Rough Night

Well I don't need to tell you what time it is since it is so conveniently listed at the bottom of this post, but its late and I can't sleep. Greg and Truitt are tightly tucked into bed and I am sitting here on the computer, trying to sort through my emotions. My mind has been going crazy tonight, for some reason and I don't know why.

As you may have already assumed, I have had a pretty uneventful week. In a good way. No bad days...just normal days that I recently have longed for. I am so proud of myself. I haven't felt like I am living a normal life until now. I think I finally have a hand on this "special" child parenting idea. As much as I hate to admit it, it feels good to be in this place of acceptance. But that doesn't mean I am free of tears. I still have those moments and I accept that too.

I accept that although Truitt may not be developmentally where his peers are, he is still normal. Not playing with toys and not putting his hands in his mouth is normal. Giving him three medications each morning and night, is normal. We know no difference, and I am learning that this is all ok. Babies that do those "normal" baby things, are abnormal to us.

I never looked at healthy children with so much amazement until I had the idea of a healthy child ripped away from me. I never realized how incredible they are. How much they learn, how much they change and they do it all without being taught. I am now praying for Truitt to learn things, desperately trying to teach him and all the while wondering how it usually just happens on its own. It doesn't make sense. I work so hard with him, often times when I am so tired and worn out, but I can't give up. He is counting on me.

I am so tired. Emotionally. Some things are starting to fall back into place, but its the reality of our life that I still fight with. Lately I have been thinking a lot about if Truitt were healthy. I know, its a horrible thing to do but I can't control it. I wonder what toys he would like the best. If he would pull my hair, or grab my earrings. If he would be able to hold his own bottle and eat finger foods. I still battle the thought of how things could have been.

What caused all of this? Was it preventable and was there something I could have done differently? It eats away at me sometimes and it makes me so angry. Why Truitt? I hate watching him continue to struggle, all the while being so happy. He has no idea how rough his life has been. He knows no different, and I love that. So innocent and unburdened by it all. He still wakes up each day with a smile and loves us unconditionally.

Lauren