I was talking to a long time friend today about his ability to sit on L and S this weekend when he said, "I read all your blog entries. You should do that shit more often.".
Needless to say, I was a little shocked. I tend to write for myself. I'm smart enough to know that when it's good, it's good. When I'm uninspired, it's terrible. Horrific. Bad enough to make you spork your eyes out. Or make you wonder what you see in me.
So, I went back over some of my first blog entries. This shit with Shane has hit me like a fucking baseball bat.It's been a slow build up, with emotionally breaking consequences. Fortunately, we have a few close friends for support- Even above said friend who will sit in a car with me for 3 hours to take the kids to "Grandma with the Stinkin' Dog's" house.
My family is serially unreliable because they have a grandchild close to them, no fault to P. They also fall under the category of "Head in the fucking sand". I can't even presume to know about Dave's family, because... It always seems that what I'm doing with my kids isn't the correct thing.
Honestly, since that manual didn't shoot out of my vagina after any of their births, especially after Shane's, I'm doing the best I can with what we've been dealt.
But reading over those earlier blogs, I realize how much in denial I was about what was going on with him... And how hopeful I was about him. Being happy about the fact that he wasn't crawling. His early speech, only to stop, his lack of interest in feeding himself... And the direct correlations to his late crawling, poor gross motor skills, late walking, swallowing and speech issues, and fragmented issues with fine motor control. My uncanny ability for hindsight is kicking me in the teeth right now.
It fucking hurts. The pain is raw and fresh again... And someone is squeezing lemons into it, laughing at me about fucking lemonade.
I love my children. (The rest of your children- Probably not so much.) I love them exactly the way they are... G's headstrong, silent way, his old soul. L's ability to have me on the floor laughing and wanting to knock the crap out of him at the same time for something he's done. And S... I love S because he doesn't even know what he's overcome thus far or what he's got to overcome in the near and distant future and he's still the happiest kid I have ever met. (A lot of you have told me the same thing about him.)...
But part of me wonders how much of that is his issues and how much of that is his personality? And, crowd forgive me for asking, but if he wasn't developmentally challenged, what would our lives be like? What would he be like? What would the "Happiest baby that I've ever seen" but won't let me touch him, kiss him, hug him, cuddle him, or love him most of the time be like in my alternate universe?
And if I knew the answer to that question and had the ability to change the realities, would I? Would I change my beautiful, challenged boy into something else so he fit into my hindsight picture?