It's been an entire decade since I lost my first child. (My first baby? My first embryo? My first pregnancy? To me they are all interchangeable because to me, from the first moment, that was my child. My baby.)
I didn't get to carry him/her for very long - only a few weeks. But it didn't matter, I still loved that baby, and I was devastated when I started to see the signs that my body would betray me.
Every year on September 4, I remember, and I wonder what that little baby might have been... how my life might have been different if that pregnancy stayed the course? The baby was due May 8, 2004 - just three days before my own birthday. And now here I am, 10 years later, raising that little tiny baby's siblings (and pulling my hair out most days)... but still this day is one my heart never forgets.
It's not painful like it used to be, anymore... but I always remember.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
My degree is in Psychology.
I toiled for years learning about why people behave the way they do, and what drives us. Why do killers kill? What makes a person deviant? Why is Sally depressed? Why do children act out?
Primary attachment is what it always seems to come back to. Some deficit in that initial, primary attachment.
Mom. Mom = primary attachment almost all the time.
I feel so guilty all the time, wondering what untold harm I am inflicting on my children... especially during the bad days.
My oldest child has Asperger syndrome and ADHD, and I don't know what to do for her. Every day I feel like I am failing her horrifically. 3rd grade in public school was turning into an awful mess for her, so I pulled her out to homeschool, but I don't think this is best. She needs more intellectual stimulation, and to be around other kids... but she simply can't handle the sensory and social stresses of a large classroom environment. I wish private school was an option, but the 'normal' schools don't want her because of her social/behavioral deficits, and we can't afford an autism-specific private school.
I am failing her because I cannot give her what she needs.
I get fed up with the constant messes, the shouting, and constantly trying to wheedle her into doing the things she ought to be doing. I feel like I am losing control of everything in my life, and am barely staying afloat - everything gets the minimum because I can't cover all the bases myself. I feel like an octopus with every arm being yanked by someone/something different.
I don't think I am doing anything to satisfaction. Nothing is ever truly DONE. I am a hamster on a wheel.
I worry about my younger daughter.
She has severe eczema we cannot get under control, dry skin, and tinea versicolor to boot. She is always itching. She scratches her skin raw. I want so badly to help her, but there is nothing I can do. We have tried everything... and some things help for a while, but they have a hefty price tag (and I don't mean money).
I worry that she is constantly overshadowed by her sister, whose problems tend to always take center stage due to their overwhelming presence. I worry that she feels lost in the shuffle, or unimportant. I worry that she gives too much of herself, her desires, and her needs up for the sake of her sister. I don't want her to have to grow up too fast because her sister has 'special needs'.
This is hard, and I want to hide.
I don't want to pull myself up and go wash the dishes and do laundry, but I must.
I don't want to watch another agonizing Social Skills Therapy.
I don't want to spend another 2 hours trying to get 25 minutes of work out of my daughter.
I don't want to watch my daughter scratch herself raw.
I don't want to sit here and wonder if every day I keep my daughter out of school, I'm causing her harm.
I don't want to worry every day that my youngest is being held back by her family life.
I just want to hide today, or at the very least get away from my Mom Guilt for a while.