God bless our kids' godparents. They are lovely, wonderful people who are putting us up right now so we can go to a wedding back home, but also so we can soak up time with them and eat all their food. The generosity and wonderful, unassuming welcome we've received at their hands has been unspeakable comfort.
Comfort? Here's what, guys: I'm utterly broken and exhausted. Yesterday, we visited some friends who have a little girl who just turned one. She's amazing. And you know how that ripped my heart out? She's noticeably more developed than William, who is nearly twice her age. She points fervently at her curtains. She shouts so that her mom looks at her, and then signs "more," because she wants more pizza, and she does it for every bite. She looks at you, dead in the eye, and babbles, really trying to tell you something. She shushes us so she can listen to an airplane passing by, and she finds joy in the few things she is able to verbally identify.
We were there for just over two hours, and most of that time, I was flexing my not-crying muscles. I thought I could un-flex as soon as we got in the car, but I was too tired from flexing at that point to put any energy at all into tears. I felt gutted. Spent, sucked dry. I'm sure her mother, who is our dear friend, thought she'd offended me in some way. Sorry about that, hon, if you're reading this.
Anyway, that's devastating, to see a kid almost a full year younger than yours who is trying so, so hard to communicate--and yours won't even act like he's trying. William's progress in the past two months has been monumental, but not even close to what I witnessed in that one-year-old yesterday. And...*clutching chest*...that hurts.
So, by the time I went to bed last night, my emotions had all but exhausted me to the point at which my legs, like, wouldn't move. I mean, they did, because I got into bed somehow, but don't you ever feel like that? Like you're so mentally exhausted that you can't even pick your body up? So, sleep felt good. It helps that we slept in the best guest bed in the history of beds.
I woke up this morning, and William was still sleeping. He's in a pack-n-play at the foot of our bed. He got up when George left the room, so I picked him up and we watched the ceiling fan. We watched it spin. We watched it spin, because that's what my kid likes to do, and it was the first thing that felt right in days. I watched his face. His hair was wild with curls, and his eyes were filled with that exact same perfect joy I saw in our one-year-old friend when she did all the things one-year-olds do.
My little boy is different. And I assure you, it cuts me. But, my God.
He's perfect.
I know where you are coming from. It was really hard for me to walk back into a hospital to visit my perfectly healthy newborn niece a few weeks ago. And I'm sure it won't be easy watching her develop and grow with Myra being 9 months older than her but developmentally delayed. And the other day I was around a 6 month old. Myra and her were about the same size, but you could really see the different in their head size. And, since I'm with Myra all the time, I don't really notice the differences. And for the first time I saw what everyone else saw. And it hurt. They already know my baby is different. And I've noticed people whispering already. And I hate to tell people how old she is. I could get away with it for a while, but now that she's 9 months, people know something is up. Maybe I can still get away with it when she is sleeping in the sling. I don't know. But, it does hurt sometimes when you see those other kids. But, I have some of those other kids, too. I have four perfect round heads of my own. And I'm thankful for that. And I try to look at how this experience is going to affect me positively. My relationship with Christ is like it has never been, and also my relationship with Paul. I'm not in it alone, I have those two by my side. God really does create good in the bad. Sometimes it sucks. I'm just starting this journey, too. I understand. We are allowed to cry. =)
ReplyDeleteYou're right Maura. You're right that you are at the beginning of this wonderful journey, and you are right that emotions are toxic in the body. All emotions need expression. I know you like to write. Have you thought about journaling before going to bed at night. Just free write until you are empty and put it away. If you want to read over it you can, but not right then. The next day or in a couple days or never, but don't read over it right then. Just let it out. All of it. Good, bad, ugly, two-headed just let your emotions flow through to your pen.
ReplyDeleteI promise it will get easier. The more you see William's unique qualities that make him that perfect little boy you saw staring at the fan, the less it matters that he likes to chill in his own world. And hey, I'm 27 and I love staring at the ceiling fan.
I like the last sentence in that first comment. "We are allowed to cry."
ReplyDeleteAlso. CS Lewis once said, "Often what God helps us towards is the power of trying again." That's directed toward paragraph 5. I think something that you need to notice and take pride in is that you're not expecting perfection from yourself right now. You seem to be recognizing that you'll be building a muscle over the course of your life and that the first few times you use it will be so very hard. Your ability to step to the side of yourself and say "I'm at the beginning of this whole thing and I have to learn all of these skills," is very cool.
I don't know if it will hurt less in a year. I don't know how it feels now. But I know that you are going to be stronger yet in a year.
Can you see, I wonder, how strong you've become even since starting this blog?