So today has been a very thought filled day.
It started off very early 15 till 6 with Michael saying “help”, “help” because he wanted to get out of bed.
Up and away we go to start a new day, right? I suppose I should have maybe gotten back into bed and crawled out the other side. My attitude sucked, I was just plain mad that I was up. I was mad that I had to go attend to my child rather than doing what I wanted to do which was to go make coffee.
I find myself asking God “Why did you let this happen?” “Why did you let me have a child that isn’t “normal?” “Women do drugs and other bad things while pregnant and have “normal” babies, I didn’t even take Tylenol and you give me this?”
Each day I wake up have to check my calendar. What doctor do we have to see this week?
Could it be Michael’s physical therapist, occupational therapist, neurologist, gastro specialist, psycho therapist, behavior specialist, developmental specialist, and sleep clinician?….Ugg with the specialists.
I just want “normal”, I just want to wake up and have a boy who is happy to be awake. I just want a boy, who will talk so much that I can’t stand it any more, rather than the constant whining & screaming.
I just want a boy who is going to run away from me in the grocery store and I have to go chase him down.
Not a boy who I have to constantly play charades with to guess what he is trying to say, or have to lift all the time and put in a wheel chair because he doesn’t walk.
I want a boy that other mom’s will want to come and have play dates, not be afraid of who Michael is.
Before you all gasp and start writing hate mail to me…WAIT!
The brass tacks of it all are it is hard to raise a child who otherwise does not have a disability and it is ten times harder to raise one who does.
I am a real mom who gets tired and wants so desperately to sometimes be selfish. Do my own thing.
The answer to my own questions of “why me?” is.
Michael is a gift.
Michael fought tooth and nail to be here on this earth almost loosing him at 12 weeks, I laid my pregnant self down on the couch until he was 27weeks. Michael chose me to be his mother. God chose to let Michael have me as his mother for a reason. When I was on bed rest with him I cried out to God to please show me a promise, please reassure me that my baby{did not know if a boy or a girl yet} would be ok.
HE gave me this…no joke, it hit me upside the head and I love it when that happens. Luke 1:13, 14 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zacharias, for your prayer is heard; and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth.”
I sometimes feel sorry for myself when in reality I should be thanking the good Lord above that he has ALLOWED me to raise such a gift, as Michael is.
A child so special that raising him would open my eyes to the needs of others, not just myself. Open my eyes to people that were dealt life challenges that need patience, compassion and someone to see them as a person not someone who is “not normal.” Open my eyes to the corruption of this world and become a voice for all of them when they can’t speak on their own behalf.
I was given Michael so that I could not take even the tiniest things for granted, Waiving bye-bye, using signs to talk to me, sitting up on his own, holding his own bottle, scooting around the house on his little butt. Being so completely dependant on me to love him and him love me back. That is why I was given this little person.
Your right Michael and others like him are not “normal” they are AMAZING! They are far stronger than the average Joe. They should not be looked at like a burden or to be felt sorry for. They should be looked at and admired for their courage, strength and purity of heart.
So when I start to get mad, I need to put myself in check….Sharlene God truly thinks the world of you, he gave you this wonderful gift because you were the perfect person for the job.
Thank you God, for letting me make a big deal and celebrate the milestones that are achieved and not taken for granted.
Thank you God, for letting me love and be loved by so many new and wonderful people who deserve to not be dismissed.
Thank you God, for teaching me compassion for others.
Thank you God, for the beautiful boy you let me call my son.
I love you my son, my heart, forever my little boy.
Up and away we go to start a new day, right? I suppose I should have maybe gotten back into bed and crawled out the other side. My attitude sucked, I was just plain mad that I was up. I was mad that I had to go attend to my child rather than doing what I wanted to do which was to go make coffee.
I find myself asking God “Why did you let this happen?” “Why did you let me have a child that isn’t “normal?” “Women do drugs and other bad things while pregnant and have “normal” babies, I didn’t even take Tylenol and you give me this?”
Each day I wake up have to check my calendar. What doctor do we have to see this week?
Could it be Michael’s physical therapist, occupational therapist, neurologist, gastro specialist, psycho therapist, behavior specialist, developmental specialist, and sleep clinician?….Ugg with the specialists.
I just want “normal”, I just want to wake up and have a boy who is happy to be awake. I just want a boy, who will talk so much that I can’t stand it any more, rather than the constant whining & screaming.
I just want a boy who is going to run away from me in the grocery store and I have to go chase him down.
Not a boy who I have to constantly play charades with to guess what he is trying to say, or have to lift all the time and put in a wheel chair because he doesn’t walk.
I want a boy that other mom’s will want to come and have play dates, not be afraid of who Michael is.
Before you all gasp and start writing hate mail to me…WAIT!
The brass tacks of it all are it is hard to raise a child who otherwise does not have a disability and it is ten times harder to raise one who does.
I am a real mom who gets tired and wants so desperately to sometimes be selfish. Do my own thing.
The answer to my own questions of “why me?” is.
Michael is a gift.
Michael fought tooth and nail to be here on this earth almost loosing him at 12 weeks, I laid my pregnant self down on the couch until he was 27weeks. Michael chose me to be his mother. God chose to let Michael have me as his mother for a reason. When I was on bed rest with him I cried out to God to please show me a promise, please reassure me that my baby{did not know if a boy or a girl yet} would be ok.
HE gave me this…no joke, it hit me upside the head and I love it when that happens. Luke 1:13, 14 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zacharias, for your prayer is heard; and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth.”
I sometimes feel sorry for myself when in reality I should be thanking the good Lord above that he has ALLOWED me to raise such a gift, as Michael is.
A child so special that raising him would open my eyes to the needs of others, not just myself. Open my eyes to people that were dealt life challenges that need patience, compassion and someone to see them as a person not someone who is “not normal.” Open my eyes to the corruption of this world and become a voice for all of them when they can’t speak on their own behalf.
I was given Michael so that I could not take even the tiniest things for granted, Waiving bye-bye, using signs to talk to me, sitting up on his own, holding his own bottle, scooting around the house on his little butt. Being so completely dependant on me to love him and him love me back. That is why I was given this little person.
Your right Michael and others like him are not “normal” they are AMAZING! They are far stronger than the average Joe. They should not be looked at like a burden or to be felt sorry for. They should be looked at and admired for their courage, strength and purity of heart.
So when I start to get mad, I need to put myself in check….Sharlene God truly thinks the world of you, he gave you this wonderful gift because you were the perfect person for the job.
Thank you God, for letting me make a big deal and celebrate the milestones that are achieved and not taken for granted.
Thank you God, for letting me love and be loved by so many new and wonderful people who deserve to not be dismissed.
Thank you God, for teaching me compassion for others.
Thank you God, for the beautiful boy you let me call my son.
I love you my son, my heart, forever my little boy.
