How Much Have I Missed?
I get told all the time by people in my life what a good mom I am to Kamden. I can never thank anyone enough for saying so, but I have the hardest time believing it.
Let me explain.
I bust my butt to make sure Kamden has what he needs to the fullest of my ability. I'll pick up odd jobs to make money fast to cover extra expenses, push for help at school, make sure he's at therapies and that the therapists are up to date on anything new going on with him. I double check to make sure he's received his medication on time and that he's used his essential oils for the day and I make sure that he has his doctor's appointments on time.
However...
Tonight is the first time I have ever played tag with my son.
I get so caught up in all the things he appears to need that it becomes easy for me to forget that the thing he needs the most is me. I forget that just being in the same room is not the same as spending time with him. He needs me to be his mother and his advocate, but he needs me to be his friend.
The look on his face when I asked if he wanted me to chase him simultaneously made my heart sore and shatter. He seemed almost shocked, but so excited. It made me wonder, how much have I missed?
In part, I blame it on how I dealt with life after the loss of Kaidi. I shut down, understandably, for 6 months, and when I came back around I felt like I just existed. I wanted to make sure that I went out of my way to protect and shelter Kamden, but did little to truly engage with him. I know now that it was my defense mechanism and that I was afraid to be close to Kamden for fear of losing him, too. When he was diagnosed with autism 2 years later, I felt even more that I needed to protect him, but realized he'd very likely not ever be able to engage in the type of emotional interaction that I had hoped he would. So rather than nurturing and helping him understand emotions, at least initially, I shut down more.
The weird thing about autism, as well as other special needs cases I would assume, is that there is some form of daily grief. So many days are really, really good. However, the bad days tend to be devastating. It's the times that you see your child interacting with or playing along side kids with no substantial problems and it hits you that he's more delayed than you realized because you so often see him play alone and not with other kids. Or it's the days that the school calls you and tells you that your child has had a potty accident in class and you'll have to leave to come and change him, and your child is in the end of his kindergarten year and no where near potty trained. Or it's the times that you can't sleep at night and end up emailing his teacher at 3:45 in the morning because of something else that you realized causes meltdowns that you are hoping she can help you combat. It may seem weird to grieve for a child who is still with you, but the reality is that it happens and it happens a lot.
Seeing Kamden's reaction to my taking the time to do something as simple as chase him around the backyard for 15 or 20 minutes taught me something. I don't have to, and should not, wear only one label with regard to him. I can easily be mother, advocate, therapist and friend. He's a whole individual and needs all aspects possible from me and from those he's in contact with. He is a full puzzle. No pieces missing. His puzzle pieces just fit together a bit differently than mine and it's okay. If I want him to successfully learn how to be a complete little human, I have to show him a complete me.
Let me explain.
I bust my butt to make sure Kamden has what he needs to the fullest of my ability. I'll pick up odd jobs to make money fast to cover extra expenses, push for help at school, make sure he's at therapies and that the therapists are up to date on anything new going on with him. I double check to make sure he's received his medication on time and that he's used his essential oils for the day and I make sure that he has his doctor's appointments on time.
However...
Tonight is the first time I have ever played tag with my son.
I get so caught up in all the things he appears to need that it becomes easy for me to forget that the thing he needs the most is me. I forget that just being in the same room is not the same as spending time with him. He needs me to be his mother and his advocate, but he needs me to be his friend.
The look on his face when I asked if he wanted me to chase him simultaneously made my heart sore and shatter. He seemed almost shocked, but so excited. It made me wonder, how much have I missed?
In part, I blame it on how I dealt with life after the loss of Kaidi. I shut down, understandably, for 6 months, and when I came back around I felt like I just existed. I wanted to make sure that I went out of my way to protect and shelter Kamden, but did little to truly engage with him. I know now that it was my defense mechanism and that I was afraid to be close to Kamden for fear of losing him, too. When he was diagnosed with autism 2 years later, I felt even more that I needed to protect him, but realized he'd very likely not ever be able to engage in the type of emotional interaction that I had hoped he would. So rather than nurturing and helping him understand emotions, at least initially, I shut down more.
The weird thing about autism, as well as other special needs cases I would assume, is that there is some form of daily grief. So many days are really, really good. However, the bad days tend to be devastating. It's the times that you see your child interacting with or playing along side kids with no substantial problems and it hits you that he's more delayed than you realized because you so often see him play alone and not with other kids. Or it's the days that the school calls you and tells you that your child has had a potty accident in class and you'll have to leave to come and change him, and your child is in the end of his kindergarten year and no where near potty trained. Or it's the times that you can't sleep at night and end up emailing his teacher at 3:45 in the morning because of something else that you realized causes meltdowns that you are hoping she can help you combat. It may seem weird to grieve for a child who is still with you, but the reality is that it happens and it happens a lot.
Seeing Kamden's reaction to my taking the time to do something as simple as chase him around the backyard for 15 or 20 minutes taught me something. I don't have to, and should not, wear only one label with regard to him. I can easily be mother, advocate, therapist and friend. He's a whole individual and needs all aspects possible from me and from those he's in contact with. He is a full puzzle. No pieces missing. His puzzle pieces just fit together a bit differently than mine and it's okay. If I want him to successfully learn how to be a complete little human, I have to show him a complete me.
Comments
Post a Comment