Editor's Note: This post originally appeared elsewhere in March 2010. While our sleep issues have mostly subsided, the Tasmanian Devil is a rare sight these days, and Boy Wonder is far more present, a lot of this is still true. ~J
Some days it's like having a ghost in the room. You can see them but you can't touch them. They can't hear you.
Other days, it's like someone dropped off a Tasmanian devil. A whirling, stimming, running, jumping yelling dervish who leaves a path of destruction in their wake.
Every day, a constant worry about their future and selfishly your future cause you sure as hell didn't sign on for this shit. Some days the worry is manageable and on the bad days it's paralyzing.
Wondering if something happens to you who will care for and love your child because you know there are very few if any people willing to do it.
Watching the news and wondering what you'll do if your child ever gets so violent your life and that of your other children could be at risk and praying it never gets to that point or become the mother who is so overcome she overdoses her child on medication and kills him.
Cringing when you hear other parents complain about the budget for special education kids in your school district and kind of wishing you were still that ignorant but knowing you are a better person now.
1:00 am wake up calls followed by another at 2:30 am and 5:00 am because God forbid we sleep through the night.
You get to have some one come to your house 6 days a week to give your child therapy.
But there's
progress, love and hope.
Progress because you never let up on him EVER.
Love because he's your child no matter how God made him and when he looks you right in the eye and smiles it's all worth it.
Hope that all this hard work will pay off in a miracle.
