Nothing prepares you...

As I young mom I have come a long way from that 18 year old with stars in her eyes, along the way I have met so many different kinds of moms; moms that go into pregnancy starry eyed ready to let nature take its course, moms who go in wanting to be prepared reading up on everything they can get their hands on, moms that go in believing that having a baby will be all sunshine and daisies and those who go in expecting the worse or with more realist expectations.

I for one definitely went in with stars in my eyes but I had a realist for a mother who sure as anything shattered that rose tinted image and made sure that I knew exactly what was coming and that despite her love my son was my choice and my responsibility; she had her turn and she sure as hell was not going to do it again.

Looking back it was probably the best thing she could have done for me as a mother other than telling me to get up asap after my c section and get on with it asap in order to avoid unwarranted pain and long term healing issues and the time that she walked in and I was pumping milk tears in my eyes as the milk ran red with blood; my son was a preemie and I was so desperate to feed him for as long as possible- my mother had never breastfed and when she walked in the sheer look of both horror combined with empathy I honestly thought she was going to tell me to stop trying to breastfeed… but she didn’t she looked at me her exhausted disheveled daughter told me she would be back in 5, went and ran me a bath and stuck cabbage leaves in the freezer then came back took my son told me to go relax in the bath and to take a nap once I was done, that act of love pushed me through what were some very difficult early days with my son.

I thought I went in prepared- a prem birth and jaundice, colic, re-flux, lactose allergies, teething, so many sleepiness nights whilst trying to navigate college and a job I knew I could do it and would do it, I thought I was prepared but nothing can truly prepare you for the heartache that motherhood can bring.

For the first time I was asked to collect my son, the first suspension or even the first expulsion.

For sitting in front of a governing body with tears in my eyes made to feel like the shittest parent in the world.

For the first diagnosis and every one that has followed.

For the meds you are forced to place your child on in order to conform them to the standards of others.

For the disapproving looks and stares.

For the backstabbing and judgment- especially from people you have come to trust.

For the times your child has looked at you with defeat and anguish.

For the days you have felt like giving up.

For the anguish you face when every avenue you pursue is hit with a brick wall or when those who are supposed to help you choose to not listen what you as a parent know to be true or to take it into account.

For the private sector that bankrupts you and the government system that fails you.

For the decision to admit your child into psychiatric care and the fight to get them there.

For the decision to admit your child into long term psychiatric and therapeutic care

For the hurtful words that come from your child’s mouth as well as your own

Most of all… for the guilt

Nothing could possibly prepare you for any of the above even if someone had told me that it was coming the heartache and the guilt would have been just as gut-wrenching; just as difficult.  There are so many days when I just want to give up when I feel I cannot anymore, so many days when I ask myself and the universe why it saw fit to give me this path and not someone else- someone who was stronger, someone who would never ever, not even for an inkling of a second think of giving up or slowing down, someone who could have found a way sooner and made better decisions, trusted fewer people so blindly… but then I wouldn’t have my son who despite the pain and the heartache is bonded to me in a way unlike either of my other children- my eldest, my first born and the one I fought so hard for, the one I have and will continue to fight so hard for.

My heart, my body and my soul may be wary but we will fight until we cannot anymore.

At the moment our family is broken, faced with decisions that I would not put forward to my worst enemy, the fight to get my son into a clinic program was a long one after begging to have him admitted; over the past several years we have been told over and over again that is unwarranted not needed and a waste of resources when the aforementioned is the case, we finally got approval after our previous government appoint psychologist left the country and new psychologist was assigned to our case, we were so grateful and then a storm hit condemning the unit leaving us with the option to wait until next year or to try and find somewhere else to take him. When I tell you I am nothing if not relentless I mean it, I called every single clinic I could find but given his age and issues he did not meet the requirements for all but one of the clinics and even that clinic was apprehensive due to his ODD, but they saw our family and what we are dealing with and chose to give my son the chance, he didn’t finish the program but that inpatient unit meant that for the first time professionals could see what we were dealing with at home and what his teachers faced as well, I am so incredibly grateful for this, I cannot tell you how disheartening it is to sit in front of a doctor or professional and to basically bare the struggles of your soul only to have your son come in and they look at you like you must be smoking your socks because the child that sits before them is so polite and well mannered, he has excellent grades- this could not possible be the same child!  So to hear the doctors acknowledge our feelings and opinions, to show us empathy and understanding and assure that they would help us further. 

At the same time though it is so incredibly frustrating as this is something that if done when we had originally requested it many years ago could have meant early therapeutic intervention and we would very well not be sitting with half of what we are today.