Note: I wrote this blog shortly after being traumatized a bit. I want to post it still because it was a really honest reaction to what I was/am going through, and I want people in similar situations to know, you aren’t alone. But I wanted to add a note to let you all know I’m feeling better now. 
This wasn’t the blog post I was going to write. Not even close. In the past month we’ve been on vacation, moved, gotten a dog, I’ve signed with a second publisher been to RWA…it’s been a huge thirty days. I was going to talk about change.
Now I’m going to talk about things not changing enough.
It’s especially ironic considering my last post, but I think that’s parenting in a nutshell. The feelings are different every day.
Today I feel like I’m in the woods. I know they end somewhere. But I don’t know where. I thought I was closer than I am. I can’t go back, the option isn’t there. And I wouldn’t. Except I just want to sit down and give up today.
We moved into our new house a week ago. The first thing we did was put chains on the doors. Then we fenced the back yard. Why? Danger. Danger is an escape artist. He wanders. We thought we had it.
Tonight he unlocked his window and got out while I thought he was sleeping. We went to bring his dog to his room and he was gone. I’ve experienced this three times now. They have been the longest, most hellish moments of my life. I would go through unmedicated childbirth ten times over to never experience them again. To have avoided ever experiencing them. In those moments you realize how all those brilliant things that happened in the past thirty days mean nothing if that child isn’t coming home to you.
Thank God he was safe. Thank God.
I thought he’d progressed past this point. I thought he was progressing and I suppose he is, but it’s easy to let something like this steal that feeling. Like an alcoholic who loses their sobriety and has to start the count again. I’ve never seen him stim like he was tonight either. He was totally overdone.
Here’s the thing about parenting a special needs child: No one asks you if you’re up to the task. I’m not special. I’m not stronger than anyone else. But just like the mother of a typical child I love my son. More than myself. It’s the love that keeps me going. Without it, I would just be lost in the woods. As it is, I’m lost in the woods with that love pushing me forward.
Tonight I thought, I just don’t want to do this anymore. And then I thought WHY ME? And then I looked at him and thought, I love that kid. And so I keep going. Because I need to. Because I can’t do anything else. Because my son is precious to me beyond words. Because he’s brought me joy that surpasses the sorrow.
Maybe that sums up parenting for everyone. You will never know love so deep, joy so profound or sadness so intense as you do when you love a child. Adopted or biological, son, daughter, niece, nephew, grandson or granddaughter. Because they are in our care. Vulnerable to us.
And again, I wish I could see the edge of the forest so I’d know I was getting there. So I’d know I could make it through this okay. So I’d know I wouldn’t let him down. That I won’t let my other beautiful kids down either. But I don’t know. I can’t tell. So I keep walking. And I hope that love makes up for my missteps. I hope my kids’ guardian angels work extra vigilantly to cover where I fail. I pray that God is there to catch them when I don’t.
This isn’t the blog post I was going to write. But it’s the blog post I needed to write. Someday I’ll write a blog post about the shenanigans of our new golden retriever. Or about Diva picking grapes in the backyard. Or Drama and his impressive knowledge of geography. But today I had to write this. Right. *grabs walking stick* I’ve got to keep on hiking through now. I can’t see the end. But I hope love lights my way.
Such a poignant post!!! I got tears!!! I’m so glad you feel better, but I’m really glad you recorded where you were at that moment in your head and heart.
Maisey, that forest is where all the miracles are going to happen. It takes such a shift–such a leap of faith–to let go of the world we assumed we’d get and live in the world we actually have. But you are doing it, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness.
The feelings aren’t easy to bear, nor are the responsibilities. But it’s that love you talked about that makes those fears, worries, frustrations, and pressures bearable–and not only bearable but the instruments that will strip away your false self, the one we invent before Real Life hits hard, and connect you to the Maisey with the super powers–the Maisey who’s indestructible and able to find joy even in the face of obstacles that seem overwhelming.
