Wednesday, December 31, 2008

One Day.

It isn't always the easiest thing, being the parent of a disabled child. There are times that I think I may be the wrong person for the job. Today is one of those days.
Trying to clean up the house after the Christmas hub-bub and being sick for a week, I enlisted the aid of JA and he was not happy. Not one bit. I could see the anger sweep across his face. Some days are like that. They come unexpectedly without warning and, consequently, without preparation on my part.
Handing him his shoes resulted in them being thrown back at me. I tried to make light of it, keeping a smile on my face and coaxing him to do the same. One wrong turn on my part brought him right on top of me. It isn't anything a bag of ice can't cure, but the emotional injury seems to run so much deeper.
For some reason, JA ran outside and his brother locked the door behind him, hopefully giving him a little time to cool off. It didn't work. A chair came crashing through JA's bedroom window, the one that sat on the front porch with flowers in it. Not any more.
He is hurt now. Cuts on his toes from broken glass and his hand still aching from the act of hitting the chair against the wooden side of the window frame. I feel guilty thinking that it is his own fault.
I helped him walk in the house, dressed his wounds (not as bad as I had originally thought) and cried for him. His brother cleaned up the mess.
The thought occurs to me that, quite possibly, one day I could die as a result of one these angry fits, when he is older and stronger and I am older and more unsteady. Yet I still try to make things better for him now. To teach him and show him how much his actions hurt and to let him know that, while I am angry for what he has done, I still love him. It is that faint line of understanding that this life will not be like the next that keeps me going. I know that one day he will be able to articulate his emotions and frustrations instead of using force to deal with them. I know that one day he will not be encumbered with the things that bind him now.
Those are the days I long for. Those and the good days here, when he is my bright, shining child who beams love at every turn.
Until that time, I will do my best to understand the complications that cause these horrific moments. I will do my best to be the mom who loves him and not the mom who despises him because of something he cannot always help doing.
One day we will be together, conversing with our voices not our hands, gaining an intimate knowledge of each other that now eludes us, locking ourselves in a mother-child union that cannot be broken.
One day. I will wait.

9 comments:

monix said...

Parenting a child with special needs is a daily act of heroism, whatever unexpected joys might come. It sounds as if you need a nice hot bath and this blessing from the Iona community:

Gracious God, bless this weary body that now craves rest and relaxation;
Lord Jesus Christ, bless this racing mind that seeks peace at the end of another demanding day;
Loving Spirit, bless this anxious soul that longs for release from shame and regret.
May the warmth of the water enfold me like God's loving arms;
May the smell of the foam carry me beyond the horizon of today's labours;
May the cleansing touch of the soap prepare me for the promise and challenge of tomorrow.

Betty said...

I am so sorry you have had such a trying day. Your sadness makes my heart hurt...for you and for JA. May God bless you during these times. "If he brings you to it, he will see you through it." Love ya.

whimseycreations said...

Karin, you and JA are in my prayers tonight. Jill

windycorner said...

So sorry this happened when you weren't at your strongest. Just getting over being sick had to make it twice as hard on you. You and your family are in my prayers and I hope the new year will bring many wonderful moments with your son.
Happy New Year, sweet friend,
Holley

Nan said...

Karin, I must have missed this in your life. I didn't know about your son. This sounds like autism. Gosh, my heart goes out to you dealing with this.

~Vicki said...

Happy New Year! All the best to you and your family in 2009.

sarayutouched said...

Karin~
To weep is to make less the depth of grief. I hope to see a glimpse of you and your son having that mother-child conversation one day. My heart will smile for you both. Until then...we will hold you both in our prayers.
Robin-MI

Utah Grammie said...

Oh Sweetie- I am so sorry. But one thing I know for sure is God gives these children to special, loving individuals. Individuals that are human, have weak moments, need understanding and the support of friends, family and yes, bloggers.
We all care and wish only that we can be there for you, actually physically closer so you can come over and have a cuppa and a good cry. You all will be in my prayers..and I KNOW what prayer can do-
Love and hugs
Colleen

Autumn said...

I couldn't read all of it- my heart hurt so for you- and him- and well, honestly for my son & wife whose son is very much like your John.
He is 7 and only just walking properly and is still miles away from us-emotionally!
He is a beautiful,beautiful boy- as your John is- but oh so difficult to manage.
The fears and dangers are so very different from other children's.
God bless you all!!!