Since beginning this blog, I feel I've done a pretty good job at "keeping it real". I guess it just stems from my personality. I've never been a super private person. You could say that I'm an open book, I wear my emotions on my sleeve, I'm easy to read, etc. There have been times where I've wondered...am I sharing too much? Does it get too personal? But this is who I am, so why fight aginst it. I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about my life as a mother, and I like to write about them. So, prepare yourself for another personal post.
The past few days I have been feeling a wide range of emotions concerning Bree's physical problems. I think it's really coming on strong right now because I'm preparing for her first birthday. I've been doing my best to push away feelings of discouragment and frustration as I think about her cake, and a party, and what presents to buy. But sure enough, those nagging feelings creep up more and more everyday. And then today I realized...I'm not in the mood to celebrate.
It shouldn't be this way, but celebrating Bree's first birthday has really turned into a reminder of how far behind she is. Most mothers eagerly anticipate their child's first birthday, and when the day arrives they just can't believe how much their child has changed and grown. Yet, as I think about that day I am amazed at how much Aubrey has stayed the same. I can't stop thinking about how she is still so much like a 6 month old. The older she gets and the slower her progress becomes, the more discouraged I feel.
I feel like one day she's going to wake up and something is just going to click. And BAM, all of a sudden she's going to want to sit all day long, and then decide she's ready to crawl, and then she'll be running. But it isn't working like that. And despite all the exercising and all the praying and all the physical therapy...her progress has slowed. It's like we're at a stand still. And it's very painful and scary.
Today I was thinking about Easter. I was thinking that I needed to get Bree an Easter dress, and then I was thinking about an Easter basket, and then Easter eggs. And then I broke down in tears because all I could think about was that Aubrey won't be able to walk around or even crawl around for an easter egg hunt. So silly. So trite. So dumb. But that one thought sent me into a tailspin on hopelessness, discouragment, and sadness.
I have such high hopes for Aubrey. I think she is the most amazing baby (of course), and I know that there will come a time in her life and in mine when this all makes sense. And most days I'm not bothered by her developmental delays. Most of the time I am at peace with her/my challnges. Because she makes me so complete and happy. Because I love her more than life itself.
But for a moment, I'm going to allow myself this little pity party. Because if there's one thing I've learned about myself over the years...it's that letting it out often leads to letting it go.
10 comments:
Thank you for being personal. I think when you're sincere and personal it allows people into your life. I really don't know what to say. I think you're handling things really well; it's good to let out your frustrations. None of the reasons why you're frustrated are silly. I would cry about an Easter egg hunt too. You just want your daughter to experience everything she can. All any of us can do is hope and pray for little Aubrey while you keep doing all of the hard work.
The fact that you are so open is one of the reasons I fell in love with your blog and your cute family. Often times I find myself saying "yes, exactly! That's it!" about motherhood or other things that I haven't been able to put into words so eloquently but then I read it on your blog.
...and go ahead and throw that pity party. We all need them from time to time.
...we're always praying for you!
I also love your blog because your so open. I want to know what's going on with you and your family and your life, not just see pictures of Aubrey and have no idea what's really happening.
I agree with all three of the above comments. I don't know what else to say but ditto. I myself keep thinking that it will get better. Paul and I have thought several times what if something happened to Thacker when he's older? Like in a few years just something snapped and he regressed dramatically. I don't know what I would do. But I hope that I would handle it with as much courage and strength as you display.
Basically. . .ditto ditto ditto. I love how open you are in your blog, it helps me feel like you're "real" if that makes sense. Please let us know if there's anything we can do, I know you are working so hard.
oh aubrey, thank you for sharing this with us. reading your blog makes me so sad that i didn't get to know you better in provo (or in michigan, for that matter).
incidentally, my cousin and his wife have a daughter who had several developmental delays because she was missing nerves in her arms and legs and had to have lots of corrective surgeries and physical therapy. let me know if you'd like his email address--they may know of some good resources. hers was pretty severe--if you're curious, you can read about it here: http://www.bloomingtonhospital.org/OPage.asp?PageID=OTH000159#julia
I just think you are amazing.
hang in there, megan. i don't know what else to say. i just love you guys.
Everyone seemed to have said what I would have said to you...but much more eloquently. You are one of the most amazing people I know, and I really mean that. I know a lot of people. Yesterday I heard something on TV (of all places) that was a good reminder to me as a mother. It was about these parents and their handicapped daughter. The mother, at one point said "we believe that she chose us and parents, and that we chose her as a daughter, and that together we make a family." Aubrey is so happy, and anyone who sees her will know no baby was ever loved more. Through this, no matter the eventual outcome, both you as parents and she will gain an increased compassion and understanding that couldn't have come any other way. In a small way I do understand to some extent. Madelyn is still getting over her Bells Palsey. Her smile is very crooked, and a lot of times I worry it won't completely go away, or that maybe she'll be made fun of for being different. I want nothing more for her to be perfect and whole and to protect her from every bad thing out there. But my mom keeps telling me "she is who she is, and she is beautiful". PS...this is really longer than I intended...but also thanks for your encouragement to me!
my sister went through a similar ordeal. her son is "severely retarded" (that's his clinical diagnosis), so his progression is nonexistent. she doesn't throw him birthday parties (not because she doesn't love him to death), but because it is too hard on her. what you feel is perfectly normal.
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