Grandmotherhood

I heard a couple of ladies talking about their grandkids the other evening. They shared about the heartache they had for their grandchildren. One lady, a new grandma was telling us about her daughter's newly born baby and how difficult it is being an hour and a half away from her new granddaughter. The other lady said: Try having a new granddaughter on the other side of the country. I just got back from visiting her over the holidays and I just cry whenever I think of her...

As they both shared the joys and heartaches of their grandmotherhood, I became teary-eyed myself. I ached for my own mother in that moment. My entire life, I thought of my mother as being overly emotional and controlling. We had a very tumultuous relationship. My father, who divorced my mom when I was two years old, had always claimed that my mother should have been institutionalized.

Now, as an adult, I realize that my father's lack of support for my mother was a monumental error and caused my mother's heart to fester and created an emotional disease that led her to an early death at age 58. Since my mother's passing and learning more about my own daughter, I realize that my mother had bi-polar, undiagnosed or realized by any of us.

All through our lives together, I fought with my mother. I couldn't understand her. I was tired of mothering her. I grew up and pushed her away from me. When I became a mother myself, I let her in, just a little, but I was not willing to allow her drama and toxicity into my new marriage and our new family.

It was two years ago this week, she was sick and in ICU. I got a phone call from the hospital. They wanted me, her only child to know that there was a possibility that they may need to have put her on a respirator. I decided to visit her, see if this drama was the real deal or if it was just another scandal to get my attention. She was a hypochondriac and a master manipulator. A snow storm formed icy road conditions which stalled my arrival to the hospital 30 minutes too late and she was put into a coma for her ventilator. She never was able to recuperate. She passed away a few weeks later.

The pain her heart must have carried around her entire life finally got the best of her. I realize I am not responsible for that pain she felt and for the choices she made. However, I can sympathize with the pain that a mother has for her child. A love that is so strong and vulnerable.

Mom, I am sorry that you weren't able to experience your grandchildren. I wish you could have gotten to know them a little longer, a little better. I wish you were around right now, today. I wish I could have shared the joys and also the burdens of my children as I try and raise them, learning about their special needs. I wish you were here so I could call you after these doctor visits and when others don't understand. I think you could have helped me better understand Sienna and her emotional challenges. You and she are so much alike. I wish I would have understood your mental conditions better before you passed away. I may have been more supportive for you. Mom. I miss you today. I still think of you, just not as often as I know you would be thinking of me.

I support Autism Twitter Day! Will you?

Parenting two children on the spectrum, I have felt like a klutz since my first push during labor! Since spawning my first kiddo over seven years ago, I have been on a journey of motherhood unlike any other.

Although there are no manuals that can teach any mom how to parent their special child, caring for a child with special needs - specifically, a child on the autism spectrum can be especially surreal. Every day, the needs change. From the time my children were babies I have tried to figure it all out.

Now, after endless hours of research covering a variety of syndromes and disorders, I have feared the possibility along with the reality while parsing the relative information from stacks and stacks of professional recommendations and diagnoses covering Parenting, Strong-Willed Children, Autism, Fragile X, Asperger's, PDD-NOS, ADHD, Bi-Polar Spectrum, Gifted, Sensory Integration, Sensory Disorder, etc. My husband and I have had to change our career paths and life styles and have had to learn to budget our time and money so that we won't go into debt and/or divorce over the countless recommended interventions and therapies from brushing, diets, balls, vests, blankets, swings, social games and groups, squeezy thingies, bouncy doo higgies and artsy fartsy fun. Some of these items have applied for our needs at some of the times, but all of this has been overwhelming, border line new-age-voo-doo to us to say the least!

Then, there are the teachers, family and friends and foes who tell us that there is nothing wrong with our children and that we need to just be better parents. At times, I am tricked and confused by their comments. For whatever their personal reasonings, I have had to learn to desperately grip on to that teeny tiny motherly instinct that has not yet faded away and I think I am the only one who truly knows my daughters and their core needs!

I have earned infinite invisible degrees and badges of honor as a mom to a seven- and two year old on the spectrum and God still has much more to teach me. I love my kids. And I want to help them as best as I can by understanding their needs and educating others in our family and community. I look forward to joining in on the discussions that will be shared on the inaugural Autism Twitter Day!

Can you join us?

