the alarm key or trying to remember the right code to turn off that blaring alarm. It isn’t his fault. And, no matter how upsetting it is for you, let me assure you it is that much more upsetting for him.
I’m sorry that you haven’t had quite as pleasant of a shopping trip as you had anticipated. It hasn’t been so pleasant for me either. Problem is — I have to feed my family, pick up prescriptions, etc. just like you do. And, unfortunately, no one arrived at my house today to watch my child so that his autistic behavior wouldn’t upset anyone in public. I have to leave the house and so does my child. Because I have to teach him about the world. I have to let him practice controlling his alarm system. So that he, too, can possibly be a productive citizen making come true all those dreams I had for him when he was so small.
With so many advances in early detection and therapy, many of us will be able to see most of those dreams come true for our unique children. And for some of us, our dreams will have to change for our children. We may need to re-define happiness and success. For life is like that. We constantly have to reevaluate our expectations of ourselves, others –and, sometimes, even the grocery store.
I’m hoping that your single human interaction with me has given you an opportunity to be a better person. For, with 1 in 91 children being diagnosed with autism now, you are going to have a lot more opportunities to make a positive impact in the life of someone like me. All it would take would be a smile, a pat on the back, or a “Bless your heart, honey, hang in there” to refill a stressed out parent’s reserve of patience and calm. You could be the bright spot in our day. And, then, if you want, you are welcome to ask all the questions you want. Your curiosity doesn’t offend me in the least. Most of us aren’t the least bit upset to talk about our kids – any more than you are. If anything, it is an opportunity to educate and dispel myths.
And, maybe, just maybe, you will be standing there when the alarm gets turned off. Maybe you will get to see what every mother wants the world to see – the wonderful personality of her child, in our case hidden behind a mask of fear, anger and frustration.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to see the one hidden behind yours. ♥

By Flappiness Is