1. I am Tired

I came across an article the other day titled, "6 Things You Don't Know About A Special Needs Parent" by Maria Lin, a writer, editor and mother to a special needs boy. I think the article is an important one. As the parent of a special needs boy myself, it validated some of the feelings that I have, knowing that another mother, especially a professionally successful one, has similar feelings. The article is also informative for friends, relatives, acquaintances, professionals and anyone else who may ever come in contact with the parent of a special needs child. I've been thinking about the article since I saw it, and wanted to write some of my own feelings in response to it.

For tonight, I'll start with #1: I am Tired

Boy am I ever. She hit the nail on the head when she wrote "there is a level of emotional and physical tiredness that is always there, that simply comes from the weight of tending to those needs." I have felt this way from very early on with Oliver. It never matters how much sleep I get, I will always be tired. For me, the bulk of my tiredness is from emotional stress. I worry about Oliver a lot, mostly about his happiness, if he's sad, frustrated or if he misses me. Most of the time Oliver is happy to go into his bedroom to "play" with his therapists, but there are days where he just doesn't want to and those days are really difficult. He cries and clings to me when I leave the room. Even though he quickly settles down and works with the therapist I am often paralyzed with anticipatory anxiety, waiting for the crying, the meltdown, the sadness when he gets frustrated or doesn't want to do something. It is just so hard to listen to and when he's having a bad week, it makes me so very weary.

I feel like I do a lot more work in general than many other parents, even during simple and "fun" activities. At the park I have to work hard to keep Oliver corralled to the area our friends are at. If we go to a friend's house, I have to continuously offer him toys or items that might be of interest to him, hoping that he will play for just a little bit longer. At playgroups I have to constantly move around the room with him so I am always within reach. I often feel like I am constantly performing in a 3-ring circus to keep Oliver entertained, and to keep one step ahead of him in an effort to avoid the metldowns. I long for the day when I can just sit on the park bench and watch him play on the jungle gym or be across the room, or even in the next room over, while he happily plays by himself or with friends. I feel like some of this is selfish, and maybe it is, but really, I am just tired. All I can do is simply carry on, surviving, and being led around by the hand, waiting for bedtime.