Hi. It’s me.
Yeah, I know you don’t hear from me as often as you once did. Sorry about that. I know you haven’t actually seen me, in person, in even longer. I’m sorry about that, too.
No, I’m not avoiding you. I still love you like crazy. I miss you. I wish things were different. But … they’re not.
See, I have this little person in my life who eats up more of my time than I’d really like to admit. Oh, I love him like crazy. I don’t begrudge him a moment. But so many other things– good things, people things, stuff I wish I had margin for– well, they have gone by the wayside. Because if I’m not focusing on this guy pretty much 24/7, disaster will strike.
I know, I know. He seems so capable sometimes. He can sit through a meal and appear like a pretty neurotypical kid. Or you can watch him kicking a ball around the yard, or flipping through a book, or smiling at you as I strap him into his carseat and think, “What’s the big deal?”
But can I just tell you? The minute you start to get comfortable and think that you can relax your guard and let him play outside unsupervised like any other 8 year-old, you are straight up asking for trouble. And it’s not just outside. It’s in the house. It’s in his bedroom. It’s on the toilet, in the playroom, around the corner by the stairs where you can’t see for just two teensy seconds.
He just can’t handle it yet. Not reliably. Not without risking his safety, or someone else’s, or the destruction of something that might be precious.
So I am on duty. Night, day. All.the.time.
Which is why I don’t pick up the phone and reach out very often. Or answer your calls. It’s why sometimes I flake on emails and texts. It’s why I often turn down offers for field trips (oh, holy heck, no) and playdates and coffee with the girls. It’s why my older kids are really the only ones who can easily handle a day here when both my husband and I are gone. It’s why there are last minute cancellations and a tendency to not be able to commit, coupled with a need to stick to a schedule as much as possible.
It’s not you. Really.
I see those cute little Hallmark-inspired photos splashed with mottos like, “You make time in your life for what matters most. If someone doesn’t make time for you, you don’t matter to them,” and I cringe. Because my friends do matter to me. My extended family matters. But sometimes, it’s the tyranny of the urgent. And special needs parenting? It’s always urgent.
I really hope that some day, maybe, he’ll figure out cause and effect. Some day I will be able to walk away while he’s eating a meal and not be terrified that he’s going to choke because he swallows mouthfuls of food without chewing. Some day I can not hear him for a moment, a room away, and not rush in assuming that he’s found some way to be a danger to himself. I’m hoping and praying. I look forward to the day.
Because when it happens, you’re way up there on the list of people I am going to call up and invite to the party. Because I love you, even though I’m absent so much of the time. Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for loving me– and him– despite it all. Your friendship and support and understanding are invaluable. I am so glad that even though you don’t walk this road with me, you’ve still never left my side.
O my goodness, I remember when life was like this! I felt the judging eyes of other moms whispering about my kid’s behavior. Tough times. But, o sweet Heather, it will get better. His neurological system will mature and get a little more control. That good old frontal cortex will mature and he will be able to make better decisions. With the love and support of a mama who leans on the Lord will make all the difference in his life. Hang in there!