Just a thought

You know, it's funny how life works sometimes.

As I sit here at 12:00 a.m. my mind wonders, as it does most evenings before sleep.  I think about so very much that I have a hard time shutting down.  However, tonight I ponder my life as a stay at home mom.

I remember way before I was pregnant.  Probably way before I was even sure I wanted babies.  I use to say that I wanted to be a stay at home mom.  My mother was able to be a SAHM off and on most of my life.  I remember how proud I was when she would accompany me on field trips, or when she would bring cupcakes to school for party days.  That was my mom.  Everyone loved her and I was so proud she was all mine.  I wanted to be that.  I wanted to be the mom that everyone loved and who my child would be proud to say was his/hers.

I fast forward to a year ago.  Mike and I were struggling with the knowledge that our child would be "different".  Our "secret" wasn't something I discussed with many people.  Then, just as now, I didn't want people feeling sorry for us.  I didn't want the pity thrust upon us by people who learned our story.  Every morning on my way to work, I would talk to God.  (Note, I still talk to God, but back then, my prayers were much different than they are now.)  During my morning talks, I would ask God that if he saw fit, that I would be able to stay at home with my baby.  That I would not have to send him to daycare and I would be able to be the mom I wanted to be.

Now, I reflect upon this prayer and giggle.  Ask and you shall receive.  However, I never, in my wildest dreams, thought it would be like this.  I never thought I would miss work the way I do.  I thought that staying home meant that I could clean and stay organized and take Wyatt for walks, and go to Mommy and Me music classes.  Things could not be farther away from this dream.

I know that I have talked about how difficult it is to take Wyatt out.  But, in order to go to his therapy, we have to take his vent (even if he is not on it), his suction machine, his pulseoxometer (which he is on 24/7) an oxygen tank (just in case) a bag full of his power cords and a diaper bag full of not just normal baby things, but tons of supplies, just in case.  Then, when we get wherever it is that we are going, his car seat goes into the stroller, the vent goes underneath, and we get to carry the rest.  So, you see, just going to a walk in the neighborhood is a chore.

I long for the day to be able to just pick him up and walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  If I want to do this now, I have to carry his pulseoxometer.  I long for the days that we are able to go out to dinner, just the three of us, as a normal family.  My son has only ever been to therapy and to doctors appointments.  He has had no social interaction with children his own age, and that worries me.  I don't want him becoming shy and timid.  I want him to shine.

Being a SAHM isn't all happiness all of the time.  For me, I feel like I have lost a part of who I am.  Please, don't get me wrong, I have never been prouder of any job in which I have held compared to the job of being Wyatt's mom.  I am honored that God trusted this amazing child to me to raise.  However, I feel like who I am is missing.  I don't do anything, how can I, I don't have time.  I don't go anywhere, except on Thursdays and Sundays when I go "out".  I never see anyone, except for Thursdays and Sundays.  No one comes to see me.  I sit, alone in my home, waiting for my husband to come home to talk to.  Then it's generally so late in the evening that he eats, and goes to bed.  Please, please, please, don't think that I am complaining about Mike's work.  He is providing for our family and I completely understand.  But, it sucks.  He works most days from 8 am to 9 pm.  And on his days off, I try and get out of the house.  Also, we have nurses here to talk to.  But, it's not the same.  Having someone come to see me willingly.  Having someone come to my home just to see me and talk to me not because it's their job.  It just stinks.

Now, please don't think I am ungrateful, because I am very grateful.  I am thankful that God answered my prayer.  I don't think that I could stand the thoughts of Wyatt being somewhere without me in his current "condition".  I don't think that I would last two seconds knowing that I was not able to be with him.  However, it is such a difficult adjustment, being dependant.  I have discussed this in the past.  Feeling like for the first time in my adult life that I am having to depend upon someone else for my everything.  It's a hard pill to swallow.  At the office where I most recently worked, I had my place.  I like to think I was the positive light.  Now, that assumption may or may not be accurate, but I like to think I was that.  I said good morning to every person I saw in my office.  I (generally) always had a smile on my face and always tried to have something good to say.  Again, this assumption may or may not be accurate, but I like to think this was the case.  With that being said, it's very hard for me that I have kept in contact with very few people from my former employer.  I always thought that people would occasionally e-mail or something, just to see how, at least, Wyatt was doing.  But no.  That is not the case.  And it hurts.  I wish I could say it doesn't, but it does.  It's like raising a dog and then all of a sudden giving that dog away and never going to see it.  Ok, maybe that was a bad analogy, but you get the picture.  It just stinking hurts.  Maybe I am delusional in thinking that I meant something more to people than I did.  Maybe I was just a paper pusher that people tolerated day to day in hopes I would disappear.  But I disagree.  I do talk to some of them.  Some being two.

Anyway, I did not begin this post with the intent to feel sorry for myself.  I began it to share with you my latest epiphany.  I asked, and I received.  Just remember, when you ask for something, you may not get it exactly like you want it.  It may not be in the form of the perfect, pretty wrapped up package you were expecting.  It may be wrapped in wrinkled dirty paper.  But remember, you asked for it, now be thankful and do the very best you can with it.

I want to also take a moment to say that I am so thankful that my baby is on the road to recovery.  I understand that we could be facing so much worse in life.  The fact that Wyatt has only had "minor" issues compared to some is a blessing.  I understand that so many are facing so much worse.  My intention in this blog was not to complain about poor pitiful me and the things I face being oh so bad.  I know that we are abundantly blessed.  I know that Wyatt will someday be a completely normal child and my biggest worry will be a skinned knee.  However, the darkness of depression has temporarily grabbed at my ankle, pulling me under, if ever so slightly.  Tomorrow will be better.  I know this.  It is always darkest before dawn.

I realize that I have been more than neglectful in sharing the things I am thankful for lately.  It goes without saying that I am thankful for Wyatt, Mike, Roscoe, my family, shelter, God, etc.  Anyway, I want to share the latest "little things in life" for which I am thankful.

Good books.  I have read so much lately that it is sickening.

Clean sheets.

Loving nurses and therapists.

Trail mix.  Mike and I are obsessed right now.

And of course, this face!!