Hugs to your whole family, and I’m SO excited for you about that new contract you got! And your new house!!!! Y’all are going to be great.
XOXO
Thank you, Kieran. That was the perfect comment. I always appreciate words from you. Because I feel like you’re at least closer to the other side than me, cheering me on. And I need that!
*hugs* and thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Trixie. I accept the hugs.
*hugs* Maisey. This one made me teary too. I can’t imagine walking into my kidlet’s room and not seeing him there. Nothing scarier. And I can so relate on that feeling of–no one asked me if I was qualified to raise a special needs child. There are all these people who go through years of training to work with special needs kids. We’re not those people. We’re just doing the best we can and learning along the way. It’s scary to worry that you don’t always know the right thing to do, that you could mess up. And I know that’s the journey of every parent, but I do think that’s amplified when you have children with extra challenges.
Thanks, Roni. Hopefully your kidlet just stays put. Danger has been, as we put it, prone to going on walkabout since he was about eighteen months old.
I so agree with, and relate to, what you said too. It’s funny how it all changes you too. And I know you went through that researching everything experience I went through, trying to figure it all out. In some ways we become experts.
And then something happens that puts you back at “I know nothing.”
At least they’re cute.
Maisey, you emailed us about this when it happened, and I’m still upset all over again. I can imagine how awful it must have been for you. I’m so, so sorry, and i’m so, so happy Danger is okay.
Thanks, Shana. It was pretty horrible, and I still feel overly tired from it, but we’ve gated the property and added some extra window locks, plus Harley is room sharing with Danger, so we’re feeling a bit more secure. Though it was a rude welcome to our new house!
I was a toddler, back in the 50′s, when my dad ‘lost me’ one night. My mom was out for a ‘girls’ night and Dad was the sitter for 3 girls.. So about a 30 minutes before Mom’s due home, he’s checking on all of us… Check oldest in bed, check middle in bed, baby missing out crib! Yikes…. about a 500 sq ft home and he covered every foot, even the shared closets between the sisters’ 2 rooms… He finally found me asleep, behind the room door – which hid me everytime he opened it!
Glad Danger is safe! maybe there’s some sort of alarm available for when a door/window opens? of he get’s off the bed? Big hugs to you!!
My heart is with you. My granddaughter is a special needs child and I can certainly attest that the patience required in constantly being on top of whatever she is doing is exhausting. Sending you hugs and tons of patience.
It is a different world, or so it seems, from that of raising what appear to be ‘normal’ children – whatever THAT means ;-0) While my guy has never actually disappeared any further than the end of the block during the day, I can really identify with the feeling of being in the forest, and the wisdom we gain from allowing ourselves to be there. I have three children, all of whom present their own unique challenges, one of whom continuously pushes me deeper and deeper into my own forest, and who, when our eyes meet, reminds me how inextricably connected we are ~ and how very much I love him.
Hugs and Blessings to you & yours <3
(((Maisey)))) I’ve read your post several times now and each time find myself taking long, slow breaths. I can’t even imagine the terror. I often tell people that I never knew how frightening love could be until I had children. There are so many kinds of love, the love we feel as kids for our parents and grandparents, the love we feel for our friends, the giddy, exciting, hormone-riddled kind we feel as teenagers falling for the first time…and the warm, rich kind we feel for our spouse. But wow…the love a parent has for their child is like every kind of love there is all wrapped together, x1000. I really wasn’t expecting that. I remember the first time I looked into my newborn daughter’s eyes. I literally felt my world shift. And when my little guy joined us ten weeks early, looking into his scared, confused eyes literally caused a physical pain. It’s truly when you realize your life is irrevocably connected to another, emotionally, mentally, physically, and in every other way there is. The good thing is that in addition to the terror comes a depth of joy you never imagined either. I think I’m rambling here…but I wanted to reach out and to let you know you’re not In The Woods alone. That’s why it’s so important to talk about these things. Raw honesty is the only way you learn just how many people are walking with you. Hugs!