Ok. Let me start over. Let me preface this by explaining... You see, I have this neighbor. This person in my life who I can call anytime and say, "I quit!" A neighbor who will never ask why or encourage me to look at the "brighter" side or tell me to buck up. A neighbor who very simply says, "I flippin' hear ya". She says this to me because she's living my life. She gets it. She's got a husband and a 3 year old and a baby who was born the day after Jayce. A baby who was born different than she had planned. A perfectly gorgeous baby girl who, like Jayce, fights everyday to learn and grow and develop because, like Jayce, it just doesn't come naturally for her. So, when I call her to say, "I quit" she knows what I'm talking about. I'm sure you have someone in your life who gets it. Who it seems has the same life as you. Someone who experiences the same joys and heartaches as you at exactly the same time.
I will admit that I feel guilty to say those words out loud, so I rarely do (except to my neighbor) but sometimes I feel it. I feel it when we're sitting in a waiting room and then suddenly it hits me, "my baby is waiting to see the neurosurgeon... What?!?" It hits me while I watch my baby struggle during physical therapy because he doesn't want to shift his weight and rotate his hips to reach that toy he just wants someone to give it to him dammit. So he whines at me and reaches for me, but I can't scoop him up and run him on out of there because I know these stretches are important for him. It hits me as I'm rushing from speech therapy to pick up Wil from school on time while simultaneously thinking, "this isn't what I had planned when I was pregnant with Jayce. No. I thought he and I would enjoy story time at the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays while Wil was in school and long visits to Target and walks and playtime and secret, snuggle sessions with my little one while my big boy was away". I should also mention that while I'm thinking all of that I'm shaming myself for not working on speech patterns enough with Jayce like I should have since our last therapy session. I'm failing, but how do these people expect me to work on ALL of this stuff... Thank GOD I don't have a job!!! (Although sometimes I think it may do me some good.)
So, sometimes we quit. Ok, maybe it's more ME. Maybe I quit. Maybe all of this catches up with me from time to time and I need to take a moment to say, "wait a minute... this sucks!" Yes. I know it could be so much worse. And yes. Jayce doesn't know any different. But, still. It sucks.
I've said it before, it's not so much the news we hear about Jayce: the hearing loss, the inevitable CP diagnosis, the therapies, the "he may nevers" and the "it may be difficults" and the "we just don't knows". It's the fact that this is it. That this is our life. His life. Forever. I will not lie. I still go to EVERY appointment and therapy session thinking this just might be the day when someone says, "you know what, my golly, he's just perfect and regular and you people never have to come back here again. Ever." And then I leave every single appointment and therapy session reminded that this is our life. Forever. And that no one will ever say those words to us. To him. There will always be appointments and follow-ups and therapies and the possibility of something "more.." looming around every corner.
So. Today I quit, which usually involves a nap with my 3 year old, but not before some venting on this here little blog of mine. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm sure with it will come the inevitable thoughts: "We can do this... we ARE doing this" (right, Anne?!?:) and "My kid's gonna change the world one Ankle-Foot Orthotic at a time" and "My Wil's gonna be the best, most caring, accepting big-brother-advocate for kids that are 'different' this world has ever seen!" Aaaah, yes. Tomorrow.
Until then... Brother "love" overload!!!
Note to self: In the future... I vow to make this blog more optimistic. I promise to post splendidly boring information about my family's normal life. Posts about potty training and a baby who is obsessed with buttons on our TV and DVD player. Posts about fighting brothers and temper tantrums and day trips to the zoo and the funny things my toddler says. Yes. Fun things. Normal things.
Here's something... Today Wil fell on one of his trucks. I saw the entire thing go down, but tried not to react so as not to encourage the whole crying, wanting Mommy thing. You know.
Wil falls on big, yellow truck.
Wil: "Owwwwwwww, dammit"
Wil... to Me: "Momma, me durt my balls. Daddy gonna feek out!"
Aaah. The joys! We're still working on swearing. I die.