Autism Twitter Day, Tuesday, December 16, three times throughout the day, 9:00 a.m., noon, and 8:00 p.m. PST. Prizes for young adults with autism or asperger syndrome will be given away during these twitter sessions!

Whether your immediate family has been impacted by autism or if you know someone who has, you are welcome to participate. There is never a day off for the mothers, fathers, siblings and friends who support a person with autism. Here is a chance to gain support, understanding and resources that can help you navigate your life!

Come and join in on the discussions. A variety of topics will be shared on how to best handle those curve balls that the spectrum disorder tosses in to your daily life ranging from:

family dynamics,
from the bus to the classroom,
behavior,
variety of therapies,
special diets,
social skills,
independent living,
self care and hygiene.
bullying,
IEPs,
respite,
books, toys, etc. that have helped your family.

This includes sharing links to your sites and blog posts.

Hope to see your avatar there! Sweet Tweeting! Visit Autism Family Adventures to learn more about the event and to RSVP today!

Autism Family Adventures: RSVP for Autism Twitter Day

Crazy Jugs of Broken Childhoods, Broken Motherhoods

I can't organize my thoughts to get a post prepared. I have attempted a few times and just come up with scattered, random sentences that end up in the draft file.

It seems like I have not gotten my life back together since my mother passed away over 18 months ago. I wonder if I will ever be happy again. Will I ever be able to manage my life the way I want? It isn't like my life was easy or happy when my mother was alive. My mother and I didn't even have a good relationship.

Sometimes when I get flustered and frustrated at Sienna, I am reminded of my own mother and how similar their behaviors are. And no matter how I want to ignore this truth, I am just like Sienna and my own mother too. When I feel so disconnected towards Sienna, I can also understand how my own mother felt. She used to try to hug me and I would cringe. I despised her kisses too. She used to say that loving me was like loving a porcupine with needles. Now, when I try to cuddle Sienna, she pulls away. When I try to kiss her on the cheek, she wipes it off harshly as if she's angry with me. There is a significant difference between my mother and me though. I seek to understand my daughter's troubles. I keep trying to be knowledgeable, strong seeking support when needed. At least, that is where I am now. Who knows how much longer I can keep my character strong.

I confess that I am saddened by my daughter's inequities to love me, just as I am saddened by my own mother's inability to love me the way a child needed loved years ago. We all go through our own lives just to cope and survive and both my mother was and my daughter is just trying to get through it as best possible. I somehow feel like I am above the standard of just reacting innately to my circumstances. I strive for more than just survival. I strive for strength. Sometimes however, I fail. I weep. I wail. I am as sad as a small child.

I also forgive. I can understand how Sienna is troubled with her sensory disorder and moods just as I was as a young little girl. How I still am. And, as a mother, I can see how empty my love tank is and I am tempted to walk away, withdraw, regress just as my own mother did throughout her prime years of her own motherhood.

My husband interrupts my daze towards the long empty hall way where my daughter just walked through, down troddened and angered, disappointed once again. He asks me. "What are you thinking about?"

I respond, "I am wondering if I was unlovable. Was I so difficult that my mom and dad just couldn't love me when I was a child? Did they divorce when I was two because the stress I put on both of them? Am I still unlovable?"

Weeping on, striving for survival. Trying to stay above the standard of failure. Taking life one day at a time, one tantrum at a time. God, please help me to keep the standard high and love me just where I am.

And the Crazy Jugs reflect the disappointment. They want to be more than they are. They want to be treasures, yet, there they stand, dusty and yellowed with plastic beads broken. How did they survive through all the years of turmoil? How did they not get lost, broken fully? They survived. They continue to reflect the memories and tell the story.

Two Bags and Now I'm Nurse Hag!

This week has been charred with a few out of body experiences. Can you relate with those stressful times in your life when the room fades into surreal and all you can hear is your heart pounding. It is like you can only understand because you are watching the scene from the outside - kind of like you are sitting in your own living room watching the stressful moment of your own life unfold on a TV screen. You can barely concentrate on what others are saying to you because you are just trying to absorb the tears that are swelling up in your eyes. You know that if the tear falls onto your cheek, it will give you permission to let the floodgates pour.

That is what it was like for me as my very own drama aired two times and both incidents happened to be from a doctor's office.

