Before the boys it was amazing having all the time in the world to blog. It was comforting to have a place to go and write and release all my stress that I hold deep inside, unless I can write, there is not any comfort. Over the last few months I haven't had the energy nor the time to write like I want, need, or how I should be. My dream has always been to be creative and artistic. We as a family have gone through so much over the past year, its time for me to get it together! Or get it back together, pull up my big girl pants on and really get back to me... maybe take a shower and get dressed, from time to time maybe just maybe put a bra on. Leave the house. Start writing again. Become the person I was a little bit more then I am now. My first post that I am going to do is about what has been going on and why life just seemed to get even crazier.
On the day Brock was diagnosed with Autistic Disorder and Development Developmental Delay, I felt my heart break. My husband, Chris had been so optimistic, so certain that it could not be autism. And I knew by the way Chris squeezed my hand that his heart was breaking too. Chris had all the dreams that a father has for a son and within seconds I could feel Chris's dreams crumbling. I could feel his leg shaking next to mine. Like many things, going to the dr.'s with mr Brock, where he is always getting tested and poked and prodded is a every weekly thing, most of the time more then once a week.
We have heard it all, but when we had his ear surgery done a few months ago thinking that he was deaf, after the surgery they came out and told us that "he isn't deaf." That I needed to talk to the Doctor most likely he would say would say if he had to guess that he would think he is Autistic. We have been hearing this for the past year but then this was a major way to explain it.
It all began when we were handed a 37-page evaluation, detailing all the things Brock couldn’t do, all the milestones he had yet to reach, even with him at almost two years and 6months tasks for him are much harder for him, then other kids his age. I hated reading the evaluations: on paper Brock sounded horrible. Nowhere in the evaluation did it talk about his dimpled smile or the sound of his laugh. Nowhere did it describe how his big brown eyes sparkled when he was happy. Or that he loved to read and was fascinated by all things boy, trains, fire trucks, planes, all things Mickey Mouse. They didn't detail just how beautiful he was inside and out and his personality only a few are given the gift to even see.
Chris stayed strong as always not showing any emotion, I cried in the car, neither one of us really able to comfort the other. Both of us thinking of all the things we could’ve done to prevent autism. I mean how as his parents could we not think this is our fault, who's else's fault would it or could it be? The guilt of what we were feeling toward Brock's health care.
When we got home for the appointment , we told my parents and as all of us sat and thought about what we were all just told. When doing this we sat and watched as Brock was sitting on the floor away from his grandma and brother. It had all become to true and so very easy to imagine how isolating and sad his life , our life, would be. This was not the life we were supposed to have, Not the life this beautiful baby boy.
Nothing I read prepared me for the pain, anger and sadness that I felt. On the day Brock was diagnosed, I went into our bedroom, closed the door and buried my face in my pillow screaming as loud as could. Punching and kicking like a three year old having a tantrum. Why Brock? Why My Baby? Why when he already has CP, that the challenges that go with just that are going to be very hard and then we add to it.
Everyone kept telling me, “God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle.” But autism and raising a child with a disability wasn’t something I wanted to handle. On the day Brock was diagnosed, reflecting all of it, making me realize that I need to be the one strong for Brock. That I was the one that needed to teach him that even on his bad days, We would both take it and I would be and will always be there for him.
On the day Brock was diagnosed with autism, I cried myself to sleep. And I cried for many nights after that. Truth be told it is something I still do. When I can steal a little bit of quietness where he or anyone else will be unable to hear me and become upset. I cry in the shower, in my car, into the pile of down feathered pillows, just outside the playroom door where many times I put a DVD in and sit right outside their door and silent sobs will come out as the tears just stain my cheeks.
It is a one day at a time, a work in progress. I will do whatever I can do to help him because the person he was meant to be. It might not feel like it when I am in the moment but I will make a difference for him and his life. I will give him anything he needs to achieve all of his dreams. Another good thing about all of this is that my other son, Brock's twin brother Francis is so amazing and so helpful. He loves with all he has. Smiling and trying to make us laugh all the time. Check in with his Bubba/Buddy to see what he is doing and if he is okay every few minutes. Stay tuned, I hope to write much more about this journey and mine as the mom.
Thanks for taking the time to read!!
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