Sometimes I think people see me coming and the run the other direction. They think, "Oh no. Not her. How depressing!" I know when I talk about how things are going it does not paint a rosy picture. But I am not depressed or sad.
Granted, yes, my mother does have terminal cancer. She lives with me and I can tell you that as an adult it is very difficult to live with your parent. It is not easy to watch her as she struggles everyday. I am far less than patient with her huge memory lapses and combine that with the mood swings of what I know must be impending menopause and life can be a bit of a roller coaster. And at the same time, I would not change it for anything in the world. I love my Mom despite the fact that she causes me to bang my head in to the wall on a daily basis. If it wasn't for her cancer she would still live 2700 miles away and I would not have the opportunity to spend this time with her. My children would barely even know her. Also after moving here my mom started going to church, accepted Christ and was baptized. I think cancer even at it's worse is worth eternity worshipping at the feet of Jesus.
My son has autism. Autism does not define him, he defines it. It is not easy living in the house with an autistic child, but I have learned so much more from him than I would have if he had been a neuro-typical child. I have learned the eating, sleeping, and mating habits of nearly every animal on the planet. I fully understand the importance of the opposable thumb. I have learned the different stages of decomposition and how it affects different birds and animals. And I have learned that love does not always come in the form of a hug and the words "I love you Mom." Sometimes love comes in the gift of a freshly skinned squirrel. Sometimes it is not moving away and flinching at the touch of your hand. Love can be having a strand of your hair twirled for hours until you feel like it is going to be pulled out of your head. It is your child watching for your reaction when you watch a movie and copying it just to try to fit in. Love is not always spoken, it fits in the silence.
Love also comes in the fit of violence. It is that moment when his body is tensed and shaking from the heavy stress and anxiety and he finally leans against me and sobs. It is sitting a safe distance away as he rocks and rocks trying to decompress, knowing not to touch him, not to speak, but just to sit and watch. It is felt during a seizure as you sit next to your child, helpless and all you can do is wait it out. It is sitting on the floor for hours at a time, spinning a top or what ever the toy of the day is, just trying to break through so that he looks up and notices you. It is one more visit to the ER and holding him down while the doctor stitches him up. It is doctors and specialist, therapies, and alternative treatments. It is practically putting your house in hock trying to find an answer. Love is not always pretty. It is not always wrapped in wonderful. It is bare and raw and sometimes it hurts so bad you do not know how you will make it through another day. I believe that only the parent of an autistic child fully understands that type of love. And they would not change it for the world. Coty is amazingly smart. He is artistically talented. He takes amazing photos and he is quite musical. He has an incredible sense of humor. And he is a very handsome kid. He challenges me the most but he is so worth it.
Then there is Bailey. Always my healthy child, nuero-typical in every way and then one day everything gets turned upside down. Four years of a mystery illness finally diagnosed. Allergic to nearly all food, tube fed formula though a tube. And it is okay. Formula meets her every need. Her formula is like manna from heaven. Every vitamin and mineral she needs is right there for her. Her disease is incurable but it is not terminal. It can and will be managed. She is smart and funny. When she smiles she lights up a room. From her I have truly learned what it means to be brave. No matter what, she moves forward. She meets each challenge head on. Not only does she survive but she thrives. She rarely complains. She serves others and puts the needs of others first. She does not talk down other people like girls her age often do. She is not judgmental and she will befriend anyone. She is innocence at it's best. I worry about her only in the sense that I worry the world will begin to corrupt her. Despite the pain she has suffered, she has kept that sweet innocence about her. God has blessed this child and I imagine he has something very special planned for her.
I am fortunate also to have an amazing husband. He works hard so that I can now stay home and take care of the family. When he is home, if I need a break, he has dropped his own plans to allow me to get time out. He is loving and supportive. He is my soul mate and my strength. He was the first person I ever truly felt safe with. The first person I could be myself with. He has seen me at my best and he has seen me at my worst and somehow he still loves me. I have always said that I doubt there are very many men that could put up with me. Thankfully, he can.
No, I am not sad or depressed. I have a wonderful life. What many people see as problems, I see as blessings. God never promised us life would be easy. He did say to cast our burdens on Him and He would make our yoke light. My life is what it is. These are the daily things that strengthen me and make me a better person. They teach me how to love in a way that many people will never experience. They teach me patience and perseverance. The teach me to turn my face to my Father and to trust in Him. I know to treasure the moments as they come and to never take a moment for granted. Life is too short, love fully.
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