The first scene I watched was of my darling husband, Fred. He was sitting in a pre-op room with his blue bonnet, booties and hospital gown. His eyes looked at me like a scared little boy as the IV cord dangled from his strong forearm. I tried to listen and not fall apart as the nurse had him sign all sorts of paperwork basically starting with, "In case something should happen..."

I couldn't imagine something happening to my husband. From the 15 years we have been together, he has practically never even been sick! I on the other hand, get sick each month with PMS and also am plagued with migraines periodically, not to mention my inability to manage stress appropriately so I physically can feel every bump in the road on my life's journey. Oh, and I occasionally am a hypercondriac too! Most of the time when I am starting to feel a little edgy, my husband is helpful. He takes care of the kids and gives me my space. He also encourages me to take the time for self care so that I don't get too uptight emotionally and physically. Yes, my husband is a pretty great blue ribbon guy. There are times when I feel guilty leaving him with the kids to get bathed and ready for bed while I go out for a jog or a walk with a friend. But then he gives me unlimited stack of "Get Out of Guilt-Free Cards" and let's me go on my own way. He understands how I tick and I am so grateful for him.

To sit in the visitor seat and watch my strong husband have to be the patient was so difficult for me. I wanted to be strong, stable and spoil him into recovery as soon as his urological surgery was finished. And, within a couple of hours, he was ready for me to pull the car around as the nurse helped him walk to the passenger seat. He was holding two bags, one with his extra clothes that I sent along with him and another bag for his catheter that he would become very close with for the next few days.

Although he was on some 'mechanical-strength' pain killer, he was extra sensitive to every bump on the very long drive home. About two hours and 2,000 bumps later we arrived home, he went straight up to bed. He slept for about four days. I would prepare his meals and take them on a silver tray up to him in bed. I would also make sure I was there with him as he'd stumble to the bathroom to empty his bag filled with yellow liquid. Along with playing nurse, I knew that one of his "love languages" was the act of doing things for him. And, I knew that he appreciated a tidy house so I tried my hardest to keep the house in order.

The more I tried to stay on top of the cleaning, the cooking the serving, the more impatient I grew. I admittedly was enjoying caring for him and the house and family but I was so used to Fred taking care of a lot of the chores like the garbage and sharing with the laundry and dishes and cooking. To not have him around was like having one of my arms cut off. As hard as I tried to keep it all together, my nerves were frazzled like Bob Marley's dreadlocks in an electric socket. I couldn't control my temper!

So, how do other wives handle this stress? I was out of control. All I could do is yell and scream at everyone around me. I am so ashamed on how I lashed out on everyone. I had no time for reprieve. I was lacking in sleep and self care and my darling husband and two sweet daughters who are also high maintenance got the best of me by 7:00 a.m. and after that, they all got the worst of me each day for four days.

Who did I become? Where was the person I wanted to be? I didn't sign up for this trashy unraveled tantrum tizzy I had turned into. I was starting to think I was more like my bipolar mother. The more I would try to control and manage my stress, the more stressed out I would get and lash out. I also realized that my daughter Sienna, who is also diagnosed with bipolar along with ADHD and PDD-NOS struggles with similar inter-personal conflict herself. It is times like these when I can better understand her. I always tell her, "You have choices to make Sienna. You can choose to throw those fits and deal with the consequences, or you can walk away, count to ten, do something that will help you relax... BLAH BLAH BLAH."

If someone were to confront ME during these past four days and lecture me like that. I would have told them to go away and COUNT MY FRICKIN ACE! (my frickin ace is a fancy word for my gosh darn behind!) And I would have probably growled at them or thrown something at them. Who knows? No one would have dared lectured me this past week. I was like a shark who just sensed blood and was ready to attack, like Bruce the Great White shark in Finding Nemo. He really wanted to overcome his addiction to eating fish but he just couldn't help being who he was. Interesting discovery... hmmm.... (I just realized this discovery through my blog writing. This helps me to accept my daughter more and more! I struggle with this sometimes. I want to change her make her conform too much of the time.)

Today is Monday. My husband is finally on his feet and back to work. He still has the catheter in but I think I am feeling a little more myself and less Nurse Cratchett.

Throughout all of this chaos, my toddler daughter has been getting over a flu with lots of green river snot to wipe and dirty diarrhea diapers to change. Good times.

The other out of body experience that I discovered as the drama unfolded in the doctor's office was about my six year old daughter. I will share in tomorrow's post...