And a Glass of Wine

It is hard. And it is not hard at all. 

Don’t feel sorry for me.  I don’t want your sympathy.  Don’t give advice unless I ask you for it.  I know you just want to help and don’t always know what to say, but please just don’t. 

I know I complain a lot.  It’s my super power.  It’s my way of coping with life.  It seems odd, I know.  But if you know me well enough, you should know that once I quit complaining, shit’s about to get real.  If I have the time and energy to complain, I’m still good and not in need of any sympathy.  Only an ear.  Just listen.  Drink a glass of wine with me and bitch about something that bothers you.  All will be just fine.

Right now, I have so many words in my head and feelings in my chest.  I knew he was special.  “Just like his dad” is what we kept saying.  But he’s not.  He's his own person.  His own problems.  His own diagnosis.  An official diagnosis.  And it is true... we expected this.  But I guess I didn’t think of it as being this severe.  A small part of me was always hoping they would say something like: “He’ll be fine, just give him time.  Don’t worry!”  Instead they emphasized how there is no doubt about his diagnosis and how much therapy he needs.  “But you knew this, right?”  Yes, I did.  But I didn’t want to.

There is no hiding now.  I am now a “Special Needs Mom” and there is no more thinking and hoping that maybe in a year he will talk and I can go back to work.  I loved my job.  I still have dreams about my job and I come up with ideas I want to implement even though it’s been more than a year since I’ve worked.  I get excited about these awesome things I think up but can’t implement.  It’s like finding this great chocolate cookie recipe that looks too awesome not to try but you don’t have access to a kitchen.  It sucks.

But here’s the thing.  It isn’t always that hard.  My kid is happy.  When my kid is happy, so am I.  Sometimes life sucks, but it really doesn’t matter as long as I can hear him laugh.  I don’t actually care if he ever talks (and I know he will when he is good and ready) but if he can laugh, then what’s the big deal? 

And sometime tonight, I know he will put his arms around my neck, give me a kiss and put his head on my shoulder.  It will only last a few moments, but those moments are precious.  Those moments are why I don’t need sympathy.  He is happy, loving and healthy.  It is all a mother can ask for. 

And a glass of wine.